--Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story other than Kaylen Shadowmaker. She is mine and mine alone. Please do not use her unless I have given you permission to do so. ---
Prologue
Kaylen sighed as she looked at the dark landscape around her. Much had placed itself on her mind.
It had been close to 3000 years since she had nothing to hide from anyone. Thirty centuries since she was free of care, since she was innocent. And from then until this moment had she regretted the immortality of the Eldar. Perhaps things would have been different, happier if she had stayed. This thought she rolled about, considering it. She came upon the conclusion that yes, it would have been different, but no, it would not have prevented this from happening, but rather prolong it so that she would be unprepared. Still, her mind strayed, as it often did, to the past, to the day she became what she is.
It had been spring then, and while the elanor flowers that she loved so had not yet blossomed, everything was green and lush. She had been playing with her younger brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, in the forests that grew so thick outside of the realm of her father. She and Elladan hid as Elrohir searched for them, and then it would be Elladan's turn, then hers. They were so young then, standing no higher than a hobbit, running about the glades, giggling merrily as they went. When her turn came for the second time, she counted, her hands held firmly over her eyes (she never cheated), and then went searching for her brothers. After a while of searching, she came to thinking that they left her alone, and went back home. Then it occurred to her- she didn't know where she was. More importantly, she didn't know where home was, and like any other young child, ran helplessly through the woods, crying and yelling in the hope that her parents would hear and come rescue her.
No one came. And as this dawned on her the tears in her eyes became bigger, and fell faster. She sat down on a rock in a circle of trees and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, weeping and wondering if she'd ever find home again.
After the stars were the only things left to comfort her, a voice echoed through the forest around her, its whispery tone sounding truly divine.
"Kaylen...Eldarhin...cry not, child."
She lifted her head to the sound of her name.
"Who calls Kaylen?"
"I do, Eldarhin. I, Varda, servant to the one, Illuvitar, call you."
((Eldarhin-(Elvish) means "Elven Child"))
Kaylen's dark emerald eyes widened, and she fell to her knees, besmirching the silver robes she wore. She, however, did not care, for this was to her quite possibly the most important moment of her life. She was speaking to Elbereth, the Lady of the Starlit Sky, whom her people wrote songs of and worshipped. Her head bowed, Kaylen's voice became meek, and her question stuttering and hesitant.
"Wh...what do you wish of m...me, my lady?"
"It is not fully what I wish," Elbereth said, appearing to Kaylen as a female figure of mist. She lifted her hands to the sky and looked at her stars. "but what Illuvitar the Creator wishes. He has drawn and formed a path for you to walk upon. Since our speaking here must be brief, I but ask a single question to you. Will you walk this path that he has placed before you?"
Kaylen was struck dumb. What purpose could she have that would be so important that Elbereth herself would come to speak to her? Nonetheless, she thought, the answer was clear as the waters of the Bruinen. Her voice somewhat stronger than before, her face staring firmly at the ground, she spoke.
"How could I refuse a commandment of the Creator?"
"Good. I shall warn you though, Eldarhin. The way is neither pleasant nor simple to pass along, and so your heart must be prepared for what is to come."
After a short while of silence, Kaylen whispered her reply.
"All of me is prepared to follow you, my lady."
"I do not doubt it, Eldarhin. You have passed the first gate. The second shall be far more difficult. To follow me, and Illuvitar, you must leave this place. Leave it now. For all things to pass as they must, Kaylen of Rivendell must be dead until it is time."
"Time for what, my lady?"
"Time for you to serve, to protect. Time for you to save all that which you hold dear."
A misty hand placed itself on little Kaylen's shoulder, then moved to her cheek. Elbereth's voice continued.
"You must be strong, Eldarhin, for this part may be the most painful. I gift you with your first power, the power to hide and allude. Use it to make Kaylen of Rivendell dead."
Tears filled Kaylen's eyes, for she knew what this meant, though she was small. She nodded quickly, and reached her thoughts to the part of her mind where this new power dwelled. The image was clear in her mind, and as she opened her eyes, it began to take physical form.
