Prologue
The falcon arrived one night while Aragorn and the hobbits rested on the way to Weathertop from Bree. Aragorn spoke to it gently, almost with recognition. The falcon shrugged almost in reply, and its whole attitude suggested that Aragorn should feel honoured that the falcon had deigned to grace the whole group with its presence. This made Aragorn laugh.
The falcon's attention and focus on the hobbits soon unnerved them. In the small room at Weathertop, its presence where it sat on the small shelf of rock on the wall watching them made them nervous. When they started the fire, it stared them out of wide blue eyes. The colour of its eyes made Sam nervous, but for the most part, the hobbits ignored it.
When Frodo sprang up to stamp out the fire, the falcon spread its wings and soared from the room.
"That t'aint natural." Sam said disapprovingly. "Falcons don't fly at night." Their attention, however, was soon seized from the falcon by the Ringwraithes, screaming their eerie call as they galloped towards the ancient outpost.
The four hobbits stood at the top of the mound, eyes wide at the prospect of the tall, cloaked wraiths. They approached the small hobbits, and the falcon's hunting scream echoed through the countryside. The ringwraiths looked around for the falcon, but saw nothing.
The ringwraiths attacked, and Frodo was thrown back. He slipped on the ring, and the falcon's scream echoed around the land again, followed by Frodo's scream as the ringwraith plunged his sword into Frodo's shoulder.
&Chapter 1
I surveyed the fight, muttering darkly in my head. Good as Aragorn was, he was facing nine ringwraiths. I dived at the face of one of the wraiths, screaming. The ringwraith flung me off, and I flew aside and hit a rock. Hard. I hit the ground and was still, then my form blurred into the form of a fairly tall woman. I groaned, shook my head, then stood, drawing the long sword from its place on my back, and joined in the melee.
As soon as the ringwraiths fled Aragorn's flaming torches, both he and I rushed to Frodo's side, where he lay groaning and clutching his shoulder.
The three remaining hobbits stared me. I was dressed outlandishly, and many would say immodestly. I wore an ankle length dark red dress, which was split up the left side of my leg to my hip. I wore knee high leather boots underneath, and a simply leather tie held the upper sides of the slit on my skirt together so I wasn't totally revealed. The dress had a high collar that rose to the top of my neck, and dipped in front to the arch of my ribs, revealing a lot of skin on my breast bone. I wore a green rough-cut stone necklace, and a finer black opal on a silver chain that dangled below it. My shoulders were encased in black leather tunic, and my tight black sleeves were feather-patterned. A long knife hung on my right hip, suspended by a black sash around my hips. My long-sword was once again slung across my back, its long unsheathed blade crossing my back, and the long blue-leather hilt appearing over my shoulders, the polished black quartz pommel framed on each side by a silver wing that extended up and over the pommel. From the pommel hung two falcon feathers.
My hair was long, curling and tightly plaited in a crown around my head. A leather band crossed my forehead above blue eyes. I had a wide mouth, and a small nose. My skin was golden brown, the colour of one who spends a lot of time outside. I carried, apart from the sword, a long birchwood staff, topped with a rough cut clear quartz, bound to the staff with blue leather, hung with two falcon feathers.
"Athelas." I said, a strange accent to the word. My elfish wasn't as good as Aragorn's.
"I know. But I've not got any here. It's not safe here anyway. We'll take him into the woods, where there's more shelter, and more chance of finding athelas." I nodded, picked up one of the dead torches. I blew on it, and it sprang to flame. I lit the others from it, and Aragorn slung Frodo over his shoulder, and we ran for the forest.
&
We reached a place we considered safe, and Aragorn and Sam went to look for Athelas while I blended into the form of a falcon, sword, staff, knife and all. With a few beats of my powerful wings, I was in the air, soaring into the dark sky.
I soon returned, kneeling by Frodo and pressing bruised athelas into the knife wound. Aragorn soon returned also, and with him came an elf that resembled an angel to the hobbits. I stepped back crossing my arms over my chest, and watching.
"I'll take him to Rivendell." The elvish woman said.
"I'll go with you." I said.
"And who are you?" the elf asked, a little rudely.
"The Dreamer." I said. "Just Dreamer, or Dream, if you like." The elf looked surprised, and more than a little shocked, then she nodded, and she and Aragorn argued over who would ride, while I regarded them with a self-satisfied smirk.
The elf looked at my snottily from the horse's back. "How do you plan to accompany me?" She asked with superiority.
"I thought I'd fly." I said, smiling. "If that's alright with you." I blended into the falcon-form again, and lifted into the air, uttering a little shriek to urge the elf-lady along. The elf woman galloped off, me flying as a falcon above her. Aragorn shook his head at us.
&
All nine wraiths have picked up your trail. I said in the elf woman's head. What's your name?
"Arwen." She said shortly.
