Yo yo, my beautiful homeslices! So, I have some advice: Any time you feel pissy of frustrated, try taking a niiiiiiice long walk through a city. Or woods, or on a track. That helps me, anyways. Or, physical activity. Maybe it's that urge to distance yourself from your problems, now that I think about it... :0...
Quick suggestion, listen to "Poets of the Fall"- Carnival of Rust- when reading the couch scene. ;) I have a link on my page!
Anyways! I have an announcement: "We Are Unseen" has cracked 500 views! That's awesome! Thank you all so much, not just those who have reviewed {Although those people have a special place in my heart ;)}, namely:
-Miss Lily Noir
-Charlieandcie
-Guest
-Bubbles8231999
Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Professor Tolkien or Peter Jackson.
Read and Enjoy!
Megan
All sounds echoed meaninglessly-vibrations as they were that thrummed through the center core of her chest, like one standing too close to a speaker. Were these thing, those which rattled her bones and made them quiver in synch with the rising and falling of the sounds, words? Or was their meaning to be found in the silence?
'Tis the Music... Something inside of Megan whispered, but she wondered. Why she would phrase it like that?
There was nothing but the gaping maw of darkness before her. All-encompassing, all-embracing and cradling her as within an eggshell or womb. There was nothing else but those sounds that seeped up the darkness of some cavern long forgotten by even the most long-lived memory preserved in the oldest book.
She was suspended there, bare to this darkness, this cloak of protection, this veil. Am I facing up, Megan Wayne wondered, or am I down, like a baby? Her hair, short as it was, tickled her neck. Suddenly, the sounds were clearly voices!
"Adaaaa!" It was a child calling for his father.
Where? What the-? Megan tried to turn in the direction of these sounds, but the darkness seemed to lap over the sounds, but the other sounds returned.
"Calar!" The darkness swelled like some balloon with too much water. Megan felt pressure on all sides of her small body, from her pinky toes with their chipping black paint to the very ends of her hair. In response to the next swell, Megan shuddered, and saw stars exploding behind her eyes, and they transformed into red and silver flashes.
The darkness could not contain it. As the next swell came, everything exploded. The darkness imploded somewhere inside of her, its protective shadow gone.
Megan, fragile and bare, was in the middle of a battle, bathed in blood and staring up at Galdor, who was shaking her with tears streaming down his sooty face. Blood matted the side of his blonde hair, and the rest of it, loose from the braids above his ears, tickled her face. "Calar!" He wept, crying out as her eyes dimmed further. Her head fell to the side, and through Calar's dimming eyes beheld the body of an Elf woman with long red hair-or was it blood?...
"Ada!" Megan screamed hoarsely, the breath raw in her chest. The bedsheets tangled around her, and she jerked. Before she could fall from the bed, though, arms, long and thin, clutched her. They hauled Megan up, setting her back against the pillows and wiping Megan's sweaty bangs from her forehead. Megan was breathing harshly, still seeing Galdor weeping in her mind's eye.
"God," Megan was crying, "Go-I gotta go!"
"Go? Go where?" The arms asked. "Megan, are you sick? Sweetie."
Megan swallowed chokingly, gasping around her next words. "Galdor. I need to see Galdor...!" She tugged against Alyx's arm. "He lost his son, Alyx. I need to go see him...!"
"Whusagoin'n?" Chyann jerked up, looking around as if for an intruder.
"Nothing, Chy, go back to sleep." Alyx chanted softly somewhere above Megan's head, "Sleep, sleep." Nodding faintly, Chyann practically fell on her sister.
Seeing that this didn't work on Megan, Alyx rubbed her cousin's arms. "You okay?"
Megan stared straight ahead, and merely shook her head faintly. "We overreacted. We shouldn't have treated Galdor like that." At last, her breath was evening, but still the sense of urgency remained. She wanted to pad right over to the blondie and hug him and say, "Sorry. I forgive you. I'm not mad."
Megan's cousin rested her head against Megan's, her braid sliding with a soft hsh sound. "You screamed." Alyx squeezed Megan. "I can't stand it when you scream," she rasped.
