Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Tolkien's works, nor do I own the song "Into the West," although original characters of my own making do appear in this work of fiction. I hope you will respect what belongs to whom and not steal any of my ideas or characters or... hmm... kinda like the pot calling the kettle black, eh? ponders Yeah... I think you get what I mean..
Recapturing the Song
A Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction
By: Soulful Gray
Prologue
"Hope fades...
Into the world of night,
Through shadows falling,
Out of memory and time,
Don't say...
We have come now to the end,
White shores are calling,
You and I will meet again,
And you'll be here in my arms,
Just sleeping,
What can you see,
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea,
A pale moon rises,
The ships have come to carry you home,
And all will turn,
To silver glass,
A light on the water,
Gray ships pass,
Into the west..."
A gentle voice sang into the wind, letting the rise and fall of its tones be carried out into the open world, letting any who would listen the chance to catch a glimpse of the past in it words.
The lips that the song poured from were aged, and the lines from a lifetime of smiles branched from its corners. The were turned down in a sad frown as they moved over the words, and that frown could tell a thousand more stories than the song it sang.
Both song and mouth belonged to an older woman, seated comfortably on a window seat with the glass panes thrown wide open to invite the light and sounds of the coming night. The view was perfect, the sunset framed by tall cliffs and touched by the spray of the ocean, and the golden light turned red as the Sun made her way to light more of the world.
The woman was covered by an old and worn quilt that expertly pieced together by patient hands years before. It was a blend of gray and white, the gray patches made of a soft, unknown fabric and the white of silver-veined silk. The pillows she leaned against were patched in a similar fashion, but with more of the white.
She didn't appear to be as old as she was. Her skin was still firm and mostly smooth but for a few crows feet, and the obvious laugh-lines at eyes and mouth. Her hair was let loose and tumbled around her shoulders and a graceful neck, and the strands were shot with silver but still held onto locks of wonderful gold. She sat straight and didn't appear to notice her age. She wasn't so tired like so many others her age.
And her eyes danced.
That alone made her seem so many years younger.
Those amber depths twinkled in the sunset. While they matched her lips in sadness, a definite shine still remained that made anyone think she hid a secret, a deeply amusing tale that could never leave her mind, and therefore she was never really, truly sad.
"That was pretty, Aunt Gray."
The woman turned, her frown turning into a smile as her eyes found the person that had spoke.
"Wynnie," she said in greeting, smiling widely. "And how is my favorite great niece? I haven't seen you in a while"
Wynnie- or Eowyn as was her given name- just shrugged, looking around the room. "Not bad, I guess."
Aunt Gray smiled knowingly. "Come in dear and pull up a chair. You want to talk, don't you?"
Wynnie walked in, closing the door firmly behind her, and grabbed a comfortable chair that sat at a writing desk. She pulled it close and made herself comfortable next to Aunt Gray.
If someone looked close, they could see so many similarities between older and younger woman. They both had the same average height, and the same graceful necks. Their shoulders were delicate but strongly set and they had wide hips- although Wynnie's weren't as wide just yet- and their hair was the same straight gold. Their mouths were soft and nicely shaped, and could move over the words of a song beautifully.
And their eyes danced.
While Aunt Gray's eyes were amber, Wynnie's were blue, but both sets had a definite secret behind them. Both hid some untold story in their depths, but Aunt Gray's was one of past adventures, and Wynnie's was still unfolding and turning quickly for the worst.
"It's officially over," Wynnie blurted out suddenly, after a few moments of silence where Aunt Gray studied her thirteen-year-old niece. Tears started to mar the perfect blue of her eyes. "Mom and Daddy are getting a divorce!"
Aunt Gray shook her head sadly and opened her arms. Wynnie flew into them and began sobbing. In between sobs, she told her sad story, her secret, to her aunt.
"D-Daddy got a new girlfriend... hic and Mommy and I left, and sob now Daddy says he's going to sue for custody... And he says he's not going to let me see you again, EVER!"
Aunt Gray frowned into Wynnie's blond hair and started stroking her back to ease her hiccups. "Now why would he say a thing like that?"
