Disclaimer: Tolkien's work is his own; never mine.
Ch. 4
TO LOSE HER
Corryn and Jerrylin were seated together, as always, upon the school bus. No one seated around them made nearly as much noise as they did and whenever Corryn glance up to see the reflection of the bus driver in the mirror, always there was a scowl on the lady's face. Corryn smiled innocently and then would burst out laughing, as Jerry would usually make some off-the-wall, not-so-nice comment.
This was there typical day, and as they were only in the eighth grade--and best friends at that--the looks they received from surrounding schoolmates affected them not in the least. They would roar in laughter--not giggle. They chattered openly--not whispered behind their hands. They talked about TV, the latest movies--not boys. They would sit and draw and write for hours--not talk on the phone. They were quite different, and they didn't mind in the least. In fact, they wouldn't have had it any other way.
Corryn glanced out the window as the bus pulled up to the high school. Her sister would be out there, and it was just habit to seek her out. She was odd, her sister, in that she was already a junior and yet still she preferred the bus. Her driving career was slow to coming and by no ones fault but her own. She seemed reluctant and distasteful of vehicles--in Corryn's mind, Apryl was just crazy. If it had been her, she would have had her license the day after graduating Drivers Ed.
"What's going on?" Jerry wondered aloud, even as Corryn wondered the same. There were two fire trucks and three ambulances parked in front of the building, blocking the bus' way.
The school bus slowed down and stopped a good ways before the building. A fireman, spotting the vehicle, raced across the asphalt, waving at the bus driver to role her window down.
"I am going to need you to move the bus to the other building ma'am," the man said, "Your students should already be there."
"Hey!" One of the students had clicked his window down several notches. "What happened? Was there a fire?"
"A bomb threat, we think, kid," the man said, but he would say no more.
The students chattered wildly as the bus pulled away.
"A bomb!" one small redhead exclaimed.
"Probably just another toilet-shooting," one girl sneered. "Some guys can be so immature."
"I wonder if anyone got hurt," a tall boy with glasses mused.
"Alright, alright," the bus driver's voice came over the intercom. "Settle down, please." It did little good and the lady didn't make much further protest, for she herself was baffled by the news.
Corryn looked at Jerry, whose eyes were wide. "Apryl's last class is in that building."
Jerry shrugged. "It's probably nothing."
Corryn was quiet for a moment and then she nodded. Jerry was probably right. Suddenly, she grinned. "Wouldn't it be cool if somebody did bomb the school?"
"I just wish it was our school," Jerry said wistfully and the two laughed.
Both sobered up pretty quickly, though, when the highschoolers got on the bus. Corryn looked among the familiar faces fervently.
Apryl was not among them.
* * * * *
She was alone. She was free, but she was alone. Constraints that had been placed upon her so long ago were finally cast off. When she saw him looking at her, before the darkness came, she knew him for what he was. Not a human, but a hobbit. A creature she had only read about and never thought to be true. And yet he was true, and with that realization the final fall of the hammer descended and smote the iron manacles from her wrists. The chains fell away and the full untamed fury of her power exploded, searing all that stood in her path.
It frightened her though, and escape was all she sought. But there was none, and she was alone.
Then she felt him. He trailed her and called to her in a soothing, father-like voice. "Do not be afraid," he told her. "I have come to take you home."
She went to him meekly, desperately, for he was all that she had. The energy around her, inside her, pulsed and writhed and even as she sought the man, he shied away from her.
"Control it," he told her. "The power is yours--you must control it!"
She didn't understand him and his words frightened her. Terrified, ashamed, she fled. Her chaotic, uncontrollable power lashed at all that tried to stop her. The wizard fell, and the child was exhausted; fearful, but exhausted.
"Do not do this!" She heard the frightened plea as if he stood right beside her. The voice was familiar, and she recognized it as one she could trust. She could trust him, she knew it.
"Help me!" she cried.
A hand reached out from the nothingness. She clasped it.
"I am here," he said, and she never let go.
* * * * *
Corryn's heart nearly leapt into her throat when she saw the police cars parked in her driveway. She didn't walk off the bus, but ran. She barely registered the odd look the bus driver allowed her after noting the police cars.
"Mom!" Corryn cried, once she got into the house. She didn't even bother shutting the door; only let her backpack slip to the floor. No one answered her, but she knew her mother was there, for she saw her reflection through the glass cabinets on the wall opposite Corryn.
She never even bothered taking her shoes off. "Mo--" Her words strangled in her throat as she turned to enter the kitchen and found two police officers and her mother standing there. Her mother was crying; her eyes were puffy.
Corryn burst into tears.
She lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, going over in her head all that the officer's had told her. Three students were right now lying in the hospital from savage burns. Two more were in a coma, and five others were babbling insanely about an angel who had appeared in their midst, gathering her sister in his arms and whooshing her away. The police told her mother it was a bombing. A bomb that had taken out both the child who had set is off and her daughter. What baffled the police the most was that there were no corpses left. The tall, dark-haired police officer had been surprisingly truthful and said that the whole incident didn't even appear, to him, to be the work of a bomb. His partner gave him a look that Corryn noted, but her mother did not.
Corryn didn't understand any of it; only knew that her sister was dead . . . and that was all that mattered. Tears flooded her eyes. She blinked and looked over to Apryl's half of the room. The two had shared a room ever since she could remember, but it wasn't always easy to tell whose side was whose. Corryn had a bad habit of not cleaning her side--clothes and the like were scattered everywhere. Apryl could sometimes be in a similar state when she couldn't find the time to clean, but this morning she had gotten up early and had found time, and any could tell two separate people shared the room.
