Disclaimer: See prologue/chapter. Book passages (words in italics) are borrowed directly from The Silmarillion. They belong to their respective owners, and not to me.
The passages from the book I did not change or alter whatsoever.
Chapter 11
Revelations
"Please sit." Gandalf said, nodding to one of the chairs in front of the library's fire.
Hesitantly, not taking her eyes off of Gandalf or Legolas, Katherine sat down.
"Legolas, leave us." The Grey Pilgrim said, an edge to his voice that did not invite argument.
Legolas was about to gently protest, but the wizard cut him short. "Now."
With a small glance at Katherine, he left the room, closing the library's double doors behind him to ensure their privacy.
She looked to the remaining occupant in the room as he set his staff against the chair, and pulled out his pipe. Lighting the weed with a small flick of his hand, Mithrandir began puffing away as he strode to a table nearby, stacked with many books.
"Legolas, has told me all that has passed since he found and nearly killed you. Much of what I am about to tell you will undoubtedly seem strange, impossible, alarming, and downright insane, but it is the truth." He said, finding a rather old and frail looking tome written in the Common Tongue. He came back over, and set it in her hands. "I have marked the page to which I wish you to read..."
With a confused expression, Katherine turned to the page marked by a spare piece of parchment, and read silently...
'Aüle has might little less than Ulmo. His lordship is over all the substances of which Arda (A/N: Arda is another name for Middle-Earth) is made. In the beginning, he wrought much in the fellowship with Manwe and Ulmo; and the fashioning of all lands was his labor. He is a smith, and a master of all crafts, and he delights in works of skill, however small, as much as in the mighty building of old. His are the gems that lie deep in the Earth, and the gold that is fair in the hand, no less than the walls of the mountains and the basins of the sea. The Noldor learned most of him, and he was ever their friend. Melkor was jealous of him, for Aüle was like himself in thought and in powers; and there was long strife between them, in which Melkor ever marred or undid the works of Aüle, and Aüle grew weary in repairing the tumults and disorders of Melkor. Both, also, desired to make things of their own that should be new and unthought of by others, and delighted in the praise of their skill. But Aüle remained faithful to Eru and submitted all that he did to his will; and he did not envy the works of others, but sought and gave counsel. Whereas Melkor spent his spirit in envy and hate, until at last he could make nothing save in mockery of the thought of others, and all their works he destroyed if he could.'
She looked up at Gandalf with a slightly slackened jaw, utter confusion and worry upon her face.
"There is more. Read the next passage..." said Gandalf, not looking at her, but staring into the hearth.
She blinked a few times, and then looked back at the dusty pages of the book...
'The spouse of Aüle is Yavanna, the Giver of Fruits. She is the lover of all things that grow in the earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind, from the trees like towers in forests long ago, to the moss upon stones or the small and secret things in the mold. In reverence Yavanna is next to Varda (A/N: Varda is another name for Elbereth) among the Queens of the Valar. In the form of a woman, she is tall, and robed in green; but at times she takes other shapes. Some there are who have seen her standing like a tree under heaven, crowned with the Sun; and from all it's branches their spilled a golden dew upon the barren earth, and it grew green with corn; but the roots of the tree were in the waters of Ulmo, and the winds of Manwe spoke in it's leaves. Kementári, Queen of the Earth, she is surnamed in the Eldarin tongue...'
The book lay open in her hands, but she did not see it. The words blurred together as tears seized her eyes, falling without mercy down her face.
Turning her head in the direction of Gandalf, an expression of great pain and sorrow etched upon her features, she asked in a choked voice. "Why? Why d-did she never tell me of this? How can this be true?" When the wizard continued to remain silent, she stood up, the book falling to the floor with a loud 'thud'. "Mithrandir, please! I do not understand!"
Gandalf stooped, and picked the book back up, flipping to another page. "There are still two more things for you to read, child. And then we shall try to piece together this puzzle..."
Wiping away her tears in anger, she snatched the book back, falling down onto the chair. She didn't want to read anymore, but she had to. She had to know the hidden truth...
'Last of all is set the name of Melkor, He who arises in Might. But that name he has forfeited; and the Noldor, who among the elves suffered most from his malice, will not utter it, and they name him Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the World. Great might was given to him by Illuvatar, and he was coeval with Manwe. In the powers and knowledge of all the other Valar he had part, but he turned them to evil purposes, and squandered his strength in violence and tyranny. For he coveted Arda and all that was in it, desiring the kingship of Manwe and dominion over the realms of his peers.
From splendor he fell through arrogance to contempt for all things save himself, a spirit wasteful and pitiless. Understanding, he turned to subtlety in perverting to his own will all that he would use, until he became a liar without shame...'
'Among those of his servants that have names, the greatest was that spirit whom the Eldar called Sauron, or Gorthaur the Cruel. In his beginning, he was of the Maiar of Aüle, (A/N: to save time, in the beginning of creation, the Maiar are the people of the Valar; their servants and helpers) and he remained mighty in the lore of that people. In all the deeds of Melkor the Morgoth upon Arda, in his vast works and in the deceits of his cunning, Sauron had a part, and was only less evil than his master in that for long he served another and not himself...'
