Hello, everyone! Thanks for taking the time to give my newest story a shot. I do appreciate it. I started to read the Silmarillion, and I had this idea pop up in the middle of my read. So, I hope you enjoy. Definitely review and let me know what you think. I just ask that you keep it to constructive criticism. Ridicule is unnecessary, and it will not be tolerated. I will try to post the next chapter up by the end of the week. This starts off roughly a year before the Hobbit, if you are curious to the timeline. Don't worry, Thorin and the other dwarves will come in eventually. That I can promise.
(I only own my character, Tolkien owns his world and characters.)
The Depths of a New Life Purpose
Chapter 1
You have a duty, dear child of the Second-Born, and it will not be easy for you, unfortunately. The waves that were once calm, blissfully kissing the shoreline, are no longer at such peace. The sound of the deep voice brings chaos to the waves that now crash heavily onto the rocky shore. Where there is water nearby, I will personally aid you on your journey, for I am aware you are unacquainted to such happenings, unacquainted to this way of living.
The starlit sky, the pureness of that starlight, fades into utter darkness. A pair of deep, grey eyes vividly shine through said darkness but without a form to which they belong. Those deep eyes are aged, yet they are full of kindness and sympathy. The sound of the ravaging waves grow louder than before, shaking the world around. Take this, young one, as a reminder that the Valar will protect you in your endeavors. When you awaken, you will be at your home no more. You will be on your own journey, instead of following the foot-worn path chosen by those before your time. Take comfort in the water, Nemirdes.
Sea foam, or as one could imagine it would be given this context, swirls around me in my slumber. It does not awaken me, instead I find it comforting and protective, cushioning me, keeping me warm. I have little cares in the world as I return to my dreams. It is only when an elderly man firmly, but gently presses his hand on my shoulder to bring me back to the realm of the waking.
I startle and shuffle back. "I do not mean to frighten you, young one. You fell asleep awfully close to the water," he assures me. He points at the river flowing rapidly next to us. "The water is strong and swift. If you had turned over in the wrong direction, you may have drowned." He studies me more, a contemplative look etched across his face. "Or, perhaps you have the protection of Ulmo."
Memories of my odd dream return to the forefront of my mind. Where there is water, I will personally aid you... The deep voice echoes within her heart and mind. "Who is Ulmo, exactly?" The man is taken aback. He strokes his long grey beard in thought, his other hand holding an intricately carved staff. His eyes are distant and grey, but not as grey as the eyes in my dream, and not as distant, not as deep.
"Lord Ulmo is of the Ainar, the Valar. He is called Lord of the Waters, namely King of the Sea," he responds.
He watches me closely for a reaction. I honestly have never heard the name Ulmo before, but it would explain the dream and my off arrival to... where ever I may now be. I furrow my eyebrows, "Much like King Triton, then. Or possibly Triton is just another name?"
"I have never heard the name Triton, young one," he confesses. "Forgive me. I have yet to introduce myself. I am Gandalf the grey, the Wandering Wizard." I must be going insane. That sea foam in my dream was probably just the foam of beer, and I am severely intoxicated, yes? A Wizard. It couldn't be true. Although, if all he has spoken to me is the truth, then it would explain much. "And your name?"
My name? What should I tell him my name is? "Which one?"
His eyes gleam at my response. "So, you have more than one name?"
The rushing water behind me whispers that name several times. I doubt the Wizard, as he claims to be, hears this enchanting name from the river's journey. "Before today, I was Amelia Meadows, but after my-, my dream," I hesitate, "I believe I am to be called Nemirdes." The man smiles gently, and offers to bring me along with him. He will bring me to shelter and safety. It takes me a while to agree, for I do not know this man, Gandalf, well enough to know that he will not hurt me. However, I eventually relent with the reassurance of the water behind me.
