Hi!! It's I! Lithwen. I have a suggestion, before you read this story, listen to the music above. If you only want to hear the lyrics, start it at 2:20, Thanks for reading! Here we go.... Word count: 1,567 (without the author's note)

I am fire,

I am death.

Those words rang in his ears as something crashed down. "BORSEL!!!" A younger ellon screamed. His leg was trapped underneath a part of a fallen house. "BORSEL!!!" He yelled louder, becoming panicked. Flames raged around him, almost enclosing him. Oh Ilúvatar, please spare me, you know I have a sister to take care of!

There! He thought he heard a voice, calling amongst the roaring of the dragon! "Nídor! Where are you?!" His sister had come back for him! "Borsel! I'm over-" a cough from the thick smoke wracked his body.

He soon could make out a figure, her dress torn to shreds, her face covered in ash. She came, carrying a jagged sword. As she came closer he could see she had big gashes on her head. "Borsel! Hurry!" Nídor called, the log in top of him had just caught on fire. She then started to run. When she got to him she started scrapping the log, making just enough room between the log and the dock for Nídor to slip his leg out. Just as he got his leg out, a burst of flames came towards them, and the cool ash-filled water enveloped them.

Nídor woke up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding, he was clenching his fists so hard, fingernail imprints were embedded in his hand. He shot out of the makeshift bed, but as soon as he put his legs out in front of him he wobbled. His right leg was half charred. As he touched it,  he realized that he couldn't feel it. 

Borsel was walking towards her brother's door when she heard a loud yell. She dropped the silver plate that held some food she saved for him, and a cup of herbal tea. She ignored the hiss of the tea as it hit her foot. She hardly felt the pain of the burn as she whipped open her brother's oak door. She saw her brother staring down at his leg, his mouth open wide, his face pale. He looked as if he had seen the Dark Lord himself. She soon realized why.

Nídor looked up at his sister. He would've hit the floor if she hadn't caught him. He felt sick to his stomach, all those days he had run around the docks, dodged angry merchants and guards. He had taken that all for granted, never imagining that he would loose all of that in a night.

Borsel set Nídor down. She tried not to cry, but all she could think of was how her brother lost happiness. "I'm sorry." She croaked out, her tears falling to a plop on the ground.  "It could be worse. I could be dead if it wasn't for you." He smiled wearily. Borsel lifted her head up in surprise. Her sparks of hope rekindled. "You're not mad at me for saving most of you? Not all of you?" Her tears made clean pathways on her ash covered features. "No, I'm not mad at all. You're only twelve. You saved people and that's what matters." He stared into her eyes. For a moment, she thought her home might still be the way it was, but that quickly passed. "Oh Nídor, you know we can't stay here! Alfred, we can't go back to him. But he might think we died in the fire if we escape now!"

Nídor gritted his teeth, Alfred was their caretaker. Their father had gone off to join the Mirkwood army. "Mirkwood! Of course!" Nídor said, the sadness in his voice was replaced with hope. "Let's go, our father is waiting for us."

Borsel nodded her head, her tears fading. "Let me grab my journal first." Nídor looked at her, stunned. "What else did you save?" She grinned. "My dagger, and your sword." Nídor then looked around the room, like he expected his sword to pop out of the corner. He treasured his sword. Their father, Húrdir (of the Elven Guard), had given it to him as his sixteenth birthday present. "Let me go get it." Without hesitation she got up, and left the room.

When she came back, they were ready to leave. They had been transported to Dale, since the Dragon destroyed the only home the siblings knew of. The sunset that they had made their plans in, soon turned to midnight. 

Nídor shook, his thin clothes that were not keeping enough heat. They were halfway across the edge of the lake and Borsel's legs ached. She had been carting half of her brother's weight. As they settled down for the night, Borsel heard a mumble of thanks, escape Nídor's lips. Her sparks turned into a small flame. Those encouraging words were what kept her alive.

The sun warmly welcomed the sleepy travelers. Borsel, knowing her brother would need water, started walking to a nearby stream. The water in the lake normally was okay to drink, but now, it was filled with ashes and burnt fish. Before she left, she decided to grab her leather bag. It's contents were her journal, a cup, and her dagger. 

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You taught me the courage of stars before you left.

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She soon reached the small, clear, and bubbly stream. As she bent down to the stream, she looked at the picture on the cup. It was a family, playing in a green field. The father was smiling, and so was the mother. The two children were playing tag, running, enjoying the time they had. 

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How light carries on endlessly, even after death.

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A tear dropped onto the cup, Borsel missed her mother. She shook her head, knowing she should be thankful for what she had, but she knew that part of her heart, would never mend completely. As she stood up after filling the cup, a hand hit hers, and the cup shattered on a nearby rock.

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With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.

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 "Nídor! What's up wi-" Borsel turned to the nemesis. A tall elven man stood over her, his shadow against the rising sun making him look terrifying. Two other elves were at his side. "What's a small elleth like you doing out? Ay?" The first one chuckled. "Getting water. What does it look like, Stupid." Borsel slipped her hand into the leather bag and clutched her dagger tightly. "Little one is feisty now. Well I'm gonna tell you a little secret." The "leader" leaned in. "I will take you to your dog of a father, and I will kill you in front of him." As the leader stood up, Borsel whipped out her dagger. "Amin feuya ten' lle, nadorhuanrim." (You disgust me, cowardly dogs) 

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How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

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The leader's face turned red with anger. "Kill her now!" He ordered. More men jumped out of the trees. Borsel was surrounded. "Help!" She cried as one of the men knocked the dagger from her shaking hands. Nídor, who was following her footprints, heard the frightened cry. As he slipped (still unnoticed) through the undergrowth. He saw the leader point a sword at Borsel's throat. A lump in his own throat formed.

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I couldn't help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I'd give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.

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 "Stop!" He yelled. All eighteen heads turned to him. He limped out into the clearing. "I have an even better plan." Nídor forced himself not to cry out. "I'll buy her from you." He looked hopefully at the leader. "With what? You're so poor, you might as well marry an orc." He laughed. Nídor's stomach clenched. 

 "I'll give you my sword."

 "You, my new friend have a deal."

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I couldn't help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I'd give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.

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 Borsel was stunned. Her brother would give up something very important, for her? Was she really that loved? Really that important? A flame started to rise, from the bottom of her heart.

But as Borsel's captors let her arms go, and Nídor started to hand the sword over. He unsheathed his weapon, and drove it through the leader. But the leader, sensing something like that might happen, drove his own sword, through her brother. 

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With shortness of breath, I'll explain the infinite

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He fell to the ground with a loud and echoing thump. Borsel, fell to her knees in a scream. She didn't even notice her father, and his men, attack. She was drowning, the flame that had kept her alive was turning to steam faster then ever. Nídor's eyes flickered up to his sister. One tear escaped his solemn features. "Remeber, all of Arda-was made-" He coughed, red pooling at his lips. "Shh, save your strength. You will make it." Borsel tried to comfort herself. "Borsel, you know-I won't-make it. But remember, all of Arda, was-made, for you-and, m-m-me." Nídor's last words escaped his bloody lips. "No. " Borsel whispered. But Nídor, even at the brink of death, still kindled her newfound fire.

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How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.

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