"Because he says you're crazy." Wynnie drew away sharply. "You're not really crazy, are you Aunt Gray? Not really?"
At that, Aunt Gray couldn't help but chuckle. "To him maybe, but not to myself." She reached forward and wiped a few tears from Wynnie's cheeks.
"But Daddy keeps saying stuff like, 'That old bird, living in that mansion all by herself, still thinking she's some kind of hero, always going on about her so-called adventures. She's a lunatic, I tell you! I don't want my daughter exposed to that kind of madness!'" Wynnie had dropped her voice so that she could attempt imitating her father, and it was poorly done, but it got the point across.
Quirking an eyebrow at what her nephew-in-law had said about her, Gray snorted. What Wynnie had said was probably word-for-word, as she was quite a precocious child and fairly blunt to boot.
"Sticks and stones, Wynnie. So long as I am Easton Loretta Markus, all he is and all he says is only David Johansson."
Somehow, to Wynnie, those words made sense, and she cracked a smile.
"Where's your mother at then, dear girl? I haven't seen Ivy in while either."
"She's downstairs. Sent me to look for you." She giggled. "She still rants about why you don't have a doorbell."
Again, Aunt Gray snorted and chuckled afterward. "It's so when you come on a surprise visit, I'm not forewarned by an annoying chorus of Winstmester chimes."
"Westminster," Wynnie laughed.
Aunt Gray stuck out her tongue. "Whatever."
Ivy, who looked exactly like Aunt Gray as well- complete with amber eyes even-, was seated demurely at the bar in the kitchen, staring into a glass of milk she'd poured herself. She was in her thirties, and looked tired and haggard as she sat there, staring at the milk as if it weren't even there. She looked up when they entered and started crying. Aunt Gray opened her arms like she had with Wynnie and Ivy left her seat to fly into them.
Ivy was the only daughter of Joshua Markus, younger brother of Aunt Gray, and had come to live with Aunt Gray after her father and mother had died in a fire when she was twelve. She had married David at nineteen- against Aunt Gray's warnings- and had lasted a surprisingly long while, fifteen years. That union had produced Eowyn Easton Johansson. Her name had been taken from the memory of a story Aunt Gray had once told to Ivy when she was Wynnie's present age.
Aunt Gray held both her girls close to her and wished their pain would go away, so that their eyes would dance just as they always had.
Ivy was the first to pull away and sniffed a bit, offering a frail smile to her Aunt Gray.
"Not quite the way I'd planned on greeting you on my next visit," Ivy laughed brokenly.
"Nonsense, Vine. You can't really plan how a next visit will start. It's not genuine that way. Spontaneity is always the best route when you greet a loved one." Ivy chuckled and hugged her again.
"Well, it's bed time, I think," Aunt Gray suggested, seeing how weary her girls were. "Come now, I'll take you to your usual rooms. You can talk all you want in the morning. I think sleep will do you some good."
"Thanks Aunt Gray."
The Next Evening
"Aunt Gray, have you ever fallen in love?"
The question came out of nowhere, falling from Wynnie's mouth, and making Aunt Gray pause in her reading. In fact, it seemed to surprise her.
"What makes you ask that, Wynnie?"
They were all three in the same room from the previous night, where Aunt Gray had been caught singing, enjoying the evening together in silence. She'd been reading aloud to them and had taken a moment to clear her throat when Wynnie had interrupted.
Ivy smiled. "I don't think even I ever asked that question."
Wynnie just shrugged. "I don't know. It just seems... well.. You're what? Nearing seventy? And you've never been married, don't have any kids, and you constantly sing sad songs about lost love."
Aunt Gray smiled. "So do you think I've been in love before?"
Wynnie paused for a moment.
Then she nodded. "Yeah, I think maybe you have been."
Aunt Gray chuckled. "You're right, sweety. I have been in love, still am, in fact."
Ivy looked confused. "Really? Where is he? Why haven't I ever heard this story before?"
Aunt Gray looked at her steadily. "You never asked, dear girl. No, you always asked me to tell you the tales of rings and hobbits." She smiled. "But now that Wynnie's asked, you can hear another, much different story."
