Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[ In a house in a wood there lived a girl. Not a dark, musty, wood, filled with creeping darkness and an ominous wind, nor yet a lonely, deserted, empty wood with creaking branches and eerie sounds: it was a green wood that was filled with lush life and a symphony of songbirds, and that means harmony... ]

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

(Life # ???)

The girl lived in a house in the woods.

In these woods ran a stream that flowed from a mountain to the sea.

The girl was always curious about the stream and wondered where it led to but never did she ever follow it. Never did she wander too far from her house in the woods.

She did not remember when she began to live there, for it was all she knew, and nothing more could she remember.

It irked her somewhat that she could not remember her missing memories but only sometimes. Other times she felt an apathy towards her lost memories. Most of the time she felt an uncontrollable flame burning inside her chest that she could not explain, a wild sort of rage that she did not understand and hurt to contain. It burned her. This anger burned her terribly. But it did not burn always. There was also a bitterness in her soul, a hole that she could not fill, and an endless sort of sorrow.

The Woods were enchanted by the One for her so that in them she could be safe though the Woods could not protect her from her own failings.

"It hurts," she said, clutching her chest right over where her heart lay.

"I know..." he soothed, "I know..."

"What is this burden I bear?"

"A heart," he answered, "it is a heart and a heart is a heavy burden, indeed."

"I don't want it." She whined, begging him to take it from her but he refused.

"Please," she whimpered pathetically, "please..."

"I would not curse you with such a fate, my child." He said quietly, "It is a fate far worse than death."

But she continued to plead and beg him to take her heart for the pain was excruciating.

"Why," she cried, tears sliding down her cheek, "do you let me feel such pain?"

"What joy is there in life without sorrow and strife?"

The girl fell silent as she pondered this.

"In a world made only of gold what worth does it have when there is nothing comparable? And then in a world made only of coal? Nothing, for in their world they are the most valuable and worthless at the same time. It makes no difference. Would you want to live in a world where there is no difference between sorrow and joy?"

"No," she said, falling silent.

"Come," he beckoned her into his arms, "a heavy heart mustn't carried alone."

She snuggled into his warm presence, leaning into his strong, comforting, form.

"Stay with me?"

"Always, my child."

(Eventually her time in the Woods came to an end and she left though the One's presence never truly left her.)

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

(Life # 13)

She had always imagined it would be brutal if it ever indeed happened to her; something forceful and sudden that would abruptly catch her unaware somewhere out there— perhaps in a dark alley —and then have their way with her.

It would have been violent.

He would have been the perfect brute of a stranger; someone easily hatable.

She would have been shaken by the experience but would have eventually conquered the darkness of the trauma and come out a stronger woman. She would've been able to rely on her friends and family to be her support system.

That was how she entertained the dark thought and imagined how it would happen if it ever did.

But it wasn't a monster that crept out of the dark to reveal a hideous face.

It was a face that she knew.

He wasn't her friend though they were once on friendly terms. In fact, he was the brother of a friend.

Her best friend.

It wasn't in an alleyway but in her own house.

And it wasn't violent or brutish.

It was forceful.

It was pressuring.

He made her feel as though it were wrong to refuse him. He made her doubt whether she wanted to refuse him and filled her with—guilt, guilt, guilt—uncertainty at the way his eyes filled with disappointment when she said no.

He insisted that this was what she wanted.

She didn't—-and then she wasn't sure.

"Come on," he pushed her, "You. Me." He pointed to her then at himself then gestured in the general direction of the bedrooms.

"I don't..." she trailed off weakly.

"I like you," he told her easily, "you're looking beautiful tonight."

She blushed at the complement as she was unused to being on the receiving end. She wasn't very confident or outgoing and often preferred to quietly draw in the background or play the piano in the background. She wasn't a social butterfly. She was an artist and a musician. She knew art and music, not people. This was all foreign to her and she was easily overwhelmed. At his words, she ended up as a stuttering and stammering mess unable to properly voice her protests.

He continued to fluster her as he swept her towards the bedroom and never once gave her a chance to protest.

He silenced her mouth with a rough kiss.

"N—mmnph!"

And another.

And another.

She tried pushing him away.

"Stop it! I don't—" want to sleep with you. I don't like you. I said no.

He kissed her again.

"You're making me—" uncomfortable. Scared. Uneasy.

"You want this." He told her as he undressed.

She didn't.

"I want to make you feel good."

She didn't want him to touch her.

But suddenly, she lost her voice and all ability to protest. She felt scared and confused, small and vulnerable.

This wasn't what she wanted.