"I know. But, Galdor isn't bad..." She pulled away a bit. "You can't do that now."
"Do what? Megan?"
Megan looked at her cousin through the darkness, suddenly feeling older beyond her years. "Fight all my battles. One day, I'll scream and I'll expect you to fix everything. I need to learn how to fight here..." The cavern was opening before her, Megan felt. She could not see Alyx with her. Not in that shadow of memory that belonged there-In Memoriam at its Future did not belong where the Past festered and remembered.
This was her lot, Megan realized. A step, a tiny nudge of the foot. That was all it would take to plunge herself into a pit of human experience, to see the patterns of time itself unravel before her like one of the palace's tapestries.
Alyx shifted in front of Megan, and her hazel eyes seemed to glow in the dark. The glowed with concern, Megan knew, and for some reason, it made her even more sad. "I will always be there for you." Alyx shook her head. "We swore. 'Tell each other everything.' Are you hiding something Megan? 'Cause we can talk."
"I know," Megan shrugged, the linen nightgown rustling against her flyaway hair. "But...I gotta take care of this. Y'know?"
"Megan, is digging up the past a really a good idea?"
"Is looking for the future any better? We need to know the past before we chart the future. History is a cycle, Alyx."
"I know." She sighed. "Fine. Do what'cha gotta do. Be safe," Alyx added as Megan slid out of the wide bed. The stone floor was cruelly cold beneath her toes, and Megan hurried onto the thick carpet that was near the dimming fireplace. "The Future is nothing when the Past doesn't exist."
Megan replied, feeling the age sink upon her, "The Future can't happen until the Past fades away." The door glowed and she slid out as noiselessly as a cat.
Alyx
The Future can't happen until the Past fades away. Her long hands convulsed around the velvet pouch. Why do feel this dread? Her eyes stung and she rubbed them, not wanting to cry in front of Chyann, who had awoken again as Megan left to find Galdor. I gotta be strong...!
Alyx felt Chyann's warm hand on her back, rubbing back and forth, its rhythm making Alyx restless. "Are you okay?" She asked blearily, tossing her red hair back, "Are you sick?"
In answer to her questions, Alyx merely shook her head and gripped her cards, the irony not lost on her. After a bit, she spoke quietly. "I need to do something, too," she looked at Chyann's eyes, so familiar with their red-gold eyelashes and certain three freckles by the bridge of her nose. "And no matter what happens, for you to forgive me..."
Chyann was thrown for a moment by the sheer weight of the request, Alyx could sense, but she nodded and held up her pinky. Alyx said as they linked up, "Legolas is coming back in three days, and tomorrow, someone new will be with Galdor."
"Who?"
Alyx frowned in frustration, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand. "Couldn't see. He was blurred, but I know he'll be dark-haired." She stuck her feet out of bed and threw on a longer tunic. "Where's the brush?" She didn't bother lowering her voice. Chardonnay was dead to the world.
Chyann tossed Alyx the old-fashioned bristle brush with a wooden back carved with the image of the sun rising over a mountain. Half the goods in Mirkwood were traded from Laketown, a human settlement down the Forest River. The girls itched to go there.
"Where are you going?" Chyann asked as Alyx fastened the leather tunic over her chest. The clairvoyant replied distractedly, "Oh, uh, here and there. I know we got two, definitely," she held out her fingers. "Stay with Char and pass it on? Love you, honey." Not waiting for an answer, Alyx hurried to the door.
Chyann stood from the bed. "Hang on." She held out a hand as if to physically reel Alyx in. The empath turned, and Chyann corrected her earlier question with exasperation. "What are you going to do?" She placed her hands firmly on her hips.
"I'm adding allies to our side." Alyx grimaced, and gave a deep curtsy. "Namely, our local palace royalty." The door opened beneath her touch. "Cover for me. Galdor will bring Megan back tonight." Alyx gave Chyann a soft smile and their door closed.
She let her hand linger on the carved patterns of edhellen tengwar and trees. She could imagine a faint spark living within it, a texture of life no amount of time could erase. Merry meet... We hope you are an ally.
