So Far Away
Chapter 1: I Dream In Color
~This story is named after the song So Far Away- Mary Lambert. And this chapter is named after the song Monochromatic- Mary Lambert. Also, italics mean the character is speaking in another language, most likely Sindarin. I do not own LOTR, nor am I an expert on Elvish or anything about Tolkien's world. Therefore, I won't be BSing my way through translating conversations. That would take away from the story, anyway. I simply love this world and want to explore it more. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have!~
Lately, I've been having these dreams. It's more a feeling than anything else really. Sometimes I hear things, like people talking softly around me. Sometimes they are chanting. But the words are strange, and for a moment I think I can make out their meaning. They speak as if I am in the room with them, listening intently. Sometimes they talk about what happened during their days. They describe things I'm unfamiliar with, but they don't explain. And sometimes they tell me personal things. They say they miss me. They plead with me to wake up. And I try- I try so very hard to move my limbs and sit straight up in bed. But as soon as I regain control of my body, I open my eyes to see that I'm home. I'm in bed, staring at the familiarly popcorned ceiling above me.
I wake to reality every time. But I can't help feeling like these dreams should mean something to me.
I'm laying in bed now. I've been tossing and turning for about an hour. It's become a nighttime ritual. Lay down, get comfortable, wiggle a bit, feel fully awake, and turn over, until I exhaust myself into dream world.
The twin bed is small. Not that I'm large, but my childhood bed is lacking in… stretch space. I scowl.
Opening my eyes, I can see the drawings that line my bedroom walls. They cling to the floral wallpaper of my room. Each picture has it's own mood, and it's own memory. I've been drawing a lot lately. It's mostly because of the dreams.
My eye wanders to the most recent drawing. It's a waterfall, crashing down to a massive pool and trickling towards the rocks. It's from my dreams. But I've never actually seen it before. My dreams are strange in that they aren't visual. All I see is darkness. But I feel things- fingers brushing back my hair, a hand grasping my own. I can hear them move around me as I lay back, unable to make a response. They act like they know me, like I'm important to them. And I don't know why.
It would be different if I had only a single dream of this nature. But I've been keeping a dream journal of sorts. So far, I've tallied at least six dreams. And every morning I wake up, I draw something related to the dream. It's how I keep myself sane. I know what I'm experiencing is real. And I can't just forget about it.
I sigh, shifting slightly in bed. I close my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the dreams that come with the darkness. I have to succumb at some point.
I let myself sit still, and try to think of nothing. It's the best way I know to force myself into sleep.
And the next thing I know, I'm here. I'm not exactly sure where here is. But it feels different than my childhood bedroom. I may not have spent much time back home since going off to college, but this place doesn't feel as familiar to me as my room. The strangest part is, I feel safe. It's both a relief and an uncertainty.
I breathe in, then let the breath out slowly. My breathing is deep, like sleep. I'm completely relaxed. But I think I'm alone. I don't hear anyone around me now. Which is unexpected. Every time I've been here, dreaming, there has always been someone else with me. Usually they are different people, but I have never been alone before.
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts, and I hear footfalls nearby. Someone enters the room from my left and paces around my bed. They shuffle with something at the other end of the room, it sounds like metal clinking against a surface. Maybe a table? I'm not sure. But I smell food. It smells familiar, but also unlike anything I have smelled back home. There are more spices… maybe less meat?
A high, sing-songy voice interrupts the silence, "Sorry, Lady Annewyn. They told me I should speak before entering. And that you… can hear us in here. I don't really know if that is true, but if you can hear me… just know that I brought you some food."
The girl shifted in her skirts, and I could feel her uneasiness. She was uncomfortable being near me alone. She spoke up again, and I tried to pry the clues from her one-sided conversation, "I suppose you won't be wanting this food, though. You haven't been eating, not that I know of anyway. It's a wonder you're still alive and well. Perhaps Mithrandir had something to do with that? I'm not sure. And I'm sorry if I'm talking your ear off. It's just, well- I'm new here. And I'm not sure what to say to you… except maybe, there is trouble here. You should wake up soon. Maybe you should go with your family to the Valar? I'm not sure if they can take you as you are, but… most of us will go. It would be a shame if you had to stay here in Imladris."
I could hear the girl's skirts rustle as she curtsied, at least I assumed she did. She continued to speak to me in the strange, yet beautiful language, "I'll take my leave of you now. Someone will be back to check on you soon."
The girl's soft footsteps faded away from me. I wasn't sure what to make of the things she had spoken about. Did she call me… Annewyn? And a Lady? I don't understand how that could be possible. But, Annewyn is crazily close to my name, Anne. Mother has always called me Annie, but this new name is… Could I have dreamt up something like that?