We are traveling by foot, and quite frankly, it is not something I'm used to. My feet grow more sore with each step I force myself to take, but that is also due to the lack of shoes. Gandalf apologizes for not realizing sooner that I was in pain, and he mercifully stops and sets up camp an hour or so before he had originally planned to. "So, my dear," he inquires, "Where do you come from? I do not believe you are from Arda, for you would not be clothed in such attire, but where might you be from?"
"Far away from here, I suppose," I softly acknowledge. Truthfully, I remember some aspects of the place that I could call home, but only a few. I remember little of my family and friends. I somewhat remember the house I was raised in. I remember bits and pieces of my childhood. I know the appearance of my university, and I remember my major. I don't remember why I chose that to be my major, but I remember it in general. In contrast to my memories, the air back home, as I remember distinctly, is so contaminated, but the air here is so fresh. It is so clean, and I feel as though I may breath again. It is calming. "My country is named The United States of America. It is a large landmass in the Western Hemisphere. I lived in the northern and western portion of the country, about a two-hour ride to Seattle, a well-known city. I do not remember much, just bits and pieces, yet I am certain that I was living a normal life until this morning." I inwardly groaned, "And, if I just happen to remember correctly, today I was supposed to take a very important test. I'm halfway thankful to be rescued from such a thing. I cannot ever approve of standardized testing; it is the worst." I glance up at the Grey Wizard. He is absorbing my words, every one of them, carefully. "If I may ask, where are we?"
He hums. "We are in Arda."
"Yes, I gathered that much. You mentioned it earlier. I mean, where are we exactly? The trees are much different than that of my home, and I am curious." He pulls out a folded up map from his cloak, and he opens it, laying it across the fallen tree that we sit upon. He points to an area in the west, next to a river, the name of which I cannot read.
"We are at the Ford. I am taking you here," he points to a place farther east, but still along the river, "This is where you will be staying while I take care of some business. Lord Elrond will be pleased to have you, and you may befriend several elves while you are there."
"Where is 'there'?" I ask. Then, it hit me. Elves.
He chuckles, pulling out his pipe. "That would be the hidden valley of Imladris, in common tongue it is known as Rivendel-"
"Elves?" I audibly gulp, interrupting him at the end of his response. "They are kind elves, yes? They are not evil elves that are told in tales, are they?"
"I am confused as to what you are asking, young one."
Flashes of memories reel across my mind. "I suppose I am trying to ask, are the elves like Dobby, the house elf, or if they are like, like, the Elf on the Shelf? Are they kind or are they evil?" The wizard laughs outright, and assures me that he would not be taking me to stay with Lord Elrond if he were an evil soul. "You refer to him as a Lord? Is he as Lord Ulmo?" I question.
He chuckles again. "My, you are a curious one, Nemirdes," he notes. "Ai, the Lord Elrond is not like Lord Ulmo. Lord Elrond is a noble elf, the son of Eärendil. He is also a descendant of Beren and Luthien. He is the husband of Celebrian, daughter of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Lord Ulmo is, as I told you before, much greater. He inhabits the water. He is one of the Valar, the powers of Arda. He is a spirit, if one could choose such a word for him. He is revered, and is the strongest after Manwë, both under the great Illúvatar."
I sit in silence for a moment. "This is much to take in," I sigh. "And, Lord Ulmo is the one that brought me here, I truly believe. You would, too, if you had but caught a glimpse of my dream." Gandalf bids me to explain, and so I recount my dream, careful not to miss any detail. "He said to take this, but I never received anything," I add.
"Perhaps it is where your jewel necklace came from, young one." My necklace? I absentmindedly reach to my neck, and oddly enough my slender fingers find a charm hanging from my neck. I cannot see it, so I do not know what it looks like. The tip of my finger slowly glides across the charm. It is hard, yet smooth. There are many edges to which the charm changes direction, so to speak. It is being held within a metal, perhaps silver, which outlines what I assume to be a gem. It has detail that is intricately drawn, but I cannot make out what the carvings look like. "You did not have it before today?"
