For a long while, there was nothing but the gentle blackness of the void. With no sense of being or time, Harry Potter, 2nd year Gryffindor and the thrice bane of the dark Lord, just floated on the black cloud of emptiness, his thoughts hazy and his limbs weightless. In the depths of his own mind, he was sealed into the memory of when he had been 3 years old, before the Dursleys had gone too far with their abuse, before the weird things had begun to occur around him in response to his mounting misery, when he was still a child in both heart and mind.
It had been Dudley's birthday and the whole family had gone out to the petting zoo in the next city over, leaving him with Mrs Figg for the day, but Harry didn't mind not really. Not when it meant a day free from the vicious attacks, both physical and mental that his cousin loved to aim at him. The old woman had allowed him out into the garden for the entire morning where he was allowed to run through the flowers and grassy pathways for as long as his little legs could carry him. In this place where he was free, it seemed like anything could happen, and in his mind, fairies danced around him as he slew the mighty dragon he had seen on Dudley's bedroom door. At his side was Scruffy the fierce, the young tabby cat who, in his mind, was the beloved companion to the little warrior, as fearsome as a lion and just as brave. He had laughed more in that one day then he had ever had reason to before or since as he enjoyed his freedom under the maternal eye of the old lady, blissfully unaware of what was to befall him in the too near future.
It was one of his best memories, as it was a time when he was truly happy. No one had shouted at him, or forced him to do any difficult task. It was before the responsibility that came with fame was thrust upon his shoulders and before the whispered mutterings of 'Slytherin's heir' that followed him through the hall ways, before the people who claimed to love him one moment, then abhorred him the next. It was his most magical memory despite its setting, and it was where he remained, reliving the time when he had truly been able to be a child, even for just a few short hours though now, in that day he was joined by two children his own age. One was a tall girl with curly brown hair to her shoulders and the other was a pale faced boy with flaming hair. With those two at his side, he continued to adventure further into the 'wilderness' than he had ever managed before.
On the outside, the broken body of the 12 year old lay propped on a bed of black silk that contrasted sharply with his alabaster skin, gently laid out beside that of a girl, only a year younger, with bright copper hair and a face of ghostly white. At first glance, it would seem as though the two were merely sleeping, but if one played close enough attention, they would see that the slight, emaciated bodies were glowing, and that neither were breathing. Off to the left, a young woman in the midst of a larger group sighed, her silver eyes lingering on the black haired child with the series of scars dotting his small body from head to toe. The babe, for that is all he could have been described as in her eyes, had seen far too much pain in the course of his short life.
"It is not fair that they should have come so far only to fail in the end."
Around her, the woman's companions fell silent, also turning to face the younglings on the bed. Of the four of them, there were two who showed only pity for the two crushed figures, while the others showed dread and guilt. They had all seen it of course, the little ones' ends. Had stood there as the girl was possessed time and again, growing more and more scared as time went by, but unable to fight the darkness that had taken over her heart and mind. They had merely stood by as the boy grew hated by his peers for attempting to save another, and how both managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They had observed how the girl had finally lost control of her body and been dragged down into the chamber to die while the darkness had been revived, and how the boy fought valiantly against a demon beings several times his age would fear to face. In the end, the boy had prevailed, but there was to be no reprieve for him. Basalisk venom was extremely potent, and though the phoenix tears had helped strengthen him for a time, they had come too late to save him completely, the poison had already reached his heart, though none of those gathered had been able to prevent this. Though he had been able to stop the darkness from regaining its physical form once again, the wave of dark energy released from the destruction of the horcrux had stopped his weakened heart, as well as the girl's as her body no longer possessed the vital light energy it needed to resist the dark. They had watched, but been unable to intervene with the morbid fate of the little ones, the four omnipotent beings, for once, being left powerless in the face of such a tragedy.
Until now.
"We must send them back to their own world, the fates are not through with them yet and their strings still stretch on. Both are heavily needed by the light in the war that is to come... to lose them would be a heavy blow to their efforts."
The inflection-less voice of Mandos filled the small hall with a lingering sense of despair, despite its carefully controlled nature, though when the others turned to face him, his face betrayed nothing but a deep, soul wrenching grief, the master of death's pain made all the more potent as none had expected such an extreme response. His words had been cold, as was fitting for the dooms man of the Valar, yet his eyes lingered on the boy with a long buried and forgotten warmth, similar to a dazed father looking upon his new born son for the first time, a look that he had not borne for several long ages. Yet they were also filled with great pain, centuries in the making. Beside him, Lórien stiffened, his golden eyes growing wide and gleaming with a pale, unearthly light as he truly focused on the child for the first time.
"He is the one destined to master your Hallows… the one who is mean to be the champion of death… Your son… Merlinor... but that cannot be! He was lost, hidden from all of us all those years ago..."
