Revealer

By Doodlebug

To Elven Pickle, Kitera Matar, dork with a fork, Broomstick Girl, Greeneyes616, Darlene5, Urylia, lil kawaii doom and Corrina:

Let's have another go at it, shall we?

Disclaimer: Things you recognise belong to Tolkien, but I own Angela and any characters you don't recognise. The plot is also mine. Enjoy!

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Prologue

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I placed my almost empty wine glass back on the table in front of me. Sat on the terrace of a beautiful house on the borders of the forest, I had a clear view of the sunset almost every evening. We lived on the outskirts of the city, being far enough away for some peace and quiet, but close enough to be near our friends. It had been that way for a good few years now, but it had been a long time since I'd lost track of how many. Happiness reigned over everything. The very grass was almost singing with happiness, and the Sun was gently going to rest over on the western mountains.

Valinor, it seemed, was the perfect place to get a bit of peace.

She put her wine glass down, "Go on, tell me."

Oh for heaven's sake. "This is the last time I invite you to spend the night!"

"Oh, please!" she whined, "I'm not nearly as bad as 'Laith. She still comes home with mud in her ears, for crying out loud!"

"Yes, well she is five," I snapped back. I wasn't in the mood for story telling this evening, as doing it every night for five years does leave the imagination at a bit of a standstill. "Anyway, I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, stop being such a baby."

"ME? Being a baby? I think not!"

"Yes you are! It's just a story!"

"I can't believe you just called me a-"

"Well if you wou-"

"Alright FINE!" I gave in. "Fine."

"Good!" she smiled in triumph, crossing her legs on the chaise in preparation. "Tell me everything!"

"You know everything!" I laughed, "You were there!"

"Not for everything. Not for before."

I stopped laughing but retained a sad smile, "You really want to know?" She nodded. "You asked for it. There are things you're not going to like, and you're going to cover your ears and go 'La La La' to, but they're important, so I'm not about to leave them out, alright?" I took a shaky breath, "You better hear it from the end. Or the beginning, whatever way you want to look at it..."

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As I lay on my bed, comfortable enough to see my family, I thought back over the past years. My life had been, well there wasn't any other word for it, amazing. After attaining a drama degree from University, I had been given an agent by attending the Bristol Old Vic, one of the best drama schools, and I had had my share of drinking and drugs thank you very much.

Once I had cleaned up a bit, I travelled the world getting various jobs in different countries, never quite finding what I wanted. Feeling incredibly homesick by the time I got to Vancouver, I got a couple of bigger roles on things like Stargate and some other shitty cable shows, and they stopped the tears coming so soon every night.

Little point: Richard Dean Anderson. Fabulous guy, but not to be gone near when Tacos have been consumed.

It was quite funny really, the minute I got back to London, I found a message waiting for me on my answering machine form my agent, Ethel. (Why is it that agents all have such weird names, anyway?) Apparently, some Stargate fan in high places had seen me in my episode and had liked me so much that she wanted me to audition for a role in the new Superman movie.

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".And introducing Angela Brinn as."

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My big break. Classed as one of the biggest in film history. More work followed, countless scripts arrived at my door throughout the years. After about eighteen months, I worked with one of the most talented people I had ever known, and I had got it into my head that I was going to marry this man, whether he liked it or not! Thankfully for me, he felt the same.

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"Annie…uh…would you, I mean, will you…will you…uh…fuck I'm so bad at this!"

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I had laughed at him then, thinking nothing of it. The man who never missed a beat was having trouble getting a few simple words out. I looked back to the dinner in front of me. It was our three year anniversary. The whole world seemed to be bent on ruining it for us, however, with the entire New York press core trying to fight to get inside the restaurant and take various pictures of me with a slightly swollen tummy having dinner with my amazing boyfriend.

The whole world stopped when he pushed the box across the table towards me, my fork clattering to the floor.

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"Will you marry me?"

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I think I broke more than a few hearts on my wedding day. "Sorry girls!" I thought as I looked over at my husband, "Not planning on finishing with him just yet."

My life had been happy. Two daughters and a son. As painful as it was giving birth to them, I could have laughed forever at my husband. The pansy! Thought he could handle it the first time. Fainted dead away at my feet after ten mere minutes in the birthing room. Prat. He stayed in the waiting room for the next two. Still it did him good to see what pain we women go through. When the time comes that men can suffer the pain of menstrual craps it will be a happy day indeed.

