Dearest followers of Frances's stories, I declare the sequel of 'All Hail to the King' open For those who didn't read the King Arthur 'All Hail to the King' nor 'Innocence's journey' (Lord of the Rings), I have included a note down this chapter to put you on tracks. As for my faithful readers, I advise to also read the note since it summarises what happened to Frances from 2006 (return from King Arthur) to 2010 (time of this sequel).
For the readers that are from the stargate fandom, it will take a while before you meet Daniel Jackson and the other members of stargate SG1. Not before chapter 13, and it will take place in season 9 and 10. This fiction is centered around Frances and Tristan, former knight of the round table. It incorporates the stargate fandom, and mentions the previous adventures of Frances as the Keeper of Time. Cheers !
Fifteen hundred years watching over her. To bask in her light, to see her wounded by the loss of her friends, and yet still getting attached to the people she met. She couldn't help it. He'd seen her save this baby by giving her life force, seen her master her blade and bind with its magic, her will the only thing that kept her going as she struggled to keep up in the mountains of Japan. Each time she travelled on a mission, he would find her. Each time, she had improved her skills. Better at fencing, better with her bow, his bow.
Her emotions as well, got more controlled, even if she still felt keenly. It was her strength, this ability to bestow love upon the people around her. He'd seen how her actions affected others, how Arthur had accepted that his knights went to Sarmatia to gather their families. His love for them, and the present of freedom was the strength that drove them back to him, to Camelot, and to the knights of the round table. A place were no Sarmatian descendant would be enslaved by Rome.
He'd seen how her heart healed others, namely one Hajime Saitou as she saved his last born, and gave him hope. Her advice, cryptic enough, yet strong to the emperor of Japan as the Kitsune they thought her to be. Witch to the Romans, Kitsune to the Japanese, water spirit to the English and fairy to him. His little fairy. His lonely fairy, for never her elvish betrothed ever seconded her. Where was he? The elf Prince who should have loved her to the end? The very being that had occupied her mind and soul in the fifth century?
He'd seen her married to Stephen Maturin out of loneliness, felt her confusion as she realised her mistake. Even dead, there was a pang of disapproval in his energy. Her heart was not healed yet, but she'd been desperate for affection, for the normalcy of having a husband. Only to lose him as the necklace called her back. He'd distracted a few men on the Acheron so that they couldn't lend a blow on her, just as he'd been helping each time she jumped into the fray. It was his form, in spirit, that prevented Saitou from striking her down on the battlefield. A wave of fresh air, as the police officer would describe it later on, with the distinct scent of wood and warning, stalling his hand.
Always by her side, a promise he'd made fifteen hundred years ago. He couldn't do much but be here, and lend his strength when she failed, or send her a cold breeze when she crumbled. Being a free spirit now had its perk, but could be frustrating as he couldn't hold her in his arms. All powerful yet useless in the material world.
He'd had time to heal his soul, embraced the light, reflecting on the bitterness of his past. Tristan was dead, his darkness gone with him, freed by the little fairy as she had flooded his soul with her love. Her tears landing on his face was the only physical memory he retained. She'd given him unconditional love, a love of the purest kind, and Tristan repaid her by sending his own in return.
Suddenly, a bright light brushed against his ethereal body. Warmth and relief seeped through as a form materialised before his very eyes. Deep blue eyes, a chiselled chin, long flowing white hair and striking features faced him, the expression one of benevolence and wisdom. Pure, bright light radiated from him, creating a halo around his form, the light permeating through his pure skin. Never before had he laid eyes upon such a beautiful man. For he was beautiful, in a powerful way. An angel of sorts.
— "Hello, knight," came his deep rumbling voice.
— "Hello…"
— "You may call me Olórin, humble servant of Manwë[1], and friends of the Keeper of Time."
Waves of benevolence and gentleness radiated from the angel, causing Tristan to blurt out his question.
— "Are you dead?"
— "Nay, sir knight. I am merely able to penetrate this plane of existence. The Valar sent me"
If he'd had a body, Tristan would have nodded. Frances had mentioned the Valar; the Gods who controlled the magic of her necklace. As a knight, he had not cared much for her folklore. His own beliefs, of spirits and shamans, had been stowed away for lack of better use. He had no care for religion at the time, and meeting a messenger from the Valar left him rather unsettled. Eliciting to stay silent, the knight's spirit nonetheless enjoyed the pure and beautiful sight of Olórin.
— "You have kept your promise, saved her life, and lent your shoulder to appease her heartaches. The Valar are grateful for your sacrifice.
— "It was no sacrifice. I love her. It is my duty."
Olórin nodded sagely, his deep blue eyes boring holes into his ethereal form. Then his powerful voice sounded again, the vibes passing through him like rays of sunshine through clouds.
— "Mayhap now is time for you to go down."
— "Go down where?"
The ageless being watched him, the intensity of his gaze betraying his old age, while his face was as smooth as a young man. A pointed ear emerged from the flow of immaculate hair as he cocked his head aside.
— "You deserve another life, one where your choices will not be taken from you. You have served the Valar well, albeit unknowingly, by taking care of Frances in her endeavours"
Olórin, formerly known as Gandalf, didn't dwell on the specifics. He'd pleaded Tristan's cause until Manwë relented. Frances, too, deserved a companion by her side. The hesitation in the knight's spirit, though, tugged as his Maiar's heart.
