Chapter 21

Song of the Future

Author's Note: I am reeeaaally sorry for taking three months to update this story! BUT! I have a good excuse! I got engaged and am getting married in the next month and a half, so on top of work my world has been taken up by wedding planning. I'm planning on getting back on schedule now, so there shouldn't be another drastic delay like this one in the near future. Now, enjoy!

December 20th - the Fellowship's last month in Imladris -

Aragorn watched the final leaves of autumn begin their turn. A cold wind blew from the north and left frost on the morning ground. That frost melted by mid afternoon, heralding the coming of early winter snows. At his side hung the heavy burden of his ancestor's sword.

My sword, he thought. Anduril, the Flame of the West.

If only he'd felt more like the flame he supposedly carried. Every time he drew the sword from it's sheath the blade sparked into flame which reminded him of a similar trick a certain elf maid managed on the trek to Imladris. Biting back the urge to groan Aragorn closed his eyes and tilted back his head so the breeze would catch his hair. For the past month small things, phrases, or even a fond mention from one of the hobbits reminded him of her.

The memory left him feeling more melancholy than empowered.

In the distance, clouds gathered from the northwest and threatened to coat the land in its first snow of the season. He frowned. Winter was not an ideal time to begin such a journey, but he supposed there was little choice in the matter. They'd needed the two months given to them to decide on the best road, to scout every possible exit out of Imladris and into the wilds. Gandalf had finally decided on the Gap of Rohan as their best way over the mountains. Aragorn wasn't so sure as it took them far too close to Isengard for his liking, but there was nothing for it. He certainly hadn't thought of anything better. By all accounts, all roads were dangerous. Strange beings with dark magic gathered to the east and destroyed everything in their path. Aragorn's Dunadain heard whispers and rumors of kidnappings from villages and small cities to the north and south. Where once the enemy showed no sign of movement on their side of the Misty Mountains with signs of malevolence rampant.

"You are quite pensive this morning."

Aragorn almost grimaced. Boromir, the son of Gondor's steward and the one who inevitably sealed his fate, joined him on the balcony to watch the calm landscape before them. The man had been particularly hoping for Aragorn's aid to Gondor's stand against Mordor.

"There is much to consider," Aragorn replied.

Boromir stood next to him and leaned against the stone railing. The man seemed pale, tired, and bound in a perpetual state of worry for a people who needed salvation from their perpetual battle against the forces of Mordor. For this reason, Aragorn felt compelled to go to them once and then again, now, as a symbol of hope to a people his forefathers had long abandoned to the authority of the steward line. How he proposed to be this symbol of hope Aragorn couldn't fathom.

"What is there to consider?" Boromir asked, "Gandalf shall guide Frodo, and whoever chooses to follow, into Mordor and I shall bring you, and whoever chooses to follow you, to Gondor to renew my people's hope and spirit. That is our course."

Aragorn patiently breathed away his irritation. The young lord made it seem so simple, effortless, and was sure that his presence alone could boost the moral of a people certainly devoid of it! It didn't stop his resolve in trying. Even his heart called for him to return to the land of his forefathers and smite the evil that had invaded it once and for all. If only he had such power.

"Do not place all your hope in me, Boromir, for all hope lies in the success of this quest. Frodo must reach Mount Doom and throw it into the fires from which it was forged. I might give hope to the people, but that hope is finite and will not last the entirety of the war," Aragorn said in a tone he forcibly kept measured.

It wouldn't do to show the bone crushing fear plaguing his heart that whispered treacherously of the sure doom of their quest. To his immense irritation a knowing look entered Boromir's expression. His hand rested on Aragorn's shoulder and pulled him around so they met almost eye-to-eye. Boromir, he realized, was just an inch or two shorter than he. The man's chin tilted up to better meet Aragorn's eye. Blue eyes, hard, gaunt, and very much determined blazed at him imploringly.

"I do not know why you insist on dissuading yourself from what is the clear intention of the Valor, themselves! We need something! Anything! To help us carry on!" The man insisted.

Aragorn frowned, "I will do what I can, Boromir, but I won't promise the fortunes of your people will turn because of my presence. If Brianna and Frodo fail, we are doomed, that much is certain."

He ignored the pang in his heart at the mention of her name, but was relieved to see the man release his shoulder and step away from him. Boromir's jaw was set and hands clenched at his side.