But it was what she got—-what he forcefully gave her.

He—

He—

She felt sick.

R

She wasn't okay.

A

She wasn't okay.

P

She wasn't okay.

E

It wasn't okay.

D

What he did to her was—

It was—

It was rape.

H

It wasn't violent.

E

It wasn't a monster.

R

It wasn't in an alleyway somewhere in the dark.

It was manipulative.

It was a family friend.

It was in her own house.

She wasn't safe.

She wasn't safe.

She couldn't speak of this to anyone because he was both her best friend's brother and a friend of her family.

What could she say?

She tried.

Oh, she tried.

"Why do you keep avoiding my brother?" Her best friend had asked in a disapproving tone.

"I'm not."

"That's not true," her friend said with a slight growl, "he's done nothing to earn your ire. Why do you keep being such a bitch to him? He likes you."

A flash of cold-hot-cold fury pulsed through her veins.

"Do you know what he did to me?" She snarled as her friend flinched back.

Her mother entered the room and she was filled with a sudden shame.

"My brother ... ? What did he do?"

"I—-" her eyes darted to her mother, "nothing."

"O-kay?"

"Nothing. He did—-it's nothing. I'm fine."

What support she thought she had crumbled and she spiralled.

She felt voiceless.

She felt so alone.

(She'd freeze and tense up whenever he entered a room.)

She was terrified.

But—

He was her best friend's brother.

She loved her best friend.

But—

Her mother loved him like a son.

She loved her mother.

That must mean—-

It was all her fault.

She did this to herself.

Why didn't she say no?

She could've said no.

Did she lead him on?

Her fault.

Her fault.

All her fault.

Whywhywhy

Why did she let him do it?

Why didn't she stop him?

Why—-

Why was she such a coward?

She couldn't tell anyone.

She hated it.

She hated him.

She hated herself.

For years, she spiralled further into a depression, into darkness, living terribly as a terribly bitter person.

She wanted to scream: to cry, to yell, to call for helphelphelpHELP

It was no more than a whisper in the back of her throat.

She wanted to scream.

But she was left voiceless after that night.

There were no visible scars, only the trauma and what it did to her.

No one understood.

They never could.

She pushed, pushed, pushed, them away until they were far enough that they couldn't hurt her.

She was safe now.

She was all alone.

And she died feeling all alone.

(She wasn't alone)

She died alone.

(She wasn't alone)

She died all alone.

(It was easy to pop pills when she couldn't sleep without them.

It was as easy as falling asleep forever.)

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

[The One felt a great rage for what had happened and a great sorrow for his child's suffering. He sang for her a great lament and called her wandering spirit home to his protection.]

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

How absolutely sweet was this harmony of love that sang to her soul and guided it to the next. That brought her from the deep to the land of dreams then awoke her from a deeper slumber. The deepest slumber, in fact. The one known as the eternal slumber: death.

(The penalty of sin was death)

She was redeemed.

The One who sang all into existence paid for her sins and paid her debt, taking her soul from deep, deep, void and to the warmth of his light—-The Light.

The penalty of her sins were great but she was redeemed by his overwhelming, vastly flowing, undeniable and unchanging love.

(Love? She asked incredulously a long time ago)

It was a love unending.

A love that flowed greater than any river, more vastly than any ocean, mightier than the strongest storms, and puts all the stars in the sky to shame.

Amor Vincit Omnia.

Love conquers all.

(I don't believe in love, she said once in a lifetime long since past)

Redemisti In Caritate

Redeemed through love.

(Even so, he said to her fondly, I love you)

She had lived through horror after horror and though she had survived, she had not walked unscathed. She was broken and chipped in all the wrong places, fractured and bruised all over her body and soul. Hurt too many times to count and pushed to the brink of no return and beyond. With only broken faith and bitterness, she hardened her heart. She was filled with more bitterness than love.

(I'm hideous and ruined, she said, you cannot love me and all my broken pieces)

(I can, he told her, and I will)

Redemption is not just about the survival of our soul. It's about the revival of a soul that was once dead.

She did not know this now.

But soon she would.

Soon she would find Salvation's Key.

Her soul-- in all its broken glory, --was reborn.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

(Life # 14)

She is reborn with a broken soul, a broken heart, and a great power hidden deep inside her—a great love that gives her strength to live on, an overwhelming and everlasting love.

It is Eru's Light.

And he is with her always.

Chapter Text

(Life # 14)

"Come, now, Aerin. It's time to go home."

Locks of light ash seemed to glisten like gold as they billowed beneath the sunlight and in the salty breeze. Her hair resembled greatly a banner of woven gold as it billowed and billowed like smoke and cloth.