Alyxandra took off down the halls, trying to remember the way to Thranduil's chambers. She knew that Elves didn't sleep, but she prayed that he wasn't resting. Thranduil, King of The Woodland Realm... Already so physically imposing, his eyes were like the oldest ice, unbreakable in the sheer weight of their gaze. Even his hair that fell in one heavy sheet was cold. Alyx felt herself quiver with nerves. She always had to fake not being intimidated by him whenever they were near. He drew her in, though.
The layers of his feelings like love and dislike, yet the total simplicity of duty made her want to sink her teeth right into them. Their texture never failed to keep her on her toes, craving to understand this man who was not a man. Maybe it was his age. 3000 years was a long time to live. She wanted, almost savagely, to dip her hands up to her wrists in his heart and bathe in its contents. For now, though, his trust and authority would have to do.
The halls were dark and the stone cold. Alyx hated shoes, and the calluses never failed to help her in the woods, but they offered little warmth. She padded around one hallway, looking every which way as if she expected a woodland guard to seize her and drag her off to some cell. She snorted at the idea, but something had her on edge. Shadows seemed to be pointing in the same direction as her dreams. The darkness in the passages was unnatural.
A lone scone burned in the next hallway, one that Alyx did not recognize. She took a few hesitant steps, unsure if that tapestry was the same from her dream when, suddenly, the shadows lunged near her.
Its bite was cold, and her feet burned. Alyx cried out more from surprise than pain. The shadows swirled around on the stone before her, preparing to strike again. She threw herself against the wall near the sconce, which shuddered. Alyx looked up as she heard it creek. The flame was flickering more and more lowly as the shadows grew in the dimness. Alyx reached for the torch within the sconce in near-desperation.
"Begone!" She intoned sharply, thrusting the torch high above her head. A bolt of energy made the flame leap to life in her hands. The entire hallway was suddenly bright as day, the torch sending sparks all around her to burn the shadows. They shriveled with an almost audible hsss!. Those that survived retreated, melting into the ground, leaving the corridor's dimness less sinister.
Alyx watched them go with a look of suspicion and disgust. The flame was brighter than usual in her hand, warming the side of her face. She narrowed her eyes, the fire casting light behind her eyes to make them glow. Shadows, so near the hall of the Elvenking? The very thought of the shadows watching the King made her stomach clench. Could they be watching us? Perhaps they hadn't been as discreet as she'd hoped. What bothered Alyx the most was that fear that Thranduil was sending her a message. No, she shook her head. He couldn't have control over darkness!
She suddenly acutely felt the pain in her foot, and she nearly doubled over to clutch it. The burn felt like a tendril of hot poison snaking up her calf. "Ah!"
A hand grabbed her wrist. Alyx gasped, dropping the torch. As it clattered to the floor, Alyx dove into the Elf's chest. "Oh, my God," she felt the dark cloak of the person, undoubtedly male from the scent of him. He was stiff from surprise, but a slender hand touched her shoulder gently. "Lady Alyxandra?"
"There were shadows," she said hoarsely, looking up at the face of a young Elf. His black hair was odd among the predominant brunettes of Mirkwood, and his face was more sleek than the near blockiness of other men there, lit up from underneath by the dimmer light of the torch. She blinked up at him, her chest rising rapidly. "Shadows attacked me!" She nearly sobbed, resting her head on his chest again. She slowly took a breath, "Then you came, and they just-vanished...thank you. Um...?"
"I am Morien...my lady." His voice caught a bit.
Morien, eh? You are a gullible sap... She scoffed internally, but as she felt his hand briefly touch her hair, she realized that she had been a little frightened. Alyx leaned back and blinked in confusion and growing weariness. Maybe magic wasn't her forte."You know me...?" She raised her hand to sweep her bangs out of her eyes. "I can't say the same, Mr. Morien." She blinked hard against her sudden bleariness.
Morien's hands released her, and without his eyes leaving her, he knelt to retrieve the fallen torch. Morien raised it by their faces, and he smiled softly, suddenly very beautiful. "Sleep..."