Corryn caught sight of a yellow piece of paper lying upon a book on Apryl's bed. Had the room been a mess, then perhaps Corryn wouldn't even have noticed it, for Apryl often left unfinished works or projects she was doing on her bed or dresser or the floor. This somehow though, seemed out of place. It looked like a note of some sort.
Corryn scooped it up and read it.
Don't worry. Apryl's with me.--Morgainne
Beneath the slip of paper was a large book that Corryn had seen more times in her life than she cared admit. It was one of Apryl's most prized possessions; a book she refused to put on her bookshelf, but would lay it on her dresser so that it was not but an arms length away.
"The Lord of the Rings," Corryn spoke the title aloud.
Morgainne was Apryl's best friend. Two years older than Apryl, the two had only known each other for three years, though Corryn knew the two felt as if they had known one another their whole lives. She had often envied their friendship.
Corryn looked at the note again, reread it, then let her eyes fall upon the book. The officer had said the children had seen an angel appear from nowhere.
Could--could it be?
It could, she told herself. Hadn't those two always said it would happen? Didn't they daydream of leaving earth to find a world where they belonged?
It happened.
A smile lit her face and she laughed out loud. Good for you, Apryl. Good for you.
Suddenly, she remembered a conversation with Apryl not so long ago.
"I wanna come to," she had said, walking along beside her sister.
Apryl had laughed. "Alright," she said. "When we find a way, you can come, too."
"And Jerry?"
"And Jerry." She had smiled and looked up, seemingly beyond the cloudless sky. There was such a hunger and longing there that Corryn had turned away, saddened.
Corryn frowned. She stared accusingly at the yellow paper. "I'm mad at you," she said angrily, crumpling the paper up and throwing it at the window. She held the book though, for several minutes longer, and then she set it gently upon the corner of Apryl's dresser, where always Apryl had set it, after reading it to Corryn.
"I'll read some more tomorrow to you, too, if you like."
"I'd like that."
Never again.
"But I am happy for you," she said. Corryn turned and walked to the door, turning around at the last to look at a side of the room that now solely belonged to her.
"Tell Gandalf hi for me," she said softly, and left the room.
* * * * *
Morgainne would kill that bastard wizard if something had happened to Apryl. Morgainne would kill herself.
The elf had been assigned to Apryl since Gandalf had discovered the child nearly seventeen years ago. The wizard had searched for thousands of years and had more than once thought he had found her. But she had always escaped them. Not purposely on her part, but unawares. She didn't know who she was; couldn't know, thanks to Sauron.
Her essence had floated on the plane of earth for some time before she found a physical form and took it. That was when they had found her. Gandalf had sent Morgainne to protect her, and the elf had taken the assignment with pride, for an Istari had found favor with her.
As her charge grew, always Morgainne watched from a distance, contacting Gandalf now and again about certain details and aspects of the supposed human. It was three years ago that Gandalf became certain that the human child, Apryl, was no human at all, but an Istari that had been, long ago, captured and then banished by Sauron--one of their own. It was then that Gandalf learned of the Dark Lord's corruption from light into dark.
Gandalf had mourned--both for the lose of Sauron and the child, for he had loved her like a daughter and Sauron had taken her, abused her, and banished her. His mourning for Sauron had not lasted long though, for it soon burned into a fury that was indescribable in any aspect. He had sought, though, and had found her, sending Morgainne to watch her.
The elf received a relationship that she had never known before, from the Istari. She knew the child was her superior, but Apryl had never acted it, for she had never known it. And Morgainne had never told her. She had sworn to tell the child nothing and she had lived up to that promise, though the gods knew how hard it had been.
There would be nights that the two would talk, and the child would start her "if only" 's and Morgainne would feel the lose of home way heavy on her heart. She was deathly homesick; she had been gone for almost seventeen years and though that is not but a few hours for elves, earth had the uncanny ability to wear one thin. And the child had been in this plane for thousands of years! Gandalf had suspected all along that her time was coming, when her essence would burst from her human mortality and she would be cast into oblivion--as had been Sauron's intention from the first.
Gandalf had sent Morgainne to prevent this, and she had nearly failed. There had been signs, but Apryl had been reluctant to voice any complaints. Pains to her mortal self she could hide very well. But the yearnings were much harder to keep from voicing. Morgainne knew Apryl didn't understand the longing, or why she was so different. Apryl had had Morgainne, though, and her friend had seemed to understand her feelings so well. She had told Morgainne everything. Everything, that is, except the physical pain. The child had always thought it so irrelevant.
Morgainne sighed. If only she'd known.
It had almost been too late, but not quite. She had contacted Gandalf and the wizard had told her his intent.
"A hobbit!" she had exclaimed, almost scornfully.
"Yes," Gandalf had said. "He has the Ring."
"The One," she had breathed in awe. And then: "Very well. Shall I follow after?"
"Yes. Give them a day or so."
"I shall have to stay out of sight. Her human parents know me, they will see that I am not saddened."
At first, there had been no response. Then, "You might very well be."
Her heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
There was a pause. He seemed uncertain, loath to voice his fear. "It may be to late," he said finally. "Earth may have had her for too long."
"I'll never forgive myself," she whispered.
"It is not you, Morgainne. Not you." He had been gentle and she had taken a little comfort in his tone, but not much. "I shall send Frodo."
Morgainne had seen the result of that at the high school. None of that should have happened. Yet, despite it, she hoped everything had went well, though in the pit of her stomach she knew it was not so.
She dreaded what she would discover when she returned home on the morrow.
*****
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