Kaylen of Rivendell lay dead, appearing to be a ghastly pincushion for orc arrow and spear. It was a sight that left its creator screaming and backing away, her emerald eyes now lined with silver tears of terror. Then all at once Kaylen's screaming stopped, and she stood in wonder at the illusion that she had created. It looked real, smelled real (the rotting scent of death was now overpowering), and felt real, which she discovered when prodding the shoulder of this dead image of her.
However, she did not question the look of approval on Elbereth's shining, almost non-existence face. Her voice shook as she meekly spoke.
"What next?"
"Now you must run, my child. Run to Fangorn. From there I shall take you to the home of the Valar." The Vala's pearly arm rose and her index finger extended itself, making an arrow pointing south, a hair to the East. "That way."
Even before the Divine had faded from sight, the frightened elvish child ran, with speed that seemed impossible, even for an elf. However, she was scared, sad, alone, and the shock of recent events had driven her. Two and a half weeks later she passed by Isengard, home of Saruman the White, and into Fangorn forest.
The past 28 centuries or so had been a blur, mostly. She remembered training, intense training, with sword and spear and staff, in language and culture. She remembered leaving, traveling with the Dunedain, meeting the son of Arathorn when he stood only slightly lower than she did when she left her home for the first time. She remembered returning to Rivendell, with the boy whose name was Aragorn, and his mother, Gilraen. She remembered Arwen, as fair as Luthien Tinuviel herself, and crying privately when she found that her mother had left Middle-Earth. She remembered her brothers standing tall, as men, when it seemed only days before that they were children playing in the forest. She recalled Gilraen's death, and the mourning that Aragorn went through afterwards. She remembered Aragorn growing into a man, and the love that sprouted between him and Arwen. And most of all, she remembered the name she could never use, Kaylen of Rivendell. Instead she had the name Gkaian Feaelen, and instead of being Princess of Rivendell she was a vizier from Lothlorien who traveled to Rivendell to advise Arwen as she became older.
It was now well into the Third Age, and though she had reason to be troubled about those in Rivendell, the problems forming on her mind originated far from it.
---- Well, I personally like how this prologue worked out. It expressed just about the right feeling. Don't hesitate, however, to review. --
Prologue
Kaylen sighed as she looked at the dark landscape around her. Much had placed itself on her mind.
It had been close to 3000 years since she had nothing to hide from anyone. Thirty centuries since she was free of care, since she was innocent. And from then until this moment had she regretted the immortality of the Eldar. Perhaps things would have been different, happier if she had stayed. This thought she rolled about, considering it. She came upon the conclusion that yes, it would have been different, but no, it would not have prevented this from happening, but rather prolong it so that she would be unprepared. Still, her mind strayed, as it often did, to the past, to the day she became what she is.
It had been spring then, and while the elanor flowers that she loved so had not yet blossomed, everything was green and lush. She had been playing with her younger brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, in the forests that grew so thick outside of the realm of her father. She and Elladan hid as Elrohir searched for them, and then it would be Elladan's turn, then hers. They were so young then, standing no higher than a hobbit, running about the glades, giggling merrily as they went. When her turn came for the second time, she counted, her hands held firmly over her eyes (she never cheated), and then went searching for her brothers. After a while of searching, she came to thinking that they left her alone, and went back home. Then it occurred to her- she didn't know where she was. More importantly, she didn't know where home was, and like any other young child, ran helplessly through the woods, crying and yelling in the hope that her parents would hear and come rescue her.
No one came. And as this dawned on her the tears in her eyes became bigger, and fell faster. She sat down on a rock in a circle of trees and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, weeping and wondering if she'd ever find home again.
After the stars were the only things left to comfort her, a voice echoed through the forest around her, its whispery tone sounding truly divine.
"Kaylen...Eldarhin...cry not, child."
She lifted her head to the sound of her name.
"Who calls Kaylen?"
"I do, Eldarhin. I, Varda, servant to the one, Illuvitar, call you."
((Eldarhin-(Elvish) means "Elven Child"))
Kaylen's dark emerald eyes widened, and she fell to her knees, besmirching the silver robes she wore. She, however, did not care, for this was to her quite possibly the most important moment of her life. She was speaking to Elbereth, the Lady of the Starlit Sky, whom her people wrote songs of and worshipped. Her head bowed, Kaylen's voice became meek, and her question stuttering and hesitant.