Mother and daughter pulled their comfy chairs closer, knowing this would be a good one. Aunt Gray was as famous for her stories as she was for her songs, and she could often have her audience enraptured before she even spoke.
"Well, let's see... You two have both heard the tale of the One Ring, and the Hobbit that carried it." At their nods, Aunt Gray took a deep breath.
"Well, to put it bluntly, it was all true."
They blinked and then glanced at each other.
Aunt Gray set her book on the side and removed her reading glasses.
"Yes, I know what you're thinking. It sounds crazy, I know. I thought it was crazy, too, when I was introduced to the possibility. But if you ever go through what I endured, you'll understand."
Deciding to brush it off for later, Wynnie interrupted. "But what's that got to do with you falling in love?"
"Everything, girl." Aunt Gray took a deep breath. "Because certain characters in that tale have main roles in the tale I'm about to tell you.
"Now before I go on, I'm going to tell you about two races. First, there's the Magitas. A beautiful people that relied on the power of song to keep their world alive. They were skilled in everything but warfare, and that led to their near-destruction.
"Secondly comes the Windoswe. (AN: pronounced windows-way....) They hated the Magitas and their power and beauty. So they struck out at them, slowly killing them off until only a handful remained. The Magitas' songs had been reduced to memories, and after centuries of war even those memories had been passed off a dust on the wind.
"In a poor effort to fight back, the Magitas were turned to living statues. All but one. His name was Argis, and he had learned to fight in the years that the Windoswe had been attacking him and his people. Knowing the power of song had been destroyed, he set out to other worlds to find a perfect voice.
"However, when he finally found the voice, it had been stolen, and the singer was locked away in a tower, taken from her home an doomed to live mute. Until Argis rescued her, and he gave her wings when he found out she was actually a Magitas, of the Wing clan, a race sent to Terra to bring it the power of song.
Wynnie's eyes widened. "Aunt Gray, you were missing for years. Is that when...?"
Aunt Gray nodded and stared out the window... as if she were watching another world, another life...
"Arda... Middle Earth... that's where I found my voice again. Where I fell in love.
"I was young then, and I was still just Easton Loretta Markus... just a scrawny nineteen-year-old girl who was fighting to recapture the song..."
Middle Earth, Fifty Years Before
It was like a dream, passing into another world, and Easton felt like she was just waking. Sluggishly, she moved forward, through the mists and shrouds of the spaces between worlds. A rope was her only lifeline, and it kept her connected to a man that walked in front of her. Unlike her, he looked steady and not at all sleepy, and his gate didn't slow for her when she felt like collapsing. Stubbornly she trudged on, trying to keep the rope slack between them so it wouldn't seem like she was falling behind.
And then they were through. A doorway opened for them and she felt alive again.
"They should be here," Argis explained to her, untying the rope from his belt a moment later. "I sense your voice and their dark magic."
She nodded once and glanced around.
"This is Arda, the world opposite your Terra," he continued on. "It is like the world of the Windoswe against the home of the Magitas. Things are opposite. Your world is far advanced, and Arda is much like the world of the Magitas."
She shrugged and nodded.
"I know only that and little else, so be on your guard."
Again she shrugged and nodded that she understood.
Looking around, Easton decided she like her first look at the world of Arda. The place they'd walked into was gorgeous; they were in a forest of huge trees that made sequoia look like saplings, and she felt the beauty in the very air she breathed. There was peace and serenity, and it put her to some ease.
Only some.
"Don't move. I hear something."
Argis's back was to her and she stuck her tongue out at him. Of course he would hear something in nothing.
She gazed at his back thoughtfully. He was wearing a long black cape that matched his jet black hair, and beneath the cape was a lithe and strong body. He was darkly tanned, and his ears were extremely long and pointed and decorated with a few sterling loops. One side of his face was tattooed in black, in a pattern that she only guessed was a symbol of his people.
His ears were twitching and she sighed silently, knowing he probably was actually hearing something.
And it wasn't long before what he heard made itself known.
She jumped as she felt something prod her back, and her gasp was fairly quiet as she spun about and came face to point with an arrow.