Alyx frowned. "What?"
Morien blinked. "...Is what you need. You mortals are ever so fragile, don't you think?" His smile was cutting in the dimness. After a beat, Alyx realized that she hadn't fooled Morien for one second. She could barely sense a thing after the shadows!
Suddenly, though, what he'd said sunk in... Did he really just say that to me? Oh, she was pissed now. She smiled sweetly, throwing Morien off for a moment. "And immortals seem to think they're invincible, don't they?" She spat into the torch, making it leap with one last spurt before it died. Morien was blinded and Alyx slid around him to make a break for it. She cackled internally; he would be seeing spots for a while. And so, in fact, would she.
Thranduil
There was arguing outside of his chambers. He recognized the tremor of a mortal voice and had an acute sense as to whom it might be. Thranduil scowled, his patience starting to wear at the noise, but also his suspicion grew. The Elvenking did not believe in coincidence. He had had too many visitors that night, and it was near unto dawn.
"Allow their entrance, Galion." His butler looked at Thranduil in surprise, but left to relay the orders to Thranduil's door-keepers.
A moment passed before his faithful servant returned with Alyxandra Karsons in tow. Automatically he perceived her weakened state. Noticeable was her slight limp and too-bright eyes, as if with fever. Narrowing his gaze at her shrewdly, he said. "Galion, leave us."
"No," Galion bowed and retreated, closing one of the inner doors. Alyx looked on as they clanged shut, then back to him. She swallowed, and Thranduil followed the moments of her muscles carefully. Fatigue, anxiety, perhaps, but not entirely nerves. Could this child have been accosted in mine own halls? "What is amiss, henig?" He asked rather directly. The Elvenking could not suffer the ramblings of children, which the Unseen would surely treat him to, according to Legolas.
In silent answer, she held her foot out high for inspection.
His keen gaze saw the burns, which had faded, and were perhaps not much to begin with, but were nonetheless disturbing. They were blue as how mortals suffered cold, yet in the patterns of lashes. Their outer edges were a harsh red, showing that she was beginning to mend. Thranduil felt himself straighten. "Come closer. Sit here and raise your foot." Thranduil pointed at the chair to his immediate right, closest to the fire. "Warm yourself. Stay close to it." He turned from her, as if towards the door, but Alyx spoke firmly, "Don't call anyone." Thranduil looked back to her. "I don't want any audiences, please." Only then did she make her way to the chair and sit, staring into the flames.
"I came to talk to you," she said, and Thranduil made note that the attack did not occur in the Unseen's chambers. He knew that this child in particular would have raised much uproar. "But in the way I was attacked by shadows. In the hall with the two tapestries of the dragons, they, the shadows...lunged." She rubbed her foot as if it were chilled. Thranduil began towards her slowly. "I scared them off, but they nicked me a bit. They weren't tough," she admitted, looking up at him, "but that scared me."
"Raise your foot," Thranduil commanded as he sat across from her. Alyx raised her foot high enough for him to grasp. The foot was well-tanned and was bare, but upon briefly touching her, he found that it was too cold.
"And you came here right after?"
"Not quite. A guy named Morien, you know him? Okay, great, he's an ass, showed up after they sank away." She tugged at her braid meditatively, and he let her foot fall.
"How?"
"...Did I fight them?" Alyx slid her gaze to him. As if in response, the fire jumped, spitting sparks up to Thranduil's eyes. They followed the cinders' descent before they trailed back to the witch-child. Her eyes were dropping. "Like that," she yawned, "Fire scared them. And Goddess, it wears me out!"
"You seem to have many talents," Thranduil rose from his seat and paced across his room slowly. "You perceive the future, and sense our emotions as if they were your own."
"Not quite, thank God," Thranduil heard her unravel her hair. "I can tell what's not mine. Your emotions are paler."
This he ignored. "...and you can control your energy just like young Chyann." He heard her movements cease. Feeling that he were imparting common sense, "Do you really think that I have not been watching your movements closely enough to note differences? I know magic. Seen what it can do in the hands of the unwise." He poured the water into one gobelet, his eyes retreating to memories long past of fires and blood.
