Considering what a big fan of Lord of the Rings I am, it's actually kind of surprising I haven't written a Fanfiction about it before this. Out of numerous day dreams and long hours spent on everything LOTR, this Fanfiction was born. I hope you can enjoy it, strange child of mine though it may be.
Disclaimer: I have no illusions, and I won't deceive myself because I certainly can't deceive anyone else. I obviously do NOT own Lord of the Rings. It belongs to the revered Mr. Tolkein whom I admire too much to steal it from. Any characters or settings you do not recognize from the books or movies have been spawned out of my extremely random mine, and belong to me unless otherwise stated, which it will not be.
Prelude: Desire
Come back to us, fair one…
In the middle of the forest, footsteps fell silently on a sacred path. Amidst the whispers of the trees and the songs of the birds, they gathered. Their robes swayed with their graceful movements. Necessity carried them down long untrodden ways. Each walked a separate path, yet all came together with the same purpose.
We need you, fair one…
In the Cuandar they gathered. Five different paths, five different lives, converging. Ageless eyes locked, heads bowed in greeting, five figures drew near. One stepped forward and spoke.
"It is time." His voice was strong and sure.
"It is time." The others murmured in assent.
Soon you will hear us, fair one…
Slide. Fit. Draw. Release. Slide. Fit. Draw. Release. Slide. Fit. Draw. Release.
One last arrow. Rae slid it out of his quiver, slowly, almost reverently. In one fluid motion, he fit the arrow to the string and drew it to his cheek. Keen hazel eyes sighted down the shaft at the target, hundreds of yards away. Nine other arrows already decorated it like the quills of a porcupine. Rae drew a slow breath and exhaled it. He held his body perfectly still, muscles taut and ready. He prepared to release the string, when something caught him off guard. A tendril of air caressed his cheek and slid by his ear, sounding uncannily like a whispered voice. He lowered his bow, slightly unnerved. The forest was unnaturally quiet around him. The birds had quieted and the tress had fallen silent. He pivoted on his heels and faced down the path he had tread when coming to this spot. Nothing moved, nothing breathed. He held his breath, waiting warily in the silence. Then, the dead leaves at the far end of the path stirred and a gust snaked down the path. It blew past his head, lifting chocolate brown hair as it passed. And once again, Rae thought he heard a voice.
It was like the rustle of the leaves in a breeze. The words were faint and unintelligible. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. It felt as if the forest had eyes, and all were turned on him. He could feel their gaze, and a will power behind it, breaking to contact him. The forest… it was almost as if it was trying to speak to him.
He loosened the string on his bow and let the arrow drop unceremoniously to the blanket of grass at his feet. It bounced once, twice, and the spell was broken. A bird sang in the distant, and time began to flow once more.
Rae stared stupidly at the carbon-shafted arrow lying at his feet and tried to comprehend what had just happened. He glanced at the evening sky and his eyes widened. It was that late? He snatched the arrow from the ground and placed it in his quiver. Once he had retrieved the other nine, he set off at a brisk jog down the forest path.
How long had he been in the forest? All day, it would seem. It surprised him that he had lost track of time. He was usually not so absentminded. But lately…
Something had shifted, changed. It had started on his eighteenth birthday, three weeks before. First, it had been an uncanny longing for the forest. He began to spend every free minute in its inviting depths, content just to wander its myriad of paths. A desire had awoken in his blood. It was not for this forest, though he loved it much. Rather, for something similar to it, something connected to it. And he never felt whole unless he was somewhere lost in its heart.
The desire had grown to almost unbearable heights, so that he was only content in the forest, and then he still yearned for something else. And somehow, the forest felt different. It felt… alive, like a living entity. He had come to this forest for as long as he could remember, to practice his archery. As a kid, he and his friends had played in it, pretending they were knights or pirates. But while they had slowly drifted away from it, he had been bound tighter by its sweet spell.
When he had taken up serious archery, at the age of eight, it had been the only place suitable for practice. But ten years later, when he could drive to bigger and better places to shoot, he still felt drawn here. His heart was tied not to the forest, but something unknown that it represented.
Every since he had begun to spend more and more time in the forest, his family had become worried about him, and his friends, critical. His mother became exasperated when he could come up with no reasonable explanation for spending all hi time there. Archery was a reason, of course, but she had long since begun to hate it and how her son loved it. According to her, he spent too much time with that "toy bow chasing fool dreams." But the truth was, archery had also seemed to call him.
When he had started shooting, he felt as if he was picking up an art that he had long since mastered, but hadn't practiced in a while. His shooting was extraordinary, and he felt it was more than the insane amount of time he spent practicing. He had an innate talent for it.
Archery had, over the years, become not only a pleasure but a healing balm. It soothed his mind and soul. His hands seemed made to hold a bow and he felt empty without it. Over the last few nights, he had awoken with his hand clasped tightly around his bow. And, coming home from a long day at school, the sight of the gleaming length of wood comforted him.
Often, when he was forbidden to visit the forest and could not sneak out, he would sit with it in his hands and le his mind wander. When he came home from school, he would dash to his room, grab his bow, and head to the forest. He had began to come back later and later, and the night before he hadn't been home until ten, when his mother had called his cell phone and demanded he return. He woke early in the mornings to practice before school, and spent the entire day on weekends in the forest. Sometimes, he forgot to eat meals.
As he stepped out of the forest, a wave of longing washed over him. It was so strong; it took all his will power to resist it. Every cell in his body ached to return. The forest was calling him, no, whatever it was the forest represented whatever it was his body ached for, called him. And once again, he heard a soft, whispering voice in the rustle of the leaves.
We are waiting for you, fair one.
I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it. The next chapter should be out soon. I appreciate any reviews.
Hopi-chan the Pirate-Ninja