(But what did that matter?)

Her eyes were blue, the bluest in fact that anyone had ever seen (if they had ever seen them for she often hid her eyes). They contained a deep sorrow within along with a sort of maturity that didn't belong. Her eyes were blue like the ocean and sea, like the sky and rain, and like the colour of sadness.

(But what did that mean?)

She stared into the distance.

(It meant she was reborn and longed to be free somewhere far, far, away)

(It meant that while she was no longer the person she once was, she still had the same soul—the same broken soul—for the eyes are the windows to the soul)

(She no longer had dark hair and grey eyes)

Roughly she was seized by the arm. She thrashed and screamed, kicking wildly as she tried to escape her captor's grasp.

(She didn't want him to touch her.)

Irrational panic and fear filled her and blinded her of her surroundings.

"Aerin!" Her mother scolded, tugging at her blonde hair and causing her to flinch as another memory surged forth.

(A memory of a woman's tender hands braiding dark brown hair.)

Anger sparked in her chest.

She spat in the woman's face.

Not my mother, snarled the voice in her head as memory howled in heartbreak. You aren't my mother!

Springing free as the woman loosened her grip in shock and to wipe away the spit, Melærin ran away as fast as she could.

"Aerin!" Her mother cried, "Come back!"

The child ran through the city, past the bustling market and its vendors, and shoving through crowds of people until she found herself by the ports of Linhir.

She found herself staring once more into the distance.

The waves rhythmically pulled and push onto the beach, splish-splashing as seabirds cooed above.

(Once in a place remembered only in her memory, she stood in a place like it with her mother.)

(She wanted to see what lay on the other side of the sea... but she died before she ever could.)

Tears fell from her blue eyes and a tremble came over her small frame.

Why, she thought, slumping to the ground, Why am I here? Why again? Why me?

A hand fell comfortingly on her shoulder, squeezing with reassurance. She was filled with warmth and strength but when she turned around none stood behind her.

Then her mother approached, huffing and puffing for she had chased her child through the city. Her face was stricken with worry and her eyes held great concern for her daughter's well being.

"Aerin," she took a hesitant step forward.

Remorse filled Aerin for her actions against her mother.

(She wasn't Mom. Mom was Mom, but she was Mama.)

"Mama," she whispered as shame rose within, "I'm sorry ..."

The woman embraced her tightly.

"Thank Eru," breathed the woman as she cupped her face, "thank the Valar that you're alright. I was so worried when you ran off like that."

"Sorry." She said again.

"Why did you run?"

She shifted uncomfortably beneath her mother's eyes.

"I thought of something that scared me."

Mama kissed her forehead and whispered to her in a strange tongue.

She leaned into her mother's warmth and nuzzled her face into her skirts.

"I love you, Aerin." Mama said.

Hesitantly, she peeked up at her mother, pausing a moment before replying.

"I love you too."

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

Whispers of a scandal stirred in the dark. From the darkness croaked rumours of a woman who slept with man and bore him a child before marriage.

And even now as her child runs wild with golden hair and blue eyes...

Still, she has no husband.

None could see beneath the beneath and could find the truth within these rumours.

The woman was scorned by some.

Then there's another; of a poor old widow who lost her love to the sea.

The sea.

The sea which her daughter longs to voyage across.

The dangerous sea that claims the lives of many every year.

The wild, untameable, sea.

(Fit for a wild, untameable, child.)

The woman was pitied by others.

Finally was there a third rumour—this being the most absurd of them all—of pointed ears, lost songs and a lover not of the race of Edain.

Some noticed the slightest point in the child's mostly round, mostly human ears and wondered.

Could her lover be of the Eldar?

Aerin snorted at the whisperings of fools with far too much time on their hands as she followed her mother back through the city roads.

Nitwits, she thought, wasters of air with mouths unnecessarily large.

She wasn't an elf.

She wasn't one of the Peredhil.

They were all idiots.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

Sunrise, waking at dawn, working until dusk, then bed at sunset as the stars and moon came to life. And then it repeated. There were few small meals of bread and water in between but scarcely any moments of rest otherwise. Such was the life of her Mama who had no husband and needed to care for her child.

She worked as a weaver in the house of a respectable seamstress.

Aerin herself worked as a young embroiderer with her mother for she had small and nimble hands that were adept at making patterns.

They were paid well.

But they were not at all well liked—with the exception of the seamstress who adored Aerin very much for she had no daughter.

