Happy Friday 13th!

Today is one of the two Friday the 13th that will occur this year. I am sincerely hoping that something wonderful happens to me today. This day always proves to be a lucky day for me. I look forward to these days and mark them off on my calendar. I posted a short one chapter LOTR-ish story in my LiveJournal. I thought I’d do the same here since it isn’t long, or majorly big on LOTR. I just use the naming style, a couple words in Elvish, and a river. It’s more about the two original characters that I created for the story.

Danielle

Author: DMitchell1985
Story Title: The Demon
Story Genre: Action/Adventure
Story Rating: PG – excitable, and possibly scary scenes
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Lord of the Rings. It is owned by J.R.R. Tolkien’s estate and heirs. I am not associated with any of Tolkien’s heirs or estate. I am not one of his heirs. I only own those characters which I have given life to through my story. Please ask if you wish to use a character of mine. This story is not written to infringe on any copyright or any other laws. This story was written as a homage to Mr. Tolkien’s work. I only wish for the reader(s) to enjoy the story.
Summary: A desperate father races to save his son in time.
Major Characters: Niledhelion, and his son, Orobalien
Email: betagirl23 at yahoo dot com
Author’s Note 1: Please do not use my work of fiction without my consent first. Feel free to archive my story on your site if you like it, but ask first and/or let me know where it is going. Feedback is always welcome, as long as it is constructive.

–

“Ada (1) !” he called out to his father, “Help me! Save me!”

Niledhelion ran to him, crying as he did so, “Orobalien!” he screamed, “I am coming!”

Niledhelion ran faster to the riverbank, “How could I have been so irresponsible?! How could I have let him out of my sight?! How could I? Am I to add him to my growing list of those whose deaths I still swallow with rancid bitterness?” Niledhelion questioned himself, and pumped his legs harder, crushing gravel and grass alike in his path, “No! I will save him!”

“Ada!” the child screamed again, “The current’s too strong! I can’t hold on any longer!” Orobalien’s face twisted in panic as his fingers’ grip on the gnarled log waned. “Ada. . .” he thought as his body finally relented to the force of the river’s raging current.

“Orobalien!” Niledhelion yelled in terror. He’d watched as the boy slid under the misty foam that bubbled around him. “Orobalien!” he screeched again, utterly helpless. He ran to the edge of the river in time to see the boy bob to the surface face up, “Orobalien. . .” the name fell from Niledhelion’s lips as but a whisper.

Niledhelion turned on his heels and raced along the riverbank to keep up with the now unconscious child. “God, help me!” Niledhelion howled to the sky above, attempting to be heard over the roaring laughter of the river that licked its tongues of spray across jagged teeth, ready to devour another tender morsel of Elven flesh. After all, rivers gained reputations for a reason.

“No! I will not let you have him, you fiend!” Niledhelion ground out through clinched teeth and determined strides. “I need to make it to the low point along the bank before he goes over the fall,” Niledhelion thought with finality.

Niledhelion panted, fear and exhaustion warred within his chest. He made sure that he kept sight of Orobalien so he would know where his body drifted. They had traveled more than a mile and a half now. Niledhelion could see the dip in the canyon’s walls approaching.

Niledhelion leapt over a fallen tree limb and rushed to the shore. He managed to arrive ahead of Orobalien, and waded into the shallow water until the docile current lapped at his thighs. He would wait here for his son to make the last quarter mile down the river to him.

Niledhelion silently thanked the Valar that he remembered one of the few low points where the sheer cliffs surrounding the Bruinen gave way to pebbled beaches and a lulled stream, instead of the treacherous snare that never failed to capture the unwary or servants of the Dark Lord.

Niledhelion nearly shouted in joy when Orobalien finally came into view. He sloshed water onto most of his clothes in his haste to reach the boy and drag him from the icy water. “Please Ulmo, let him still draw breath,” Niledhelion prayed to the Vala who held sway over all the waters that flowed, “Please, let no water settle permanently in his lungs.”

Niledhelion reached the boy’s sodden form and snagged his strong fingers in the fabric of Orobalien’s tunic, pulling him closer to clutch the limp form to his chest as he waded to shore.

“Orobalien,” Niledhelion tried, hoping to receive any response that would tell him what he needed to know, whether his youngest son was alive or dead. Niledhelion could feel creeping prickles of dread beginning to set off tiny pangs of alarm across his clammy skin when we realized that Orobalien was not breathing.

Niledhelion adjusted Orobalien in order for him to lay flat on his back. Then, Niledhelion tilted Orobalien’s head back so that he could open the boy’s mouth to check for debris that may have found its way into his son’s mouth. When he saw that was none blocking the child’s air passage, he covered Orobalien’s mouth with his own and blew a breath deep into his lungs, hoping to force out any water that was possibly hindering the youth’s breathing. One breath, wait, check for signs of breathing. Two breaths, wait, check for any signs of intake. Three breaths, wait. . . a slight stirring behind the boy’s eyes caught Niledhelion’s attention. “He’s alive!” he thought excitedly, “He still lives!”

Niledhelion quickly rolled his choking son onto his side when he began coughing up water in spurts. Niledhelion let out a sigh of relief, rubbed his son’s back to encourage him to cough up the rest of the river he had consumed, and mentally thanked Ulmo for answering his prayer.

“Ok, sit up slowly. That’s it,” Niledhelion instructed gently, as he assisted.

“Ada. . .”

“Don’t try to speak right away. There will be plenty of time for that later on. Focus on breathing. In and out. In and out,” Niledhelion lightly hugged the boy to him. After a few minutes passed, Niledhelion spoke once again, “Now that you seem to have a bit more ease breathing, let us go to the healers to have them look you over.”

“But ada. . . ” Orobalien whined, “I’m OK.”

“No, you are not OK. You almost. . . Let’s just make our way to the healers,” Niledhelion told his son firmly as he rose from his kneeling position, and offered a hand to his son.

“Ok adar (2), you win,” Orobalien replied, accepting the hand, and allowed himself to be pulled to his shaky feet.

As Niledhelion passed one of the many falls that divided the Bruinen River on his way to a path that led down into the hidden city, he peered over the edge, “Gods, it was not even a full mile to the fall. I could have easily lost my son to the belly of the beast.”

–

1 – Ada – Dad

2 – Adar – Father