A/U: Hi! This is going to be the first time anyone else will meet my darling Rotherane, so don’t be too hard on her. But tell me what you think! Thanks for reading! I don’t own anything but Rotherane, btw. All the rest belongs to our beloved Tolkien.

Rotherane stared at the body on the porch. Was it really a body anymore? The only thing that could distinguish the mutilated corpse strewn across the shattered tiles from being any other soul’s vessel was the blood stained clothing. Supple velvet of the purest green. The colour of a sapling’s first leaves. Her feet slowly took her closer. The feeling of blood squishing into her soft leather shoes sickened her, but it wasn’t the first time she had felt it. She kneeled when she reached the remains of the King and dropped her gaze to the face she once considered her son’s. His once warm brown eyes now stared into the silence, glassy in their fearful end. Her own could not force the tears they begged for. She took his body into her arms and rocked him close, just as she had when he was a boy. The copper of the blood and deep twang of smoke took a hold on long dormant senses. Adrenalin filled her arms, the muscles clenching. Her nose took in scents that were quite unimportant. And her ears picked out footsteps behind her.

“Go inside, Maedhros.”

“Nanna, what on earth…?” She held her son closer, more defensively; burying her face in the blood slicked fabric that covered most of his chest. The steps came closer and she slowly turned, rising her indifferent gaze to meet that of the confused redhead. He gasped when he saw her. Slick red liquid clung to her cheek and hair, soaking into the shimmering white of her dress. He followed the red down to her arms, where she held a shadowed object. As he walked forward the realization of what it was slowly dawned on him.

“He killed my little boy…” She stood swiftly, stumbling for a moment when she dropped the body onto the hem of her skirt. She left the elf to his grandson and walked back towards the house, completely dazed. Rotherane froze.

He killed my little boy… Her body no longer felt itself as she sprinted through the house, bloody footprints trailing their way to her room. In an instant the door was shut and she slammed onto her bed. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was ever fair.

“Life’s not fair, little one,” she whispered to the young boy in her arms. She smiled down at him, taking the handkerchief from her bodice where she always kept it for important events like this. Rotherane dried the prince’s eyes. “It never was and never will be, laddie, but you might as well not brood.” He sniffled and pouted angrily.

“What if I do not want to, Nanna?” Rotherane gasped, rather dramatically covering her gaping mouth with her free hand.

“Why, if you brood for long enough, you won’t ever be able to smile, ever again!” His eyes widened at her serious comment.

“Ever again?!”

“Ever, EVER again!”

That was what Rotherane had begun to do. Get on with life as it came. Go with the flow. Nothing is fair and nothing ever will be. The echo from times so long past filled her queenly indifference with emotion. She felt herself tensing, choking. Life’s not fair. Life’s never fair. Her eyes finally closed, the dead fear and grief finally washing through her. Her hands clutched desperately to the once white sheets. The itchy warmth of her eyes overcame her as suddenly as she had seen the blood on her doorstep and the blackened flight of the fallen god. She wept until she couldn’t remember any more. What more was life without her first charge? Her child? Her son?

R&R!