Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Son May Rest
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that is owned by someone else. (I don't know why I suddenly decided to put a disclaimer in … haven't done that in forever.)
A/N: This is a really short chapter, but I've finally got some inspiration back! Ooh, this is so fun. Anyway, I've got a whole bunch of stuff going on right now, between--what? Five books now--and this, and editing Sparkling Brilliance (which is fun!). Anyway, two weeks just slipped out of my grasp just there! Insane stupid life. Well, I don't have a life anymore, so it's good. (woo hoo hoo!)
…
All sorts of new information was flooding through Aila's head. Her new skills were practically battling amongst themselves, and her wraiths itched to use them, but she could not exercise her power, because foremost in her mind was Findecano. What was that evil spirit, and did Galadriel know of it? Then why would she have allowed Aila to enter the book? There was something wrong going on in the castle, and Aila fled back into her personal chamber, deep in the heart of the wing. Her mirror stretched in the corner, a laptop residing peacefully upon an oaken desk, so out of place among the elven architecture. Seated before a huge manuscript, which she recognized as the tome that spirit had come from, was Findecano, flipping through the musty pages, and blowing the dust from his face.
He turned and greeted her, his voice cold, "Hello, Mother." Suddenly, halls stretched before her eyes, but the lights were dim, as if covered by sheer black shawls that hindered their merriment in the vacant halls of Findecano's mind. There was a cold gust of air, as the spirit passed through the hall. "Remember me?"
"Who are you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes, readying her wraiths inside her mind.
"It's no use, Light Bearer," he continued calmly, discontinuing the façade. "I know what happens in your mind now. Too long have I resided inside of that tome, waiting to be released. You see … there were two of us in there. Melkor and Sulimo, named after the gods we portray, whom we were fashioned after. You see, Morgoth created us, as perversions of his evil. At that point, the elves had their ring of siege around him, and he placed hope in their hands, of salvation. Knowing the misdeeds of elves in their ways of love, seeing Maeglin's love for his own relative, and he knew what he could do, to distort the elves in their own joy. Sulimo is Manwe, that is simple enough, and Melkor is Morgoth's name under Iluvatar, which none call him now. If you had chosen correctly in love, Light Bearer, Sulimo would have been released unto your mind, passed to this vessel, and used Findecano's body to carry out the saving of the elves. However, you chose bitterly wrong. You convinced yourself to love Legolas, and you know it. And now the elves must pay for your miscued love." He stood from the chair, and Aila took a few steps back from him.
"No," she whispered. "This isn't right. I love Legolas, I could never love anyone else …" Her eyes were hard and the brown glazed over with hate, hate she never thought she could have felt before. "You go back where you came from. You're not rightfully here. I chose right."
He laughed for a few moments, bitterly. "Even you doubt that, 'Mother.' Even you have doubts. Didn't you? What about Haldir? He seemed interested, didn't he? And who said it HAD to be an elven child? Right? Eomer … he was a nice man. Dead, of course, but wonderful to you. And you forsook him as well. You chased after Legolas, who was blind in loving you as well. He tore you off. Morgoth watched as his plans fell together. And then Findecano was born. The great commander of skill. He will serve my lord well, be the last of his race. For the elves will be banished from Middle-earth and swept from its surfaces." He placed a hand along the table and swept it, letting tens of papers flood from its top and flutter in the air before settling in an awkward heap upon the ground.
"Findecano," she responded, vacantly, and her voice seemed dead, which only induced more cold chuckles from the elf.
"Findecano is not here, Aila. Or have you not already figured that out? He is my servant now, the servant of my lord, and he shall serve Melkor to his death! We will use the men as our weapons to strike down the elves, building up the hatred in their minds. All you must do is sit back and wait. Isn't it funny?: he asked suddenly, laughing slightly as Aila just stared. "Half of this match made in heaven is right. Legolas was at least supposed to be the father, but you were never meant to be Findecano's mother."
"What?" Aila asked. "That's ridiculous. I'm the Light Bearer. No one else would have been able to pass through the mirror."
"No," replied Findecano. "The mirror isn't as selectively permeable as you thought. You see, the real Light Bearer never made it to Middle-earth. Fate was supposed to take care of everything, but it messed up along the way when it gave the real Light Bearer's dad cancer, and he died before she could be conceived, so she never really existed. But she was supposed to be a wonderful woman. Now, since the mirror still existed, Fate tried to make up for its mistake, apparently, with you. It brought you to the mirror, and you fell through it at its activation time. Silly, really."
