My immortal
Warning this next paragraph contains spoilers and may ruin the entire rest of the story for you, please skip over it if you want to enjoy the major plot devices as they happen. It is a response to a review. I have been elusive about the plot line and someone asked how the character will fit into ME mythos to answer that question I will underline the plot. If you want to find out the whole plot and give me some advice as to direction that's okay too, read on.
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HI, thanks for the advice-by rouge I was thinking the color, I'll fix it. Angel of death isn't necessarily her mythos, rather I think her talent. I was going to try to incorporate her into the Middle Earth world by making her a grandchild of Gandolfs. See, the way I think of it is that Wizards are the great and powerful wisdom that tries to hold life together. But do you ever hear of the same of the female? A female wizard is in fact a witch. Not to be trusted, manipulative, and selfish. Not that I'm trying to deny that these aren't qualities present in some degree in every woman. Anyway, basic plot is she is a wizards progeny. Rare as they are in this time of waning magic, she is given the chance to hold her own and take the oath of the order. She encounters Legolas (here's the predictable part) falls in love and renigs or her vow to the order (I just saw troy, orlando bloom as the ass who thinks love makes up for everything) there are cases mind you that love is just, but there is selfish love too and thats the direction I'm going for. Anyway like Romeo and Juliet, they have the young lustful burning love that just can't last. They burnout and legolas leaves. Heartbroken and tormented by her betrayal to her vows she wanders where she will, taking on the suffering of others she feels she deserves with the magic inherent in her. The calling home part is coinciding with Gandolfs "death". She feels it in her soul and believes he is calling for her in his need. Unfortunately she has wandered so far (all the way to our earth) that it is like seeing the light of a distant sun. By the time she gets back home the war of the rings has just finished and she is too late to save her grandfather. More plot manipulation and I will create the adventure she feels can repay her debt to the order and along the way renew the love of Legolas and her into a pure mature love, the kind that can out live immortality (awww). So what do you think-too much of a stretch (I think I'm pulling pretty far) anything you dislike or think would improve the plot or if you think the whole thing is crap, just let me know. It'd be nice to get some idea of how the plot would be received before I go too much farther. Thanks for reviewing-lisa
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Chapter 4-Wanderer
The path to our destination is not always a straight one. We go down
the wrong road, we get lost, we turn back. Maybe it doesn't matter
which road we embark on. Maybe what matters is that we embark.
Barbara Hall
As I glance around the apartment I realize how little I have amassed in the last hundreds of years. There are few things of which I have attached sentimental value. Those possessions of practicality are easily parted with and replaced. I start moving things here and there in the semblance of preparing for my journey, but the truth is the objects are simply shifting from one place to another with no real purpose. I feel suddenly claustrophobic and leave. Naturally and unconsciously I find myself walking along the tree-lined paths of central park. The sight is comforting, but the lack of communication I feel with my surroundings is painfully frustrating. Defeated, I make my way back to the apartment. The site of the gray tabby cat greeting me at the door brings me to my emotional edge and I realize I am uncharacteristically, unarguably emotional.
Home. I'm going home. Perhaps I am not ready. Perhaps I have waited too long. Whatever the timing the need is unavoidable. I am not familiar with feeling unsure and in truth I am perhaps frightened. The realization is telling. My security remains with the fact that I am following the winds of fate, as I have always and will always. The catharsis is quick and the result finally inspires my action. Food, a pair of jeans and goose down coat, the pocket versions of Shakespeare's sonnets and Douglas Adams hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy are packed along with my well used Indian horse blanket matches, and water purifier. My only real treasure, a locket, I place around my neck for the first time since leaving my home. I smile at the site of the tabby cat. "If you were but a horse, I'd take you with me." The cat looks up at me, as if in understanding. And perhaps he does. He is not the mangy damaged cat who came to my window three weeks ago. His gleaming coat and proud demeanor make me humble. I grab my backpack and pick up the proud tabby. I don't look twice as I leave the apartment and make my way downstairs.
The little girl in the first apartment is home alone again. I am glad that when I knock for the second time she does not open the door, as she has no doubt been taught. She is quiet and shy; I have never heard her speak. In her time at school, she mingles with a few close friends. It is the hours at home through long afternoons and even longer days throughout the coming summer that she will feel caged and become resentful. I do not want her to break her long-standing oath to never open the door and so I call out to her. She opens the door and stares up at me in wonder. I smile and hand over the cat, confident that it is the right thing.
I too stare at the child in wonder, she has one of the most beautiful imaginations I have ever seen and the image and background she has invented for me astonishes me in the most amazing way. I am in rapture, and so we continue to stare at one another unable to turn back to reality. I nonetheless have duties that are beyond me, and so, with regret, I turn and go. The young girl reaches for me and I turn to look back.
"Will you sing for me?" she asks.
How could anyone refuse such a plea? And so I stayed and sang to the tabby and little girl who were already bonded as if they had never not known one another.
The songs were still running through my head as the train departed Penn station for New Jersey. In truth I had no notion of my direction. With no one to ask, and no clues in the deep vault of my memory I wandered and hoped against sense that I would come out of this world as I had entered it, out of sheer need.
I know not how long I wandered. The days were long and forgetful and the nights longer with more to try and forget. Always the dreams, always I fell. Through fire, through water, no variation and no end. I had no breath and I felt my body failing, deserting me. My only constant companion the tortuous knowledge that I had not yet completed my task. I was defeated and worthless and such feelings permeated the days spent endlessly wandering, searching. I felt my sanity beside me, as if a solid thing; always in my company and yet never a part of myself. It was as if it knew of my hopeless task and through the need for preservation, sanity was leaving. Like the rescue boats aside the sinking Titanic, or a family watching as their home burns to the ground, my sanity looked on in horror. And still I wandered.
When at last I knew I had found home, I had not the presence of mind to know how I had gotten there. Exhausted I tried to sleep and on and on the dream pervaded my attempts. With the clarity of day and some semblance of rest I noted that the air was strange and the ground different. In the way one might feel returning to a story once read as a young child, so it was with seeing the land that was of my birth. At once strange and familiar it was of a memory so distant it was as if I had dreamed it.
Of no comfort was the knowledge that I felt no renewing connection with the land. I felt human, lost and out of touch, merely walking on a ground that happened to exist. My disorientation continued with my lack of direction. I knew only what I sought ,not where to go. I followed the basest of my instincts, the trait that had yet to leave and in so doing cease to define me. I felt for sarrow. It was a beakon to my need, a lighthouse to my blinding senses. I moved the opposite direction. It is through the greatest sense of calm that I found myself attracted to the great elven city of Rivendell.