I shake my head to express a 'no'. I gently let it go, letting it rest across the chest of my shirt once more. "I suppose my dream is where I received such a thing." The Wizard forms an 'ah', and he apologizes for not giving it to me sooner. He hands me an ointment to care for the sores on my feet, He then gives me shoes, from thin air. I am astounded by the magic, for I have never seen real magic before in my life. I mean, of course there were always the magic shows, but one can easily look up ways to perform such acts.
"These shoes should not be too rough on your feet," he assures. "We shall begin our travels on the morrow, so I suggest you rest for tonight. I can keep watch, you need not fear for your safety." I sigh, and my mind races at a rapid speed. Will I truly be safe tonight? The jewel that hangs from my neck fills me with the sense of comfort and protection, much as the sea foam had done in my dream the night before. I bid the wizard a good night, and I feel the sea foam take me away once more, leading me to a land of peaceful slumber.
Nemirdes. The deep voice calls out to me once more. Tonight I see the waves softly greet the shoreline. There are no harsh waves, just the gentle touch of the water. It is good that Olorin has found you, Nemirdes. You can trust him. The waves do not change to the sound of the deep voice. Perhaps it is due to the gentleness of this familiar voice. Rest now, for you have a long journey ahead of you.
I stand at the shore, far back enough that the tide does not touch my bare feet. "And you are Lord Ulmo, correct?" I ask the vast ocean ahead. The starlight shimmers across the blanket of the sky, and the moon's soft glow reflects off of the tranquil sea. There is no response from the familiar voice, and I contemplate on whether or not I am supposed to ask questions in these dreams.
The water comes inland farther than it had prior to my question, and it shallowly gathers at my feet, but not returning back with the tide. It is I, child. King of the Sea, Lord of the Waters. You must rest now. Your many questions will be answered in due time. The water returns with the tide, and I am left alone to wander in my dream land, singing songs that come to mind, tossing skipping stones, searching for sea shells, and truly just enjoying the peace of the night.
I stir from my slumber, slowly opening my eyes in preparation of the light. "Ah, good morning, Nemirdes." That name, it is still new to me.
"Morning," I mumble. I groggily sit up, my back leaned to the fallen tree.
"Your feet are healed?" he asks. I glance down and I unwrap the bandages. There is no scarring, which saddens me a little. Now, I have no proof of my odd journey. I shrug my shoulders, acknowledging his question but without answer. "That is good, and now you have shoes that shall protect your feet from the harsh nature of these lands."
Gandalf is making us breakfast. Sausage and egg, I believe. I do not know if I trust the food, not because I fear that the Wizard has poisoned me, but it is because I fear it has not be well kept. I sigh and move my gaze skyward. I watch as the light that filters through the leaves dances around in harmony with the breeze. "How long will it take us to make it to-, to Imleydrus, was it?"
"It will take about another week to make it to Imladris, my dear," he chuckles at my failed attempt of pronunciation, but answers me in truth. I inwardly groan. "I take it you are unused to traveling for such long periods of time?"
I hum in response. "Well, the longest I have traveled to get to one destination was a little over 20 hours., but it was not by foot. I have been curious, Olorin, what business must you handle that I may not go with you, if I may ask?" Olorin? Where did that name come from? Oh, yes. My dream. "Gandalf, I mean." Gandalf's face morphs from a simple smile to wide eyed shock.
"Where did you hear of such a name, young one?" he interrogates. I apologize profusely, begging for forgiveness. I feel as though I have committed a taboo by the way he is reacting. "I am only curious, dear, for I have not been called such a name in a very long time." Feeling much relieved, I let out the breath I was holding, rubbing my forehead.
"My dream, last night. I asked if it were truly him, and he said yes. He also said it is good that you found me, and he said that I can trust you." I responded. "He used that name, and I assumed it was you." Gandalf smiles at this, and he nods. He suggests that I finish breakfast quickly so that we may start our extremely long day of hiking.