It simply wasn't respectable for a women to not have a husband and Mama had never clarified whether she were a widow or not.

Not even Aerin could pry the truth from her mother's lips.

"One day," her Mama would say with nostalgic eyes and a secretive smile, "one day you will learn."

And so she waited, and waited.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

"Don't touch me!" She shrieked, panic in her eyes. "Don't touch me—please, please!"

"I didn't mean anything of it, girl! I just wanted to help you find your parents! Wait—!" He reached for her again and she scrambled back.

I don't like being touched! I don't want you to touch me! I didn't want him to touch me! Get off, get off, get off!

She wanted to scream so many things.

But she could only manage a pitiful: "Don't touch me!" And a pathetic "Please!"

"I just—!"

"My daughter said not to touch her." A voice said icily.

"Mama!"

The man paled at the burning in her mother's eyes promising pain should he linger any longer.

"M-m-my p-pardon, Madame!" He fled after dipping his head quickly.

Once he was out of sight, Mama scrambled to hold her daughter in her arms.

Aerin sobbed.

"Hush," Mama soothed, "you're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

"I don't like men!" She babbled, "men are scary and they—they—!"

But she could not finish.

Mama's eyes darkened.

"Who?"

But she would not say.

And mother couldn't pry it from her.

Later, a long while after she had gathered her wits, Aerin cursed him a hundred times, wishing she had never met him and cursed herself and her weakness also a thousand times more.

Even after death she had not escaped him and his sullying touch.

She shivered, feeling dirty and violated once more as though she were back then.

Trauma was something she thought death would take away from her.

But it had not.

She felt as afraid and broken as always.

She felt even more afraid in such a foreign land.

She wasn't free.

She wasn't free.

(She wondered if she would ever truly heal.)

Chapter Text

She loved deeply, fiercely and gave her love to people that abused it.

She was so overflowing with love that she poured it out until she had nothing left.

Once upon a time she believed in love.

Once upon a time they drained her dry and now she was filled with nothing but bitter emptiness.

She ran out of love, of patience, of compassion and hope.

(But the One is unending and his love endures forever.)

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

The sun was still in the sky and the stars were just beginning to wake when she and Mama finally finished their work.

"Aerin," Mama said with a tired smile, wiping her brow with a cloth. "let's go home."

Obediently she rose and dusted off her skirt, taking a basket filled with spindles of coloured thread and putting it on a nearby table, setting it beside her embroidery.

They bid the Seamstress goodnight and departed so that they returned home before the streets became too dark.

She followed her mother and beneath the moon and the stars she saw her mother's tired eyes shining with something wonderful.

With love.

It was the first time she really saw it and thought about it in her second (thirteenth, fourteenth...) life.

Now she was forced to confront the mess of her heart and—-shudder—feelings. She didn't want to deal with that now but when Mama was looking at her like that with—-with—-

She couldn't stop her thoughts from spiralling.

Mama looked at her with love.

With love, not lust. Not like him. Not like him at all. He was bad. Anything like him was bad. He made her feel unsafe, alone, unloved and wrong. His eyes burned with scorching desire.

But Mama was different.

Her eyes shone with a gentle warmth and kindness. Mama was good. Mama was safe. Mama could be trusted. She made her feel safe, cherished, warm and happy.

She wanted to trust Mama.

But could she?

Could she trust Mama?

She trusted him once and he hurt her. He hurt her badly and she never truly recovered.

She was scared.

She was scared of being hurt by someone she l—- by someone she lo—- someone she lov—-

She couldn't say it.

Aerin wanted to return Mama's feelings.

She wanted to L-O-V-E her.

But she was scared.

She was broken.

She wasn't the daughter that Mama thought she was.

She couldn't even go to Mom for help and she trusted Mom.

She was ashamed of everything that had happened to her.

Ashamed and afraid.

She felt dirty and impure.

She was disgraced and sullied by his hands.

Mom would've been so disappointed in her.

Mom whom she loved and never wanted to let down or shame.

Mom never forsook her... but she was always afraid.

Mom would have been ashamed.

(She wouldn't have.)

She would have stopped loving her.

(Not true.)

She was afraid to lose Mom's love.

(True.)

She wasn't worthy. She was worthless. She was pathetic and—and—-

And she was afraid.

She was terrified.

Mom was gone.

Mama was here.

She was so afraid of losing Mama.

If she didn't let Mama in then she wouldn't have anything to lose.

She let Mom in and then she pushed her away and now it was too late she was deaddeaddead and Mom was gonegonegoneforever.

She wanted Mom.

She missed her.

Mom was gone.

Mama was here.