"This I understand, my friend," Boromir responded coldly, "but if you have no faith in this venture then perhaps we are all doomed."

With that, Boromir turned and left, leaving Aragorn to simmer in his thoughts.

December 21st - a day after Brianna arrives in Caras Galadhorn -

Brianna looked out of a simplistic archway that extended into a modest balcony and pondered the architectural differences between Rivendell and Caras Galadhorn. Rivendell had been a picture of bright autumn flowers, transforming fall trees, delightful waterfalls and delicately carved marble halls. Caras Galadhorn was an elven city in the trees. There were some instances of expertly crafted stonework, but most of the city's glory came from the way the Malorn trees were grown to be healthy plants as well as houses for the elves. The flora on the ground below the incredibly tall trees were formed into grassy paths with otherworldly flowers and leaves that released seeds and pollen that glowed like stars in the night's sky.

Her rooms weren't sparse. Galadriel's small private reception room had been sparse and the halls beyond were just as barren, so Brianna initially believed her host kept most of her rooms to a minimalistic style. This opinion had changed when one of Galadriel's ladies led her into what would be Brianna's living quarters for as long as she remained in Lorien. Upon entering, Brianna's breath caught in her throat. The sight was every archeologist's dream if one was going to research any society's art, architecture, and values. Every table, chair, and bed was grown from the tree she would sleep in. Each room had a circular wall facing the sides of the tree with expertly molded windows that seemed to have grown around crystalized glass. Thin sheets of sheer silk fell across the entrance to her balcony in pure white waves. The covers of her bed were made from a heavier material than the sheer silk of her balcony's door and proved to be as soft as wool.

The clothes were another matter entirely. They were light and airy where the dresses in Rivendell were thick and crisp. Rivendell's dresses fell heavily around her feet and the sleeves had fanned from her mid forearm to the floor. The dress of an elleth in Lorien was still floor length, but it floated to the tops of her toes and swung comfortably along with her hips. The dress only had one layer, no sleeves, and no shoes. Brianna had never walked the earth with her feet exposed to the elements before, so the experience excited and delighted her. Lorien responded to her presence as if it were welcoming an old friend though the earth around her was just as foreign as it was everywhere else she'd been in Arda. Lady Galadriel's added power was only another curiosity she'd yet to fully decipher.

Power brought life to Lorien's woods. That power was ancient, steady, and comforting. It protected and enveloped. As she stood on her large balcony looking out to the world below, Brianna felt that power seep into the very air she breathed. Every breath she took revitalized her works weary state and she felt the cares and worries of the past couple of months ease. It allowed her time to repair the box that housed all the things she was better off forgetting.

"Excuse me, my lady?" Drifted a voice from within her expansive rooms.

"I'm on the balcony," Brianna said steadily.

Light footsteps she hadn't heard enter her rooms earlier, padded softly across the wooded floor of the tree and stepped onto the balcony. Brianna turned to look at her. Ellethil was one of Lady Galadriel's oldest, personal, attendants. According to Galadriel, the elf received many years of instruction from the White Lady, herself, and had a moderate mastering of the art of magic and song along with the benefit of the Lady's ear and confidence. The elf was slated to begin Brianna's education on learning to harness her supposed ability to use magic by way of singing.

"If you will, Lady Brianna, we may begin our first lesson in song," Ellethil said serenely.

Brianna forced a smile despite feeling that the attempt would prove fruitless in the end, but figured that attempting to learn wasn't going to kill her, "I suppose we should begin."

The elf lady smiled and held back the sheer curtain and stepped to one side so Brianna could pass her and enter the living chamber within. Two chairs had been placed opposite of each other at a small, square, table. Ellethil strode confidently to one chair and sat. Frowning, Brianna followed suit and gingerly settled herself opposite of her elder.

Ellethil was tall, like most elves in Arda, with long blond locks that draped her shoulders, elbows, and hands like ornate chords. Her eyes, twin pools of pale green, inspected her warmly from across the small table. The presence of the Elf Lady made Brianna feel young - like a small child in the presence of her nanny - and, thus, uncomfortable. As if sensing this, Ellethil smiled kindly and reached out a thin, elegant, hand to place it on Brianna's folded fingers.

"This is not a test, nor are you expected to understand the complexity of this magic now. What we will be going over today is the history of Arda from it's earliest conception to our present struggle today," she assured her.

