A/N: Hello fellow Ringers! My first attempt at a Lord of the Rings story was a personal embarrassment and so I took it down. I decided to rewrite it and give this story a proper burial. Hopefully it will be better this time around. I'd like to say thanks to my friend DiamondSword400 for being awesome and helping me out with this. Girl, you are awesome!
Anyway, please enjoy!
Chapter One: Magic
Once upon a time, high above the sky, lived the Moon.
She would brush her hair everyday, but not allow any of the silver strands to fall down to the earth below.
Rooted in the Moon's hair was her magic, and everyday as she brushed it, some of it would float away.
The moon knew that man was greedy, and would abuse her precious sorcery, so she kept it to herself.
One day, a very long time ago, the Sun came to visit her,
She'd set her brush down on her crystal vanity and rose to greet him outside her palace made of Stars, but left her magical hair alone.
The Moon had made an enemy of the Wind after saying she could not be beautiful because no one could see her, and so she decided that day to get her revenge.
Her invisible laugh was cruel as she tore through the walls of the palace made of Stars and plucked a single silver hair from the brush.
She ran out across the night sky, her transparent hair flying out behind her as she rode on the breeze down to earth.
The Wind also knew that man was greedy, and the only one deserving of the magic was the one beneath her feet; the Earth.
The Wind knelt, her clear dress getting stained by the mud, and she dug a hole. In it, she put the single drop of wizard.
It was not enough to bring eternal magic to the odd, little planet, but it was just the right amount to give the Earth a will to survive.
The tiniest bit remained however.
There, the magic sat in the soil, until many years later when someone built a castle and placed the crib of a baby girl on the very same spot.
Try to stand on your head.
Do it, now. If you can't, that's alright, if you can, excuse me while I clap for a moment.
Remember how it felt, standing on your head -provided that you did like I asked- because it will be of importance later. The blood rushing to your head, the ache in your palms, the feeling of being slightly crushed every second, keep it all fresh in your mind. Yes, that will all be very important later on because our story begins with a young woman attempting to do what you just did and failing miserably.
Perhaps if she had not failed, we would have no story. But she did, and we do, so please sit down and enjoy.
Just beyond the border of a small town, just north of a rather large forest and just south of nowhere, there stood a rather large castle. It was tall, impossibly so, with turrets and glass windows and a ripped, dirty red flag that blew in the cold winter breeze. Stone walls rose form the ground, layer upon layer, sealing out the chill. Each window as divided into exactly seven panes by dark metal. On a few of the windows were chips from the ice from hailstorms, which were a common occurrence. At night, they would hit the glass and making little ping sounds, almost as if they were attempting to play music.
Brick after brick sealed in sound as well. Nobody outside of the would hear what was going on from the other side of the wall, one would have to walk all the way around to the large, creaking French doors that seemed to have a mind of their own. They liked to swing open during a snowstorm and stay firmly shut when the sweltering heat of summer would settle over the land like an electric blanket. They truly were a mystery. All was quiet that day, and to an outsider, the castle looked deserted, but on the inside it was hardly so.
If one would listen closely at the door of the castle that was pretty much falling to ruin in a sort of homey, dangerous way, one would hear the sound of a body hitting the ground every now and again.
Please, stay calm and don't alert the authorities, this was a terribly common occurrence. No beatings within an inch of one's life were taking place there and no one was harming themselves. Well, that was a bit of a lie, as Lacey Maccabee - the one who kept falling over - was in a great deal of technically self-inflicted pain.
"Great, jumping... fish!" She shouted, as she hit the ground hard, quickly scrambling for a word to replace the colorful adjective she had intended to use. She stood up from the warm floor covered with pillows. She was briefly glad that she has a fireplace installed, as it dispelled the damp and warmed the stone panels underfoot. She preferred to go shoeless around her almost-home, and would prefer if her toes didn't freeze and fall off.