Speak with your mind. It's clearer. Urge that horse faster. Arwen obediently kicked it on, and we sped up.
&
In Rivendell, I swooped down, landed behind a wall and quickly changed back to my human shape. I went forward, took the limp Frodo from Arwen's arms, and had Arwen lead me to one of the rooms where Elrond attended him, with one surprised and pleased look aimed towards me.
I left the room and was immediately cornered by Arwen.
"Who are you and what do you want?" The elf demanded.
"I'm The Dreamer. And I want that thing in Frodo's pocket destroyed. That's all."
"What were you doing with Aragorn?"
"I arrived soon after he joined the four hobbits. I was simply travelling with him. And if you're worried about something happening between myself and Aragorn, you needn't bother. It wouldn't happen."
"Why not?" Arwen demanded, sounding offended.
"Let's just say he's not my type." I said, with a grin. Arwen gave me a strange, distrustful look, and left with a huff.
&
I found my old quarters at Rivendell were still mine, I had been a bit worried they would have been given to someone else, since I had not returned to Rivendell in a very long time. I drifted around the elegant suite, reacquainting myself with the rooms, smiling at old memories. Until my ninth birthday, I had lived here, under Elrond's tutelage. Then I had gotten lost, and spent a good many years away from Rivendell, with no one knowing if I still lived.
It hadn't been an easy life, training to be The Dreamer, the only one in all of Middle Earth. It had been a lot of hard work, with more cons than pros, it seemed sometimes. The respect was a definite pro, and the freedom from anyone's jurisdiction. As The Dreamer, no one could order me to do anything. The best they could do was suggest things, which was always good for taking a certain Steward of Gondor down a peg. I grinned. My last meeting with Denethor had been rather explosive, with him ordering me to get back in line, and my rather blunt, 'make me'.
Denethor had banished me from Gondor, so I had to remind him he couldn't do that. He may serve the people, the Elves might serve the Valar, the Valar might serve Ilúvatar, but I served the Dreamsong, which was the most ancient power in existence. The Dreamsong had created Ilúvatar, who had created everything else. That put The Dreamer, whoever it was who held the title at a certain point in time, well above anyone else anywhere in the world.
Denethor hated to be reminded that a mere woman held many times more power than he ever would, and my indifference to his taunts annoyed him even further.
I didn't think of myself as vindictive. But Denethor simply asked for it every time he opened his mouth, and I was only too happy to oblige. The man was too stuck up and snotty anyway. Bit like that elf, Arwen. She, it would seem, was Aragorn's love. She was pretty enough, I conceded, if you liked brunettes. She had a little too much of the superior attitude sometimes found in upper-class elves, though, for my tastes. Not that I preferred women lovers to male ones, I was simply making the observation that Arwen was just a little stuck up her own behind to see daylight, and reality.
I pulled herself out of my rather nasty thoughts with a jerk. Arwen seemed to make Aragorn happy: he loved her, and it appeared she loved him, judging by her rather jealous attitude earlier. I shrugged. I guess that's all that matters. I thought ruefully. As The Dreamer, I rarely had a chance for a lover, or even a relationship outside my tight knit relationship I had with Aragorn, who I had grown up with, and Elrond, who had brought the pair of us up.
"Lune?" The door opened slightly, and Elrond walked in. "I knocked…"
"I was thinking. How are you?"
"Well, thank you. And you?"
"Dreaming." I said with a laugh. Lune was the name I had had as a child. When I became The Dreamer, I took the second half of my title as a sort of nickname, and now so many people knew me simply as Dream or Dreamer that I doubted any of them remembered or even knew my birth-name. That was probably why, I reflected, Elrond always called me Lune. To remind me.
"You have met Arwen, then?" I wrinkled my nose slightly, but nodded.
"Yes, we came in together. We didn't exactly get off on the right foot." Elrond frowned at me, and I looked at the floor. He always managed to make me feel about seven years old, even now, when I was eighty years older than that.
"What did you do?"
"Me? Why is it always me?" I exclaimed indignantly. Elrond rolled his eyes, waiting. "Oh, fine. Arwen started it though!" Elrond raised an eyebrow. "She said she'd bring Frodo, and I said I'd go with her, and she was like, 'well who are you?', and I told her. And then she was snotty asking how I planned on travelling, and I said flying, and she was like, yeah whatever." I realised how childish I sounded, and mentally shrugged. It was a bit late to think of that now.
"Lune, you should at least try to get on with Arwen."
"For Aragorn's sakes, you mean?" Elrond frowned, and I suddenly realised he wasn't altogether pleased by the match. "What's wrong?"
"Aragorn's mortal. Arwen…"
"Will die?" I asked softly. "We can all die."
"Apart from you." Elrond said pointedly.
"I think I can safely say I'm a special case. Surely it would be better for Arwen to love then die, then for her to live for millennia in sorrow."