Brianna inclined her head and remained silent. Ellethil, taking this as a sign from the queen to continue, did so. The introduction of the elf's instruction of Ardanian magic was a complex explanation that snaked and weaved it's way around Brianna's mind quickly growing into a giant, hard to follow, maze. Before Ellethil plowed too far into the new concepts, Brianna stopped her and requested paper, pen and ink for the purpose of note taking. Once such study aids were acquired, Brianna began to make some sense of the explanation.

The theory was condensed thusly: Arda held three types of power; elemental, song, and sorcery. The elements were a realization of how their planet was formed by the power of Eru and the Ainur. After some prodding, Brianna managed to get the elf lady to actually talk about Eru and made some notes that posed the question of whether Eru and the Triune were one in the same. Human cultures, at their soul and center, always had some sense of the Triune's presence in the world. It wasn't much of a stretch to hypothesize that Elves would do the same if enough time passed. When that tangent came to a close by the wise guidance of the older elf, the subject settled back on track just in time to talk about the myth of how the world formed. Eru was said to have brought the Ainur together and showed them a theme, from which he bade them make a great music. Melkor – whom Eru had given the "greatest power and knowledge" of all the Ainur – broke from the harmony of the music to develop his own song. Some Ainur joined him, while others continued to follow Eru, causing discord in the music. This happened thrice, with Eru successfully overpowering his rebellious subordinate with a new theme each time. Ilúvatar then stopped the music and showed them a vision of Arda and its peoples. From this power came Ardanian magic. The Ainur, of course, could bend the elements to their will as the elements and they were tuned to the other by song. The elves could form the world around them by song, but not with the grace and ease of the Ainur and the Maiar.

After this initial description, Ellethil went over a few basic techniques that Brianna could try to become more aware of her emotions and how to separate the good from the bad. To sing with power was to sing with feeling and abandon. If good intention is meant then only good could come of the song. Likewise, evil intent begot evil intent. Once she placed Brianna in an alternating triad hum, Ellethil took her leave to attend to her other duties and give her charge some time to practice.

For her part, Brianna's thoughts lingered on the plight of her people on Arda. If there was anything she knew about her people it was this: elves had the ability to bend and control the elements. If so, why not the elves of Arda? With this in mind Brianna began to sift through her emotions and studiously avoided a select few she didn't want to face.

December 21st - Night

While Brianna practiced the first stages of Ardanian magic, Aragorn slept fitfully. Contrary to the usual literary stereotypes of nightmares, heartsick feelings and a general sense of unease, Aragorn's mind was merely caught up in the throws of planning the Fellowship's long epic journey to the fires of Mt. Doom. Each quiet moment he had was consequently during the hours reserved for sleeping and it set him in a mode of second guessing choices of provision, winter wear, blankets, the ratio between packs the company carried and packs their little pony, Bill, carried, and a whole manner of possible things he and Gandalf may have overlooked.

After hours of laying in his bed attempting to quiet his mind he finally gave up hope of rest and slid out of his bed to walk the dimly lit halls of Imladris. There were no lamps lining the halls to illuminate him, so Aragorn had the advantage of passing through the halls and rooms unseen by anyone who saw with mortal eyes. Those elves he passed didn't acknowledge him. In all his years of growing up and living in and out of Imladris they knew his nervous habits and weren't unfamiliar with his presence in the night's gentle cloak. Very few elves were out in the small hours of this particular early morning. It was a blessing to him and one that Aragorn hadn't expected to come to pass.

Grateful for the scarcity of people he'd known throughout his long years living within the walls of Imladris, Aragorn traversed the halls virtually unseen and left completely to his thoughts. The ring, Isildur's Bane, plagued his thoughts as an ever present Doom waiting to smite the whole of Arda into ruin. In this Aragorn was of two minds. Every fiber of his being called for him to go with Gandalf and Frodo to the fires of Mount Doom and observe the deed his ancestor had failed to accomplish years ago. Another, deeper, part of him urged him to answer the cries of a people he had once ventured to fight for under the pseudonym, Thorongil. Boromir's plea had effected him and Aragorn knew, in his bones, that there was little that would stop him from going with the lord to Gondor.