"What are you talking about?" she asked slowly, hardly understanding what she was hearing.
"Must I spell EVERYTHING out for you?" he murmured. "You see, the mirror doesn't ONLY allow one person, I.e. the Light Bearer, but it has a time when it finally becomes active as a portal. You happened to stumble into possession of it, and it activated that night, finally reaching the date and time of when the real Light Bearer was meant to pass through. She, of course, is not alive, or even dead, but never existed, because he father died of cancer, and her mother sold the family's heirloom, the mirror, because it reminded her of her husband's family. You came into possession of it, and thus began the downfall of the elves."
It wasn't making any sense to Aila, but it struck a creepy chord deep in her chest, and it filled her with doubt, but the prophecy was reverberating through her mind.
"No, that can't be right. Then how can you explain my Mind Walker abilities? There are so few of them, doesn't that prove I'm the Light Bearer? The true one?"
"Of course not. Probably just a lucky coincidence. Anyway, don't worry about your little abilities. The elves will die and they will do you no good. Perhaps the men will kill you as well, or take you as their own, since you really are human. Or would you like to escape back to your world? You should choose now. The portal is closing forever, and the world on the other side will continue through its spiral of time. It will no longer wait for you?"
"What?"
"Oh, worried now, are we? Did you really think that future would wait for your forever? We've almost caught up with it in time, and if you don't go back to your part of the world, then everyone will think you kidnapped, killed, and lost. Intriguing thought, isn't it? Since if you stay, you will be killed? Either way, Aila, you will die. You see, in the future, it will be of old age. Isn't that a comforting thought. And here … of murder. Even better. Choose wisely."
Findecano turned to leave her room, his back to her, and she stood motionless for a few moments, her mouth open with disregard and her mind was ablaze with concerns and thoughts. Ideas. Slashed hopes. Hopes … "What about the prophecy?" she asked. "What about the prophecy?"
"The prophecy?" sneered Findecano, turning back around. "It has been fulfilled. Remember? If the Light Bearer marries the wrong love … then the elven race is doomed." Immediately, Aila shook her head, taking a few steps toward him, pleased to see his entire body tense.
"No. The other prophecy."
"What?" he asked sharply, his sharp features sneering at his mother, and his mind was dark with the power of the spirit, that seemed to seep through every vein of his. For a moment, his face flickered away from the sneer, back to compassion, a plea for help, and then Findecano was gone again, lost inside the spirit's will. Aila froze for a few moments more. Hope. She had seen her son again, and it was all she needed.
"The son may rest. In stone. In peace. To ever save the elven race. His light hath never shone …" She heard the prophecy, the whisperings, inside her mind, and a strange longing in her stomach. The face of the spirit before her, changing Findecano's expression. He raised his hand and struck her across the face, causing her to gasp in pain, pulling a hand from her side to her face. Angrily, she lashed out, realizing this was not her son, only his body. Findecano was gone. In stone. In peace. Somewhere lost with the spirit of Manwe inside the book. Reaching out with her mind, abilities she realized she was digging out of the information diffused from the book, Findecano fell to the ground in agony before her, ripping at his skin as if it were on fire. His shouts burned into her heart.
The son may rest …
The sight before her sickened her stomach, making Aila double over. There was her son, whatever spirit may occupy it. Findecano was her son, and she was burning him psychologically. Immediately, she stopped and he twitched on the floor, the spirit retaliating angrily, sending a great spasm of pain through Aila's head.
Clutching her temples, she looked down at her son, physically kicking his side, she spat upon his face.
"You are not my son!" she screamed, more to herself than to him, to reassure herself that this was right. That she wasn't betraying her own family. She began to shout, nonsense really, because she didn't really understand what it meant. The words ripped from her tongue, some ancient form of Quenya lost to the races of Middle Earth, and it flowed haltingly from her tongue.
"Human wench!" Findecano shouted, and another spasm of pain whipped through her head, halting her words momentarily, but she struggled through it, knowing that she must get her mouth around those particular words, another bit of information diffused. Findecano started writhing on the floor before her, and she closed her eyes to the sickening sight of her son's body.
Suddenly, he froze, lying limp upon the ground. Knocked unconscious.