The words were little more than a breath in the still air of the chamber, but the gathered spirits now turned to the child with wonder on their faces. They had all heard tell of the dooms man's lost child, though few now remembered the babe. The only child of Mandos, a son that had been taken by Melkor at the very beginning of the war and who had never been seen since a few days after his birth. He had been stolen from his crib in the very depth of the night and it had been foretold that he would be born again in a different world, beyond the reach of the Valar. It was Melkor's revenge on the harbinger of death who had banished too many of the fallen spirit's followers. That he would have to see his son age and die in another world, and yet have no way to contact or aid him. The children of the Valar were prized more than elflings on Arda, for they were so rare, and were destined to be adored from the moment of their birth… yet the son of death would know no such love. It had broken the Vala and those around him had despaired, yet, impossible as it may seem, here was the child.
"It cannot be… He has known such pain already, pain that should never have fallen on him in the first place, and you would have him sent back into the war? He is here now. He is safe in your halls. Can he not remain that way? The girl too does not deserve what fate has afforded her. Let them rest here and await their families in happiness… is that not a kindness?"
Nienna had stepped forwards to run a shaking hand over the child's frozen forehead as she all but begged the stoic man before her, wincing slightly when she saw the blood that covered the boy's small frame. To harm a child was one of the foulest of crimes, yet the boy before her was riddled with scars, both physical and mental, in a way that no child should ever be, injuries that would take many long years to heal, even in the silver shores of the undying lands surrounded by the unconditional love of the Valar. So beaten and broken was he by his so called family, and then by fate that it was a near miracle that the child was still fighting, let alone capable of trusting those around him.
The lady of mercy felt tears fill her eyes as she saw the trials that were still to come for the boy through her contact with is skin, and she had to fight the urge to take him into her arms, to hold him safe from all who would harm him in any world. Instead, she settled for simply brushing raven locks from lightly parted lips, though the soothing gesture went unnoticed by the sleeping recipient.
Before she could do much more however, an calloused hand, hardened by the many years spent handling a blade, landed on her own and gently pulled it away, forcing her to look up into the despondent face of her old friend. Her years of experience with him allowing her to see past his cold façade and into the very depth of the hurt that filled his soul. Though he should have been rejoicing at the return of his child, the dooms man was grieving as deeply as when the loss was fresh, and it made her heart ache to see her friend in such agony.
"He cannot remain here, that is Morgoth's curse, his spirit will only fade if he is left in my halls... My child is lost to me forever. He cannot stay... I cannot keep him safe."
The last few words were choked out as though they physically pained the Vala to admit them. A thin film of tears clouded the spirits vision and he allowed his old friend to pull him into her embrace. Slowly, but surely, over the course of the passing millennia, the dooms man was breaking, and this was just another blow to his already shattered heart. Many on Arda had begun to fear the call of Death when at first he had been revered as a vital part of life's cycle. Now he was only seen as bitter and cruel, a vengeful shade that had no mercy. What they did not understand, nor would they ever be able to, was that Mandos' compassion had been ripped from him along with his little nightingale, his son. As damaged as irreparably as his heart.
For several long moments, the two remained like that, the smaller figure giving comfort to the one who openly wept for the first time in several thousands of years. His mask had been shattered by this new trial, leaving all of his pain open to the world once again, and his companions tried their best to comfort him. Stilling by his brother's side, Lórien fixed his amber eyes on the spirits of the children that lay before them, a thoughtful frown crossing his features.
"There is more than one way open to the child my friend, though the girl must remain at his side on either path. The ordeal they faced together as well as the journey here has bound their souls in a way that cannot be broken, though if this is to be a blessing or a curse I cannot yet see..."
For once, the golden halls of woven tales fell silent as three sets of eyes, two curious and one slightly hostile, turned to face the seer though the watchman did not see this as he had yet to take his eyes from the children. Mandos did not dare to hope that his long-time friend and brother-of-his-heart had a solution to his problem, but there was nothing worse than the fate set out for his son in the world he had previously called home. Anything could be better than the pain of betrayal and loss that was awaiting the small boy who should have known naught but happiness since his birth. Still acting as though in a trance, Lórien stepped closer to the bed and ran a gentle hand over Merlinor's pale brow, revealing for a split second the silver mark of Valinor that rested there.
"We can send the children to Middle Earth… your son may have lost his abilities as a Valar as an effect of the curse, but the blood of the first born will still run thick in his veins… we need only to awaken it inside of him and the residue phoenix tears shall do the rest."
"You mean to turn the child into an elfling? He would still retain his magic on that plane… danger will still follow him where ever he was to go. The creatures of the shadows would not stop hunting him as long as he was alive and with Sauron's growing power the danger will only increase. What hope does a lone child have against such forces?"