And where are these places she described? She sounded worried, almost like she thought I would be left behind in some way. Everyone is going to the Valar? What is that? And Imladris? She said I am in Imladris. But where is that exactly? I've never heard of it before.
And Mithrandir? Who is that? How would they be able to keep me alive if I'm not… eating? Well, I guess I can't eat if I'm not up and moving around.
The girl never mentioned her name. It was a similar interaction to others I had heard before in my dreams. People would come in, usually individually. And they would speak to me as if I should know… as if I would understand.
Wait, yes, she was. That girl spoke to me in a different language. I'm almost sure of it. They usually do that in my dreams. But this time I didn't notice. I'm growing more accustomed to the words. But how am I able to decipher what they mean?
A long moaning sounded across the hall. It sounded almost like a horn of some sort. And it came from far off, definitely not very close to my current location. What did the horn mean? It didn't sound dangerous. In fact, the sound sent shivers up and down my spine. It was a thrill. And I am not sure why my heart leapt at the sound.
I sat in silence, waiting for someone else to come visit me. Nothing happened for what seemed like a long time. But I really can't be sure. Time seems to slip by much more quickly in this dream realm.
But, eventually someone entered the room and approached me. The figure walked close to my bed, and I could feel him hover over my body- as if he were checking for breath. Then, he spoke up, "I'm here, Annewyn. You do not need to worry."
He turned on his heel and moved to the opposite side of the room. I could hear him rustling through the food the previous girl had brought into the room. The man coughed slightly and a short laugh escaped his lips, "Goodness, Nimrodelle put a bit too much ginger in this soup." He paused and set the soup back down on the table. I could hear the clink of the porcelain on the tabletop. "I hope you enjoy her company. Nimrodelle is new here, and we would like to welcome her eagerly. Of course, her position is entirely up to you." He waved me off and sighed deeply. I could hear him approaching me again, and he stopped her the head of my bed. "I wish you would wake up, my sweet girl. Arwen could use her sister now. Times are so dark. I fear we will have to send you both to sail across the sea. If the worse comes, then the Valar will be your safe haven. I have faith in this… But I wish for nothing more than your happiness. I pray that I live to see your smiling face. I imagine it sometimes, full of life. I know not why this curse has befallen you. But it is my belief that you are special. What runs through your veins… it could be the salvation of many."
I felt a hand brush across my forehead. "Annewyn… my daughter. I know not what to do in these dark times. The council will soon decide. It will be out of my hands. But perhaps… just maybe, you have been waiting for such a time as this."
The man leaned forward and planted a soft kiss to my brow. I tried to call out to him, to yell or scream, "I'm here! Please don't leave me! Help me to understand!" But all that came out was a whimper.
The man's breath hitched in his throat when I cried out quietly. His hands grabbed for mine, and he clutched them close. "Annewyn? You can hear me, child? Oh darling daughter. I know you will come back to us."
The man sat with me for a long time. I could feel the weight of his body sitting at the edge of my bed as it dipped toward him. He stroked my hand and sang to me. He sang in many different languages, of which I had never heard before in my life. It was strange, how I could decipher what this man was saying to me in one language, but others were too foreign even for my dream self. But the words and melodies were soothing. It was a comfort to have someone near me throughout the entirety of my dream.
I woke up the same way I had six times before- in my childhood bed. Nothing looked out of place. Nothing was unfamiliar. But I was still longing for answers.
Before breakfast, I drew some silverware and dishes. They were similar to what I suspected would have been brought to my dream room by the girl called Nimrodelle. I drew soup in a small bowl with steam rising up from the hot liquid. And I drew a pot of tea… simply because it seemed like it belonged there. But I honestly had no idea what this world looked like. All I had to go on were my other senses. And what I could feel, hear, and smell was not always vivid enough for something like a drawing.
But it still felt all too real.
I'm in the kitchen with my mom now. It's a Saturday, so she isn't working today. And since I've just begun Summer break, I can spend time with her now.
Mom is standing at the stove. She's nursing a pot of boiling oats while I sit at the counter with a glass of almond milk. It's pretty much become our family breakfast tradition.
"What do your classes look like next semester, Annie?"
I squint down at my glass of milk, "Not really sure. I haven't bothered to look at them. I'm still recovering from last semester."
Mom gives me a disapproving look, "You've been home for five days! That's more than enough recovery time."
I shrug, "I have two and a half months of vacation to worry about future classes. Give me a week."
