Please take note that this book is rated M according to Wattpad regulations due to the following content: violence, mentions of death, descriptions of death, angst, a little spice, depression, self-harm, suicidal ideation, fluff, pinning slowburn, ect.
The Last Light of the Star
Ageless like the stars of the Núr -o Gilgalad,
The long forgotten one with intense fire in her eyes,
Forced to walk the earth in sorrow far from her haro.
Long before the haze, the darker shadows grow,
All the world she shall roam turning her heart into stone.
The Last Light of the Star shall answer the call,
And climb from the tortured and tormented fall,
There she shall abandon all ambitions and put rest her mission,
Returning to the endured agony and to the state of suffering.
There's no surrender there's no escape
She shall claim the dark lives of all.
Too much for her soul to walk alone
There in the ashes, she will rise or be buried
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THE LAST LIGHT OF THE STAR
The spiders that resided in the Mirkwood forests have always generated an unsettling feeling for the elves. The fear of being wrapped up in slimy, sticky webs and eaten until nothing was left behind but bones was utterly petrifying. Death. It was death that was so terrifying—especially to immortal beings. Therefore, when the giant eight legged creatures became restless and more bodies were being found, the elves' patrols increased and spread to cover more ground.
"Prince Legolas!" A returning scout and valued member of the 13th sector of the Mirkwood Guard called out, "You must see this."
The Prince of Mirkwood, leader of the sector, frowned and raised his hand in a closed fist—signaling to the seventeen elves riding their steeds behind him to halt. With his bow and twin silver daggers on his back, he followed the amber haired elf—Rowan—along with three other members of the guard. The small group went ahead into the aftermath of what could only be described as a blood bath.
The clearing was covered in black and red liquid that pooled into deep puddles of desperation. Orc bodies contorted, burned, and ripped apart littered the ground, staining the forest floor with death. Elven weapons—long silver daggers, arrows, throwing stars, knives, and a bow—were scattered across the battlefield. But that was not the worst of it. The focal point of the gory scene was an elven body tied upon a tree. The hands were bound above the head, ropes wrapped around the waist and feet, and blood dripping from many contusions and cuts. Whatever armor had been worn was torn off and wrenched apart, leaving the being clad in a diminutive amount of slashed up fabric.
In simplest terms, it was horrific.
"What happened here," Legolas muttered with grief in his heart.
His feet carried him closer to the limp body and he began to inspect it further. The being before him was female, but incredibly small for a grown elf. This lead him to assume that she had not lived many centuries—getting her life snatched away before she could make her impression upon the world. Her black hair—thickly lathered with blood—hung around her, shrouding her face and hiding whatever expression that was her last. The Prince could see some of the muscles and scars that stretched across her body, the rest were hidden by running blood. This indicated that she had been a warrior—a young one but one nonetheless. Despite her strength being showcased, she looked frail and broken—the beatings and torture taking its toll.
Legolas reached out and put his hand on the cheek of the young elleth. "What have they done to you, Dilthen Er (little one)?" He paused, "Far too young to die."
The Prince closed his eyes and released a deep breath, silently wishing her to find peace in the after life.
His eyes snapped open.
A heartbeat.
Legolas felt his soul fill with hope as he desperately moved his hand to her neck.
A heartbeat, indeed.
"She's alive!" He hollered.
The other guards, who were scrutinizing the battlefield and gathering the weapons, turned their attention to him with frowns creasing their normally perfect expressions.
"She's alive!" Legolas called again.
Rowan ran over to his sector leader and touched the woman's wrist. He was surprised to feel the light pounding that flooded through her veins. Of course he did not think the Mirkwood Prince had been lying, he was just shocked that such a miracle could even be true.
"This is not possible," the amber haired ellon stated simply.
Legolas shook his head for it was possible—clearly—for there was no other explanation.
Rowan took a sharp blade from his belt and easily cut the tight ropes that bound her. As the last rope fell from her form, her limp body collapsed into Legolas's waiting arms.
"I've got you, Dilthen Er (little one)," he whispered.
Legolas hoisted her up so that her legs dangled over his arm and her head rested against his chest. His eyes glanced over her form as red begun to stain the fabric of his own clothing. Clenching is jaw, he moved some of the shredded material that cloaked her to reveal a deep laceration.
A low string of curse words tumbled from the Prince's lips before he turned to his warriors and spoke. "I need something to stop the bleeding—now. I can get her to the Mirkwood healers, but I do not have much time."
Another light haired elf named Belanor quickly brought Legolas's horse forward, along with a ripped piece of cloth.
Legolas frantically pressed the fabric against the wound upon her stomach as he passed the nearly dead elleth to Rowan. The two exchanged a quick glance as the amber haired elf took over the job. The fabric darkened and became wet, worrying Rowan, while Legolas took the reigns of his horse.
She was loosing too much blood.
As Legolas mounted his steed he spoke calmly and clearly, "Belanor, take command. Finish the patrol towards the east end and make your way back to the gates."
The grey eyed second leaned in and spoke with a whisper, "But you will not arrive in time, Legolas. She won't be able to survive. Her wounds—"
The Prince brushed away his comment. "Finish off any orcs that escaped this massacre."
Rowan, who desired to be rid of the dying woman for it brought anxiety upon him, passed her to the Prince once more. Quickly she was settled against his chest with one of Legolas's hands pressed upon the most worrisome wound.
"Ride safe," Belanor called as the blonde elf nodded and took off into the dark forest.
YOU ARE READING
The Last Light of the Star
FanfictionArryin is a descendant from an ancient elven race, the Núr -o Gilgalad (People of starlight). She has suffered great loss: her entire village was attacked and burned to ashes. She has been on the run for 984 years-just to stay safe and keep her secr...