His ancestral home - a place his family had little to do with since the fall of Arnor - caused a far greater conflict within him than Aragorn had imagined. Elrond, in his wisdom and foresight, warned him of the path that call would lead him down. Kingship. The uniter of realms. The return of a monarchy that had barely survived the winds of time that had threatened, on numerous occasions, to blow the last line of his house away. He pulled a face at the thought. Boromir wanted it. Gandalf believed it. Elrond expected it. None of them thought to ask what Aragorn's opinion on the matter was and he was inclined to simply let the line of stewards take of the mantel of kings so that he could live his life in peace.

However, such a hope for peace had been shattered by the appearance of Brianna, whose true name was Aracasse, the queen of the elves. She had operated perpetually under the assumption that she would not only have to return to her world, but return to her people as their queen. Even in Arda the elves recognized her sovereignty over them and treated her as their queen even while Brianna clearly felt uncomfortable with the deferential treatment. Still, her handling of the unwanted reverence was beyond a graciousness Aragorn would have if he was in that situation. It made him both admire and love her beyond what he thought himself capable.

Brianna's status as queen of the elves left a bitter taste in his mouth. For several days he thought it was because he couldn't be with her. Then, one night while on patrol with Legolas, he finally understood the cause. It was her seemingly fated circumstance. If she, elven queen, was stopped by an authority above her from actually abdicating her throne then what hope did Aragorn have of avoiding what Lord Elrond - someone who was both a parent and mentor to him - deemed to be pre-destined.

He reached his favorite place to hide from the world after an hour of aimless wandering. The Hall of Fire was quiet. No one was there in that hour, not even Bilbo Baggins, and it enabled Aragorn to sit on the floor before the crackling flames of the great fire and find peace within its comforting light. The fire was pure, beautiful and warm. To his surprise the cares pressing on his shoulders eased and a state of calm washed over his person. His eyes fluttered and closed and Aragorn entered into a state between sleep and wakefulness.

He saw her in an unfamiliar place by the sea clothed in a simple blue dress and a silver crown on her brow. The ocean wind caught her long, bronze, hair and knotted it into a messy twist. Brianna's hands where outstretched to catch the blurred form of an elven child with dark hair and vibrant teal eyes. Her lips curled into a smile as she caught his charging form and swept him into her arms, skillfully maneuvering him around the prominent bulge of her stomach indicating she was with child. Aragorn's mouth dried. The smile on her lips. The peace. The happiness. She was beautiful.

A longing such as he'd never felt before filled him as he watched her lips press a gentle kiss on the child's brow. The child smiled a gigantic grin and began squirming out of her grasp. With a grin, Brianna bent down and set his bare feet back onto the white sands. Instead of running back to the water the boy began to run towards him and Aragorn was able to study the boy in his approach. He had dark, curly hair, teal eyes, pointed ears that weren't as prominent as most elven children's, and a grin that reminded him of the mother. But that wasn't what Aragorn noticed the most. Around the boy's neck was his ring.

Heart racing, Aragorn looked back to Brianna just as he felt his knees begin to bend and lift the child high into the sky. The silver circlet on her brow was difficult for him to see, but he did notice the ornate well-woven quality of the band as it looped up from the center of her forehead and pulled back into several thin beaded strands that were woven through her hair.

His mouth opened, but instead of her name he uttered the name of the boy that was his son.

"Eldarion."

The loud crack of one of the burning logs startled him back into the land of the living. Aragorn stared numbly into the fire for a good long minute before reaching up to wipe away the tears that blurred his vision.

December 22nd - Lorien

Brianna woke from her four hours of slumber feeling odd. She couldn't quite put a finger on what it was that caused the feeling, only that wherever her dreams had taken her was beautiful and she wished she could return. Tentatively, she placed her hand on her stomach making note of the fact that it was flat and not round with late second trimester pregnancy. Confused, she lay in the bed wondering why she would have been dreaming about being pregnant. Then the other parties to that dream came back to her and she closed her eyes and groaned.

Right. I dreamed about Aragorn… again, she thought and closed her eyes as horror overtook her. Oh God! I dreamed about being pregnant with his second child!

It had been such a good dream. Brianna holding his firstborn son in her arms, Aragorn laughing in the distance and then playing with the boy - she refused to acknowledge she'd conjured up a name for the child - in the ocean, and Brianna rubbing the bulge in her stomach as she considered Susanna as a good name for the girl she knew she was about to have. Despair threatening to overtake her, Brianna flung an arm over her eyes and breathed deeply to keep at bay any tears that wanted to emerge. It was bad enough that she was dreaming about being with the man. If she cried about it she'd feel even more pathetic about the dream than she already did.

