Chapter Text
She was the one who found Nim.
Broken
Bloodied
Bare
Nim had been caught off guard by a small pack of orcs. It had been foolish and stupid to think she was safe this close to their grounds. She had seen no signs of them for weeks though, and had simply thought they were not around. Oh, how she had been so wrong. There were only a handful of them but it was a handful against a much underfed elf. She had figured herself as good as dead if it wasn’t for the sudden swarm of arrows that imbedded deep within the orcs flesh. Nim had crawled away from the small battle but could not get very far with a dislocated ankle and a broken wrist.
She had found her shortly after.
Nim had cowered and then lashed out. She had not laid eyes upon another elf since . . . since a time she did not wish to recall. Nim had avoided their settlements their paths and anything to do with the creatures for the last few years and had no plans to change that. Elves lead to death, not her own really but she had seen enough death around them to know they were not good things to be around for long periods of times. Or at all if Nim had her way.
She had waited though, had called off the elves that had jumped to her defense when Nim had pulled a dagger on her. Had tolerated the fawn as it charged around her bleating and stamping his hooves. She spoke to Nim had offered her food and water and whatever care she could provide at a distance. Slowly she moved closer, and Nim let her.
Nim was tired, was hurt, and was quickly losing her willingness to keep the elf at a distance. When she laid a hand on Nim she had flinched. Nim had met few in her short years free and she had let even fewer lay a hand upon her. Still Nim let the strange elf grab her hand and comfort her, allowed her to help her to her feet and half carry her to their camp.
She cleaned Nim’s wounds, bandaged them, without batting a lash at the grotesqueness of it all. Nim had far more wounds than the ones she had gained earlier in the day. Wounds that had come days weeks even months before then. Some in worse states of infections than others. She had servants who tried to step in but she refused turning each of them away as she worked.
She seemed to see to know Nim would not allow anyone near herself but her, seemed to know that she was not to get any answers if she even asked Nim. Much to Nim’s relief, she did not even try to question her. Not how she came to be in such a state, not of her home, or the strange little fawn that guarded her like a dragon over his hoard, not even her name.
She took Nim with her though, setting her upon her own horse when she saw Nim was too weak to walk. Spoke to her even when Nim had not opened her mouth to speak once since her finding, three months before. Sat through the long nights when Nim woke screaming and lashing out at things that were not there. Sang lullabies and weaved dreams so that Nim could find rest even when she did not.
*
And now she was dead.
Nim fell to her knees and press her head into the ashes of the battle field. The ground was still warm from when the dragon had unleashed its fury and killed all in its path. Her stag stood next to her, ever watchful of dangers on ground so fresh with death. Nim did not move for some time the soot bleeding into her hair and turning it a sickly grey. She stayed until the ground finally grew cold as the air, winter quickly coming to rise.
We should go Nim.
Nim did not speak, as she had not for some time, but she stood complying with the stag’s suggestion. Her gaze trailed over the blackened earth watching the snow begin to hide it away. The dragon’s mighty form lay in the distance deep blue scales glittering in the fading light. The stag snorted his protest but Nim did not listen as she started towards the beast. She had never seen a dragon and had always been rather fascinated with them and even though she wanted nothing more to spit at this one’s feet she could not help herself. She couldn’t even find it within herself to hate it completely. That fire had burned out of her a long time ago as this one’s flames now had.
Its teeth were as long as she was tall, its eyes staring sightlessly out to its destruction. The creature’s scales were still warm, nearly hot, to the touch. As they would be for some time, a fire that old was not easily cooled. She traced the heavy scales around the eye before grasping one and with a grunt pulling it from the creature’s body. The end once attached to the flesh steamed in the cool air.
Nim turned motioning for her stag but stopped short when something glittered on the ground. For a moment she thought it to be a bit of snow but when the glittering did not fade she knew it was much more.
A single gem, like starlight.
Nim curled her fist around it a new wave of agony passing over her, nearly bringing her to her knees. She pressed the jewel to her breast gasping in air as it seemed all of it had left her. She had not known such agony since. . .
Slowly she brought her shaking fist to her face and uncurled her fingers to reveal the jewel. She would not have wanted Nim to weep like this, would not have wanted her to feel such agony as she did now. To cry, to mourn, it was all an insult to her and everything she believed in.
*
She was the mother Nim no longer had.
A sister.
A friend.
“Nimineth.” Her voice was low, unused and rough.
“Nimineth.” She had repeated seeming to gauge the name as she spoke it, “Snowdrop.” She repeated it in the common language, “It suits you.” She ruffled Nim’s snowy hair.