"Wh...what do you wish of m...me, my lady?"
"It is not fully what I wish," Elbereth said, appearing to Kaylen as a female figure of mist. She lifted her hands to the sky and looked at her stars. "but what Illuvitar the Creator wishes. He has drawn and formed a path for you to walk upon. Since our speaking here must be brief, I but ask a single question to you. Will you walk this path that he has placed before you?"
Kaylen was struck dumb. What purpose could she have that would be so important that Elbereth herself would come to speak to her? Nonetheless, she thought, the answer was clear as the waters of the Bruinen. Her voice somewhat stronger than before, her face staring firmly at the ground, she spoke.
"How could I refuse a commandment of the Creator?"
"Good. I shall warn you though, Eldarhin. The way is neither pleasant nor simple to pass along, and so your heart must be prepared for what is to come."
After a short while of silence, Kaylen whispered her reply.
"All of me is prepared to follow you, my lady."
"I do not doubt it, Eldarhin. You have passed the first gate. The second shall be far more difficult. To follow me, and Illuvitar, you must leave this place. Leave it now. For all things to pass as they must, Kaylen of Rivendell must be dead until it is time."
"Time for what, my lady?"
"Time for you to serve, to protect. Time for you to save all that which you hold dear."
A misty hand placed itself on little Kaylen's shoulder, then moved to her cheek. Elbereth's voice continued.
"You must be strong, Eldarhin, for this part may be the most painful. I gift you with your first power, the power to hide and allude. Use it to make Kaylen of Rivendell dead."
Tears filled Kaylen's eyes, for she knew what this meant, though she was small. She nodded quickly, and reached her thoughts to the part of her mind where this new power dwelled. The image was clear in her mind, and as she opened her eyes, it began to take physical form.
Kaylen of Rivendell lay dead, appearing to be a ghastly pincushion for orc arrow and spear. It was a sight that left its creator screaming and backing away, her emerald eyes now lined with silver tears of terror. Then all at once Kaylen's screaming stopped, and she stood in wonder at the illusion that she had created. It looked real, smelled real (the rotting scent of death was now overpowering), and felt real, which she discovered when prodding the shoulder of this dead image of her.
However, she did not question the look of approval on Elbereth's shining, almost non-existence face. Her voice shook as she meekly spoke.
"What next?"
"Now you must run, my child. Run to Fangorn. From there I shall take you to the home of the Valar." The Vala's pearly arm rose and her index finger extended itself, making an arrow pointing south, a hair to the East. "That way."
Even before the Divine had faded from sight, the frightened elvish child ran, with speed that seemed impossible, even for an elf. However, she was scared, sad, alone, and the shock of recent events had driven her. Two and a half weeks later she passed by Isengard, home of Saruman the White, and into Fangorn forest.
The past 28 centuries or so had been a blur, mostly. She remembered training, intense training, with sword and spear and staff, in language and culture. She remembered leaving, traveling with the Dunedain, meeting the son of Arathorn when he stood only slightly lower than she did when she left her home for the first time. She remembered returning to Rivendell, with the boy whose name was Aragorn, and his mother, Gilraen. She remembered Arwen, as fair as Luthien Tinuviel herself, and crying privately when she found that her mother had left Middle-Earth. She remembered her brothers standing tall, as men, when it seemed only days before that they were children playing in the forest. She recalled Gilraen's death, and the mourning that Aragorn went through afterwards. She remembered Aragorn growing into a man, and the love that sprouted between him and Arwen. And most of all, she remembered the name she could never use, Kaylen of Rivendell. Instead she had the name Gkaian Feaelen, and instead of being Princess of Rivendell she was a vizier from Lothlorien who traveled to Rivendell to advise Arwen as she became older.
It was now well into the Third Age, and though she had reason to be troubled about those in Rivendell, the problems forming on her mind originated far from it.
---- Well, I personally like how this prologue worked out. It expressed just about the right feeling. Don't hesitate, however, to review. --