The Shape of a Life
A/N: For those of you that may recognize the title, this is a re-vamped version of a very similar story that I posted here several years ago, under the pen name, "yeah that's me." (I'm not a narcissist, I swear.) I re-read the Lord of the Rings recently, and the idea came back to me, so I spent some time thinking it over and tweaking things here and there, and now I'm trying to re-write it. All future updates and stories will be posted under this account, because, like the space-case I am, I lost track of the email address I created for my old account, and can't for the life of me figure out how to log in again. :P
So, without further ado...
The creature – the man? – gleamed in the darkness as he rode into the keep on his white horse, as if somehow he had netted the light of the stars beneath his skin. His carved features were both startlingly fair and chillingly fell; his pale eyes flashed unnaturally bright in the gloom. He rode without saddle or bridle and spoke no word to his mount, which followed proudly behind the King of the Mark as if it needed no direction. There was something indefinable about him that captivated utterly, something in the refined grace of his posture or the sharp glance of his eyes, something in the strange and beautiful alienness of his face…
Two eyes, a nose, a mouth. Two legs, two arms. A head of white-gold hair.
He was, and yet was not, human. But he must be, mustn't he? For who alive had ever seen -?
Beneath the black vault of the lowering sky, the King and his company - the strange, starlit-man among them - rode into Helm's Deep and passed out of sight around a curve in the wall. Whispers broke out among the phalanx of startled refugees who had gathered, hushed and gaping, in their wake.
Off to the side, a boy blinked twice, slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep, and picked himself up off the stone floor where he had sat hidden in the shadows, pillowed against several large sacks of grain. His small pale face bore the dazed look of one who has not yet shed the lingering cobwebs of a clinging dream, and his eyes stared without seeing as he shrugged his small shoulders absently, chaffing chilled hands together.
Who alive had ever seen...?
With alarming suddenness, a claw-like hand seized upon one of the boy's bony wrists and all at once his eyes lost their far-away look: shrinking backwards with a frightened yelp, he yanked himself free, only to find himself gaping at a brittle-looking woman with her mouth set in a stern line.
"Don't stand there idle, boy!" she snapped at him, making another grab for his wrist. He pulled away. "Make yourself useful! Go see to it that the horses are led safely into the caves, the Riders won't want to bother with that – and while you're in there fetch as much food as you can carry, bread, cheese, meat – apples if you can find them – they'll be hungry after that ride, and if the talk is right they'll need their strength before the night is over. Hurry, hurry, don't just stay here gaping at me like a halfwit!"
The boy looked at her as if bewildered by her swift speech, and then glanced around, seeming surprised to find that the expectant hush following the King's arrival had been broken but a sudden onslaught of commotion.
"Goodness, where is your head?" The woman demanded, and began herding him quickly along in the direction of the Riders. "Go on now, and mind you keep a civil tongue!"
The boy had barely enough time to gasp, "Yes'm," before she had shoved him into a throng of men and horses and scuttled off, looking harassed.
The boy did not immediately snap into action. He pivoted for a moment in place, turning in a full circle and gazing at everything around him with wide dark eyes. Everywhere men were dismounting, calling for water, or removing helmets from sweaty heads. But he was nowhere to be seen, the starlit-man - there was only the oppressive stench of unwashed bodies and sweaty horseflesh, the deep rumble of anxious voices. Other young lads darted through the crowd hither and thither, carrying flasks of water or carefully leading a skittish horse away towards the caves. Somewhere, someone was bellowing orders, and every now and then a group of riders would break off from the rest and march away to their posts, grim-faced, their hands upon the hilts of their swords.
Just men and horses, earthly beings with earthly concerns, huddling together beneath the black starless sky. No glimpse of starlight, in the heavens or in the crowd.
"Excuse me, lad." The voice came from behind. Turning, the boy found himself blinking up at a young Rider with an anxious, dirt-streaked face. "If you wouldn't mind taking my horse? I'm needed on the Wall."
"Oh, yes, lord, of course-" the boy's voice was quiet, nearly lost in the growing din. He reached out a hand for the reins.
"Thank you," the Rider said, then adding gently, "And perhaps you'd better stay in the caves once you're there, my lad."
"Why? Is there to be a battle, lord?" the boy asked, looking up at the older youth imploringly. "Is that why the King has come?
The taught expression he received in response was answer enough. The boy's mouth thinned and he seemed to shrink in upon himself slightly, his fingers closing so tightly about the horse's reins that his knuckles stood out white against his dirty skin.
