Thursday, June 11, 2015

Fan Fiction- The End of Fate - The Hobbit

Welcome to Fan Fiction Thursday! What is fan fiction? Well, Fan fiction or fanfiction (also abbreviated to fan fic, fanfic or fic) is fiction about characters or settings from an original work of fiction, created by fans of that work rather than by its creator. In other words, you love a book so much you have to keep the story going. Today, fanfiction from The Hobbit.


The End of Fate by LorienLegend - https://www.fanfiction.net/u/6386911/LorienLegend

The poster in front of her was amusing.

Staring at Evangeline's face, Tauriel almost let out a laugh. This truly could only have been at Peter's casting alone and no others- completely different from head to toe- more stubborn and more dangerous than Tauriel herself could ever be.

It was almost scary how different the girl looked, all the while sharing similar features to Tauriel herself.

“Peter's definitely jut screwing around now.” Screwing. Around. These words were so familiar to her, something she picked up along the way, but so different on her tongue than what she was once accustomed to.

After all, much had changed since then.

It had started with the collapse of the Lonely Mountain. Erebor had slowly lost its high peaks and treasure through the years, yet never once had she thought that the mountain, so close to his heart, so close to hers, would ever disappear.

She had pretended not to notice. It had been imminent, but slowly, Erebor was changing. First came the cracks had formed at the base, then followed the large tumbling that brought cot, rick and tree falling to the ground. She had run from the place, step by step, until there was nothing that she could call home.

No, from then on, there would be no home.

Mirkwood had overgrown and over spilled itself. The caverns and caves she once spent a childhood in had returned to the Earth. The mallorn, rowan, cherry and oak had steeped themselves back into the world. The forest which she had loved so dearly, fought to protect, had thrived for years- and she did not doubt that it would continue to- with or without the protection of a single elf.

She winced.

No more did her friends walk the Arda. Those who held her past, who remembered a time when she once was happy, did not stay to watch their work diminish.

And she let them go. Why would they stay? She would not force them to wait with her. Not while the gulls called out so painfully, when there was healing for them to be found in the Undying Lands.

Yet that did not mean they hurt any less. She simply understood their passing, never accepting it.

“Tauriel.” She spun around, towards the edge of Ithillen.

“Legolas.” She answered shakily. The elf in front of her was thin and frail, high cheekbones gaunt. Tauriel knew the signs even as the winds whispered it. He was close to fading

“Elessar has passed.”

She drew in a gasp. “It cannot be…”

“It is.” He confirmed. He only seemed to slump even more into himself, his hair dim without a glow.

“I am sorry mellon nin” He bowed his head low.” I must sail before winter comes.”

Tauriel could not blame the lord. His hands so pale and strong, trembled like leaves as he spoke. His eyes shielded themselves with a myriad of colours, still so bound to lost hope.

“Curse the short lives of the mortals.” She murmured to herself. “Their lives seem so pathetically short, the candlestick that only burned bright for a so little time, so easy to snuff out.”

“You still do not understand do you, Tauriel?” Legolas whispered. “That is no curse they carry. It is a gift that they may share to all who feel it.”
He continued. “Yet neither can they give it away, or refuse. For what reason should they?” He lets out a hollow laugh.

“Their memories will stay forever. But I cannot.” He speaks softly, as if he knew how long this time, she would spend away from her home. He knows, she realises, that she has heard the gulls. He knows her end.

“I cannot wait out this eternity with you.” Her right hand went up, covering her heart in the honorary elvish salute.
Maybe this was her goodbye.

So she waited. Alone. Time seemed to pass so slowly yet so quickly, and by the time she had known it her time had ended, and another age had begun.

With each passing age, she desired her own doom even less. The gift of men seemed all so precious now, compared to her curse.

Man could forget. They could erase what they did not want to remember. They could pretend that things had ever happened, and then they could live on.

This option had never been open to her. Her kind was meant to live out infinity in dullness. The elves, though wise and ever powerful, were never meant to understand what it meant to truly be happy.