Her gaze traveled up the shaft of the arrow and over the hand that held it, up a strong arm to a hood-covered face. She could make out a chin, but the rest of his features were cast in shadow and she swallowed nervously. Five others like him stood in a half circle before her.
"You are trespassing in the Realm of the Lady Galadriel. If you are wise, you will turn back," he spoke to her in some strange language.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw that Argis had disappeared. She looked back at the man holding the bow and arrow and shook her head and shrugged to say she didn't understand.
"You are trespassing in the Realm of the Lady Galadriel. If you are wise, you will turn back," he repeated, and this time in English- Common Tongue, she would later find out.
She bit her lip and took a step back.
Her shriek was simply a silent and sharply expelled breath as the arrow shot past her head and she landed on her butt in surprise. She heard a grunt and turned to see a foul and hideous creature fall to its knees, the shaft of the arrow protruding from its forehead.
Eyes wide, she gasped as another creature appeared. And another, and another, until it seemed they poured from the trees.
"Orcs!" the man cried out and started letting loose arrows at in incomprehensible speed.
Now, Easton had been with Argis for nearly a year, and she'd picked up quite a bit about fighting, but she'd never really been ambushed like this before. All her battles had been one-on-one or two-on-one, not a ton-on-one.
Don't get me wrong. She wasn't helpless. Just a little slow.
It took her a while of scrambling around with an orc chasing her before she finally managed to get her wits about her and attack. She pulled a blade from her belt and turned.
It was no more than a dagger that she fought with, and compared to the huge, butt-ugly sword the orc wielded, it looked useless. But she excelled in using the dagger, and she flipped around swiftly to land it to his throat while he was in mid-swing.
She was wearing a long white cape that brushed the ground and swirled about her ankles as she spun and dodged the blows of on-coming orcs. Underneath it, she was clad in a gray tunic and a homemade pair of jean-shorts that definitely had seen better days. Her feet were wearing faded and worn keds, and one ankle sported a small green-beaded anklet.
And while she fought the last orc left, the men- Elves really- that had found her swore they saw something else under that cape.
Gray feathers?
They weren't sure.
And during the battle, another person had joined.
An odd-looking elf that had sliced the heads from three orcs with a strange silver wire. He was dark and longer of ear than any elf they had ever seen.
And the leader of the Elves, Haldir heard a command from his Lady.
He was to bring the two strangers to her.
Nearly two hours later, Haldir presented the strangers to the Lady Galadriel and her Lord Celeborn..
Easton barely contained a look of awe as she glanced around her. The flet she stood on with Argis was magnificent, made some sort of golden wood, and seemed to glow with inner sunshine. She tightened her white cloak around her shoulders when she caught several of the Elves staring at her and nervously inched a bit closer to her unofficial guardian's side. She didn't have any weapons now, as the elf called Haldir had confiscated her dagger and her pack, as well as Argis's garrote wire and a few of his other blades. She felt completely defenseless and she didn't like the feeling. Not one bit.
And then the Lady Galadriel, and she blinked in surprise at the astounding beauty that descended the steps before her. And when her eyes met the Lady's, Easton felt like her soul was laid bare for all to see and swallowed past a lump in her throat. Argis didn't seem to feel any of the same discomfort and she could have kicked him for being so damned perfect at controlling his reactions. Shyly, she looked away from the Lady and studied her feet.
"Do not look away from me, Easton, for I know why you come, and I wish to have council with you." She blinked and looked up. She'd heard the voice in her head. It was calm and melodic, like a whispering wind.
"You are both weary from your travels," the Lady spoke aloud. "Come with me now and remove your cloaks, for I would have words with you when you are well-rested." Galadriel turned and motioned for them to follow.
Easton stuck closely to Argis's side, not missing the hostile looks some Elves were shooting her way. Then she stopped when a hand landed on her shoulder.
"The Lady asked that you remove your cloak," came the smooth voice of Haldir and she turned, stricken and shook her head furiously, a nervous lump building in her throat. She clutched the cloak tight to her throat when he frowned at her.