"Stay in the caves," the Rider repeated. His eyes flickered to the blade strapped to the boy's small waist, gawky and almost comically overlarge on his thin frame. "Forget your sword. If all goes well, you will have no need of it."
"Yes, m'lord." The boy ducked his head respectfully, and was about to turn away when he looked back around, clearly struck by a sudden thought.
"Erkenbrand!" he cried. "Have you heard from Erkenbrand, m'lord? My father – Fastred– rides under his command, and I haven't heard… There has been no word..." he trailed off at the look on the Rider's face.
"I'm sorry," the young Rider said, real pity evident in his voice. "I do not know what has become of the Riders of the Westfold." And he laid a gentle hand on the boy's matted curls, offering him a weak smile before striding away to his post.
For a moment the boy stood still and quiet, fighting the sudden tightening of his throat and clutching at the horse's reins. Then he gathered himself together, straightened marginally, and led the animal forward, clucking quietly to it as they wove through the thinning crowd. He caught fragments of murmured conversation as he passed by... a vague impression of restless fear, hushed words about the approach of thousands... goblin-creatures and merciless Dunlendings, they would come before the night was out, and the women and children must get to the caves, they must go immediately...
The boy focused on walking, on setting one foot in front of the other. Goblins, Orcs - he hadn't thought they were real, either, had he? But now he knew better, he had learned his lesson and learned it well, and there were more coming -
So was it so foolish, really, to believe that there might be a man who shone in the absence of starlight or moonlight? To believe that, maybe, out of legend, there had come...?
He stood before the entrance to the caves. Once again he roused himself from his thoughts, and looked about at the chaos as if slightly, inexplicably surprised by it. Mothers frantically ushered their young children forward, or else clutched at their half-grown sons and and ordered elderly fathers to lay down their arms. Two soldiers stood nearby, their voices echoing incoherently above the noise as they attempted to impose some measure of order.
The boy stroked the horse's nose, and led it forward into the caves. Not far along, he was met by an old man who had been left in charge of the steeds.
"You'll find food and water over there," he said, gesturing deeper into the cavern. "They're saying it's needed up on the Wall. But it's for the soldiers, my boy, and don't try sneaking any for yourself if you've any honor at all!"
The boy frowned indignantly. "I wouldn't!" he said, clearly affronted. "I'm no thief!"
"I meant no offense, to be sure, but one can never be certain with hungry young boys. On you go, don't scowl so! There are errands to be run."
And so on he went, a lonely figure through the clumps of huddled families. He was given a basket heavily laden with food, and sent trotting back off through the incoming hordes until he re-emerged from the caves and found himself once again among the somber-faced Riders of the Mark.
He wandered around for a few minutes, neglecting his duties, looking from left to right and back again but finding no sign of the man with the starlight in his skin, or indeed any indication that he existed at all, outside of the boy's befuddled half-dreams.
Until, unexpectedly, a bright peal of laughter sounded from the side, shocking and wonderful amid the dour muttering of the men. The boy whipped around, nearly stumbling over his own feet, and his eyes found an unlikely pair:
There at last, climbing the stairs to the Deeping Wall, was the tall starlit-man with a quiver strapped to his back and a long slender bow held in one hand. And beside him, another figure the boy had not noticed before - shorter and broader than a man's wont, he walked with a distinctive, heavy gait and spoke in a voice that rumbled. He turned to look at the starlit-one, and the boy caught a glimpse of his face: framed by masses of thick brown hair, it was as foreign and familiar as the earth herself.
If he hadn't known, hadn't always been told... if it simply couldn't be... one might think - one might imagine - that they weren't human at all... that they were, the both of them, something else entirely, ancient and near-forgotten but clearly, unmistakably...
No.
For who alive had ever seen -?
They had reached the top of the stairs; they vanished from sight. The boy hesitated a moment, his heart fluttering bird-like against the slender cage of his ribs - then he followed.
A/N: Well, there's chapter one! More to follow shortly. I hope. I have nearly the entire story outlined, but as I'm due to resume school in less than two weeks, I'm sure I'll soon find myself rather short on time. That said, I'm really hoping to actually finish this time.
If you'd like, you are of course free to look at the previous version of this story posted under my old username. It has, in many ways, a much more emphatic beginning than this one, if somewhat melodramatic. However, keep in mind that I've changed many of the key plot points since I posted it, so it shouldn't be taken as a roadmap for this story.
Anyway, please drop me a review if you enjoyed (or didn't enjoy) this first chapter! I would love to hear your feedback. :)