Mom chuckles slightly, still stirring the boiling water and oatmeal, "I suppose you deserve it. Your classes were pretty rough. I was nervous for you. Every time you called on an exam day, I swear I got nervous diarrhea for you!"
I laugh out loud, "I believe you, Mom Cat."
Mom smiles, "Go get a bowl and we'll eat this."
"Alright." I push off from the counter and stand up from the stool I was sitting on. Weaving around my mom, I reach for a bowl in the cupboard. I feel the porcelain brush my fingertips as I grab for it. And, I think the bowl is in my hand. But then my hand feels almost… numb. My vision starts to spiral and I feel like I'm… fading. Never in my life have I experienced anything like this. And I can feel my body fall to the kitchen floor. But I don't feel the impact of my head hitting the tile.
I can't move. But I can see my mom. She's hovering over me, demanding that I respond to her. She's panicked. I see her reach for her phone. She must be dialing 911. But I can't reach out to her. I can't reassure her. And I'm not even sure if I am ok.
My eyelids feel heavy, and I can't stop them from drooping shut. Mom is screaming down at me. She's trying to answer the operator's questions through her sobs. I can't fix this for her. And I'm scared.
Suddenly, a rush of adrenaline shoots through my limbs and I sit straight up. Gasping a large breath of air into hungry lungs, I look around in panic. My chest rises and falls in a labored fashion as I try to regain my bearings. But I don't see what I expected to see. I'm no longer in my family's kitchen. Mom is not here. And that's when I realize; I can only be in one place.
I'm back here, back in the dream world.
I look down at my legs, moving my hands over them and wiggling my toes just to make sure nothing's missing. It's a silly thing to be alarmed about, but I have to check. However, as I run my hands across my thighs, I realize that I'm no longer wearing my sweat pants. In fact, I'm wearing a soft, silky, sky blue material. Looking over my torso, I realize I'm wearing a gown. My first reaction is, 'No. Shut up. This is not happening.' And I'm slowly freaking out.
I turn at the sound of someone approaching the entrance. I haven't had time to scan the room around me well, but from what I have seen it is very elaborately decorated. The door to this room is wreathed in woodwork that depicts various plants and vines, along with other celtic designs. But they aren't really celtic, are they? I suppose that's the best way I can really describe them. But the footsteps continue to advance toward the small room I am occupying.
A beautiful and willowy young woman enters the room. Her eyes focus directly on me, sitting upright in bed, and she looks like she might faint. The color rushes from her face and her eyes bulge in surprise. She nearly falls to the floor, either from panic or from a lack of knowing what exactly to do with herself in this situation, I'm not sure. But she stumbles back toward one of the ornately carved pillars and cries out, "SHE'S AWAKE! COME! HELP ME!"
Two armed guards, who are also tall and model-esque, scurry into the room with us. They are clad in full armor, but it looks more decorative than functional. And they are carrying long spears. At the sight of the armed men, I scramble away from them and try to sink into the headboard of the bed.
One of the guards reaches a hand out towards me, and speaks to me calmly, "Do not fear, my lady. You are safe here. We will not harm you."
The other guard turns to the first and says, "I will get Lord Elrond. He will want to know at once."
The first guard nods his approval. And I am left with one guard, and a strangely panicked girl. She turns to look at the guard and asks, "What do we do with her? Nobody told me this could happen!"
The first guard corrects his posture so that he is more relaxed, "Many an age have we waited for this moment. It is a happy occasion, Nimrodelle."
So this is Nimrodelle? She looks so… young- maybe even younger than me. But she looks unimpressed with the guard's answer, "Does this mean I am going to have to clean later?"
The guard offers her a slight smirk, but ignores her. I stare back at him, unsure how to react to their brief exchange. They are both speaking in another language, the same one I have heard in my dreams for the past few days. But I can understand them. And I'm not sure why.
Suddenly, an older man sweeps into the room, leading a trail of regal robes. He has long, flowing brunette hair and he wears an intricate circlet. His eyes find mine immediately, and I see the lines in his face relax. There is love in his eyes, and I know who he is in that moment. I find my voice, but it is quiet and raspy, "Dad?"
The man breaks into a smile and rushes toward me, enveloping me in his arms. He burries his hands in my hair and hides his face in my shoulder. I can feel the cool wetness of his tears as he cries. "My daughter! Oh, Annewyn. My sweet darling girl. You are here with us! You have come home!"
I'm unsure how to respond. I don't really know this man. But I have a deeply buried connection to him, and I'm not sure what to make of the aching feeling in my chest. So I bring my hands around his back and return the embrace. I pat his head slowly, wanting him not to hurt anymore. I want this man to be happy. And I don't understand any of these feelings. But I let myself comfort him. "It's ok. I'm here." I chant soothing words down at him, trying to help the situation.
