Names
There are no words that can properly describe the flight out of Mordor. There seemed to be no time, no space. No sound, no smell. It was as if everything were underwater, in slow motion. There was no pain, no anything. A calm, a peace washed over me like nothing I had ever felt before.
I sailed close to the ground. My wings, my lungs, they could no longer take the stress they had been put under for so long. Many, many times I felt myself fall and hit the ground hard. Yet there was no pain. I did not care. I hardly remember the feeling at all, for I was in an all ignoring daze, unshakeable. It could have been three, or three million hits.
Finally, for the first time in my whole eternity, I felt nothing but tranquility. The occasional flash of red light when I was over exerted held no wonder to me. Sauron was gone. It was over. It was done.
One final time I hit the ground, feeling the churned, muddied ground beneath me. Churned and muddied; not Mordor. I did not get up. I did not do anything. I lay, stunned at the events, lay as pure exhaustion fell over me, lay as I sensed rather than heard Gwaihir land next to me and strong yet old arms lifted me onto his back. And I sat there in that state for the rest of the journey, incognizant of time. That state I remained in as I felt myself carried by younger, stronger arms, onto a soft surface.
For the first time in my life I was lax. For the first time in millennia I fell asleep. For the first time in eternity my sleep was dreamless.
Some sense of awareness flooded into me. This surface this thing covering me-that was called material, was it not? And that soft bouncy thing- they called it a manners? No, mattress, that was the word.
Remembering that made me think of something else. Who was I? And why was everything black? As far as I remembered, people didn't usually see nothing. They saw shapes and colour. I'm but a little five-year old, surely somebody can give me an answer. The world was so dark. I could roam everywhere, and not know I had roamed any place.
Dark.
Roaming.
I was Dark. I was the Roamer. I roamed despite the dark. It was defining. I was Darke.
Subsequently, my entire life story came flooding back. Every thought, emotion, those few years of colour and light, every memory that was memorable came rippling back to me in chronological order.
I was a child of no more than three, running in the garden. A boy, he looked a little similar, picked me up and took me to watch birds. Turin, that was his name. He was my brother.
Sador, an old man with one foot, hobbled around a workshop. I had a feeling I was not meant to be there, but the funny tools and the sheets of metal enticed me. I was about to touch a pretty red glowing piece when he picked me up and jiggled me on his knee. 'Do you want to hear a story young Urwen? Don't go touching burning metal instead."
Urwen-that was my childhood.
Seven colours danced across the sky in order. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. My father pointed them out and my mother told me that it was a rainbow. A butterfly flitted across, and I laughed. Such a great feeling. I laughed so very often after that. So often people started calling me Lailaith.
Lailaith- growing older.
I grew wiser. Knowing more of the world. But I felt myself collapse, my throat and temple burn. Growing weaker day by day until I sunk into a death like coma. So death like that I was buried, then spirited away. I was asleep for many years. I had no name.
Nameless-my beginning.
Pain, despair, evil. That was all I knew. I could hardly remember anything, there was nothing to think of. I had no spirit. I was mindless, a slave, taking potion after potion, put under spell and enchantment, cut up and sewn back together. All I knew was darkness and despair.
Despair-my creation.
Escape, and finally freedom. But I knew nothing of how to live in the world, nothing apart from basic necessity for basic survival. Desperate for something to do I decided to seek out my family's graves, knowing they were dead but hoping that it would bring something back. My vison flickered, and ghosts attacked me. The never ending whiteness brought my heart nothing but darkness.
Dark-my becoming.
Saviours. Wooden hands pick me up, put me in water and bathe me. Give me draught, and for the first time ever I feel tall, strong, able to do something. They offer me friendship for nothing, and I offered it in return. They were me family. They helped me. Even when I left them, they still loved me. There was some light in the world, despite the attacks and the vow I took. Things were not quite as dark as they seemed.
Darke-me.
I roamed everywhere, learning every grain of sand, every leaf on tree. I hid, knowing that if Sauron found me he would torture me into telling him what happened to his master-even though I knew not. Sometimes I was seen, by the casual person. Often I saved people, just petty things. But there was enough mourning in the world without another death. Truth became story, and story became legend. I was the roamer.
The Roamer- who I was known as.
People, a fellowship around me. They were wary, untrusting at first. But no-one showed hostility to the other, and soon friendships began to form. We got to know each other a bit, see each other more as people rather than shadows. We broke and there was great sadness, but also hope of seeing each other again. And music-bringing people together, two very specific people. And a love that hid deep within them.
A member of the Fellowship-my legacy.
I remembered names, what I was called, what I had been called, what people thought I was called. I recollected the past, all I knew that I could have known. I remembered the feeling of moss beneath my feet and the brief flash of a rainbow. I recalled the feeling of my hand in another's as we just sat quietly in the peace. I remembered all.
These names were what I was, these names were what defined me. These names were the only thing I had ever kept.
I was The Roamer. I was Darke. I was me. And with that, I opened my eyes.
So, tell me what you think! After many spare 5 mins, I've finally got something up! This chapter is shorter than others, but I may add on instead of posting a new chapter.
So, a proposition to my lovely readers out there. My life is freaking crazy & you know it, so lately I've been having less time. I have a few options for what I might now do from now on, but I want to see what you readers want me to do. I could 1-continue posting 2'000 word long chapters, but have possibly 2-4 week gaps between chapters because they take a while 2-be faster and write about half a chapter and post that(like I have done now) and post the other half later on. This will mean quicker updates, but you will probably end up re-reading half a chapter. 3-Post shorter chapters of about this length. This will mean more frequent updates hopefully, but of course, chapters of about half the length they used to be.
So again, tell me what you think! Will it be 1, 2 or 3?