Nienna's words were softly spoken to preserve the peace in the room, though their tone lacked none of the biting cold that was her reprimand. She would not allow unnecessary pain to befall her honorary nephew and to send such a light and helpless being into Arda at a time when the shadows were steadily growing in influence was cruel. The inhabitants of the mortal plane may not have noticed the darkness stirring in the Greenwood, but the Valar were all too aware of the danger, there was a reason for the decrease in the already low frequency of elfling births after all. However, to her surprise, the watchman only shook his head, a small, rueful smile crossing his features.
"Not on their own, no. And as I said before, the girl must go with him. As two halves of a whole, they need each other. What I suggest is that we send them to Imladris, into the care of Elrond Half-Elven and his wife Celebrian, there they would be safe, and it is there that they would be needed in the future."
"What do you mean 'they would be needed'? What has made you suggest such a course of action now brother? We are not to interfere with the affairs of their world any longer, you know this!"
The master of death turned to glare at his friend, stepping away from the embrace he had been taking comfort from only a few seconds before, his pain washed away by the centuries of anger that had been contained and was now finding a way to vent itself. He knew that it was unjust to take out his frustrations when Lórien was only attempting to help, however, he had let his hopes be raised, even by a minuscule amount, and now that they had been allowed to fall again, he was beginning to lose control of his temper. Still the seer did not move however, his hand gently caressing the pale face of the child, his nephew, who he had never received the chance to know.
"I know that you have felt it my friend, the one ring has again been recovered and a war is brewing that cannot be avoided. The very fact that it is Morgoth's pet that shall be causing all of this suffering creates a pathway for the children into the world and their presence shall balance the scales."
Turning back to face his audience, the golden eyed spirit sent a wan smile at his friends, his hands now clasped firmly behind his back as he prepared for his big reveal. He knew this plan was risky, and relied heavily on Merlinor's strength of character when the time came for his decision, but he believed in the boy that he had seen risk his life countless times for the sake of others, and Arda definitely needed something to tip the balance of power back from the darkness, though, even if the boy did not choose to help, then his ending would still be better for the father who was now staring longingly at the spirit of his son.
"A time will come when a council is called to dictate the fate of their world, and he would be given the chance to help. If he did, his presence would be invaluable, but if he chooses not to, then he can sail from the grey havens with the rest of Elrond's kin. There he would be safe, and you would be able to see him again Mella nin. He need not get involved with the war if he does not wish to."
Again silence filled the room as Mandos looked over the broken form of his child once again, drinking in the sight as a man trapped in the desert would worship the sight of an oasis. It was clear in his stormy eyes that the spirit of death was conflicted, yet the firm set of his shoulders spoke of his determination as he turned back to the rest of the room.
"If the choice is truly his in the end, then so be it. As an elfling at least, he will know peace like he never has before. But what of the girl? You say that she must go with him, that their souls are bound, yet she is mortal still. If she were to arrive at the same time as he, she would age and die before he even reached his majority!"
It was then that the final member of their party, the lady Estë stepped forwards, a gentle smile on her face. She had originally been there to tend to the little ones if they were to need medical aid, yet now she felt that her presence was needed for more than just that one favour. She had known that there was something about the girl-child from the moment she had seen her, and now she knew what her instincts had been pushing her towards and she felt a wave of warmth wash over her as she came to her decision.
"The I would claim the child as mine own. If I were to adopt her fully, she too would possess the blood of the first born on Arda and be welcomed along side the boy. The elves would celebrate the coming of 2 elflings even more than they would have the one. I have seen the little one's heart when I healed them upon their arrival, and have no qualms with claiming her as my blood. She is strong, yet gentle, and I feel that she has the strength of soul to become a great healer given time and the training she could receive from the peredhel."
Without waiting for a response and driven forward by her heart, the benevolent spirit stepped forwards and kissed the girl's brow, causing a dark blue light to envelope the child as her body changed slightly, adapting to the energy that was being infused within its cells. When the light finally dimmed, not much had changed but that the girl's skin was now the colour of snow and her fiery curls had lightened to a gleaming red-gold. Satisfied with her work, the lady of healing smiled at all of her friends before turning and gliding out of the room. She would be praying for the safety of the little ones, that much she knew.
In the wake of her swift actions and soon departure, Estë left the room in complete silence, though it did not last long as Mandos allowed a disbelieving laugh to leave his throat, the sound reverberating around the room in a way that had not been heard in many long years.
"It seems then that the choice has been made for us. Though I pray that my son does not have to face any of the trials I fear will follow him now. Go Lórien, do your work."
With that said, he too left the antechamber in which their impromptu council had formed, followed closely by the smiling Lady of Mercy, leaving only the watcher to send off the children's spirits with a sad smile upon his face.
"Live long and choose well little ones, for I fear what will happen to the last free people of Arda if hope does not come to them soon."
+-+Edited 14/06/15 minor edits, mainly for spelling errors and rewording+-+