- - THE MIRROR - -
The scene opened, the sky set deep within the hours of night. The colossal tower of Orthanc at Isengard came swiftly into view. It stood high amidst the blackened darkness, piercing the sky like an onyx needle above the barren snow-covered ground. The view then closed in on the tower's balcony, casting a shadowed look into the dark room that lay beyond the stone rail.
Amidst the silence of the chamber, a crackle of energy hung thickly about air. It was sinister and traced back to a young woman who sat on the ground unmoving against one of the walls. She wore a strange red and white outfit and the subtle waves of her raven black hair had tipped forward, shrouding her bowed head from view.
The scene then expanded beyond her, revealing what more lay in the chamber. Brass candelabras and dimly lit magical sconces illuminated the space. The room, which was round, harbored a deep sense of knowledge, for ancient books and age-old scrolls lined the many shelves. Some texts were stacked precariously onto desks and tables, others piled high onto chairs. Various phials of curious and unsettling contents dotted the room, whatever sat inside of them sometimes twitching or turning in the fluid that surrounded them.
Among all of this, there was an old man. He wore long white robes, and had a long beard to match. He sat behind a massive desk, and his beetle black eyes stared blankly ahead. Taking up his staff, he strode out onto the balcony, his face expressionless. He then spun around and returned to the room and called out to the woman. "Call one of the beasts. It is time we set this war in motion."
She stood, and the shrieking wail that then came from her was a sound that was pulled from the deepest and darkest corners of the world. It was a blood-curdling scream marked with malevolence, sending a crawling chill down the wizard's spine. The cry echoed far and wide across the snowy ground beyond the tower. Even the wizard was silently relieved when it ended.
Not even seconds had passed before her call was answered, though it was still a ways off. A few moments passed, and the sound of massive wings could be heard flying along in the night. Before long, a fellbeast arrived and perched itself on the cold black rail of the massive balcony.
Although the wizard's smirk had lessened by her screech, it was still apparent on his aged face. He looked back to her and issued another order. "Take the beast and find a village within Gondor. Destroy it and kill all those who dare call the place home. Return by daybreak. There is much to be done."
During his speech, she strode over to the beast and nimbly mounted its back. The creature cooed and then, with a powerful thrust of its wings, leapt from the tower and shot off into the cosmically black sky as they ventured to carry out their master's task.
.
The scene left the tower and followed the young woman and her beast as they flew across the landscape. As they went along, the pair began to chirp between one another, clearly communicating in a way that was entirely their own. They soared fast over the barren lands, passed above the Mountains of Shadow, and eventually into lands of Gondor.
They flew for some time, but eventually they spotted it. Nestled near the foothills of the White Mountains was a humble village. The pair then chirped between one another again and the woman brought up her hand and gave the beast's leathery neck a single stroke. It cooed once, and she replied with a single chirp. Her hand then returned to its former place of holding and she let out an untamed screech. With the command finally given, the beast let out a feral cry of its own before falling into a vigorous dive, heading straight for the village.
The carnage that followed could only be categorized as maliciously savage.
Screams began almost instantly. People were ripped from their beds by a jagged and unholy maw of daggers and flung around like rags. Bodies snapped and punctured, all of them dead before they even hit the ground again. Some tried to flee, but the beast always caught them. Even if the beast didn't finish them all off, she was waiting for them outside their homes.
She had positioned herself at the center of the small village and summoned dark magic to her palms. A crackling amethyst-black fire had enveloped her hands, but it clearly did no damage to her. As she hurled it upon victim after victim, it became apparent that the fire was far from ordinary. The instant it brushed flesh, it exploded over the rest of the body and consumed its victim in dark flames. It only flickered away after its victim had been reduced to nothing but ash.
The slaughter continued for no more than 20 minutes. Soon, the once prevalent screams that tore across the night sky fell silent.
With their work complete, the beast came to stand beside its master. Blood was smeared across its black coat and flesh was lodged between its teeth and claws. The young woman brought her hand to the beast's muzzle, giving it a soft stroke to which the creature cooed.
Then, to ensure that there were no lingering survivors, the young woman stepped forward and rained another round of black flames over the entire village. Through her vacant eyes, she watched the houses burn.
But to their mild surprise, a young boy, perhaps no more than seven years old, came running from the tumbling remains of what had been his home. His clothes were horribly dirty, but he seemed otherwise unharmed as he tried to run away.