She was a tall young woman of about twenty-five years with pale hands that grasped her right hip, the one that she just went down on as she let out a low hiss. The white flesh of her wrist extended up into slightly lengthy arms and fed off in to skinny, boney shoulders. Her neck was perhaps too long, but her jaw was rather nice. It was soft and gave way to high cheekbones that held aloft two light green eyes. Her freckle-dusted cheeks were ever so slightly pink from the comfortable warmth of her living room. "That hurt a lot more than the book said it would!" She exclaimed in her rather thick, Scottish brogue.
If the young woman had any friends, they would have probably said that she was very difficult to understand. Paired with the fact that Lacey tended to speak very quickly, and nobody who hadn't known her for around three and a half years wouldn't have a hope in Hell at attempting to decipher just what she was rattling on about.
She flipped her long, red hair over her shoulder, a feature from her mother's side of the family, and walked over towards a low, wooden coffee table where a book titled 'How to Stand on Your Head for Dummies' sat open to page twenty-three.
"Aha!" She said, pointing to a paragraph after she licked her thumb and flipped to the next page. "'There may be slight discomfort when you fall over on certain parts of your body. Don't worry, this is normal for a beginner.'" She growled lowly and slammed the book closed with a thud, shaking her head and pulling a few curls loose from the pins that held them back.
She whipped around and went stalking back to her pillows. She sat down with a huff, muttering rather rude terms and curses under her breath, directed at the writer of the book who claimed that he could stand on his head for an hour. The jealous part of her wanted to believe that he was merely exaggerating.
"Slight discomfort, my ass!" She said gruffly before placing her head on one of her most favorite pillows - bright red with purple polka dots on the front - and pushing against the ground. Slowly, she lifted herself up off the ground so that her long legs extended upwards and her feet with freshly painted red toenails to match her fingers pointed upwards into the air.
She let out a triumphant cackle of laughter and then promptly fell over on the ground. She managed to hit her head and land on her bottom when she made impact. Luck was really not on very good terms with Lacey, unfortunately for her. The woman resisted the urge to cry and kicked herself for being such an intolerable sap.
"Bullocks!" She cursed, feeling a bit of sadness as she knew she'd have to put more money in her vastly increasing swear jar and rubbing her head. "I can't do anything right!" She said so loudly that her voice echoed off of the cold, stone walls. She remained on the ground a bit longer, allowing herself to mope a bit and wallow in some very comforting self-pity before flipping over on her stomach and dragging herself across the cushioned floor to the remote control of her telly about a meter away.
Lacey never could focus on one thing for very long and so she contented herself with watching a bit of the idiot box to clear her brain. As long as she didn't end up eating the grocery store like her last movie marathon, she was sure that she would be alright. Lacey didn't have the time or money to go buy more grocery's, much less the next size up in pants.
She really did hate being thicker around the middle, as she didn't really have the time to exercise. When Lacey attempted to eat healthier, she would usually end up buying a salad, laughing at it for a few minutes, and would then order out for pizza. It was a vicious cycle.
She flipped on her aching behind again and winced a bit before flicking on the monitor with the touch of a button. The black screen lit up to show the channel that she was on the night before. Lacey grimaced as the name of an actor she didn't like appeared on-screen and she quickly flipped down to the telly guide .
"Let's see." She said as she scanned the many channels she had access to. "News. Infomercials. Oh, Game of Thrones," She paused a minute, her remote hovering over itl to get a preview and then shook her head. "Seen it." She told herself before pausing on one particular title that caught her interest. "In celebration for the theatrical release of the Hobbit, a marathon of the Lord of the..." She trailed off, furrowing her eyebrows at the last word. "Rings?"
She stayed silent for a beat, drowning the air in stillness and then burst out laughing.
"Is that really what Aaron was so hung up about?" She laughed to herself, throwing her head back at the title of the movie. Her almost-friend Aaron had raved about the trilogy all the time in high school; Lacey didn't really see what all the hype was about. Then again, she'd never seen it. "Well, I think it's worth a try." She clicked the 'okay' button on the remote and sat a bit a back.
"I amar prestar sen: han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae...a han noston ned wilith." Lacey cocked an eyebrow at the light, full voice and the words it hissed. She was unsure what it was saying, as her telly was old, and if the speaker was even speaking English.