But then another woman enters the room. She is very tall and pale, with long dark hair. She is undoubtedly the most beautiful person I have ever seen. And when her blue eyes meet mine, a word springs from my mouth, "Arwen."
The woman smiles widely and lets loose a laugh that exclaims relief. She bursts toward me and begins to comb her hands over my face, my hair, my arms. Tears fall down her face, and I can tell that she can hardly believe I am real. "My sweet little sister. You are here now. I am so happy, I cannot find the words to express these feelings."
The older man in my arms lets his iron grip loosen around me, and sits up on the bed next to me. The woman, Arwen, looks to the man and laughs gloriously. "It's alright, Father. Annewyn is here now."
The man lets out a few chuckles, which are filled with a feeling of awe. But he seems to compose himself and turns to the other two people in the room, Nimrodelle and the guard. "You may return to your duties. Please allow us some time in private."
Nimrodelle turns to leave, but the guard lingers, "My Lord Elrond, what should we say to the others?"
Understanding the dilemma, Elrond answers definitively, "Do not speak of this to anyone. I will make an announcement as soon as we are finished here."
The guard bows in acceptance and turns on his heel to exit the room. I am left with the woman, Arwen, and her father, Elrond.
My gaze shifts awkwardly between them. I am not sure what to say. They stay silent, seemingly waiting for me. I shrug internally and let loose my first cannon, "So, you are my… family?"
Elrond looks concerned by my question, but Arwen recovers from in quickly. "Yes, you are my sister. And this is our father, Lord Elrond. Why do you speak in the common tongue, Annewyn?"
My eyebrows knit together in concern. I thought I was somehow speaking exactly like them. I thought that if I could understand them in this world, then I must somehow also be speaking like them. It was a stupid assumption, I now realize. So, I decide to reply honestly, "I-I don't know what language you are speaking."
Lord Elrond suddenly becomes very serious, but he replies to me in a dialect similar to my own. And I know he is speaking in 'common tongue' for my benefit, "And yet you understand us, Annewyn?"
I feel uneasy, knowing that they keep saying my name because they are afraid I will forget it. "Yes, I understand what you're saying. But I'm not sure how I know those strange words. I am not familiar with them… or anything else, really."
Elrond's expression has not changed, "What do you fail to remember?"
I sigh slowly, looking around at the designs on the walls. There is a porch on the other side of the room, and it looks out over a scenic waterfall. It is eerily similar to the one I drew back home, only two days before. I revert my attention back to the man before me, "I honestly do not remember anything… But some things feel very… familiar to me."
Arwen and Elrond do not reply, so I decide to continue, "How is it that I know who you are, and I recognized many things about this place… But I do not remember any of it? Is this… even real?"
Elrond reaches a hand out towards me and cups my hands in his own, "This is very real, my darling daughter. You have been asleep for many ages. But it seems the darkness that grows in Mordor has awoken you. Galadriel had promised me you would serve a much bigger purpose in the fate of Middle Earth. But I had not imagined your fate would be tied to the ring."
I frown in frustration, "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"
Another, more peaceful and warm, voice interrupts my panic. "You have awoken, Annewyn. I have been waiting."
Elrond turns around to meet the newcomer, "My Lady Galadriel, we had not expected you so soon."
Galadriel smiles down at Elrond and answers, "Nor had I, Lord Elrond. But I had a strong urge to come here. I believe it is fate that has brought me to you at this very moment, to guide your daughter in this time of uncertainty."
Elrond bows from his position and turns back to me, "This is the Lady Galadriel, of Lorien. You have met briefly before, when you were very young. She has strong inclinations as to what the purpose of this curse must be."
Galadriel interrupted, "Not a curse, Lord Elrond. But rather…it is a singular fate. And it is entirely her own."
"What does that mean?" I ask, not really getting anywhere closer to understanding my situation.
Galadriel answered me in the common tongue, "It means, my dear Annewyn, that you have a part to play in the salvation of our world."
PS: So, just going to give you a small timeline. According to the lotr wiki: The quest for the ring was around TA 3018, Arwen was born TA 241, Legolas was born around TA 1000, and Biblo's quest with the ring started around TA 2941. So, I'm going to make Annewyn's birth around TA 2000. That makes her younger than the other major elves in the story, but still old enough to have been around during the quest for Erebor.
If you don't agree with any of this, that's fine. I'm writing fanfiction because I love it. I'm not writing it to be a Tolkien expert, or to please anyone else.