They had to sheer it off when she had first found Nim. It was long and tangled and too far gone to brush it through. It was now a simple bob around her head like a young girl would often have. Nim didn’t seem to mind, she nearly look relieved to have it gone. She had run her fingers through the shortened locks and closed her eyes. Many thought she was going to weep for losing it but much to their surprise she smiled.
“A gentle flower with eyes like a storm.” She had said touching Nim’s chin.
Nim had started to smile again after that. Began to speak a little more, though it was only ever to her. As she regained her strength and her wounds began to heal it seemed little pieces of herself healed as well. Nim started to show more of herself beyond the stoic creature that everyone had come to know. The first look into Nim was when it rained. She had sat outside far from the others with her head tilted back as the rain poured, one of those rare storms that was rain and little more. Everyone had watched her for hours as she sat letting the rain wash over her.
Then Nim started to dance. She jumped to her feet at the storm reached its peak and the rain all but hid her away from the eyes of the others. If it was not for her white garment they would have lost her completely. The dancing melted into a game of tag. Nim and the fawn taking turns chasing one enough through the mud. It was childish and was rather frowned upon by the others but She had seen it as more. Without another thought she dashed out into the rain despite the protests and joined Nim in her little game without a bit of hesitation in their movements.
Nim recalled at that moment she had felt truly alive again. The rain pounding against her until her flesh was nearly numb, her flesh had felt as cold as ice but she was all but an inferno within. She cried out and laughed and ran about. Her bandaged would need to be changed and she would ache in the morning but she would not have changed it for the world.
*
Now everything was cold, and quiet.
She was alone.
There was no storm, no rain to hide her, no game to occupy . . . no her. Just an empty field scorched black and littered with dead and a foolish girl who had hoped to find what was so clearly hopeless. A dragon would not spare those if they were mighty or if they were good, it killed all.
She was alone.
“Toron.” She choked out, her voice raw and hardly above a whisper.
The stag heard her though, he always heard her, and quickly came to her side nosing worriedly at her neck as she quivered in the ashes. Quietly she tucked the hot scale into one of the bags upon the creatures back before pulling herself up, the jewel still tight in her hand.
“Take me far from here Toron, I do not wish to see this place anymore.” She whispered hating the way she sounded so small.
Yes.
The creature moved at a speed that was unfit to the side of its form, a grace that seemed unlikely and almost unnatural. Yet at the same time it suited the creature. The way he sprang from rock to rock hooves firm against the earth, the threat of slipping on such thin limbs never thought of. It was tireless charging over the ground without a falter in step or breath. Just the smooth motion of the muscles beneath its skin and the endless pattern of breath leaving and entering its lungs.
It soothed Nim in a way that nothing else ever would.
**
She did not always have Him to sooth her though.
Back when he was small, still had spots and his antlers were nothing but little nubs on the tops of his head. He could not sooth her beyond curling against her and hoping that his little bony form would bring her a bit of comfort. He learned right away that repetitive sound was the best way and would sometimes trot or run around her for hours on end creating worn circled around her. Still, sometimes even that was not enough.
That is where she came in. When Toron grew tired and needed to rest she would tell tales of the world. Sometimes she would spend hours just describing a single tree or the way something smelled or sounded. Nim seemed to revel in each little detail creating an image within her mind that would chase away the horrible memories of her past.
Her favorite subject was that of her husband. He was the new ruler of the woodland realm, a title he had gained after the death of his father during the dark days. It was a position he took with great honor and great sadness. She was so proud of him and had been pained to part with him when she was needed with some of the rebuilding in her homeland near the coast. She was on her way home now in fact.
She never much talked about how he looked beyond the regal but welcoming way he held himself. Though Nim had figured he was fair haired and very tall, even for an elf. Mostly she spoke about his love of the flora and fauna and how excited he would be to meet a creature like Toron. How he would spend days walking around their home woven so perfectly into the plant life that you could walk right past it unless you knew what to look for.
He was also very kind, according to her. Kind but firm and very much loved by those around him. He was not one of many words and sometimes looked rather indifferent but he was as welcoming as any other elf. She had told Nim that the war had taken its toll on him more so than many others, which was why he appeared so cold on the outside. The loss of his father and the sudden thrust into such an important role would take a great deal from one’s outward look on life.
“Do you know of the war?”
To most it would have been a foolish question to ask, most all knew of those dark times. Yet, with how Nim acted her face blank whenever it is mentioned you could believe that she had no knowledge of it. She thought herself right for a moment or two as Nim returned her question with a blank stare. She did not ask questions often, did not want to pry at someone who was so . . . broken. Still she could not ignore the curious whispers of the others nor her own curious thoughts.
“I am going to bed.” Nim murmured.
“Nim, it is mid-morning.” She chuckled reaching forward to stop Nim from standing.
Nim smacked her hand away, “Then I am going for a walk.” She snapped and then fled from the tent.