If the portrait of elves had been painted like clear running water, than men’s would be likened to a gushing waterfall.

They never stopped running forward. They never stopped to ponder. They never lived for a future or a past. They lived for a present.

Fleeting and short were their lives- but strangely enough, Tauriel would trade that for anything she could give.

It was that, the ability to live in the seconds that flew by her, that never mattered, that Tauriel received the first gift of men.

It came from a certain John Tolkien, who had shown Tauriel her first taste at honourable death.

She had never wondered so much in her world, if two men she cared for could not enjoy the gift she had.

My dear professor Tolkien, how would you like to write a book?”

“It’s funny you know.” John laughed, “How it seems like minutes ago I first saw the fiery red-headed angel sitting at my door, scolding me for knocking over the eggs.”
“Sadly, you haven’t changed much since then.”
He laughed. “Neither have you Tauriel.”

She had mourned the loss of John Tolkien, a close friend, almost as much as his own children had. Tauriel had watched the unsteady child grow old, withered, and write her history down in books. She had loved him as a friend, a past, and something she could never quite forget.

But still, those times had eventually passed through the age of man, just not the elvish memory. He had ever asked her, once, if it had been a curse that she could never forget. What could have been her answer? Something's were fated to last the tales of time. Certainly, the elves passing had never faded. Her last kin's departure were none the less clear as they had been in that age.

How many centuries ago had that been? Since she had made that decision? Indeed, her choice had been to wait out eternity, alone. It hadn't dulled the ache of her heart.

Yet their histories lived on, in the stories of a certain John Tolkien's writing, in a language little understood.

But they lived on.

She had been particularly amused Peter's version of herself. Under her request, Tauriel hadn't quite looked the same way she had in the second age. A bit shorter, with an altogether different image.

But Kili,oh Eru, Kili . He looked as if he hadn't aged a day. Watching Aiden Turner play him had been an interesting two years.

Too much had changed from tale to tale, too much had disappeared. She had allowed Peter the ability of a "filmmaker's directions" but never once had she expected that.

It had been quite evident that-

Suddenly, a hot drink spilled, burning her right wrist and waking her from her reminiscing.

"I'm so sorry!" A hand reached down with a paper towel, trying to mop up the mess. Tauriel's ears pricked to the sound of the voice. It had been familiar, nostalgic almost. Perhaps she had spent too much time pondering over Kili. This was simply too much. She looked at the curly mass of black hair in front of her, bending down in an effort to clean up the spill that came from a large portion sleeve of her shirt down to the table in front of her. Almost too much.

"Are you ok?"

Tauriel's breath caught in her throat. Looking at her was the same set of brown orbs as those 6 ages ago, by Mahal, they looked as if he hadn't aged a single day.

"Kili." She breathed out. The dwarf hadn't heard or recognised her. But those eyes, oh Eru. She could swear she saw a flicker of recognition run through them.

"Sorry have we met before?" He wondered. Tauriel's heart nearly stopped in her chest. There couldn't be a chance... No... Did he? Recognise her?

"No..." She whispered out. She had never met this man in her too long life.

"That's funny, you look familiar."

They locked eyes for a second time, and this round Tauriel swore she saw the dwarf in that battlefield right in front of her. The enthusiasm for life, that love for nature and family. He, after all, in his uncle's words had valued food and cheer and song over hoarder gold.

"Kilian! We have to leave now! Uncle Theo will kill us if we don't make it to Eichenschild meetings on time!" The more or less still memorable voice floated through her mind. She almost let out a bemused smile.
Even in the afterlife they could not be parted. Of all times it was still the same brother, the same . And under the same family too. Eichenschild. Oakenshield . She should have known in the line of Durin, the long withstanding dwarves, would name their company so.

"Coming Findley!" She saw Kili( or Kilian?) turn back towards the brown headed boy and almost yelled out.
"Say what." He scribbled down his number on a napkin.

"Call me." His voice was firm, commanding. Like he was used to it. He ran off, leaving Tauriel with the number.


Perhaps the Valar had a strange way with fate after all.

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