Chapter 1 – The Timeless Halls

Effie Potter took to death like oil to water. Bearer of the Hallows, she sought to give up her life willingly, accepting the Dark Lord's curse without complaint. In doing so, she sealed her mastery of wand, stone and cloak, and with them her fate.

The Mistress of Death could not be subject to her own dominion, and so Death would not have her. There would be no long embrace of quiet peace, no comforting presence of departed family and friends, no satisfaction of a life fulfilled and complete. Hers was a different path.

After the forest, she found herself within the Timeless Halls. Its stone columns were tall and its vaulted ceilings high, but for all its grandeur, it was dark and filled with shadow. There was no light other than that of flickering candles, for the Hall's great windows looked out into a black void.

It was from the void that Effie emerged as a spirit without form.

By the time that she arrived, the singing had already begun. It was music unlike anything she had heard before, the voices of the choir rising and echoing through the halls in a song of incredible beauty and complexity. She drifted towards the sound like a moth towards a flame, instinctively understanding how to move her spirit and reach out with her senses.

For an age she did nothing but listen, entirely focused on the music. The longer she observed, the better she became at making out the singers. Spirits they were, of a similar nature to her, many hundreds of them. But where Effie remained formless, the others had made bodies for themselves so that they might sing, a multitude in every shape imaginable, some appearing as great lords and ladies, fair of face and mighty in stature, but others among them of a lesser kind, beings of leaf and wind and stream. And at their head was a conductor, whose eyes seemed to shine with light, and whose resounding voice led the others in song.

The music became clearer. Effie began to make out words in the throng, and somehow she understood their meaning. They conjured up an image in her mind, a vision of a world within the void, a place of serenity and peace, where children born of the song might live in innocence and joy. But even as she listened, one of the singers, a baritone whose voice was rich and strong, began to weave a new melody. The vision changed. No longer did Effie see a world of innocence, but one more like her own, a world where life was accompanied by danger and loss.

Several times, she sensed that the new melody threatened to throw the whole song into discord, plunging the vision into darkness. Each time this happened, the conductor would shift the music, incorporating the rogue singer's melody so that it came into harmony. Many of the singers seemed distressed by its inclusion, but to Effie's ear the contrast it brought made the song more beautiful still.

Yet there was still something missing. She regarded the world in the vision and saw mountains and rivers, glaciers and seas. She saw an abundance of living things, forests and fields, animals and birds. She even saw the waking of the peoples of the world and the spread of their civilisations. But nowhere in the vision did she see magic. She could not help but think that it would be a poor world indeed without such a source of wonder and joy.

And so, with the same instinctive understanding with which she had moved, Effie took shape once more. The form she fashioned for herself was familiar but new, as if her previous life had been a first draft. She now assumed a shape perfected: taller than she had once been, comfortably over six feet, her body lithe and graceful and strong, like that of a dancer. Her deep green eyes were uninhibited by glasses, and her long, black hair was as dark as the void beyond the halls. No scar marred her forehead, and her skin was clear and fair, seeming to give off a light of its own.

Once her body was complete, Effie began to sing. In her life, she had never studied music, nor fancied her voice as worthy of any public airing. But now, in death, the music came to her as easily as speaking, and her voice was as sweet as honeydew.

She began tentatively, no more than a few notes here and there, seeking only to accent that which was already within the song. She did not want to do as the rogue baritone had done and risk discord. But when these first forays seemed successful, she grew in confidence, inserting melodies of her own where they seemed to fit, as if the song had been waiting for her to fill the gaps. She sang of fire and water, of light and dark, of growth and death and rebirth. She sang of herbs and potions, of enchantments and transformations, and of curses.

Her additions did not go unnoticed. The attention of the choir was on her now, and to her surprise, she found voices joining her own, embellishing her melodies, taking them to places she had not expected, and soon she was but one voice among many. At the centre of the chorus was a woman's voice, powerful and pure, and Effie found herself adhering to that singer, whose insight seemed greater than her own, and whose development of Effie's themes took them to heights which she had not imagined.

Eventually, the music came to an end, and the vision came into being: a virgin world within the void, a blank canvas yet to be shaped, waiting to become what the vision had shown. It was then that the singers divided into two groups, those who would descend into the world, living within it as they shaped its destiny, and those who would remain behind, to observe but not participate.

Effie hesitated. Though she had joined the song, this was not her world. Her own world lay behind her, her work there unfinished, the fate of her companions uncertain. Yet she knew that there was no return for her, no path back to finish the job and see the Dark Lord defeated. She would have to trust in her friends, trust that she had given them what they needed to forge victory from defeat.

As for her, she intended to remain in the Timeless Halls among the observers. She felt like an intruder here, the sole guest at the gathering of a large family. And more: she was yet weary from the strain of her life. She was not fresh and new like the spirits who surrounded her, who were in many ways innocent despite their wisdom. Even on the first day of this new world, she carried burdens unknown to her peers, and sought rest from her worries.

Her resolve was to be tested three times.

First came the baritone whose melodies had brought discord. Melkor was his name, and of all the spirits in the Timeless Halls, he was the greatest. Tall and broad, his eyes were piercing and his face proud.