Nim did not return.
***
Rise Nim.
Toron nudged at her and Nim shifted sitting up easily. She did not recall when she had fallen asleep, nor when Toron had stopped. She stretched her arms far over her head and then rolled her shoulders before she got to her feet to urge warmth into her legs as well. Toron remains close nibbling at the frost covered grass with a great deal of glee.
“Where have we gone Toron?” Nim asked pulling open one of the bags attached to his side before retrieving a small worn leather bound journal. She flicked open the pages her fingers tracing over the parchment for a moment before she flicked to the last page. A small map was sketched across the last two pages.
“Which way did we go?” Nim asked and Toron lifted his head and motioned towards the southwest. Nim went back to the map and drew a quill and ink from the pack as well. With two angry swipes she crossed out the name Gundabad. “South west.” She murmured dropping the quill and tracing her finger down the map. She glanced up eyeing the swell of hills down the way a bit, “Just off the North Downs then. You traveled quite the way Toron.” Nim mused clipping the book shut.
That little book was all Nim had kept from her time with her. She had quickly sold off all her fancy clothing for cheaper and stronger fabrics as well as other things. At the time she had wanted nothing to remind her of that time and had sold it all for most likely half of what it was worth. All that is, except for the journal. The one thing she had given Nim as a friend and not out of need. She had kept it, the one promise to once again find her companion.
I ran for a great portion of the night. I would have stopped at the mountain back on my path but it stank of orc so I continued on. It is mid-morning now.
The stag returned to his meal and Nim watched him for a time. When the sun reached its peak she went about gathering supplies for a fire. They would need to rest here for a day or so while Toron regained his strength and then they will most likely need to head for a village or town to wait for the snow to pass. There would not be time to explore, she noted with disappointment. She wanted to wonder about the hills and see if any of the Dunedain or there things remained there. It would simply have to wait it seemed. She fell back into the crisp grass and breathed in the fresh air.
What are you thinking of?
“The Dunedine.” Nim said wistfully, “Do you think there are any left?”
The impossible is always possible, just look at me.
The stag lifted his head grandly and stared down at her. He trotted about the clearing his silvery white fur glistening in the sun. He was taller than any stag, taller than any horse, taller than anything ever really seen on four legs. Last she had measured he was over 7 feet tall from his hooves to the tips of his ears and that did not take into account his antlers. They alone rose several more feet, Nim had not measured them for some time though.
“You are rather impossible my old friend.” Nim chuckled as he snorted at her, “Get any taller and you will become a tree.” She sat up and watched him move about to a bush to strip the few remaining leaves from the branches. Toron paused after a moment and lifted his head to look at her.
What is it you think now? Your mind has become so clouded.
Toron crossed the small expanse to Nim and bowed his head. She closed her eyes as his hot breath washed over her face and ruffled her hair. She opened them again as the stag sat before her still keeping his head low so that he could look her in the eyes.
I do not like how you hide from me.
“I have become lost.” Nim said quietly, she dug into her pocket and pulled free the little gem, “I . . . I should have stayed with her. I fled like a coward and now look what has become of. . . “She clenched her hand around the jewel and coiled around it as if it needed her whole body to remain protected. How long had it even been since she had laid eyes on her old friend? Nim never really kept track but it was easily over 500 years.
“I said I would return, I had promised . . .”she gritted out, “She gave me a reason to live and now look at me.” Nim felt her eyes sting with tears and she pressed her fists into them, “Running from everything. . . “
Enough! Toron declared raising his head to look down upon her. I will not allow you to blame yourself for her death. She knew what risks battle held, she knew that her life may very well end. You can morn her my Little one but I will not let you take her blame.
“What should I do then?” She asked
We shall travel, near or far. We have no rulers but ourselves, this land is ours and no one else’s. He declared. We are the king and queen of every bit of earth we touch.
Nim couldn’t help her laugh. “You may be the king of kings but I am no queen.” Nim said getting to her feet, “More like some little squirrel who thinks you really are a tree.” She climbed onto his back as he laughed himself and stood.
The king of kings, and his Little one. I like it. Toron declared circling the bush as he spoke. That is what we shall be from now on.
“Let us start in the morning.” Nim said patting his neck, “You need to rest.”
Nonsense! The king of kings rests for nothing but the command of the creator themselves. He paused tilting his head as if listening. I heard no protest.
Toron reared back forcing Nim to cling onto him. He kicked his hooves wildly into the air and let out a deep bellow that hummed against Nim’s legs. Nim let out an elated cry throwing her hands up to grasp at his antlers to keep herself in place. When he charged through the grass she stood upon his back too look over the sea of dying yellow. A king and his little one, Nim could live like that.
Toron was the one to save her.
Then
Now
And every day after.