The beast let out a yip as it watched the boy run, clearly wanting to make an attack. But with her hand still on its leathery skin, the creature did not give chase. Instead, the young woman stroked the fellbeast's neck, calming it as she turned to watch the boy run. The pair shared a quick exchange of chirps and the beast stilled.
Once the beast calmed entirely, she leapt into the shadow of a crumbling doorway and vanished into its gloom. Silently, she reappeared in the shadow of another home nearby. A home that the boy happened to be running past just as she emerged from its darkness.
The boy, in his frantic state, crashed straight into her as she stepped forward and he fell back into the snow. In his panic, he tried to scoot away, tears already pouring from his aquamarine eyes.
Yet through all of this, the girl's lifeless expression did not change. As he continued to try and scramble away, she walked forward with one hand already filled with purple fire posed to finish him off. As her palm launched towards him, he froze in fear at the knowledge of his impending death.
But then something happened that the woman, the boy, and the beast did not intend.
She abruptly halted her attack. Her palm hovered just inches from the boy's face, and was still being licked by purple fire. By some grace, their eyes connected. Her bottomless orbs saw the tears streaming from his aquamarine eyes and the panic glistening within them.
A piece of her resisted. There was something about the boy that was distinctly familiar. His fiery red hair and fox-like face, though smeared with trails of tears, were enough to spark something within her to rebel. It begged her to not follow through with the attack. Whether she actually knew this boy or not wasn't the point. What mattered was that he reminded her of someone she held dear. Someone she would never imagine bringing any harm.
All of this had stirred something deep within her that the wizard thought to be forever buried under his dark curse. But now that it had awoken, it refused to be silenced. Thus, the flames in her palms died altogether and she recoiled away from the boy as her true self began to fight tooth and nail to make its way back to the surface. However, this quickly proved to be no simple task, for she staggered back and eventually buckled to her knees. Her hands clutched her skull as the chaotic power struggle continued to rage within her mind. She began hissing and screaming all at once, her fists digging deeper into her hair as she fought the black magic that resided within her.
Having been so unexpectedly spared, the boy remained shocked, frozen where he was on the ground. His expression now also adorned a mark of perplexity. Why hadn't she killed him? What changed? The young woman then let out another scream. He flinched at the sound, but remained where he was.
The fellbeast had quickly grown restless at the sounds of its rider's anguished cries. It scuttled about uncomfortably at first, growling in uncertainty. Then she screamed again, and the beast's resolve evaporated. Its urge to protect her was stronger than her previous command of staying put.
So the creature leapt forward through the air towards her, silent as a ghost. But the boy was still between the beast and its rider, and that simply would not do. It opened its gaping maw and descended on him. The beast's intent was clear.
The young woman looked up just in time to see the fellbeast snap the child between its dagger-like teeth and fling his broken body into the remains of one of the burning houses. For an instant, she could only stare. Her eyes were now distinctly wide. The longer she looked at the burning house, the more the darkness began to creep out of her eyes until it revealed gray-blue irises amidst the still haunting blackness of her sclera.
The boy was dead.
She rose in a jagged haste, tears tumbling from the corners of her eyes as she went, lunging for the fellbeast with an agonized fury. With speed that the creature could not counter, she screamed and lashed out and clutched at its neck, her hands once again glowing with angry purple flames.
The beast began to cry out in pain, its flesh quickly singed at the magical burns. Reflexively, it thrashed its neck around violently, trying to shake the young woman off. She was then sent soaring through the air at the ferocity of the beast's efforts to dislodge her. She flew through the air and crashed back into the snow covered ground, much further away. She tumbled for quite some time before finally coming to a stop. Yet, as she had rolled, something had slipped from her neck: a purple and white beaded necklace now lay in the ditch her body had carved into the ground as it had plowed through the snow. But she was unaware, for she had fallen unconscious.
With its neck now scorched raw, the fellbeast let out a feral roar towards its unresponsive rider. After an aggravated shake of its head the creature took to the skies, leaving her face down in the cold snow as it flew back in the direction they had come. For a time all was quiet, save for the haunting winter winds as they snaked through the decimated village and the lingering plumes of smoke.
As she lay there, still unmoving in the snow, a figure stepped from the forest that rested just beyond the skirts of the village. They were cloaked in dark earthy tones, and their pace was quick as they approached the scene. As he walked through the carnage, the ranger pulled his sword from its sheath. He would end her if she hadn't already perished. He could not allow her to partake in another rampage.
