//God knows even angels fall//
Shimmers of light filtered through heavy curtains into the ancient hall and played with the shadows of the sombre figures seated at the table. Grave faces tilted slightly as Arwen led me to the head of the table. I nervously shifted my gaze from face to face, too terrified to hold any for fear of the truths held behind their stony expressions.
I saw one of the Hobbits seated in the large seats, looking lost and engulfed by the room full of taller people. I gave an inward smile and caught his innocent but sadly tormented blue eyes when I passed by. Nearing the head of the table, a voice, which I recognised as the one who beckoned me to the mallorn tree back home, suddenly whispered in my head.
Embrace your destiny Laire.
I looked around confusedly, trying to identify the stranger in my head. My eyes caught a gleam of golden hair and piercing eyes caught mine as the voice, which undoubtedly belonged to the mysterious lady, filled my head once again. Her pale lips made no movement, but it was plain that she was talking to me.
Your fear will bring the downfall of many…
Harsh truthfulness filled her eyes as I broke her gaze, dread filling me as my feet led me closer and closer to a reality that I had thought non-existent until I landed in Middle Earth.
Suddenly I found myself alone and at the front of the long table, with Aragorn occasionally shooting me reassuring glances. My stomach has started doing flip-flops and my palms had begun to sweat; I was puzzled at my sudden anxiety.
"Lords and Ladies of Middle Earth," Aragorn commenced, rising from his seat, "I have gathered you here in the white city of Gondor, not only to celebrate the defeat of Sauron, but also to reveal a prophecy."
At this, looked pointedly at me before continuing.
"As Lord Elrond had told me when I was but a young child, there was a infamous tale of a lady who possessed a flair of grace, a sparkle of beauty, and enough magical power to rival even that of Gandalf the White, or as some of you know him, Mithrandir.
"But unfortunately, this woman was created at the hand of Sauron himself, though born and bred in human hands, her purpose in life was to serve the Dark Master."
Murmurs filled the room as some of the guests seemed to remember a tale once told long ago. I felt someone's sharp stare on me and I knew at once that it was that mysterious lady who had spoken in my mind. Trying hard to not look at her, I kept my head down. When Aragorn started to speak again, silence settled.
"The parents of the child, once having discovered her fate, fled Middle Earth through a portal. Not much is known about the world on the other side of the gateway, but there they stayed, living in secret away from the threat of Sauron.
"The rest of the tale, I do not know. But Lord Elrond has the prophecy, after it was discovered, hidden in the great libraries of Rivendell."
I watched as Aragorn sat down heavily in his chair, allowing Lord Elrond to continue with the tale. The elven healer stood, a frown marring his face as he gave me a concerned look before beginning to speak.
"The prophecy which Aragorn speaks about is gone. The paper had crumbled into dust the moment the Ring was destroyed. Thankfully, I had a chance to study it before it disintegrated.
"The father of the child, after many years, began to be tempted by Sauron, who had found a loophole in the portal and a weak spot in the father's mind. Much like Sauron, the child's father craved power and the Dark Lord gave him false promises in return for the child.
The mother, once having discovered her husband's plans, lured him back to the portal and into Middle Earth. She then closed the portal with a spell she had learnt and was left alone to raise the baby."
A cloud of suspicion began to grow in my mind as Lord Elrond paused before speaking again. Self-consciousness suddenly became an issue as I could feel more eyes on me as the story, or prophecy, began to draw to an end.
"The child blossomed into a woman, never knowing about her true origins or home. After the death of her mother, the portal was once again opened, as she was the only one left in that realm, and she returned unknowingly to Middle Earth. Unfortunately for the Lord Sauron, her arrival came too late and his destruction had already begun."
"What was her name?" one of the elves at the table asked.
My breath felt short and shallow as I waited for the answer from Lord Elrond's lips. I paid no heed to the worried looks from around me.
"Her name was Laire Carn, meaning Summer Witch."
Time seemed to have frozen when my //is that my name?// name was uttered and the tale which had just been told seemed to fit oh-so-perfectly into the jigsaw which was my life. At first my emotions were numb, the realisation not having sunk in.
I could hear whispers all around me and my name kept circulating through them. Comforting hands clasped onto my shoulder but that triggered a spasm of anger through me.
Lies, lies, lies. My whole life was a lie. Who am I? I trusted my mother…how could she do this to me? How could she… Who am I, who am I, who am I?
"Lady Summer, listen to me," Aragorn's voice floated into my ear.
All I could see, feel, taste was this burning hatred through me. My eyes darted wildly about as I tried to grasp onto a realism that was not built of deception. So many figures, so many people kept coming closer and closer, trapping me with their lies.
"NO!" I yelled, blinding fury controlling me, disgusted at the tears of weakness that trailed down my red face. Someone's hand reached out and took me by the arm. I whirled on the person and screamed, "Don't touch me!"
Everything after that seemed a blur. All I remember was my rage commanding my body to attack, as I raised my hand and an invisible force pushed out of my palms, sending the person who had grabbed my arm sailing across the room, into the wall where he collapsed.
After my anger had been channelled, I fell to my knees, weakened instantly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw figures running to the poor man who had been the object of my fury. My hands had begun to tremble as I raised them to cradle my head, rocking backwards and forwards.
Who am I? I'm so sick of all these lies, so tired of them. God, what kind of monster am I?
A soft body knelt down to hug me and I recognised the sweet perfume to be that of Arwen. I sobbed over her shoulder and kept mumbling, "I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home…"
//So much anger, so deeply ingrained,
seemed a burden that was hers alone.
She didn't think that there was anything wrong
with wanting a life that she could call her own.//