Author's Note
As you will note from the description, this is the rewriting I'm doing on Book I in an effort to bring in stronger characters and storylines. I know that this book has been going on for ages (6 years in physical form, going on 7), but I can't stop thinking about it. I want to finish the story, and finish it right. Reviews and thoughts are greatly appreciated.
Happy reading and happy holidays!
"Then were all the Gods afraid, seeing what was come, and knowing that hereafter even they should in counted time be subject to slow eld and their bright days to waning, until Illuvatar at the Great End calls them back." – Book of Lost Tales I:219
"The land is only a cage gilded to look like Paradise." - The Lost Road, 60.
Prologue. One Year Ago.
The sun hovered over the trees, setting them aglow with its flame and casting the quietness of a late summer afternoon on the world. Small insects like dust motes danced over the long amber blades of grass as the river ran lazily by. The heat lay like a stifling blanket, making every breath a gasp.
Some people, certain families, sensed that something was going to happen, that they were on the brink of something new, and - perhaps- terrifying. They looked up at the hazy white sky and whispered among themselves, as though they didn't want to disturb what lay waiting. Children woke up at night screaming for their parents, who had few words to comfort them, since they themselves had been lying awake, sweating in the darkness, starting blindly at the ceiling and praying that morning would come swiftly.
When these certain people met those who, happily, went about their normal lives, they turned away after exchanging only a few words. Few had the heart to do anything, and even the television had lost any comforting power. A nameless fear was eating away at their hearts, and they knew not what to do.
Some sought out therapy, thinking that talking to another person about their deepest fears would help to ease it into oblivion. But when they opened their mouths to discuss it, they found they were unable to articulate it beyond the deepest dread. School began, somewhat to the relief of the adults, as their children would have something to take their minds off the darkness of their dreams. These children filed into their oppressively hot schoolrooms, passively listening to their teachers; with rarely any laughter or teasing. The teachers commented on this change to the student's parents, who fidgeted uncomfortably as they were unable to describe the fear that their family was experiencing.
Over time the unease began to pass, and the families breathed sighs of relief. It was merely a passing nightmare, they said to one another, and, because the memories pained them, they promptly forgot about it, as humans so often tend to do.
Chapter 1.
Gwen closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool pane of the car window. Her mother was talking about college yet again. She wished she could just put her headphones in her ears and retreat from the situation, but if she did that, she would get into more trouble.
"College isn't just a choice," her mother was saying, not even bothering to check and see if her daughter was listening in the back seat. Brianne was asleep in seat behind her in the minivan, jammed between the majority of their luggage and the window. Her brother, John, was reading, oblivious to the conversation. "College is a necessity in this day and age; it's like a high school degree was in the fifties. But college is more than that, it's about learning about the world, learning what you don't know and what you do know, and learning more about what you want to do in life."
"I know, Mom, you've said it a million times," Gwen said, with a big sigh. She didn't even bother to open her eyes.
"I'm just worried that you're not going to get your applications in on time this fall. You haven't even picked what places you want to apply."
"I've already said I don't know what I want to do. Can't I just start working or something?"
"And what? Live out of our basement for the rest of your life? That's not an option. There are lots of people who would kill for the chance to be able to apply to college."
"I think you're exaggerating a bit, hun," Gwen's dad chimed in, finally. He was concentrating closely on the road, which had an abnormally high amount of logging trucks. His hair under his baseball cap was much darker than Gwen's, who had inherited the lighter brown hair from her mother.
"I just don't know what I want to do!" Gwen blurted out angrily, sitting upright. "I'm not good at anything! I just try and try but nothing's interesting." She had been trying to write a generic essay about what she wanted to do in life for her applications for the past week. She'd sit in front of the keyboard, the cursor blinking on the blank page, but nothing would come out. Sure, there were things that she liked – kayaking, reading, taking pictures, but nothing at school made her even remotely excited. She wasn't compelled to do any type of job, she had no tragic past that made her want to be a cop, or a desire to make a difference in the world.
Gwen was nothing special, to be sure. She was neither too short nor too tall, and she had dark, brownish hair and greenish eyes. Even though she was eighteen, her slim frame had not yet developed womanly curves, steadfastly remaining annoyingly straight. Her family was not rich or poor, and she cannot talk to animals or fly, like many heroes of the stories she often read. If one were to look more clearly at her eyes, however, they would notice that they are not green, as first perceived, but that they are rather a blue-grey, with a yellow circle near the pupils. This, from a distance, combine to make a muddy green, but give her eyes the extraordinary effect of shifting colors up close.
"Gwen, that's not true!" Her mother's voice was sharp and stern. "You are smart, capable, and write well. You should never say that about yourself."
"I keep saying you should be a lawyer, Gwen," her brother said teasingly. "They make tons of money and get all the girls."
Gwen swatted him, wanting to cry. "Hey!" he protested, putting his book up to defend himself. Gwen was just tired of the whole thing.
"Look, Gwen, we understand that you'll go in as an undeclared major," her dad said, his greenish eyes still on the road. "The most important thing is that you actually apply. Once you get in, you can pick what you want to do later."
"That doesn't change the fact that it's just deferring the choice until then," her mother said tightly.
"No, but at least it's a step in the right direction," her father replied.
Gwen rolled her eyes. "Dad, you didn't even finish your degree, you can't even talk about this."
"I didn't because I couldn't afford it, honey. Even still, I wish that I had been able to. It would've made things a lot easier later on in life."
Gwen's mom turned around and placed her hand on Gwen's knee. "We're all on the same team, honey. This is an important step in your life, and we just want you to embrace it for the opportunity it is. Use this vacation to take a break and think about what you want to put in that essay."