But Mama wasn't Mom's replacement—no, no, never—Mama was Mama, Mom was Mom.

They were different.

She loved Mom, loves her still.

But they were so similar it hurt.

Mama wasn't Mom but she was her mother and she loved her.

And that scared her.

She wasn't worthy.

She was broken.

She didn't belong.

She did so many terrible things because she was afraid. Terrible, unspeakable things that made her ashamed.

She was a terrible person.

A sinner.

She was afraid.

And then she heard a voice.

"Don't fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine."

At first she was afraid of the voice, but then she heard what the voice was saying.

Don't fear.

"I love you."

I have redeemed you.

"I love you."

(You are worthy.)

"I love you."

I know you by name.

"I love you."

You are Mine.

"I love you, *******"

A power beyond any other she had ever experienced surged inside, filling her with warmth.

Love.

She was loved.

But that didn't mean her fear was gone.

"I love you, Aerin."

She was still terrified but the voice gave her courage in spite of her fear.

She was still broken.

It would take time for her to heal.

But now she knew that she was loved by a being whose love was everlasting.

She was loved.

She was loved by someone whose love would never fade and that made her feel brave.

Four words came to the tip of her tongue. And although the phrase was short the words weren't any less meaningful.

It took great courage to say them.

Blue eyes shone like stars as she whispered:

"I love you too."

And she took the first step on a journey of healing.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

"Where are we going, Mama?"

"Back to the land of our ancestors," She explained with a smile. "Seven generations have passed since my kin have lived in Dale but we've not yet forgotten our roots and continue to pay homage to the land."

The name sounded vaguely familiar.

"Dale?" Aerin repeated quietly.

"A great city whose fall was an equally great tragedy."

Dale... fall...?

Memories stirred like a hazy dream she couldn't quite grasp, slipping through her fingers like smoke before she could properly recall them.

How did she know of that name? Certainly not by this lifetime but the previous. The previous? How? It made no sense for her to recognize the name unless... unless...

Oh, it was no good.

She could not remember.

"What happened?" She found herself asking though she soon regretted the question.

Mama grew solemn.

"Smaug the Terrible."

Aerin's eyes became wide.

A vision of several dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard and a dragon came to mind.

And she remembered.

And then she fainted.

Chapter Text

"Smaug the Terrible."

She knew she was in Middle-Earth or at least she had suspected it greatly. How could she not? She had lived in Gondor for most of her second life and heard many songs and tales of elves, dwarves and other strange beings. She would have had to have been quite dense to have not noticed that. Deep down she knew she was in Middle-Earth. But nothing could have prepared her for what memories the name Smaug brought forth from the deepest part of her mind and soul.

Memories upon memories were trapped within her mind, building and building but not yet spilled so that she could grasp them. Then at the name, the dam separating past and present lifetimes broke and the memories came gushing like a flood, and crashing like a tide against the rocky shores of her mind. She recalled various fragmented memories of an almost forgotten lifetime left behind, of a past-life forever lost to her, and the knowledge of all she no longer had.

(This wasn't her first time living, nor was it her second or even third...)

She was an old soul.

(Though she didn't know it.)

But she was just a child and her mind couldn't quite handle the many fragments of several different lifetimes suddenly surging forth all at once. They confused her for they were not only of her previous life but of lives she could not recognize.

She fainted.

And when she woke, her memories became like dreams lost in darkness.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

"A dragon!" She cried upon hearing the completed tale of Dale, "What has become of such a fearsome creature?"

Has Bilbo Baggins had his adventure yet?

"To my knowledge, it sleeps to this very day in Erebor." Mama answered to her dismay.

That means Bilbo hasn't yet arrived with his dwarvish company.

She twitched nervously, anxiously glancing towards her mother as they continued to rough the long winding road ahead of them. "And we're visiting the ruins of Dale?"

Her voice came out in a choked squeak.

"We are." Mama replied, ignoring how Aerin stopped to stare at her as though she were plagued by a sudden insanity.

"The dragon sleeps nearby."

"Exactly. It sleeps." Mama said pointedly, "it hasn't woken in years and it won't wake now. It'll be a few hundred years, I reckon, until it wakes again."

Aerin pressed her lips together in a firm line. "Mm." She said unconvinced.

I think my misfortunate luck will have it that Smaug wakes when we arrive.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

During the night, Mama kept guard as Aerin slept, wielding her dagger with keen eyes.

Mama's a badass. She thought as as part of her old happy self leaked through, though it faded as quickly as it came and she began to sulk in the dark once more.

