Disclaimer: I don't own the lord of the rings. It belongs to Tolkien. I only own Freya.


We made a mistake, a horrible mistake. When we wrote the song, we played the wrong note in the singing. Death occurred where they should have been none, a spirit wanders the halls of the dead that should not yet be there, and we must correct the mistake.

It took many months of debate to figure out the best way to correct the song, and in the end we chose to send another soul into the song - a soul that would save the one that had been lost. The solution was an extreme one, how would a new soul affect the sound of the song?, sometimes a new harmony is needed to fix songs, a harmony to complement the overall sound of the song - Freya was our new harmony.

She was the one that would fix the song, bringing life back to where they had once been death.

They say that every story has a beginning, so I guess the best place to start my own story is by introducing myself. My name is Freya and I am twenty-five years old. With mid-length and somewhat wavy black hair and pale blue eyes I was hardly what you would call attractive. Especially as my pale skin still seemed liable to the occasional zit even at my age, I suppose that's what you get when you had a habit of touching your face, something that I tended to do in moments of stress.

I currently live in a small apartment in London and work as a clerk in a local bank branch. I never wanted to work in banking, when I was younger I had wanted to pursue a career in archaeology, but my father had higher plans for me - plans that didn't involve a job in a low paying job like that. He'd wanted me to be a doctor or a physicist, but somehow along the way I'd lost track of the path laid out for me and took the first job that matched my skills.

At least the position was enough to keep my father off my back, even if he didn't like it too much and money in the bank. But I just didn't belong in such a job - it was all about meeting targets and how many products you could get a client to sign up for, not to mention the constant worry that you might have a robbery at any given time. I longed for the outside world, to feel the dirt under my fingers, and bask in the glory of a new discovery - in this office I felt drawn and exhausted. I didn't even fit in with my co-workers.

The female employees only cared for their looks, their families, the latest fashions, and the most recent local scandals. The males - well all they seemed to talk about where sports. I fit in with neither. I liked history and often visited historical places, I liked going to the local archery range in my spare time, I liked reading books, and most of all I liked going to lectures on the most recent digs - things that no one at work had an interest in. Most of the guys called me a geek for reading books, and the women liked to joke that I should have been born a boy because 'girls don't do archery'.

Sometimes I wished for another life. A life where I would be accepted for all my quirks, and where I would no longer be teased! Mother often told me that there were other people that shared my passions, I just had to look for them, and while I knew this was true I still didn't feel like I fully belonged. There were days where the world felt off to me, that everything I experienced was like some blurry dream that I might wake from, and I remember the scrunched up face my mother had made when I explained such to her.

According to her I was just overworked, and that I should take a nice holiday because I certainly hadn't had one in awhile. How I had let her talk me into taking time off I'd never know, before long I had booked myself tickets for a flight to Rome and booked time off at work.

As off as things normally felt, it felt right to be booking a holiday. Some people joked about fate, but I felt as if this was the first thing I'd ever done that I was fated to do as if I was supposed to take this holiday. Excitement bubbled within me as I made my preparations for the holiday, and it was changing my money for the local currency that made the whole thing very real to me.

Sure I had packed my bags, had checked to make sure my vaccinations were up to date and had even bought travel insurance and printed off my tickets. There, however, was nothing quite like getting foreign currency to let you know that your trip was imminent. Time seemed to fly by much quicker after that point, I hardly could keep track of the days for they seemed to pass so quickly, and before I knew it the time had come to board my flight.

I could remember hugging and kissing my mother, letting her know I would be back soon, and waving off her apologies that my father hadn't come. He rarely spoke to me most days, so why would he have come this day? For him taking vacation was something you only had when forced to, and I couldn't remember the last time he'd taken time off. By all laws, he should have had 4 weeks a year, but self-employed as he was he tended to not to take the time off.

Taking a holiday was another weakness he saw in me, especially as I'd choose Rome as my destination - he'd always be a firm believer that people should have more vacations in England rather than abroad. I had fond memories of him taking us for weekends in Blackpool when I was a child, happy carefree days before he started to push me for academic perfection.

With one final hug, I had left my mother to finally make my way through customs, a process that seemed to irk me in one way or another. The thing that frustrated me most was the fact that they advised you to show up at least three hours before your flight, and it always took me less than half an hour to get through the whole process.

Left with a couple of hours to kill I ordered a small meal and sat at one of the small Cafes, watching other people as they went this way and that, a tingle travelling down my spine - it almost felt as if this would be the last time I would see them. I pushed off the unsettling sensation, writing it off on pre-flight jitters and sipped at my coffee. I had no reason to be worried, statistically flying was safer than driving, and I would soon be in Rome marveling at the architecture! The sensation passed quickly, being replaced by the warmth of a belly full of cooked food and coffee. With my meal finished, I moved toward my assigned gate and waited for the boarding procedures to start.

After what seemed like an age, and finally seated in my assigned seat, we set off from the terminal. The plane taking off into the air with barely any effort, and within a half an hour we were soon soaring high above white fluffy clouds. It was a fascinating sight and I found myself quite mesmerized as I watched them pass by, and even more fascinating to pass through them as the plane drifted ever higher. I only allowed myself to drift off to sleep once we reached cruising altitude, the hum of the engines lulling me to sleep as the edge of the coffee finally wore off.

Dreams soon followed, normally I didn't dream so vividly, but this dream was the most vivid I ever had! I watched a male figure materialized into my dream, and I almost wished I had dreamed this man up before now, for I would have loved more regular dreams if such handsome men visited them. His long dusty blond hair and rugged bead caused my heart to beat faster, and his handsome face would have made any girl swoon.

Dressed in odd clothes I began to wonder where I had seen him before, for I must have met him if I was dreaming of him, and I supposed I must have seen him at one of those reenactment weekends I had attended recently. A smile passed over his lips as he looked at me with loving eyes, a gloved hand reaching up to trace over my cheek - contract that was warm even in my dream state. A jolt traveled my body as his thumb brushed over his face, his lips moving in words that I couldn't quite make out as my body was brought back to the living.

I was fully jarred out of the pleasant dream as the plane bucked wildly in the air, my eyes opening blearily as I cursed the turbulent air we had entered. If only the bucking had been so innocent, if only it had been turbulence, but it was not. The plane was dropping out of the air, causing a sickening sensation in the pit of my stomach as airbags dropped down from their holding cells. In my panic, I didn't even remember putting the air mask over my face, nor could I remember helping the poor kid beside me.

All I remembered was the sensation of gravity taking hold, the screams of the people around me, and then there was nothing but darkness as the plane jolted at the moment of impact with the ground.

She will arrive soon, we have seen to that. There is no going back now. The note has been added to the song, now all we must do is wait to see how the song will sound. We can only hope that she will do as fate dictates.