But just as he was nearly upon her, she groaned. Reflexively, he ducked behind the nearest corner to conceal himself. He peered at her through the cracks of blackened wood, watching her for a moment.
She clutched her head with one hand, disoriented and clearly in pain. She lifted herself off the ground further, coming to sit with her feet folded beneath her. He watched as her face shifted from confusion to one of utter horror as she took in the scene that surrounded her. She then stood, clearly distraught as panicked tears began to pour from her eyes.
"What happened here?" He heard her say.
His brow furrowed at the statement, and the grip on his blade tightened in uncertainty.
He was about to step from his hiding place when he watched a deepening panic overcome her. She had become so frantic that the ranger had paused yet again in his aims to finish her. The woman, in her terrified state, had only stumbled over a half-burnt barrel and had fallen to the ground again. He watched as she hastily picked herself up, finally catching a true glimpse of her eyes.
Her irises were such a shade of gray-blue that, against the blackness that still surrounded them, it was as if her eyes were aglow. They were unlike anything he had ever seen, so seemingly endless in their expressiveness.
But even so, the panic and confusion that he saw in those eyes was unmistakable. Tears tracked down her face, for it was clear that she was still unable to comprehend the horrors that surrounded her. A half-hiccup, half-sob escaped her.
She then turned on heel and ran.
Ironically enough, she chose to run in the direction that was distinctly opposite of him. He quickly stepped out of his place of hiding, and strode after her. But as he followed, the ranger felt his pace slow. He watched her stumble and fall not only once but twice. Her sobs continued to echo in front of him as he continued to silently trail behind her.
Though he would never admit it, his feelings of scorn began to change to one of pity.
By the time she made her way through the tiny village, his pace had slowed to a walk, and his sword had entirely dropped to his side. It was only once she had fully broken out between the last of the houses did he stop in his pursuit of her. As a precaution—though he doubted she would look back—he concealed himself behind an unhinged door and watched her run through the snowy countryside away from him.
After a moment, he sighed through his nose and sheathed his sword, his gaze following her as she continued to vanish against the horizon. Given her direction and pace, she would arrive at the walls of the White City by day's end.
He then stepped from his hiding place, still watching the speck of her move ever further and further away. He had missed his chance to kill her, but he could not ignore the voice within him that had urged him to understand that there was more to what he had just witnessed other than what he had seen.
He then pulled down the hood of his cloak, revealing wavy brown hair that fell just above his shoulders and stubble to match. His blue eyes stared half perplexed, half cautious in her direction one last time before turning and walking back in the direction he had originally come. He then gazed up, observing the ashen clouds approaching from above the forest. His mouth formed a slight frown. "A storm is coming." He muttered. The ranger then pulled his hood up and made his way back into the forest, covering his tracks as he went.
.
The view then left that of the decimated village and skipped forward in time, its view still following that of the woman. She continued to walk through the snow, but now her run had slowed to a painful trudge as she came to stand before a great wall.
These were walls of Minas Tirth, but she did not know that. All she knew was that she could go no further. Her mind was fogged. Her face said so, for her eyes were half lidded and her expression was heavily dazed. As she stood observing the mighty wall, she failed to notice herself begin to sway. Finally, out of a deep exhaustion, she collapsed to a heap in the freshly fallen snow.
However, after a short time a young man appeared on horseback, a small party accompanying him as they went about their afternoon patrol. His blonde hair was dotted with snowflakes, and his strongly cut jaw and cheeks were flushed from the cold. His mount cantered along amply, its sheer power easily overcoming the snow as they traveled along the wall's edge. Thus, given his route, it did not take long before he came upon her fallen form.
Upon initially reaching her, he could only stare down at the strange woman. He was as mesmerized by her truly foreign appearance as he was dumbfounded at her being there in the first place. Who was she? From what land did she hail? Was she friend or foe? What had happened to her that had reduced her to this?
The young man was knocked from his musings when the woman in question let out a pained whimper. She then shifted ever so slightly. His eyes widened as he watched her, amazed that she was even alive given her attire being far from suitable for this sort of weather.
Her showing signs of life were enough to stir him into action. Regardless of her unknown origins and allegiances, he could not simply leave her there to die. No, his conscience would not allow it. So the young man then dismounted his horse, went over to her, lifted her up into his arms and swiftly returned them both to the saddle of his horse. With the girl secured in front of him, he grabbed at the reins and urged his horse to return to the city. The scene followed them until the gates of Minas Tirith closed behind them. Then memory then faded away entirely, leaving nothing but silence in the wake of its recollection.