It soon became a routine for them to travel during the day, for Mama to take a nap at dinner time and then wake to watch guard as Aerin rested through the night. Then the cycle would repeat again with the occasional hunting or foraging trips.

They came across a river—the Anduin, to be exact, and followed it north.

It was there that Mama taught her how to gut fish.

It was a messy ordeal that Aerin absolutely hated but it was a useful skill to have. Begrudgingly, did she learn how to catch and gut a fish. In fact, Mama made her master all sorts of survival skills.

They made a game of it.

"Edible or not-edible?" Mama asked her as she pointed to a prickly plant nearby.

Aerin squinted at the dubious looking plant.

"Not." She decided.

"Touchable or not-touchable?" Mama pressed.

Aerin eyed the fuzzy stem's prickles warily—Hmm don't like that. "Not."

"Good." Mama nodded in approval, moving on to the next one. "Touch?"

Aerin examined the plant and carefully considered the veins of the leaves and the angry tinge of red near the tips of each leaf. Three leaves.

Is this poison ivy?

"N-no?"

Poison ivy exists in this world, right?

"Was that your question or your answer?"

"No." She repeated, with confidence.

Mama smiled.

"Correct."

A sense of satisfaction bubbled through her chest and warmed her heart at Mama's approval.

I like learning from Mama, she thought as Mama began naming all the surrounding flora and their various uses.

She listened and learned with a fond smile.

I love you, Mama.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

With her memories came nightmares.

She slept restlessly that night for she was haunted by grim dreams—terrible dreams that brought her to a place of great darkness and great evil.

In her dreams she was no longer a child but one of her past-incarnations with long dark hair and grey eyes.

Grey eyes glazed with terror.

She walked through the valley of shadow, fearfully staring at the black tendrils that nipped at her long skirts and fell into a sprint as the darkness began to chase her, closing in from all sides.

Help! She tried to scream only to find that her voice had been stolen by fear.

Help!

She tripped and dark tendrils seized her legs, dragging her downwards into shadow which felt as though being doused in icy water. It was a coldness that chilled her very soul.

He—! She cried again, choking as she swallowed cold shadow which burned her throat.

She couldn't breath.

She was drowning.

She was going to die.

The darkness rippled and her skirt spread out very mermaid-like as it weighed her further down into the dark depths of hell.

Then, the tendrils adorned her with a crown of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples.

Help!

She was sinking.

She could not scream in despair, she could not fight it. In fact, it seemed like she could do nothing at all but sob miserably as she drifted closer to her fate.

She wept.

Even as her mind began to wander she clung to her wits and remembered a saying from long ago.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me...

Her weeping ceased, replaced with a tentative silence.

She was trembling when she did what she hadn't in a very long time.

She prayed.

At first nothing happened.

Then she saw him—a figure in the distance that glowed as brightly as a star.

He approached and she saw that he was clad in dark colours and yet shone with a strange light that radiated peace, warmth and comfort. His hair was white—though some might call it silver—and she stared hopefully at his pale hand extending out through the darkness for her own.

"Do not be afraid," he said to her in Westron as he pulled her from the darkness, "for the One has heard your pleas and has sent me to take you from this place."

He spoke comfortingly and from him came a surge of light that brought a vision of a beautiful garden filled with great yew and cedar trees and flowers of magnificent colours.

Ophelia was in awe as she stepped into the vision and into the garden.

"This place—-"

She could not describe it in mortal words for never before had she seen so beautiful a thing.

She sang.

The garden touched her soul and refreshed it. She could feel her soul healing and wept with tears of joy rather than of fear or sorrow.

It was like Eden.

Ophelia felt at peace here in this garden.

The man—-or whatever strange being he was—watched her wonder and smiled.

"Who are you?" She asked after a moment, turning to face the stranger. "Where am I?"

"You are in the gardens of Lórien," he answered her with gentle and kind eyes.

"Lórien..." she repeated to herself as she strained to try and remember the name.

I know that name...

Her head perked suddenly.

"Is that your name also?"

"Many know me by that name," he affirmed as he glanced at her, "but you will know me as Irmo."

For a while Aerin stared, then her feet gave way and she fell. The Master of Desires, Dreams and Illusions caught her and guided her to a stone bench.

"You are one of the Valar." Aerin breathed in awe and stunned disbelief after she sat down. "You rescued me?"

"Dreams are my domain," he said, "and Eru Illuvatar wished for me to save you. We both wanted to save you. I guided you from your nightmares to my garden."

"T-thank you." Aerin stammered then flushed.

