Arda, Deep in the North of Dunland; T.A. 3016

Their host is short this time, not as short as the last one, but shorter than the bodies they'd had in their old life. They had been through several in the past few years, it was sad to say neither son of Fëanor was very good at not getting burned alive. Oh, how their brothers would laugh at them for being so careless, but still, it was worth it now that they'd found this one. No, now that they shared this one, for the fate their mother had foreseen when she named them both Ambarussa had come to pass at last. Their fëa, who had always been so alike as to be the same fëa split in twain, now were contained within the same vessel. That it wasn't an elvish vessel, nor even a male one, mattered little to them.

Still despite this, their life was not without hardships, their host was part of a clan of men. Strange men, who wielded strange weapons and painted their faces all green and gold. The Ambarussa were the daughter of the chief and since the second plague had hit, they were also the youngest in the clan – only seventeen years of age. Well, until that woman Alga's new bairn arrived next spring, and they were growing tired of the ever-watchful eyes of their elders. Elders, as if the Ambarussa truly had elders anymore, they were older than even the Elders' farthest grandfathers and it was becoming a strain to heed the commands of those who were so much younger than them.

'Aine! '

The girl froze over the pile of their father's best made spears, well their father in this life.

'Step away from the spears less you know what's good for you, brat.' The Ambarussa growled but let their father's apprentice haul them away from the weapons.

'What were you thinking, do you wish to be impaled? Because I can tell you that is the only outcome you would get after lifting those logs above ye daft heed.' The youth grabbed the Ambarussa by their hair and hauled them out of the lean-to.

Others in the camp had stopped their work and turned to look as the Ambarussa were dropped unceremoniously onto the dusty ground. Which they did not bother to pick themselves up from, till the apprentice had stormed away in a huff. Grumbling over his shoulder that 'this was enough' and that 'he was going to tell her father of her crime'; the two souls tried not to laugh, they really did, but for all their restraint they were only now a child of seventeen, thus it was to the sound of their fitful giggling that their father returned.

'Oh, high foul, oh mercy, Baca what fool's errand have you brought me on now. You seek for me to punish my bairn for the crime of laughter? Perhaps I should punish ye for the crime of breathing?'

Baca had gone red, whether out of fury or just plain embarrassment the Ambarussa were not sure, but they hardly cared, as the irate apprentice was scolded and banished by his master.

By this time the two had settled their spirits and now stood upright when their father turned to face them.

'Merriment from the humiliation of others, hmm? I hang my head in shame, Quine, go bend your neck to the ancestors and pray they're in a far more forgiving mood than I today.'

What a life, as if the spirits of men long past could have any say over fëa such as they. Still, if it kept him content then the Ambarussa would do as their new Arda bid, after all, it was hardly the most humiliating punishment they'd ever had forced upon them.

That, they were certain, was yet to come.

***
One Year Later

It was fated, they were to be married, not to each other – though they lived a far stronger bond than that every day – but to a boy in another clan. His father had been a great man, or so said hers, and their union would unite the clans of the North and West as only the Leomhann could have done before.

They think about saying no, they think about just getting up and leaving every night, but they don't. They dream of their brothers, and their father and their mission whenever they close their eyes. But they still don't leave, and they can't explain why. They think about the sun, and how long it has been since they've seen it. Even when the clan is traveling over the craggy, forested hills that lead to their new bride-groom's home, they don't take the opportunity to melt into the forest around them. They don't know why, but it's too late now, they're at the camp, the Camp of the Crystal Caves, the Camp of the Mountain-Lion Clan, the Camp of Calgacus.

Calgacus, a strange name even by the standards of Men, but it is the name of he who they shall wed. It is the name of the boy, the man who is standing at the top ridge of the path, leaning down to look at them as they ride past. His face is not green and gold like the faces of the men of their own clan, no it's blue, blue like the sky, blue like their mother's eyes. Not this body's mother – she was long dead when they stole it – but their real mother. The mother they left behind, the mother who had refused to follow their father into folly, the mother who'd been far wiser than either of them.

They decided they rather liked Calgacus' face, or at least the tattoos that graced it.

They bowed when they came face to face, both Calgacus and the Ambarussa, and they smiled at each other.

'Gooday Aine of Clan Mer,' the sky-faced boy said in his West Edge accent.
The Ambarussa smiled gracefully, they let that slip pass, after all as far as Calgacus of the Crystal Caves knew they are Aine of the Mer Clan. Perhaps after they are married, they will tell him the truth, or perhaps not. For he is smiling at them now, his eyes are a dark grey that seems so…so familiar that they feel themselves caught in their beautiful black depths. They've seen these eyes before, even the dip of the eye lids which give Calgacus a sorrowful look even when he is smiling, seem familiar. They've seen these eyes before, many times before in fact, but in a very different face. In an older face, in a colder face, in a far angrier face. They are not the eyes a Man should have at all; they are the eyes of a Valar.