"You callin' us dumb," she asked. "Screw you." She yawned, "We know what we're doing better than your asshole Spell Caster."
Thranduil stilled dangerously before whipping about, opening his mouth to rebuke her sharply only to find her asleep, her foot now completely healed and hanging directly in his hearthfire.
Thranduil was too old to bother crying out in alarm, instead striding forward swiftly and falling to his knees to sweep her from the chair. Settling her, Thranduil noted that she weighed the same as Legolas had once had, having carried his son many a time back from the woods. He had always made sure that his son was completely at rest before the Elvenking held him, for seldom was Thranduil so open in his affection. Erelrien had never understood that about him, and they had suffered many a silence over the topic, only to appear as if all were well between them for Mirkwood to see.
Shifting Alyxandra Karsons so that she was cradled in his elbow, he placed her softly onto a long blue couch beautifully embroidered with golden threads that had the motif of waves sweeping all along its length. Turning to call for Galion, he noted a light at the corner of his sight. Looking, the Elvenking saw that there was a light cast upon her features that had not been visible before. Her hair, unbound for the first time to his sight, was tumbling in waves, and shimmered as if shot with gold.
Never had Thranduil seen a pure light, such as that of the Two Trees or Aman, but Oropher had told him of such tales, and Thranduil was familiar with the light in the eyes of the Noldor.
It is in their eyes, the eyes of the Unseen are that of an unseen realm, Thranduil realized, and well-hidden by our own prejudice. Could they possibly be...no. It could not. They could not hail from the Blessed Realm. Though bearing little resemblance to that of Galadriel, Lady of Lorien, he recalled the brightness of Megan's and Chardonnay's eyes, and of Alyxs' as well. Desiring to see it more closely, he sank on to the couch beside her. So enchanted was he with the subtlety of the light's power that he extended a hand to hover just above the skin of her cheeks. He could feel the light as if sun-warm, yet blown across with a the wind of a moonlit night. Thranduil's eyes widened intently as he dared lower his hand, capable of slaughtering countless Orcs and Men, to just brush her skin...
Abruptly the unseen Light sank away under his touch, retreating back beneath her tanned skin as if a shying deer fleeing deep into a forest. Her skin was that of an ordinary mortal once more, and her eyes flickered open.
"Howdy...?"
Thranduil took his hand back. "Are you well, Far-Seer?"
"Were you about to smack me awake? Sweet of you, sir. Excuse me." She made as if to sit up, but Thranduil placed his hand on her shoulder. She felt too warm beneath his touch, and his worry deepened. "Do not move. You may have been poisoned. You are to remain here for the night. I shall not have you in the halls until daybreak."
"I don't need that, I can go back to my room just fine," she insisted. "You think those shadows are coming back soon? Doubt it."
"I will not have you ill. Mortal bodies are fragile, and you will obey."
Her eyebrows raised. "Oh really?" A beat passed as tension ran thick between their wills. Searching his face, her expression finally conceded. "Fine. But I want Chardonnay here as soon as she wakes up."
"Why?"
Abruptly, she asked, "Do you trust me?"
After a moment of silence, it seemed that he would not answer, but at last he spoke his fears, "Of your powers I do not. Nor your loyalty or valor, such as I have seen. Yet I feel that all the four of you shall fade from our grasps, even as you stand solid before us."
"You think we'll vanish when you need us. You fear that as you'll depend on the Unseen, though you hardly know why you do, and we'll leave you stranded. Is that it?"
Silence was Thranduil's answer, but Alyxandra, in an odd display, held up her smallest finger. "If you need us, we'll always come back." Seeing his impassive face, she said with the most genuine smile he had seen directed at any Elf, "This is as sacred as I get. Link up, and we'll have a deal."
Yay! End chapter. I'd like you point out that the relationship between Alyx and Thranduil can really go any way. It's full of chemistry, but I'm not aiming for it to be outright sexual attraction.
Review button is looking sad. Go give it some company!
-BleachmyNARUTO
