|
Niara
Niara walked in silently, her black rangers cloak leaving small drops behind her; it had been too long since she had been in human company, or any company for that matter. She slipped across the room, straining to seem as comfortable as she was not, and seated herself in a corner near a window. The sound of rain outside soothed her, she loved it, so real, quieting and constant. She asked for an ale.
When it arrived, Niara thanked the server, who smiled, then pulled back her hood as the maid left. She undid the knot that held it fast when she traveled, and her deep brown hair tumbled down, far past her shoulders, in swirls and ringlets; a few rested against her ruddy cheeks, and some landed over her shoulders and rested on her breast. She closed her eyes and sipped her ale. Trying to melt into the shadows where she belonged. But something would not let her.
As the only daughter of a ranger, she had learned by example how to use her senses at heightened levels. And then the war had come... everything had been destroyed. Her home, her life, she was alone. Left with nothing but the love she held for those that had kept such sorrows as her own from overthrowing the whole of Middle Earth. The great king himself had been a ranger, Niara wondered often whether he had known her father.
The liquid blue spheres of her eyes stared blankly about as she pondered these things, having long since given up trying to forget them. She saw her brother, her father, so handsome both of them. And her mother... They were all gone. She was filled with regret for the spitefullness she had shown them, yet they had all praised her other virtues, patience, dignity, courage... none of which she could herself see. She was too late to stifle the single tear that slid down her cheek.
All at once, as reality filtered in through her visionary daydreams, she noticed that her ale glass was empty, and there was someone watching her...
|