"It was my pleasure." He smiled sadly, giving her a bitter-sweet look. His look reminded her of the expression Mom would make when she visited Grandma in her nursing home and Grandma couldn't remember her.

She paused.

Why was he looking at her like that?

"Do..." she began, "do you know me?"

She shook her head and rephrased her question.

"Do I know you?" Aerin asked.

He said nothing for a long while.

"You will." He said softly.

"I... what?"

He turned away.

"You're waking." Irmo said, "We will part ways now but first I give you my council... though the darkness shines darkly, the light of Eru shines brighter. Remember him and know that he will be there for you in your time of need and that no matter how difficult the crossroads may be if you trust him then he will guide you."

"Wait—-!" She called then winced as her voice echoed feebly and the sound of the world around her became distorted. The lines of reality and dream began to blur and she felt herself being pulled away from the garden.

He said something to her as she departed but she could not hear.

She could only make out the words farewell and... and... Eny—

Eny?

What word could be made from 'Eny'?

She did not have time to ponder it.

Aerin woke with a sharp gasp.

Disoriented, she glanced around at her surroundings and her heart sank.

She was no longer in Lórien but in the woods near a river with Mama on the way to potentially see a dragon.

"Good morning, Aerin." Mama smiled at her with the same kind eyes Irmo had.

Her disappointment faded.

"Good morning, Mama." She chirped cheerfully, feeling refreshed by her visit to Lórien.

Mama chuckled at her cheeriness.

"You seem happy. Did you have a good dream?"

Aerin thought of her adventure and nodded. "I did."

"I'm glad," Mama said then became stern. "Now we must get moving. You slept in for a long time so we must hike twice as fast today."

She smiled sheepishly.

"Alright," she said, "to Dale!"

"To Dale." Mama echoed and off they went.

Chapter Text

She was twelve summers old.

She was young, but even as a child her beauty was apparent. To him, her smile was more precious than gold and her eyes more beautiful than any gem or treasure that any man could tell of.

She was his beloved sister whom he loved more than anything.

And he would always protect her.

He was only eighteen and already he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

(She was his world. She was his everything.)

They only ever really had each other.

Mater and Pater died leaving him to lead the family, protect his sister and to carry on its legacy.

He needed to protect her.

He would.

She was everything to him, and he to her.

(Until he wasn't.)

Things changed after she found an elf in the woods on their journey home to Lebennin.

The elf was in a terrible state.

A sprained wrist, a broken leg, bruises and blood everywhere among several large gashes across his back.

His first thought was to pull his sister away from the bloody sight and shield her eyes but she surprised him.

His sister was always the more compassionate and soft hearted out of the two of them. And he always thought it would be her doom.

It wasn't this time.

(Perhaps it was his.)

His sister had already removed the elf's armour and begun cleaning the wounds across his back when he arrived.

"Anna!" He called in dismay at the sight of blood marring her clothes. "Are you well? Are you alright?"

"They aren't my wounds." She answered dismissively. "Do we have any bandages or clean water left?"

"We don't have much." He answered, eyeing the elf warily. "And I doubt it would do him much good."

"Then we'll just have to try." The short girl said as she stood from her crouch and dusted her hands. "Bring me the pack, Tavor."

"But—!"

"We can't just leave him here." She said, "we have to at least try. If he lives, he lives. If he doesn't then at least we will have tried. Then we can wash our hands of him. Either way we can't just let him die."

We can, he thought. Easily we could.

"It's wrong." She said. "It would be wrong."

It would be safer. He thought again.

"Please," she said and he stiffened.

He struggled with himself, wavering beneath her expectant stare. Finally after a moment of intense contemplation his shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Fine." He snapped begrudgingly. "But we'd better work quickly or else he'll bleed out."

She beamed.

He eyed the elf with a healthy amount of wariness.

Only you, he thought, glancing back at her. Only for you.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

He didn't like elves.

(Correction, he didn't like this elf.)

He didn't like the way his sister mothered him, the way she gave her rations to him at the cost of her own well-being.

Too kind, he thought. Naive.

But that's what he loved about her.

He loved her kindness however unwavering it was.

It told him that he was doing enough to shelter her from the true cruelties of the world. That even if the world took everything from them it could not take her kindness.

He could not protect their parents.

He could not protect her from poverty.

But he could still protect her life, her kindness and her happiness.

He would do anything to protect these things for the world had taken enough from them and it would take no more.

He would not let it.

His musings were broken by her laughter and he quickly glanced up towards her.

She was laughing at something the elf had said. The elf looked delighted with himself for amusing her and patted her on the head. Then, he winced as he aggravated his wounds and winced even further as she scolded him.