"German?" She asked herself quietly, wondering if it was a foreign film and whether or not to put on subtitles. When the voice of a woman speaking in words she could understand was heard, Lacey managed to relax a bit, as following along with subtitles was always challenging for her. She remained silent after that, the only noise being the wind that blew outside against the walls.
It was ten minutes in that Lacey's mouth fell open and stayed that way. She was completely mesmerized by the beginning, the rich costumes, the wonderful script, but poor Lacey was not a very lucky woman, as I said earlier. Not at all.
"Grantaire, put that bottle down!" Lacey rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh as she heard her phone receive a text. The magic spell that the movie had cast was utterly broken and she turned away from the telly screen that showed a lush little village and an old man riding in a cart full of fireworks, full of regret.
"What is it now?" She asked as she quickly stood up and sprinted across the long, fire lit room towards the dank foyer. Carpets hid the dark brown mold that traveled deep into the rotting wood and her lips curl up into a sneer. Keeping the damp out was a constant battle for Lacey; one that she wasn't winning. On a low shelf next to her knit hat and scarf was her crappy, cheapest-money-could-buy cell phone. She flipped up the lid of it and grimaced as the bright light cut through the dim atmosphere. Hearing her movie in the background and wanting nothing more than to get back to it, she sighed and checked her message box.
"Hey honey, dinner is still on, right?" Lacey's eyes widened as her blood ran cold. She typed a quick reply back to her mother, ignoring how much she wished that a man would text her that.
Lacey's mother was not the easiest of people to get on with, to say the least. She had always been a controlling parent, but that trait had continued on long after Lacey left home for university and then out into the real world. Lacey was sure that night's discussion would be about finally settling down. After all, it had been over three years since Lacey had gone out on a date with someone. Her mother seemed desperate for grandchildren before she reached the age of fifty.
"Okay, when will you be here again?" She typed back, taking her time, closing her eyes and praying that she would be able to buy some time. Poor Lacey could almost feel how angry the replying text was.
"You forgot? Ugh that's exactly like you. I'll be there around seven-thirty. DON'T FORGET!" Lacey winced as she sent back a very quick apology and snapped her phone shut, her eyes adjusting to the light.. She could almost hear her mother's voice through the phone. It was enough to drive anyone mad.
Lacey gave the old grandfather clock on the wall a sparing glance before rebounding and nearly shrieking at the time.
"Seven-fifteen!" She shouted, almost as if she could not believe it. "When on earth did time start hating me?" She whipped around, running as fast as her legs could carry her back to the living room where the fire was still burning bright and horrible, scary-looking black things were chasing the Hobbits. Lacey didn't think to turn the telly off as she bustled around the room.
She had to get the place up to par by the time her mother arrived. She was supposed to be on a retreat to 'find herself', not hiding from her problems! Yet, Lacey was using her grandmother's old castle like an ostrich does sand when it burrows its head into the ground. Lacey didn't want to face the world just yet, or her deeply religious mother. She was the one that Lacey was hiding from, and the woman shuddered to think of what would happen if she found out about her little problem.
Lacey sighed and shook her head. holding her hand out. She felt a familiar tingling in her arm as the dirty clothes on the floor flew through the air and into the hamper. She reminded herself to take that to the laundromat next Monday. When her clothing was picked up, she focused on the pillows and sent them quickly whizzing up the stairs to her hardly-vacated bedroom.
Lacey spun around, flicking her wrist and adjusting the pillows on the sofa before finally whipping around, stepping over a crack, and directing her hand towards the telly.
What a big mistake Lacey made.
As Lacey landed slightly messily on the stone floor, her hand moved slightly to the right. The young woman took pride in her aim, as she intended to hit the manual 'off' switch, that is not what happened.
The faint tingle of electricity left her hand as usual, but she found it quickly returning as it hit the television screen and rebounded. Lacey gasped as the blot of magic was sent hurling back to her and did not have the time to move away as the magic hit her in the chest, sending her flying backwards. She felt her head hit something hard and her vision went black.