"Easton," came Argis calm voice. She turned her head and met his eyes, anxiety making her cheeks redden. She didn't want to take of her cloak. She didn't want them to see...
"Do it, Easton. We are in their kingdom..." The rest of the words were left unspoken, but Easton knew them.
And we abide by their commands...
She really hated Argis at that moment.
She felt the gaze of the Lady and her Lord on her as her trembling fingers untied the strings at her neck. She gulped inaudibly and let the white material slip to one side and pulled it off with her right hand, folding it over her forearm.
The expected gasp came, although as Elves it wasn't as pronounced. She blushed madly as they stared at her adorned back.
Her tunic was split from bottom to nearly the top, and glimpses of white skin could be seen under the opening that had been made to accommodate a pair of feathered wings that hung from her shoulder blades.
Oh no; they were not wings of beauty. Not all the feathers were in place, and they weren't the beautiful pearly white a of a dove. In fact, it seemed that a third of the feathers were missing or unkempt, and visible skin was scarred and scabbed. They were bony and looked weak as they barely kept themselves folded to her back.
And Easton's head was hung down in embarrassment as the Elves stared at her back, at the wings she so hated sometimes. She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at her worn sneakers.
"Come then," Galadriel said kindly, noting Easton's discomfort and seeking to ease it. "Haldir, send for a healer." She then turned and led the way up a set of stairs and Easton and Argis followed silently.
That night, urged by three elven attendants in her room, Easton was soaked in a large tub filled with some pleasant smelling liquid that burned her wings when they insisted she soak the appendages as well. Many bolts of gauze were brought and the joints and sores of her wings were wrapped and bound. She was surprised she could even feel them still. And then she was ushered into a gown of their choosing, one that had an open back and tucked into a chair with a meal set before her.
Easton's stomach rolled over nervously as she stared at the food. She hadn't eaten this much in a while, and the thought of food period sickened her. She pushed at the food a bit until the door to her flet opened and in walked Galadriel, graceful and poised, watching Easton with a kind expression.
"I have spoken with Argis, and he confirmed that you are both Elven kin. I would ask that you do not worry so; we would not harm either of you."
Easton watched her silently, liquid amber eyes shining with mistrust and insecurity.
Galadriel came closer and reached out a strong, perfect hand. Her fingers graced Easton's throat in a gentle brush.
"You cannot speak, and yet you must use your voice to save a people. How strange that often the fate of many relies on such small things."
Easton looked away. She didn't like looking into people's eyes.
"I can say that I do not know whether your voice is really in this realm, but I have felt something is going to happen. So I took it upon myself to call for the aide of past allies, who have answered my summons and will be here within the week's closing. I believe that the fate of many worlds rests on finding your song, Easton."
She looked up to see Galadriel gone. She hadn't even heard her leave the room.
Aunt Gray's Home
Aunt Gray smiled as she watched her Wynnie fall asleep against her side. The girl had crawled closer until she too sat in the window seat. She looked over at Ivy.
"I will continue this story tomorrow." Ivy was half asleep herself.
"It wouldn't be so bad if you'd get on with the story, Aunt Gray."
The older woman chuckled. "But what is a story if you don't build up to it. I told you that I must tell the tale from the very beginning."
As Aunt Gray moved aside and let Wynnie lay against the pillows on the window seats, she pulled her old quilt over the sleeping girl and kissed her forehead.
"Isn't the whole point of a story the ending? And how do you get to the ending without a beginning?"
Ivy chuckled tiredly as they walked to their rooms.
"And besides, isn't it more important whether you believe or not?"
Ivy paused. "It depends on whether it's worth believing."
Aunt Gray looked serious as she said, "The past is always worth believing; it's always worth knowing, too."
Ivy shrugged. "I don't know Aunt Gray. It's pretty unbelievable."
Aunt Gray shrugged in return. "But then again, it is me." And she left Ivy to her room so she could go crawl into her own bed.
So, love it, hate it? Like it, dislike it? Review or flame, I don't care. Just tell me what ya think! And I know, I know, I should focus on my other two stories instead of starting new ones, but I can't bloody help it! This story had to be written!
Soulfully yours,
Gray