— "You mean, reincarnate, to live again? Can I do that?"
— "Yes. Are you up for it?"
Tristan's spirit retreated in its own core, inspecting his wounds, finding still a little bit of darkness. The memories of his past life. It didn't hurt, though. But it was still there. Sensing his unease, and harsh judgement, Olórin smiled at him.
— "Those scars are part of your soul, Tristan. She, also, has some. "
The rest went unsaid as Tristan's ghost pondered his choices. Yes, Frances bores scars of battles and sadness, but it didn't prevent her from being an extraordinary woman. Could he, as well, become a great man? Hope twinkled in his chest, a fresh feeling that sent his mind reeling with the possibilities until Olórin's deep voice coaxed him.
— "Nine years from now, Frances will be born. She will need your support"
Frances was a magnet for trouble; she would be in danger as soon as she reached a decent age. If he was older, and trained, he would be able to watch over her.
— "Aye. Aye, I will"
The knight's tone was resolute, his mind ready for this new adventure.
— "You are a good man, knight. You must shed Tristan's mantle, leave him behind. Be proud, you have selflessly served, and might very well find happiness in this new task."
— "Thank you, Olórin"
The Maiar's lips formed a full smile. Even in spirit form, the knight was observant; he knew the Maiar had something to do with this new possibility, and took it as a present. It was such a pity that this man should stay on earth, and not set foot in middle earth. Gandalf would have put him to good use in the impending war, especially as a ranger beside Aragorn. But it was not to be. The ranger King would have to make do with other allies. For the moment though, Olórin needed to cast the knight's spirit down to earth.
— "A friendly warning. You know the limitation of the human body, and you might have trouble finding her at first. It will take time, and patience. Heed my words. Eventually, you will. Do you still wish to enter the world of third dimension, knight?"
The Maiar paused, his words seeping in the younger spirit. Would he back down? At last, the knight nodded once.
— "Patience I have aplenty. I will find her, and protect her."
— "I expected no less from you. Very well"
Lifting a hand in farewell, Olórin recited the enchantment in the Quenya tongue. Flashes of bright light enveloped the knight's spirit, pulsating through his ethereal body before he dissolved into the halo altogether.
— "I henceforth commit you to the flesh. Namarië, knight"
And down went the knight's spirit, down to the flesh, his soul anchoring into a newly created fetus.
Olórin watched as he grew, twitching and moving into his loving mother's womb. He watched as he came into the world, his parents weeping with joy; they called him Kristan – a Christian mind – the sonority whispered by an angel as they picked up names. His heart grew restless when the baby started to forget his memories, started to forget why he'd come down, crying his lungs out in fright that he might forget Frances altogether. His mother held him close; she didn't understand his panicked cries, but kept rocking him until he settled. Another chance at life, in a loving family, away from war and battlefield. Whenever he could, Olórin descended beside the baby, basking him in the light.
He could do not more to help baby Kristan: the memory loss was necessary for a new being to be created. Such was the way of reincarnation.
So, what do you think of this plotline, uh?
I'm going to make a quick summary of what has happened to Frances during Tristan's time as a ghost. This contains spoilers on other stories, do be mindful if you don't want to know. Technically, Kristan watched over Frances as a spirit from 472 AD until the day he was reborn in 1975. During this time, Frances travelled several times with her necklace.
2008 →1805 — Frances travels on a man-o-war which aim is to apprehend a French Corsair ship during the war with Napoleon (Master and Commander — le navire)
2009 → 1876 – Frances is stuck in the mountains with the Japanese war chief Katsumoto (The last Samuraï). There, she learns to master her blade, and through deep meditation, discovers that when the blade turns bright, can cut through anything. She is then captured by the head of police from Tokyo (Hajime Saitou – Ruroni Kenshin) and saves his third born by channelling her energy into the baby. People think her a Kitsune (a Japanese spirit) and she plays along to save her own life, bestowing some wise words to the emperor before disappearing.
2010 → 1663 – Frances meets Carlisle Cullen (Twilight) to help him out of the cave he's locked himself since he became a vampire. See the story "The Keeper of Time".
This means that Tristan has watched over her in 1663 first (even if she was older then), then in 1805 and at last, in 1876 in medieval Japan. This, for him, is the last instalment of Frances' travels. On the other hand, Tristan knows nothing of the developments with Legolas and Melenwë (Innocence's journey). His only clue is that when he met Frances in the fifth century, she was betrothed to Legolas. The rest of the story (sequels to LoTR stories) happen while he is alive in the present (2008, 2009), flesh and bone. Thus, he doesn't know about it, and doesn't know that Frances had abandoned her love for Legolas in favour of her clone – Melenwë.
And for the moment anyway, he has forgotten all of it so …
[1] Manwë is a Valar. In other terms, a God of middle earth. Olórin is a Maiar; a Valar's second and servant. Known as Gandalf in his human form (a wizard in the lord of the rings war), he is, in spirit, akin to an elf in form. The equivalent of an angel for those who can see him in his original form.
