[Amanaduial the archer]

Thrakat sliced Amans cheek across the cheekbone, one of the many wounds now on her. This threw her off balance and suddenly she felt cold steel between her ribs. She felt Thrakat pull the dagger viciously back and fell to the ground. Gasping she clutched her chest and was horrified to touch her own ribs. She looked up to the witch standing victoriously above her and as their eyes caught and the other smiled.
Her vision seemed blurred and she could hear something strange in her ears, like birdsong. How could it be birdsong in the night in this wood? The other two elves were talking now but Aman could not hear them. What were their names again...what did it matter? What mattered was sleep, the sleep that was coming onto her now...
She forced herself back into reality. Slowly she began to chant, choking each word out.
Morierea, Beikaea, Hyandae en' luhta,nai turamin ...The words came more quickly now and the witchs eyes burned with fire and brimstone. The taller witch spun around, but her movements were slow and as she tried to reply the words were muffled. Aman held her hands clasped together in a seamless cage as if she held something in them. The bones were showing hard against her tense skin as if she held great power. Yala onna en' vilya, Yala rauko,Yala onna en' kemen, Yala onna en' alu... A strange substance was slowing around her hands, like air solidified and yet flowing. Each time she said one of the titles a new elemental joined the swirling mass; air, earth, fire, water, then a strange daemen with glowing eyes seemed to settle itself half invisible on her hands, which were now shaking like her whole body with power. She looked up and the dark witch filled her vision. Holding up her hands the other two saw the suppressed power in it.
"The hurt that was done to me I entrust into thy power oh spirits, to maginify and show...to the one who..hurt me..." She was peaking with difficulty now, but with her last remaining strength she smiled before flinging the ball in the daemons claws at the dark witch. Every one of Amans injuries both physical and mental were maginifed and forced on Thrakat, who writhed in pain. She appeared to be being torn apart before falling still to the ground.
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"Get away from me dog of mordor." Lindir forced the words out, trying to ignore Thrakats beauty. Outraged, the seductress opened her mouth before freezing.
Behind them Aman was forming her spell and the other two watched in horror...but to Lindirs there was added a certain amount of satisfaction.
~
Aman fell back again, drained, her eyes closed. Lindir ran and knelt by her side. He was appalled by the cuts and bruises covering her and hastily began ripping strips of his shirt.
"Leave it." Amans eyes opened slightly and Lindir saw her eyes had returned to their usual colour although they were slightly misty.
"But...I can help you...Y- you dont have to die..."
"No!" She said more sharply, more as a plea. "No. Please, I dont..I dont deserve...I dont deserve to live...or to love."
A tear slipped down Lindirs face as he realised what she was saying. She held her hand out and he mirrored it with his, the scars tracing each other.
"I cant let you die."
"I cant live. I...I cant. Please, remember me. As long as you remember me, I shall live on."
He put his hand on her wound, feeling her life blood trickling through his fingers. "Blood from your jewelled heart. So hard sometimes, yet so precious. Amanaduial Mircorm- Jewelheart."
She smiled, and reached out for his face. He held her hand against his cheek, the tears rolling onto it.
"Farewell sweet singer, until I see you...in the halls...of...Manwe...." Her eyes misted and closed, but a smile was left on her face.
Lindir sat, her hand still against his tear streaked cheek, tears falling as he rocked slowly in front of his beloved dead witch...

[ July 05, 2002: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]