Learning Ardanian magic was making it difficult for Brianna to keep her emotions in check. The elements didn't require emotions to be used. They were cold hard facts of life - visible facts of life - and bent where she willed them. There were times, of course, when her emotions influenced her use of the elements, but they weren't a requirement. Elven magic in Arda required her to have a mental, spiritual, and what certainly amounted to an emotional connection to the world around her. Lacing her emotions with the elements was a strange concept to her and made it easier for her to control the enith gilthaes than before. This strange new way to use that power had limitations, of course, in the form of singing, but was effective when Brianna was able to immerse herself.

This opened up a flood where she'd hoped to release a trickling stream. She'd found herself feeling a new intensity to her longing for Aragorn that was positively distracting. Sadness and anger were harder to keep in check which resulted in Brianna almost setting people who pissed her off on fire. Haldir, being the haughty prick that he was, tended to be the unwitting target for the duration of her first day learning the craft. Professor Moruni and Artemis were both very much amused at her struggle to which Brianna threw them the occasional rude gesture to make sure they knew they were on her "shit list".

With a groan, Brianna sat up and pulled aside her covers to step out of bed. She'd slept in the nude. It was a strange deviation from her modern life where her wardrobe consisted of old workout shorts or sweats coupled with various ratty tank tops that had seen better days. Her nightly wardrobe had been the same in Rivendell and it caused a number of restless nights where she felt too vulnerable to be fully at ease. In Lorien the feeling continued and had been amplified by the excessive release of her emotions.

She breathed in an effort to regain the control she'd spent years painstakingly working on. It didn't work and she gave up after several attempts and threw on a simple blue dress to meet the Lady Galadriel for a very late breakfast.

The lady was found along the banks of the Nimrodel with only one serving maid to accompany her. Brianna approached her, surprised to find a distinct absence of her aunt and the professor. When Lady Galadriel looked up from whatever long piece of parchment she held unfurled in both hands, she smiled and inclined her head at the one empty chair across from her. Brianna daintily slipped into the chair and began to take stock of the light fair the maid spread out before them as the lady finished reading about whatever important matter required her attention.

"King Thranduil of what was once the Greenwood has sent me a letter of a matter that greatly concerns me," Galadriel said softly.

Brianna looked away from her inspection of a particularly interesting looking sandwich and met the Lady's eyes, "What happened?"

"The enemy is amassing an army around Dol Goldur. They intend to attack the dwarf king in the Lonely Mountain and the surrounding city. Your enemies have also been reported in the surrounding countryside. A few elves and dwarves have been killed, but those most affected are human. I have written to King Thranduil, under the directive of your aunt, the various ways to kill certain enemies. She plans to join my husband when he leaves with our army to give the elvenking aid," the Lady explained.

Brianna watched her, frowning, and thought about the lady's purpose of mentioning the letter from this elven king. If she recalled correctly, King Thranduil was Legolas' father. From the way Galadriel spoke, it sounded as if Artemis knew the king.

"I was told a while back by King Thranduil's son that my ancestor, Laurealasse, knew King Thruanduil," Brianna said.

The Lady Galadriel nodded, "That is only half of the tale. King Thranduil met another elf queen from your world many years later after he ascended the throne of the Greenwood. This one is just as well known as Laurealasse. They shared a deep bond and married. She bore him two sons - one she took with her back to earth and the other, younger, son to remain in the Greenwood with the elven king."

Brianna considered what she knew of her family history and her mind's eye narrowed in on the more recent members of her line. There was one queen who married, but whose husband never ascended the throne with her. Many had assumed he'd died, but such had never been confirmed and Athena, her great-grandmother, never bothered to correct them.

Because, in her eyes, it would have been as if he'd died, she thought.

Another thought weaseled it's way passed the jumbled mess which occupied her mind in that moment. She blinked as that small, innocent, thought communicated the obvious conclusion.

"Legolas is my great uncle?" she blurted out, "How? My great-grandmother lived three thousand years ago! Legolas told me that he's only been alive for nine hundred years!"

Lady Galadriel smiled sadly and rolled up the letter she'd been reading, "Time between our worlds is strange. Sometimes three months can pass here and only two weeks there. Sometimes the space of time between our world and your world is drastically different."