"Defending Arwen, now? For The Dreamer, you are mighty fickle."
"Try not to think like Arwen's father, Elrond. Perhaps then you shall understand." I said gently. Elrond was quiet for a moment.
"The Dreamsong is strong in you." He said eventually. I simply nodded. It was true. Had I wanted to, I could see the creation of the Ilúvatar, the Valar, and then of the world. I had heard snippets of the Valar's song, but its beauty had nearly deafened me. I had been weak for weeks afterwards, the song echoing throughout my form. "You sounded millions of years old, then."
"In a way," I said slowly, "I am. The Dreamsong rings true in its Dreamer." I shrugged.
"I am sending the ring to Mordor to be destroyed." Elrond said suddenly.
"I know. I'm going with it." Elrond nodded his head in acquiescence.
"I thought you might. I am holding a council, to which I am inviting representatives of the more widespread peoples of Middle Earth. There it will be decided how it will go and who with."
"Surely Frodo…"
"He is tired and weak. He was told he had only to carry it here, and to hear it must go farther, much farther, may be too much for him. I do not think he shall go."
"I think you may be pleasantly surprised." I said with a grin. "But anyway. The council?"
"Dwarves, men, elves, Frodo, and Gandalf." Elrond said succinctly.
"Dwarves? I was under the impression-" I began, half-teasing.
"This ring could spell destruction for all, so all must put aside past grievances and prejudices, if we are to survive." I nodded, trying to keep the satisfied smirk off my face. I wasn't at all sure Elrond would appreciate it.
&
The Council was small, and I sat on Elrond's left hand. As The Dreamer, I technically had higher rank than any of the princes present. Many curious and irritated looks were sent in my direction. It seemed my very presence set many on edge, though they did not know who, or what, I was.
"Why is a whore here?" I heard some one think. It made me smile. Sure, my clothes weren't the modest on the planet, but they had helped more than they had hindered, as I had travelled about the country. Men had often responded better to my clothes than my sword on many an occasion.
I mainly observed as the council went on, ignored by all. I sat slumped in my chair, my legs stretched out in front of me, my elbows braced on my arm rests and my fingers steepled before my face. I straightened when the ring was placed on the circular table in the middle of the council, and my fingers went to the black opal hanging on the silver chain at my throat. One well-dressed man took in my change in posture and frowned. I ignored him. If he was allowed to lust after the ring, how come I wasn't able to sit up in its presence?
Perhaps only I heard the dark words echo from the ring, the words that caused dissent in the council, but one look at the small dark-haired hobbit and I knew he, too, had heard. He rose to his feet. The others were too busy yelling at each other to hear anything but the voices of their own pride.
"I'll take it." He said quietly. I leaned forward, touching his shoulder.
"Well done, Master Hobbit. I'll go with you, perhaps I may be of some help."
"Who are you?" He whispered.
"The Dreamer. Dream, to you. Now you'd better announce your plans again, or we'll be here all night." He smiled slightly at me.
"I'll take it!" He announced again, louder this time.
&
Some of the volunteers to go to Mordor with Frodo looked a little disgruntled when they found out I was coming. They had all done their little dramatic thing, walking to Frodo and saying "and you have my whatever," substitute suitable weapon here. Whereas I didn't get up, I just held out my hand and Frodo took it. That was more dramatic than all the rest, for all the understatement.
For all my joining the Fellowship, I spent most of my time as a falcon, above them. None but the Hobbits and Aragorn knew, although I think Aragorn either told the elf or he worked it out for himself, because when I turned up one night he raised one eyebrow, raised his blue eyes to the darkening sky and grinned. I liked him.
He had the superior air most elves had, but he had somehow turned it into something more friendly. Instead of being haughty, he was…it was hard to explain. I'd say weathered and experienced, but that made him sound like an old man, although I suppose, age-wise, that was what he was, or what he would have been , had he been a man.
He was very good looking. He had the stereotypical elven looks, pale skin, long straight blonde hair, blue eyes. But it was the air he had about him that made him so different. We often sat up talking. I didn't sleep much at all, and so I kept him company on watch, and we talked of many things. I learnt how after I left Rivendell he had met Aragorn, and they had become best friends. Perhaps that was where the slightly humble attitude had come from, maybe it rubbed off of Aragorn onto the elf. Dreamsong knows Aragorn was too humble for his own good.
&
So tell me if you like it, please. I know I've been away for absolutely ages, but I've been writing in my absence, so I'll do my best to update as soon as I can. Next time will probably been Christmas, but that's in only a month (yay!) so you won't, hopefully, have too long to wait. I will also do my utmost to keep writing the unfinished stories I already have up, like Leoli and my many Harry Potter fics, which I started and never finished. Until then, I hope this will tide you over, so enjoy! Istalindar.