The son may rest …
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that is owned by someone else. (I don't know why I suddenly decided to put a disclaimer in … haven't done that in forever.)
A/N: This is a really short chapter, but I've finally got some inspiration back! Ooh, this is so fun. Anyway, I've got a whole bunch of stuff going on right now, between--what? Five books now--and this, and editing Sparkling Brilliance (which is fun!). Anyway, two weeks just slipped out of my grasp just there! Insane stupid life. Well, I don't have a life anymore, so it's good. (woo hoo hoo!)
…
All sorts of new information was flooding through Aila's head. Her new skills were practically battling amongst themselves, and her wraiths itched to use them, but she could not exercise her power, because foremost in her mind was Findecano. What was that evil spirit, and did Galadriel know of it? Then why would she have allowed Aila to enter the book? There was something wrong going on in the castle, and Aila fled back into her personal chamber, deep in the heart of the wing. Her mirror stretched in the corner, a laptop residing peacefully upon an oaken desk, so out of place among the elven architecture. Seated before a huge manuscript, which she recognized as the tome that spirit had come from, was Findecano, flipping through the musty pages, and blowing the dust from his face.
He turned and greeted her, his voice cold, "Hello, Mother." Suddenly, halls stretched before her eyes, but the lights were dim, as if covered by sheer black shawls that hindered their merriment in the vacant halls of Findecano's mind. There was a cold gust of air, as the spirit passed through the hall. "Remember me?"
"Who are you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes, readying her wraiths inside her mind.
"It's no use, Light Bearer," he continued calmly, discontinuing the façade. "I know what happens in your mind now. Too long have I resided inside of that tome, waiting to be released. You see … there were two of us in there. Melkor and Sulimo, named after the gods we portray, whom we were fashioned after. You see, Morgoth created us, as perversions of his evil. At that point, the elves had their ring of siege around him, and he placed hope in their hands, of salvation. Knowing the misdeeds of elves in their ways of love, seeing Maeglin's love for his own relative, and he knew what he could do, to distort the elves in their own joy. Sulimo is Manwe, that is simple enough, and Melkor is Morgoth's name under Iluvatar, which none call him now. If you had chosen correctly in love, Light Bearer, Sulimo would have been released unto your mind, passed to this vessel, and used Findecano's body to carry out the saving of the elves. However, you chose bitterly wrong. You convinced yourself to love Legolas, and you know it. And now the elves must pay for your miscued love." He stood from the chair, and Aila took a few steps back from him.
"No," she whispered. "This isn't right. I love Legolas, I could never love anyone else …" Her eyes were hard and the brown glazed over with hate, hate she never thought she could have felt before. "You go back where you came from. You're not rightfully here. I chose right."
He laughed for a few moments, bitterly. "Even you doubt that, 'Mother.' Even you have doubts. Didn't you? What about Haldir? He seemed interested, didn't he? And who said it HAD to be an elven child? Right? Eomer … he was a nice man. Dead, of course, but wonderful to you. And you forsook him as well. You chased after Legolas, who was blind in loving you as well. He tore you off. Morgoth watched as his plans fell together. And then Findecano was born. The great commander of skill. He will serve my lord well, be the last of his race. For the elves will be banished from Middle-earth and swept from its surfaces." He placed a hand along the table and swept it, letting tens of papers flood from its top and flutter in the air before settling in an awkward heap upon the ground.
"Findecano," she responded, vacantly, and her voice seemed dead, which only induced more cold chuckles from the elf.
"Findecano is not here, Aila. Or have you not already figured that out? He is my servant now, the servant of my lord, and he shall serve Melkor to his death! We will use the men as our weapons to strike down the elves, building up the hatred in their minds. All you must do is sit back and wait. Isn't it funny?: he asked suddenly, laughing slightly as Aila just stared. "Half of this match made in heaven is right. Legolas was at least supposed to be the father, but you were never meant to be Findecano's mother."
"What?" Aila asked. "That's ridiculous. I'm the Light Bearer. No one else would have been able to pass through the mirror."
"No," replied Findecano. "The mirror isn't as selectively permeable as you thought. You see, the real Light Bearer never made it to Middle-earth. Fate was supposed to take care of everything, but it messed up along the way when it gave the real Light Bearer's dad cancer, and he died before she could be conceived, so she never really existed. But she was supposed to be a wonderful woman. Now, since the mirror still existed, Fate tried to make up for its mistake, apparently, with you. It brought you to the mirror, and you fell through it at its activation time. Silly, really."