The first was Sam, born on the fifth of august in the blistering heat of the Los Angeles General Hospital. Of course, luck was never on my side when it came to pain.

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"GET THIS FUCKING BABY OUT OF ME!!!"

"Shhh, love, it's alright."

"BUGGER OFF! IT'S YOUR FAULT THIS THING'S IN HERE IN THE FIRST FUCKING PLACE!!"

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Then came the twins, Annabelle and Hannah. Thankfully, they were gracious and only let me stay in pain for three and a half hours, compared to the day and a half I was in labour with Sam. And then came the parents.

My dad died first. Heart attack at a ripe old age of seventy seven. It crushed my mother. So much so that she eventually gave up a year later. I didn't get out of bed for days. Being an only child meant that I had all of their love, so I would have to produce all of the grief. My cousin came to visit me, begging me to get out of bed and get back on track with the film I was making. He had lost his parents in a car crash a couple of years before. Now it was just us. The only ones who had our family name left.

But, as normal, I was wrong. Sam came in one day and brought me a cup of tea, and I could see the resemblance clear as day. I was looking at my father. So I got up.

"And so after years of working and fulfilling my dreams, I retired and made myself rest. And that is what I've been doing for the whole of your life, sweetheart." I looked at my granddaughter as she sat beside me on the rather large bed in my overly large home. There was much of my mother in her, that was clear. My mother had been gorgeous, retaining her looks up until she had me. She always claimed she had passed them on to me, and I was always saddened by the fact that she was fine with the fact that I had them.

"How is your reading coming along? You better not have gotten ahead of me!" I smiled as she shook her head.

Poker straight dark brown hair swung around and hit her face and she wiped her nose, the last remnants of a winter cold. Yes, I could see it as plain as day. She looked so much like my mother, it was unbearable. Eight years old and I could already see it in her.

"Daddy says we can start reading the Tom Bombadil chapters now! He says you didn't like reading them to him so you made Grandpa do it when he was little. Is that true?"

I laughed at the memory and saw Sam, my son, standing in the doorway, understanding plain in his eyes. "Don't trouble Grandma any more, sweetheart. I bet she needs to sleep." He walked over and picked Grace up off the bed, much to her protests. "Go and see if mommy needs any help with dinner. I don't think she can manage it by herself, do you?"

Grace's face was overflowing with pride as she scampered off to the kitchen. With tears of laughter in my eyes I motioned to Sam to close the door, and after doing so he came and lay beside me on the bed.

After a minute of silence he spoke. "Why do you have to go mom?" He turned to me and it was as if he was a little boy again, asking as many questions as he could with innocence written in his face.

I did what I've always done at sentimental moments: make a very bad joke. "God forgive me for giving you that bloody American accent."

Looking at me again he tried desperately to make me understand. "But just one more day mum, please…we'll all miss you so much! Me and Annabelle and Hannah, and Gracie, mom, Gracie can't live without you! She can't."

"Shhhhhh.she'll be fine, she has lots of me in her, and you know how tough I can be!" I laughed and felt tears spring to my eyes. "We all make our own heavens; do you remember me telling you that?" He nodded. It was when my mother had died. "Well, then I'll be happy wont I? Me and dad, and grandpa and grandma all on a cruise ship having dinner with Tolkien and J. K. Rowling."

No laughter this time. I felt a last tear run down my check as Sam got up to shut the curtains. As I looked at what a man he had become, my heart swelled as I told him "I love you all so much, never forget that. And I'll always be with you." I heard a squeal and a crash from the kitchen. "Oh God." I winced at the image of my lovely china falling to the floor. "Go and see what she's broken now."

He laughed as he walked out of the door, wiping the tears away as he went, and the sound of giggling and, for some reason, splats filled the air.

"God help her if that hit my sofa."

I took one last look around, trying to memorise every little thing about my home, but as I started to close my eyes, I saw a flash of someone opening the curtains, letting the light pour into the room. Then he turned and held his indistinct hand out to me, and for some inexplicable reason, I took it.

And then…

Voices.

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