Lost and Found Again

Prologue

It was in peace. Years spent desperately hoping to flee, and finally its wish had been granted. Freedom was beautiful, and it glowed with happiness to be able to look up and see the swirling cosmos above it, its existence solely tied to the joy and wonder inspired by looking upon that endless mirage. It could vaguely see the pillars and floor upon which it rested but its attention was fixed solely on the vision it beheld above it. The others moving around it were inconsequential, the one who had brought it here, meaningless in the face of the vast beauty now within its sight. It was awed and humbled by the canvas, watching the nothing above it being slowly expanded and changed, the ever shifting beauty never diminishing, only seeming to grow the more it watched.

Loath to turn away from the glory of the cosmos, it ignored for a moment the cool hand tightening around it, drawing it back to the hall in which it rested, surrounded by the others who had died. Námo stood, tall and imposing, his grey cloak concealing the high cheek-boned, pale face it knew it would see beneath the hood, and it felt no fear. Námo was not one to be feared. He had saved it, and it was grateful. It knew however where Námo wanted to take it, and this was what it feared, the brilliantly orange emotion washing over it and exposing its anxiety. Námo allowed his grip to soften, and within its conscience, it heard the deep rumbling voice murmur,

'Do not fear Little Star, you will not feel the pain of the living.' It recoiled at the sound of its name, it was not Little Star anymore. Little Star was the one who was gone, the one it had escaped from and it didn't want to go back, too much pain had Little Star endured, and no more did it want to feel. Still, Námo was now its master, and it must listen. It allowed Námo to draw it away from the company of the others who were no more and into the room of memories, its glow becoming more bright with fear with every step. Outside the archway to the room, Námo paused again and questioned it, his voice sounding once again in the depths of its existence,

"What is it you fear so Little Star?" He asked, ignoring its disgusted reaction to the name, and patiently waiting for a reply as it tried to formulate a response with its limited means of communication, After struggling to find a reason for its fear for a few uncounted moments it stretched out feeling Námo's presence and conveyed a series of feelings,

anger, family, love, loss, death. Despite the rudimentary explanation, Námo seemed to sense what was meant beneath the message, his grip nearly letting it escape back into the crowd of lost ones, but not quite,

'You needn't enter yet if you feel unready." He said, his voice, gravely with unforeseen emotion; surely, it thought, he wasn't so kind to all who entered his hall, and out of them, it deemed itself the least worthy of such a demonstration.

Knowing the phrase to nonetheless be nothing but a formality, for it did indeed have to face memory, it sent once again a message to Námo's presence,

Fear, resolution, acceptance. It couldn't perceive Námo's countenance, but it was sure the face had uplifted into as pleasant an expression as the keeper was capable of. It allowed him to lead it forward into the room, and then with a final burst of brilliant fiery orange fear, allowed the memories to devour it.

Green trees, a blonde boy running in front of her, pausing just long enough to allow her to stretch out her fingers to reach him before sprinting off again, agile as a deer, her laughter hopeless and bittersweet, for as fun as their game was she knew she would never reach her brother.

A voice calling through the expansive house,

"Turko, Moryo, Curvo, Varya, where are you?" She recognized the voice of Nelyo and giggled, sliding back farther into the corner in which she hid, Moryo reaching out to hug her and pull her farther back lest she reveal their place.

The tears tracing down her cheeks as she left for the last time, knowing deep in her heart, while her mind attempted to deny it, that she would never touch her mother again.

The blood that stained her sword as she sobbed, driving it through one after another, all the while wishing she could go back and undo her actions, praying for their safe passage and rebirth.

Her father, dead before her eyes as she screamed curses at the heavens for leaving them alone.

The city, shining and white, her hand in another's, his eyes bright with the joy of new love, a secret on his lips which she would never get to hear, his hair tickling her cheek as he leaned close, golden locks blending with her chestnut ones.

Her scream, unheard in the heat of the battle as she saw the balrog, and her realization that he would not see quickly enough, her aching muscles as she ran to him, driving the sword into the Balrog, only to have him turn towards her.

The last moment as she died, watching his death and knowing that not only was she gone, he was too.

pain... Pain... PAIN, she wanted to be free from all the pain, and the final figure of Námo appearing, as she knew she would never get to say goodbye to her brothers.

It careened backwards, unable to escape the flood of memories, screaming in agony. If it had been capable of such a thing it was sure it would have cried. What was Little Star's life worth? Nothing to it, not now, yet all Little Star had gone through, all the pain, suffering, hope, and then ultimate loss had been bottled up inside it, and to see Little Star's life again in front of it had been more painful than dying at the hands of that thrice damned balrog.

It wanted to flee, to run and find solace amongst the others like it once more, free to gaze with wonder at the endless nothing above it, content to wait until the world's ending for rebirth, for with a life like the one it had lead it certainly wouldn't be reborn. It made itself small before Námo, not wishing for him to see its misery, the brilliantly purple rays emanating off of it showing more than any expression of the living its horror and agony over what it had just seen. Námo was quiet, his grip upon it gone, knowing its pain would keep it in place, and waited for it to speak.

Agony, loss, disappointment, death. It sent him, and he gave one grave nod before replying in its existence,

'Yet within that also great hope, and wasted life. A life such as Little Star's should never be ignored' It disagreed strongly and conveyed as much, making Námo laugh, and shake his head,

'We judge you as worthy, we are sending you back.' It wanted to run, it wanted to scream, to hide, to flee from those words, but it was rooted in place by their power. It glowed as brilliantly golden as the sun itself, and then disappeared from the hall of the dead. Námo sighed quietly, there would be dispute over his choice for her, but he was sure what he was doing was right. It was all written in Eru Iluvatar's song, and that song shaped the world. He could not ignore the song.

**Author's Note**

Thanks for reading guys, it means a lot to me. my updates might be a little slow, as I mentioned in the summary, but I hope you'll stick with it. I might be using a mix of Quenyan and Sindarin names, so here's a quick guide to names in case it's confusing (I hope its not)

SINDARIN:MOTHER:FATHER:NICKNAME

Maedhros:Maitimo:Nelyafinwë:Nelyo

Maglor:Macalaurë:Canafinwë:Cano

Celegorm:Tyelkormo:Turkafinwë:Turko/Tyelko (I've seen both used, I'll use Turko)

Caranthir:Carnistir:Morifinwë:Moryo

Curufin:Atarinkë:Curufinwë:Curvo

(If any of these are wrong, don't sue me sue the internet for being a lying piece of s***)

Varyannë means woman of healing, and I'll also be using the Sindarin "Aistel" which means little star, or daughter of starlight, depending on how you translate it. I credit those names to FantasyNameGenorator, because wow, I definitely did not come up with those. 

Again, thanks for reading, I'll hope to update soon, and if you have any ideas for where you think the story should go, I'd love to hear them, because I honestly don't really have a plan.