"What are you talking about?" she asked slowly, hardly understanding what she was hearing.
"Must I spell EVERYTHING out for you?" he murmured. "You see, the mirror doesn't ONLY allow one person, I.e. the Light Bearer, but it has a time when it finally becomes active as a portal. You happened to stumble into possession of it, and it activated that night, finally reaching the date and time of when the real Light Bearer was meant to pass through. She, of course, is not alive, or even dead, but never existed, because he father died of cancer, and her mother sold the family's heirloom, the mirror, because it reminded her of her husband's family. You came into possession of it, and thus began the downfall of the elves."
It wasn't making any sense to Aila, but it struck a creepy chord deep in her chest, and it filled her with doubt, but the prophecy was reverberating through her mind.
"No, that can't be right. Then how can you explain my Mind Walker abilities? There are so few of them, doesn't that prove I'm the Light Bearer? The true one?"
"Of course not. Probably just a lucky coincidence. Anyway, don't worry about your little abilities. The elves will die and they will do you no good. Perhaps the men will kill you as well, or take you as their own, since you really are human. Or would you like to escape back to your world? You should choose now. The portal is closing forever, and the world on the other side will continue through its spiral of time. It will no longer wait for you?"
"What?"
"Oh, worried now, are we? Did you really think that future would wait for your forever? We've almost caught up with it in time, and if you don't go back to your part of the world, then everyone will think you kidnapped, killed, and lost. Intriguing thought, isn't it? Since if you stay, you will be killed? Either way, Aila, you will die. You see, in the future, it will be of old age. Isn't that a comforting thought. And here … of murder. Even better. Choose wisely."
Findecano turned to leave her room, his back to her, and she stood motionless for a few moments, her mouth open with disregard and her mind was ablaze with concerns and thoughts. Ideas. Slashed hopes. Hopes … "What about the prophecy?" she asked. "What about the prophecy?"
"The prophecy?" sneered Findecano, turning back around. "It has been fulfilled. Remember? If the Light Bearer marries the wrong love … then the elven race is doomed." Immediately, Aila shook her head, taking a few steps toward him, pleased to see his entire body tense.
"No. The other prophecy."
"What?" he asked sharply, his sharp features sneering at his mother, and his mind was dark with the power of the spirit, that seemed to seep through every vein of his. For a moment, his face flickered away from the sneer, back to compassion, a plea for help, and then Findecano was gone again, lost inside the spirit's will. Aila froze for a few moments more. Hope. She had seen her son again, and it was all she needed.
"The son may rest. In stone. In peace. To ever save the elven race. His light hath never shone …" She heard the prophecy, the whisperings, inside her mind, and a strange longing in her stomach. The face of the spirit before her, changing Findecano's expression. He raised his hand and struck her across the face, causing her to gasp in pain, pulling a hand from her side to her face. Angrily, she lashed out, realizing this was not her son, only his body. Findecano was gone. In stone. In peace. Somewhere lost with the spirit of Manwe inside the book. Reaching out with her mind, abilities she realized she was digging out of the information diffused from the book, Findecano fell to the ground in agony before her, ripping at his skin as if it were on fire. His shouts burned into her heart.
The son may rest …
The sight before her sickened her stomach, making Aila double over. There was her son, whatever spirit may occupy it. Findecano was her son, and she was burning him psychologically. Immediately, she stopped and he twitched on the floor, the spirit retaliating angrily, sending a great spasm of pain through Aila's head.
Clutching her temples, she looked down at her son, physically kicking his side, she spat upon his face.
"You are not my son!" she screamed, more to herself than to him, to reassure herself that this was right. That she wasn't betraying her own family. She began to shout, nonsense really, because she didn't really understand what it meant. The words ripped from her tongue, some ancient form of Quenya lost to the races of Middle Earth, and it flowed haltingly from her tongue.
"Human wench!" Findecano shouted, and another spasm of pain whipped through her head, halting her words momentarily, but she struggled through it, knowing that she must get her mouth around those particular words, another bit of information diffused. Findecano started writhing on the floor before her, and she closed her eyes to the sickening sight of her son's body.
Suddenly, he froze, lying limp upon the ground. Knocked unconscious.
The son may rest …