"Welcome, stranger," he said in greeting, extending the hand of friendship. "Late-Comer I name you, for late is the hour of your arrival. Unlooked for was your coming, from the void itself, to which life is anathema. You appear among us as a sister, yet apart you stand, unknown to any of the Ainur. Yea, I judge that even the One had not accounted for your arrival. Will you join me as I enter the Little Kingdom? For I sense that with you by my side, great wonders could we work."

Effie ducked her head. "You flatter me, mighty one," she said, speaking the strange language of the song, a language inclined towards formality. "Yet I am but a visitor to these halls, and it is not my place to work anything here, whether wonders or otherwise."

"But what is this false modesty?" Melkor asked. "Already you have performed a great work within the song. For though I was focused on mine own creations, even to these ears did your voice reach. I marvelled at your addition, which seemed to me something entirely novel, unlike anything else within the music, and even my vision was altered by its touch. Alike, we are, for we each seek to create something new, something of ourselves and not of the One. Accompany me, Late-Comer, and let us continue our theme within Eä."

"I cannot," Effie replied. "For already I sense my contribution to the song was rash and impulsive. It is not well for a guest to impose so upon their host. I shall remain here, in these halls, and observe, and rest, and interfere no more."

Melkor shook his head with disappointment. "Perhaps I misjudged you. It seems that you too choose the path of fear instead of boldness. Yet I must not tarry in an effort to persuade you further. Others there are to whom I must speak, afore I enter Arda and arise in might."

He departed, and Effie's eyes followed him as he moved to speak to a spirit of fire. Though he was great, she could not help but feel relief at his passing, for there was an intensity to his gaze which had made her uncomfortable.

Second to test her was a man of slighter stature than Melkor, unassuming in body but still great in spirit. There was a weight around him, and his eyes were dark with knowledge. Námo he was, who would later be known by the Elves as Mandos, and he too offered Effie a place by his side.

"I know not your name, stranger, nor whence you came," he said. "Yet I need only look at you to know we are kindred. Fate is around your shoulders, and doom rests in your gaze. Do not feel alone, you who have known death before the world was made, for the gift of death is mine province, entrusted to me by the One. Will you join me as I enter the Little Kingdom? For long and lonely shall be my labours, and I would share them with one who understands the nature of my task."

Effie smiled sadly. "You know me well, fated one," she said. "Yet Mistress to Death I have been once before, ere I came forth in this place, and I do not seek to repeat my performance. Fate and prophecy have had their way with me, and I am done with them. It is to life that I look now, not death."

Námo nodded, accepting her answer as if it were expected. "Then in life may you find comfort. But know this, you who have been called Late-Comer: none are free from fate, not even those of the Ainur. You shall open at the close. The hour shall be late, as is your fashion, but at last you shall come to me, and at last in Mandos shall you learn your true place in the song. This Doom I speak to you."

He departed, and Effie's eyes followed him as he moved to speak to a quiet lady with deft and skilful hands. Though he had left, his words remained with her, and she felt their weight settle around her. Already the powers of this world sought to bind her, but she would not be so easily chained, she who had come through death and forged her own destiny.

Third to test her was a woman more beautiful than any being Effie had ever seen. She was tall and slender, and the light of the stars was in her eyes, and her mantle was wisdom and authority. Yet for all her greatness, her face was kind, and her voice carried within it an easy laugh. She was Varda, the Lady of Light, and upon her first word, Effie knew that this was the Lady who had adopted her melodies in the song, guiding and elevating them.

"Do not be afraid," Varda said as she approached. She alone of the Ainur had perceived Effie's uncertainty, her sense of unbelonging. "Among friends you find yourself, cousin from across the void. Late-Comer, I have heard you called, yet I confess myself puzzled by your name. Is it not plain that you arrived exactly on time? For had you not come as and when you did, the song would surely have been incomplete."

"You see me differently to the others, then," Effie said. "It was Melkor who named me thus. Not even the One who led the chorus anticipated my coming, he claimed. Is it not so?"

Varda laughed, high and clear. "Well do I know Melkor's heart. He sees that which he wishes to see in your unexpected arrival. But any well-made plan must expect the unexpected. Order cannot exist without chaos; even a surprise may form part of a greater design. Your role is not yet clear, not even to I, but you would not be here if the One did not wish it."

Effie considered her words. "Time will tell, I suppose. Yet I am curious… alone of those who have come to me, you have not asked me to join you. Is this not your intention?"

"Mine intention is irrelevant," Varda replied, a smile in her eyes. "I came but to enquire as to yours."

"I am to remain," Effie said. "As a stranger to these halls, I shall observe only."

"Then perhaps you are well-named after all," Varda commented, "for it is late indeed to form that intent. Already you participated in the Great Song. Though subtle, your melodies touched every part of the music, and not every part of them was good. Do you not intend to take responsibility for your own creation?"

Effie sighed, and she felt her weariness returning. "My Lady sees through me, greater than any of her peers. Alone among them has she discerned my true heart. The others made promises of greatness or belonging, yet only the Lady of Light has perceived that duty binds me more powerfully than any other bond. Very well. You may consider me bound. I shall come, and join with the others, and make Arda my task."