Brianna swallowed as the implications began to make themselves known, "The tear in the veil of space and time… it's keeping us in sync with Arda where the difference is less drastic. If it didn't exist and I stayed…"

It was another nail in an already fully nailed coffin. Galadriel reached out and placed a comforting hand on Brianna's own. Brianna allowed it. She needed to feel the sympathy of someone who wasn't fully involved with her life, but who still understood loss. Even so, Galadriel didn't quite understand the full implication of what Brianna faced. It was fine, for the moment, but she knew she'd eventually need more.

"Not everything is as hopeless as it seems. Do not give into despair. Everything that is meant to happen will come to pass whether we will it to or not," said the Lady.

It was almost a comforting thought and Brianna expressed her gratitude for it all the same. Then, she pushed the newest bit of stunning news to the back of her mind. There was no point in dwelling on family she would never meet or see again.

Silence settled between them for a time. Brianna enjoyed the absence of any mind boggling talk about Arda. It was nice to sit in that companionable silence and enjoy the food the Lady's household took the time to prepare. The food was good much to Brianna's surprise. The elves of Lorien put more vegetables, bread, and dairy products in their diet than meat, but they did seem to value the use of fresh water trout in their diet as well. The fish was part of the sandwich and the sides were all various fruits, berries, nuts and greens.

"How was your first lesson in our magic?" Galadriel asked.

Brianna snorted, "Bad. I'm not… good at operating power through the use of emotions and lost my temper several times. I'm also… my mind has taken to wanting to dream about things it shouldn't. I think and want things I can't have. It's normal, I know, to miss… things, but the more I use my emotions for magic the more pronounced my emotions have become. I'm not sure how to continue regulating them while using this magic."

Lady Galadriel didn't reply for a good long while. Brianna waited with a patience that she didn't really have. It was best to assume that offending an elven lady who as old - if not older - as Professor Moruni was an incredibly bad idea.

"Your soul is in turmoil," Galadriel said finally.

No shit, Brianna thought grumpily. Let's pick through all the things I have nightmares about on a regular basis and then add this ridiculous angst where Aragorn's concerned and yeah, my soul might just have a smidge of turmoil.

She didn't say that, of course, though part of her really wanted to drive home the fact that the Lady had states the obvious. To better control that impulse, Brianna picked up another trout sandwich (as she dubbed them) and shoved one in her mouth. Lady Galadriel looked at her a moment longer before releasing a soft titter.

"These dreams will grow worse unless you work through those emotions you wish not to acknowledge. The best way to do that is to spend a day or two acknowledging and accepting the emotions and dealing with them accordingly," the Lady said.

Brianna swallowed and worried her bottom lip with two front teeth before replying, "What if acknowledging those emotions… what if some of them… I'm afraid a few of those emotions will hinder rather than help."

She winced at how awkward she sounded. The Lady looked at her, blue eyes like twin mirrors that reflected Brianna's soul, and it occurred to her that Galadriel didn't need to enter her mind to read her thoughts. All the Lady had to do was observe and listen. Brianna's manner, words, and voice gave more away than she wanted.

"You must if you want to stop the enemy. Neither he nor your uncles will leave this world alone until you smash all of their plans and burn it to ash. We begin by taking away the tears that allow them to enter my world. You will end it by hunting them down and physically eradicating the threat. You will have help in this, of course, but you will never be effective in this venture unless you deal with your emotions sooner rather than later," Lady Galadriel said sternly.

A softer light returnee to her eyes and the Lady motioned to the forest around her, "I have found that traversing Lorien helps me begin to deal with the more difficult emotions. Maybe you will find the same?"

Brianna wanted to rage. She wanted to declare the world unfair in how it constantly forced her to think about the things she didn't want to remember ever again let alone feel. She wanted to run away. There was no running away. There was no abdicating from being the queen of the elves. There was no banishing the memories of Alyan, Judah, and Allyson as Ba'al tortured then murdered them to attempt to get to her. She would never forget his methods of trying to personally persuade her to join her power and authority with him. She'd never forget how Aragorn's love made her feel as free as an eagle and as weighed down like Atlas. The preparatory work Brianna had done to begin learning Arda's magic opened the damwhich held those memories and emotions at bay. If the Lady was to be believed, then that dam would be completely eroded away.

"I'll take that into consideration," Brianna said diplomatically.

It was the best she could promise.