They don't scream, they do not want to scream, for they know without asking, without looking to his witch of a mother, that Calgacus doesn't know whose eyes he has. And they shall not ruin this day by pointing it out, besides, it's not as if they don't have more than enough to hide themselves.

T.A. 3018

One year they had been wed to Calgacus when everything began to unravel. Up till that point it had been a good marriage, Calgacus was a kind and gentle husband, and the Ambarussa even entertained the notion that their father – the true one, the one they had been sent to find– might even have approved of their new spouse. They had never married before, in their old lives, and they had never wanted to – their people would never have condoned a shared spouse and to have separate ones, well, that would just be too painful for the Ambarussa. So Fëanor had never had the opportunity to approve of their choice before. He still didn't, and maybe he never would for Calgacus was mortal and mortal in a land where thirty was considered old, he would never live long enough to meet Fëanor, he would never live long to do anything. Yet all that sadness, all that misery in the back of their minds, well they were able to put that aside, for a time at least. For a year, life was very nearly perfect, and then the wizard had come.
How no one knew, after all there was a reason the tribes had had to begin intermarrying between one another…no one could exactly get past the wooden cage the Lady Mab had thrust them all into. The Ambarussa as spirits had expected never to see the sun again, but it seemed cruel to thrust it upon a mortal, but then that was Mab all over, wasn't it?

A hatred that had begun as simply a petty jealousy of an older woman to a younger, had bloomed between the Ambarussa and their mother in law, until it was so strong that if Ambarussa caught her at the wrong moment they were more likely to get their face burned off, than a screaming match.

In fact, the only thing that the two women could ever agree on, other than their love for the Ambrussa's husband, was that they both hated the wizard. Well, maybe not hated on Mab's part, but the only other person the Ambarussa had ever seen the old crone direct such a withering look to had been…well…them.

Yet the wizard, didn't even seem to notice.

He was old, older even than them, and he was wizened and decrepit, and he hobbled about with his staff as if he needed it as a walking stick. He was welcomed by the Clan, who had never seen a creature like him – they'd seen magic of course, but the Magic of the wild men of Dunland, particularly Mab's was quiet and subtle. Unless of course it was setting you on fire or caging you and your unborn progeny up in the same decrepit land for generations to come. The bright light, and twisting sparkles of a wizard's magic was something they'd never seen. Was it any wonder how he captivated them …how he captivated Calgacus?

The Wizard's strange tales of the East had enchanted their husband, so much so that it brought down to earth just how young their spouse really was, only eighteen, a year younger than this body should have been by now.

The Wizard seemed acutely aware of their husband's entrancement with his tales, for he seemed to embellish them whenever Calgacus was in earshot, but the Ambarussa could not figure out why. Surely, he did not need his ego stroking, he was a wizard after all, he probably got enough of that just strolling through the villages of lesser men. So, consumed where they by this mystery that they didn't noticed the true threat to their marriage until it was much too late to stop it.

They were pregnant.

He was so happy when they told him, he wanted their baby…their baby, more than the Ambarussa had thought any mortal could want anything.

It was wrong.

The child would be wrong, at best it would come out dead…at worst, well, what was half Dead and Half alive could never truly walk in either world.
It shouldn't have been possible, this body was barely alive, if it hadn't been for the force of the Ambarussa's spirits, it would have crumbled years ago. Yet the life-force, the new life-force that was wriggling around this body could not be ignored. At least not by them, and not by Calgacus.

He wanted them to be a family…he wanted the child to have everything their parents never did growing up…both parents alive and loving them. A blue sky up above, and the sun…the sun shining down as they played. Imagine that, Calgacus said his eyes a flame with the fantasy. A childhood free of the ever-looming presence of the dead, a childhood worth living.

And it could happen too, the blue wizard talked, oh how he talked…about the dead, about the cage, but more importantly about the world beyond. Men, Dwarves, lands of the East, and the Elves. Don't you know about the Elves, Aine, they've got magic like Mither but different. If we can…if we can just get out and find them, they can help. They'll make the dead leave, burn down the wooded walls, and we'll be free. Not just our family, but our people, everyone…isn't it wonderful Aine…isn't it everything we've ever wanted?

They wanted to make it true for him, to let him think that all he had to do was find an opening in his mother's wooden cage and he could fix things. But it just wasn't true, nothing good would come under the rays of the sun…not even just for their little family.

For the child inside of them should never have been, and they could not predict what kind of monster would come from it – if they were braver, if they were…less…less of a coward they would find some way to be rid of it. Lots of women did it – most of the time having a baby just wasn't worth the pain, not in a land like this one.

Maybe…maybe they would have…if his eyes hadn't shone so bright when he told them of his plan.