Chapter One

"They never understood us, did they Auntie?"

The elderly woman gasped for breath. "No child, they never did. Stories and traditions don't matter much in such a modern world."

"Even if it costs them their heritage."

The old woman nodded, then convulsed in pain. "Promise me child, you'll keep them alive? They can't die; our family will be lost without them."

"I promise Auntie. You know me; I love them as much as I love you."

The elder used the last of her strength to stroke her grand-niece's cheek. "My Angel, my Undomiel." The hand fell limp…

~*~

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…" The words of the cleric barely registered in Angel's ears. Her confidant was now out of reach. Lucy Walker may have been eccentric for a great aunt, but that's what Angel found so special about her. She believed in the Legend so blindly, that it became her life.

Angel had relished in the stories of her forefathers, their friends, and their trials to save the world. Now her source had gone off to join the others that believed as blindly as her, or had lived the tale themselves. She was the only member of her branch of the family to come. Her other great aunts and uncles were present, but only out of courtesy to her memory, not because they actually cared. They entire Walker family thought of her as the crazy one, and thought of Angel as her protégé, the next one who would become lost to the Legend.

Angel was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of earth hitting wood. The ceremony was over and people started to filter out through the many headstones of the cemetery. Angel was the last one to leave. She felt it necessary to watch over her aunt until the last possible moment. Before she walked away, she ran her hand over her aunt's headstone. "I'll keep them alive Auntie, I'll make sure we don't forget."

~*~

Loose pieces of paper, books, magazines, and other literary works welcomed Angel when she opened the door to her apartment. It was quiet save a radio that was constantly on in her bedroom. Angel threw her purse on the sofa and removed the bun that had been holding her hair in place. Pieces of clothing soon marked the trail that Angel made to the bedroom. When she had changed into her pajama pants and an Old Navy t-shirt, she set herself down in the chair in her living room and picked up a dog-eared copy of The Return of the King. She needed to be close to her aunt and this was now they only way she thought possible.

She knew that Aunt Lucy had been so glad when one of her distant cousins, John Tolkien, had answered the call to put the Legend into written form. The British branch of the family cared more about the Legend more than their American cousins, and that made Angel sad. Angel kept in contact with the Tolkiens, specifically her cousin Christopher, and would visit the Island on occasion with her aunt to converse with their believing relatives.

Chris had been so kind to her when Aunt Lucy died. The day after she called him with the news, there had been a huge bouquet of flowers sent to her apartment. He knew the importance of the family stories to the two of them and how it had made the bond between the two stronger. He had been incredibly sweet and Angel wouldn't forget it.

Soon Angel was flipping to the very end of the book to the appendices, the genealogy, the backbone of the Legend. Reading about her grandfathers long since past gave Angel some comfort, but not enough to keep tears from falling on the pages she was trying to read.

Angel soon gave up the book and once again entered her room, but went to her bed and climbed in, silently weeping under the soft blankets. Soon she fell asleep and had no notice of a figure watching her from the fire escape outside her window.

A/N: Ok…am I totally off my knocker for trying to write this? I've always liked the idea of a real Middle Earth story…and this is what my brain has spewed out in response. I'm in the process of writing chapter two, should I continue? Are you going to come back and read this? I want an honest opinion…but no flames please!