Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.
It was that one night of the Second Age where the Salix Star shone the brightest. Expanding, its shining glory melted outwards towards the night sky where other stars would have slept. They had gone, left the earth's skies, protecting perhaps another world. Still, the Salix Star lived on for thousands of years, until it fell.
Gandalf Greyhame just so happened to be riding that night, with an accompany of Mirkwood Elves, from where he had been studying for years. After a light was sighted north of Mordor, he did not hesitate to find the cause of this fall, hoping that the prophecy was indeed correct. Determined to find this beam from the heavens, he knew it could change Middle Earth forever.
Lightly, Shadowfax trotted throughout the canopies of trees that hung above them. Some moaned obviously grumpy to have been disturbed but no other noise was to be detected. Gandalf sighed, as he fixed his eyes on any scene of miracle. None could be detected.
"Milord Gandalf!" He heard a distant elf call. "Milord, we should return, nothing has been sighted!" He shook his beard, knowing something was out there, a strange aura, peculiar.
"Return then! I shall carry on!" He shouted back, interrupted by more groans of the trees around him. Not satisfied, he waited until he could hear the clear trotting sound of the horses distant. "Where are you?" He whispered turning through sharp corners with Shadowfax tight underneath his body. Then there was a noise. Spinning to where the noise had come from, he waited. Impatiently, the lord of all horses began galloping as fast as sturdy legs could go; he knew his friend was desperate. They reached a wide clearing, the grasses blew gently within the breeze, nature showed no sign of any other life. Shaking his head, Gandalf turned Shadowfax for him to return to Mirkwood, indeed nothing had been sighted. Regrettably, the horse sadly walked away.
There it was again. Awestruck at such noise, Gandalf guided Shadowfax swiftly through the trees, ignoring the low branches that scratched his face slightly. The noise was getting louder, he was getting closer, and soon he could discover a miracle, a blessing to the world of Middle Earth. As his instincts told him the noise was only a few metres away, he descended Shadowfax, who remained by his side when looking for this creature. After several minutes, Gandalf exhaled as there lay before him was an infant. Its face was red as it carried on wailing, there was no movement from its body as it was wrapped tight in some sort of cloth. He smiled at his gift and lifted the child, astonished by its lack of weight; he studied the infant for any evidence of its fall. He soon realised it was indeed a girl; she snuggled closely into his chest, enjoying his warmth as he looked at her face. No mark, anything was left. He chuckled as he simply carried her towards Shadowfax who shyly licked the baby's face affectionately. With a quick sniff, the intelligent horse nuzzled its nose within the cloth until he resurfaced with a part of parchment within his teeth. Eyebrows narrowed, the grey pilgrim took it from him and opened it.
New Owner,
I hope young Salix is safe in your arms as you read this. She shall play an important role in what is to come. Please raise her at your own will, train her and most importantly, love her as a daughter. Her kin disappeared shortly before her own disappearance from the skies. Remember, love her.
She glows at night.
A swift emotion passed through the wizard's heart as he spoke these words, but that one last phrase, was to change his entire understanding of the child. He was to take care of her, love her, and train her as a fallen star.
"I name thee Willow." He smiled looking down at his new companion. "Willow, of the northern skies." Pleased with her title, he swiftly clambered on to Shadowfax, babe in arms. "To Mirkwood, King Thranduil will be surprised".
The world is changed.
I feel it in the water.
I feel it in the Earth.
I smell it the air.
Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember it.
It began with the forging of the great rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else, desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made.
In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a master ring, to control all others. And into this Ring, he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. Rumours said that even the purity of the stars were engraved within its terror, causing the falling of one star. "One Ring to rule them all."
History became legend, legend became myth and for two and a half thousand years, the Ring passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it ensnared a new bearer.
A star then never shone as brightly as the Salix did. Years travelled, travelled through the most unpredictable discoveries. For the bearer of the One Ring had simply unravelled itself, changing the telling of times forever. In world of Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, Men and even stars.