"Not once," said Gandalf, taking the book once she had finished, "is there ever a mention of a child created by Yavanna and Aüle. Yet here you stand; her kin."
Katherine said nothing, but stared at the floor, trying to comprehend what was real, and what was false...
"Now, we can only guess..." he whispered, setting the book back among it's fellows, and returning to his seat. He stared at her prone form for many minutes before speaking. "Your father, Aüle, one of the Valar, only ever created one type of being; the dwarves. But I suppose that such a thing was not enough. He wanted something made of his and Yavanna's blood. Something, that he would cherish above all his other creations. Thus, Yavanna helped to give him you, his daughter... You were born an elf, being as the Eldar are the fairest of the Valar's creations. But within you flows the blood and spirit of all your race which your father and mother gifted and created in you. You are of the Noldor, and yet Silvan. Vanyarin and Umanyar. You have the knowledge and skill of the Nandor elves. You are of the Avari, the Unwilling, who would rather look upon the stars in the wide Middle-Earth than of the Light of the Two trees in Valinor which your mother herself created. The Laiquendi, who dealt not in open war after the fall of their leader, living ever after in secrecy. Of the Falmari, who dwelt on the western shore of the sea, making music with the breaking of the waves. The Calquendi, those who answered the call willingly, and passed across the sea to the Light of the Two trees... All of this knowledge, skill, and understanding is locked within you. You need only remember."
Still she said nothing. What if I don't want to remember? She thought. Outside the door, Legolas listened as Gandalf spoke, wondering if he should enter...
"As you read, Morgoth the Dark Lord destroyed Aüle's, your father's, work, jealous and envious. With great care, I believe Aüle kept your birth a secret, so he could keep you safe from Morgoth's wrath. But, as it also says, Sauron, or Gorthaur, was his servant, and must have seen you at some point while serving your father. And when he rallied with Morgoth, he would have told him about you. Morgoth saw you as a perfect opportunity to take revenge upon your parents... Destroying something that they so loved and cherished; something created by the both of them, that they were both bound to by blood..."
Katherine remained as still as ever, the silent tears still dripping silently onto her hands.
"Morgoth was soon 'destroyed'. But his servant remained; Sauron's will and thirst for vengeance as strong as his master's. It is likely that Yavanna, eventually, had no choice but to do something; for how could she keep you safe in a place where he had great knowledge of, and could come and go as he pleased? Your father changed you; masking your aura, dulling your ears. But Sauron is cunning, and sent a servant through the Void after you and your mother. In the other world, this servant would have found your mother, threatening your life. Yavanna played the submissive wife over the next years, unable to tell you anything about who you really were lest she jeopardize your life." The wizard set down his still smoking pipe, clasping his hands together and watching the woman that sat before him. "Your mother is not dead, Katherine."
Her head jerked up at these words, and she stared at him with reddening eyes.
"Yes, she is not dead. If she had not been of the Valar, she would have ever wandered in the Halls of Mandos. But she was needed. The Queen of the Earth needed to keep things growing, living, thriving. She and your father watch over you even as we speak-"
"I've heard enough!" she shouted, her silence breaking at last, standing up and making for the door.
"Why are you running?" Gandalf asked calmly.
Her hand rested upon the door handle, shaking slightly. "I am not running from this matter. I am going to try and comprehend all that's been said to me within a matter of five minutes." She glared at him over her shoulder, "Forgive me if that is too much to ask for, my lord."
Pulling open the door, she nearly ran into Legolas. She realized that he had been listening the entire time, and glared at him too, trying to hide her tears. "Do you have any common decency not to eavesdrop?" she snapped, brushing past him and down the corridor that would lead to her room.
Legolas watched her go, half of him understanding that she needed time to herself, the other half wanting desperately to go after her to comfort her. He walked slowly into the library, and over to where Gandalf still stood.
"You did not explain the mark..." he said quietly.
Gandalf nodded. "I think that can wait till later... She is overwhelmed as it is..." he turned to meet the gaze of the elven prince. "What does your father say in her matter?"
Legolas looked away. "He is not happy..."
The wizard chuckled. "Well, it was to be expected..." he said, picking up the wooden pipe, and stowing it away. "It would greatly ease my mind, Legolas, if you would speak to her..."
The prince nodded. "I will."
"She has no elvish name. You shall need to give her one." Gandalf suggested. "She has to blend in here as much as possible. For her own safety." he murmured. "And say nought of the mark as of yet. I shall tell her of that."
"And, what if she is to ask of it?" Legolas inquired, his feet moving to the door.
"Then you may tell her... She would be greatly upset if you lied."
With a last curt nod to Legolas, the wizard made for his chambers, the dull thump of his staff echoing upon the stone walls as he went...
This chapter was REALLY hard to write; with all the information and referencing.
