The Lady in the Mirror by Iavalir

Chapter 1

She felt empty since her birth, though it was said niphredil bloomed upon her first breath. She was hailed as a bringer of light, but Lúthien learned early on that with light comes shadows. And it was a shadow which she remembered before her birth, a presence which accompanied her but disappeared the moment she awoke in this world, and it was that which she missed most, her most ancient friend.

This other half she was well aware of since her childhood, but while others were ready to pass it off as a mere imaginary friend, Lúthien knew better. Had they not touched while in the womb together? She was aware of her other half even then. But there was none who remembered their time before their birth, her mother had told her before. But Lúthien knew better.

But her secret friend Lúthien did see again through the dark smooth surface of the mirror in her room. If she concentrated, the image of her other half would look back at her. They were almost identical in their beauty, save for the power which lay behind their eyes were as different as can be. Lúthien’s own grey eyes spoke of the morning dew, the mist in the air. Behind the eyes of her other half were the flames of the candlelight before slipping away from view, leaving the world in perpetual darkness. Her smirk, her lips painted a deep red, and white arms and hands that looked they could break the bones of any which she embraced - this was her other half, but Lúthien neither knew her name nor where to find her. No words were ever exchanged between them; they simply studied one another.

No other ever saw the lady in the mirror when they gazed upon it, to which Lúthien was grateful. The woman was solely hers, a dark shadow she felt she needed to tame her own light. Not a sister or childhood friend but something far more personal, like the pause of her heartbeat or the fleeting moment before she awoke in the morning. She was her very essence.

And she could feel her studying her as she lay in bed, her garments long shed and her form wrapped only in the bedsheets which did not keep away the roaming eyes and hands of the lady in the mirror. Closing her eyes, Lúthien could practically feel the other’s fingers upon her lips, the shadow feeling the form of which light cast upon it. Light and shadow were needed to create her. In the waking hours her friend was locked away in Lúthien’s heart, shielding her from any how many doubt her existence or seek to shake her out of Lúthien’s mind. Lúthien knew better. This woman was vital to her somehow. She kept her safe inside her.

She knew her name somehow. It came to her upon a dream and clung to her lips upon waking. She let the name roll out, speaking softly as to keep the name known only to herself. It left her shuddering, though from excitement or fear she was uncertain. But she had a name, and with that came the first rising of the Sun, and the name she feared to say again till the bright light subdued to the gentler light of the silver orb.

In the mirror that night she said the name again, looking deep in the eyes of the lady in the mirror. Her eyes shone like the light of the setting sun before disappearing, but upon hearing the name, the flames shot up again and suddenly she was gone from the mirror. After Lúthien never saw the lady in the mirror again, and all too quickly the memory of her face ebbed from Lúthien’s mind.

The years passed by and Lúthien held tight to the wisps of memory that did remain, and with each passing bright rays of the sunlight and moonlight a little more was remembered by her. But even she began to doubt the existence of her ancient friend. A mere name was what she needed for ending this obsession, and once finding it she was gone. But Lúthien knew better. This woman, she of secret shadows, was not one to leave her. She was too intimate, and though she never saw her again in the shadows, somehow she felt her presence ever present and watchful.

Her ancient friend did not reveal to her again in the mirror, but it happened upon one night that they saw each other at last. Lúthien had ventured far from the Girdle of Melian, a foolish thing she was oft warned not to do. But the days of the Sun and Moon were still young and Lúthien herself was careful where she tread. Something of this forest beckoned to her, but no shadow here set fear in her. She felt comfort, and under the starlight warm and bright on this plain she felt no need for escape, to rush to safety. If she needed to she could run far in a short amount of time, for her legs were strong and she was naturally adept for speed. And so to this silverly patch she made for.

 While dancing under the starlight of the glade Lúthien caught sight of her. Nothing more than a shadow she at first appeared, but soon Lúthien witnessed the shadow taking shape. It imitated her movements, and Lúthien felt the need to twirl, intrigued as to how the shadow mimicked her with acute precision.

They turned towards each other, and an understanding came between them as their gazes locked. This was her other half, Lúthien realized, the lady in the mirror with eyes like flames. And very beautiful she was. Though Lúthien herself was hailed as the most beautiful creation of Eru Ilúvatar, Lúthien thought her other half to be grander in her dark beauty. Her lips were a deep red, like blood Lúthien soon realized, not soft and pink like her own. And one corner was twitched, forming a smirk or a knowing smile, for she could read all of Lúthien’s thoughts. Or so Lúthien had thought.

For a time they were content to just gaze upon each other in silence, the two women of equal strength and beauty. It was she, Lúthien had no doubt about it, she who resided with her in the womb, she of the secret shadows who left upon her awakening in the world. The shadow which haunted her, thrilled her in her sleep, always watching, always close by. It was said before that nothing could match the speed of the light, but Lúthien knew better by now. Shadow would always follow, but was it to be as so? For though glad as she was to finally gaze upon her, their eyes feasting on each other, Lúthien found her own heart fill with a fear and malice.

This shadow, though her twin in spirit, was no friend to her. She like the night was to be cast off with light, blinding her till nothing of her remained. No ancient friend she was, but an ancient enemy, her other half. And Lúthien knew now, knew better than ever before, that she was no woman to unite with but seek to destroy. Their hatred and fate would entwine their paths together for many years to come.

And Thuringwethil knew it as well, and she offered Lúthien a wicked grin, exposing the sharp fangs with which she used to claim the lives of many. And many she had claimed since her own wakening in the dark night where no star shown and no flower bloomed in celebration of her first breath. And in Lúthien’s mind she could nearly hear the cries of horror of her victims before being swallowed by the perpetual darkness.

Lúthien ran back to the safety of the Girdle as fast as her legs could carry her.