Gwen was suddenly getting teary-eyed, and she didn't understand why. "Are you alright?" her mom asked. "I don't know," Gwen said, trying to regain control. "Stupid hormones."
"Alright," her mom said in her I'll-not-bother-you-more-it-will-upset-you-more voice, and turned back around.
Things fell silent, and Gwen put back in her earphones, drowning out the world and retreating into her own mind, calming the waves. On the eastern seaboard of America, there lies the oft-forgotten state of Maine, with wild forests and slippery crags and cliffs that drop violently into the frigid churning grey sea. These forests have been tamed somewhat by the passing of man, but many parts remain untouched, so that one might walk from utter wilderness of soaring pines to old stone walls framing younger trees, and then to open meadows that grow tall grasses, not yet claimed by the forest. There is something mysterious about the woods of Maine - a sense that one gets. They are beautiful and elusive - poets have fallen in love with them; artists have left their paints and walked into their murky darkness, disappearing for all time. A tourist may walk by and note their variety, but only a resident can know its soul. It was in this wild, betwixt-and-between land that Gwen had grown up. Often during the summer, her parents would take her to the lake, where they owned a small, humble cabin. There mice and bats would take up residence before its human occupants arrived. The pine needle carpets characteristic of the taiga would surround it, having fallen from vast heights above.
But the lake - a glacial lake, some say - is so big that its furthest shore, as viewed from the cabin, would often be obscured by rain or haze, and large islands covered with mysterious forests quietly wait out the water. Though the water is deep, enormous rocks would loom out of the depths, and occasionally causing Gwen to squeak in fear and clutch the sides of her father's fishing boat, terrified that they would rip into the boat and sink them beneath the surface. Reeds grace the water near the cabin shore, giving shelter to mussels, frogs, fish, and loons. Their haunting staccato cries would punch through the stillness of the night.
Though Gwen's heart might have been stowed away at this lake, she lived in the bustling small town of Ashford. It had a couple of restaurants and gas stations, and even a movie theater and a Carnegie library where one could find Gwen most of the time. Her home, where she lived with her parents, her younger brother and sister as well as a cat, sat on top of a hill overlooking the town. It was surrounded by wide fields of tall grasses, and behind the house sat the dark and brooding woods.
But at the end of the school year, Gwen's family began packing to go up to the lake. Their last day in the house was frenzied as they tried to remember everything they would need. Gwen's father made sure all his work was finished, her brother John was taking care of food under the watchful eye of their mother, and Brienne was tasked with making sure the cat would be well-fed. Gwen had been lazy and left all her personal packing to the last day, using her blinking cursor of a college essay as an excuse, which was driving her mother up the wall. When her mother came into the room, Gwen was staring contemplatively at her dresser drawers.
"Why aren't you packing yet?" her mother demanded, making Gwen jump.
"I am packing!" she protested. "I was trying to remember everything."
"You wouldn't forget anything if you would've packed earlier."
Gwen pursed her lips and started pulling books off shelves, stuffing them into a bag.
Her mother sighed. "Don't forget important things like underwear," she said before leaving for the kitchen.
"I'm not going to!" Gwen muttered under her breath as she forced more books into the bag.
That night they all carried things out to the van – fishing rods, food, sunscreen, laptops - and early the next morning locked up the house, leaving the key under the doormat for the sitter, and got into the car.
The wilderness flashed by as they drove along the interstate. It was a solid three hour drive, and it wasn't until they were halfway there when Gwen realized with a sinking feeling that she'd forgotten to pack pajamas. Since Gwen was absorbed in her music, their van slid into the shade of the green forest sooner than she expected. They slowed to a crawl along the potholed dirt road, tree branches scraping gently along the sides of the van. Gwen stopped her music, memorized by the familiar sight of tree trunks and pine needles. "Look, a deer!" Brienne squealed, pointing through the car window. The deer flashed its tail in fear of the van and flitted off into the woods, vanishing into their depths. It wasn't long before the dirty white of their cabin peeked out from among the veil of trees.
Quickly, Gwen unbuckled and got out of the van, running to stand at the edge of the dock, letting the wind ruffle her hair, watching the waves, the green of the island forests, and the white clouds scudding by. She lay in the hammock after putting her luggage in the cabin, smelling the pungent scent of the pine trees and the rich smoke of the barbecue as her father cooked. Brienne got into the hammock and snuggled up beside her. "There was a spider on the couch, so I had to move it outside," she said, staring up into the branches above them.
"Did the spider like his new home?" Gwen asked, brushing Brienne's curly hair out of her face.
"I don't think so, but we couldn't share the same room, I think I scare him," Brienne said.
Gwen smiled. Brienne loved animals to a fault, proudly boasting that she had never killed a single one during her seven years of existence. She was already a stalwart vegetarian, but didn't yet understand the concept fully. It definitely made for interesting explanations whenever their family was hosted for dinner.
That evening, Gwen fought a losing battle to keep her long hair out her food. Her mother often commented (hinting, no doubt, at a haircut) on its length, but Gwen liked it - it gave her a distinction among her peers at school.
"Gwen! Your feet are filthy!" her mother scolded, and indeed, as she looked at them, they were –practically black with dirt, rubbed into the cracks. She shrugged, not caring. She normally went barefoot in and out of doors, which meant that her feet were calloused from years of abuse. She loved feeling connected, not just to the earth, but the things around her as well – the wooden floors of the camp, for example, worn smooth over the years, squeaking as they walked over it. If she didn't go barefoot, she wore sandals, even in winter, which annoyed both her teachers and her parents to no end. In truth, her feet got very hot if confined to socks and shoes, so she wiggled her dirty toes as she wolfed down her dinner, and slept in jeans with her feet outside the blankets that night.