(Deep blue eyes met her own and she felt as though she could almost drown in them.)

Conflicting feelings arose in his heart.

The addition of their third companion was weighing on their supplies and soon they would run out. It made their travels even slower on foot and the likelihood of being attacked much higher.

Tavor needed to make a decision.

Happiness or survival?

Happiness or survival?

There was no hesitation in his step.

He knew what needed to be done.

(She smiled knowingly at her brother's troubled expression from out of the big corner of her eye. She knew her brother well and could almost read his mind.

It was obvious what would happen next.

She would have both or she would have neither.)

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

Mama awoke with a start, and took a few moments to remember her surroundings.

Aerin shifted cautiously. "Are you unwell, Mama?"

Mama did not respond.

"Mama," Aerin said this time in alarm as she knelt in front of her mother. "Are you awake?"

(Deep blue eyes met her own, familiar eyes, ones she felt she could almost drown in.)

She jolted.

"Ah, Aerin." Mama said, catching her eye, "I had a dream is all. I'm feeling well."

"What kind of dream?" Aerin asked, "I wonder what dream this was that it could make you forget me..."

"Oh, Aerin." Mama protested, "I could never forget you. I was just lost in memories for a while but no more. I'm here with you now."

Aerin said nothing and hummed.

"I dreamed of your uncle." Mama said eventually.

"I have an uncle?"

Had.

"Yes," she replied because his memory is still alive in her own. "My brother was a good man."

A smile.

"An overprotective one, but a good one still."

Aerin stared at her mother's wistful expression.

"Tell me about him." She said after a moment.

Mama smiled.

Chapter Text

"Fortune favours the bold but laughs at the foolish." The elf named Radion said in dismay. "I was neither bold nor fortunate and I do not know the fate of the rest of my company."

"My condolences," Anna said with eyes filled with pity. "Have you no hope, Master Radion?"

Radion shook his head.

"We were caught unaware by goblins." Radion said with a pained expression. "The devilish fiends rode on beasts of hideous stature and hunted us one by one. I survived only by riding ahead and leaving my comrades to fall one by one behind me... cowardly did I survive for I did not look back to fight with them. I am a disgrace to my people."

"How the mighty have fallen." Said Tavor with a mocking undertone. "I've heard great tales of the talented hunters of the Fair Folk. A shame it is that they are not true and that the hunters were in truth the hunted. Even more shameful that here lies one who would sacrifice his own people to save his life."

Radion's face twisted into one of pain, grief, and terrible guilt.

"Tavor!" Anna snapped feeling appalled by her brother's cruel words. She turned to the young elf and grabbed his hand. "Heed not the words of my foolish brother for it wasn't your lack of courage which saved you but fate's fortune. Is it not a great blessing that you survived? Your people will rejoice upon your return and be relieved with news of your well being."

"I cannot bear to show my face and face the shame of fleeing." Radion grimaced then cried. "Alas! I should've perished with my comrades! Leave me to die here so that I might by spared the humiliation!"

Anna stared at the elf with eyes suddenly gone cold. "You'd throw away your life like a fool."

She shook her head.

"Truly he is a coward if he flees from life." Tavor added. "A waste of good bandages he was."

Anna glared her brother into silence.

"My honour has been tarnished." Radion said solemnly. "I must atone and express penitence. Only in death might my honour be restored!"

Anna pinched the bridge of her nose at the suicidal elf.

Eru help us.

Tavor leaned in and whispered into Anna's ear. "Are all of the elves born with such a love for dramatics?"

"Sympathy, oh, brother mine." Anna whispered back. "The poor dear has been through much and your stinging words wound his sensitive soul. He's lost much recently... his comrades, pride and his will to live however unfortunately."

"So have we on several occasions but we give no soliloquy."

"Tavor!" Anna rebuked him and he sighed. "He has lost everything! Have a heart!"

Reluctantly did he approach the depressed elf and kneel beside him.

"Master Elf," he said clearing his throat. "I'm afraid I can't let you simply die even if you would have it so."

"Why?" Questioned Radion.

"Well," Tavor said then paused. "I call life debt. Whether or not you wish to die matters not for we saved your life (however miserable it might be) at the cost of our own survival. It would be dishonourable to die now after we've worked so tirelessly to keep you alive and heal your wounds."

"Yes," Anna agreed, catching on. "It would be a slight against us if you died after we saved your life. You must honour your life debt and repay us either by saving our lives or dying honourably in our name. Your life is not your own until your debt is repaid."

"Your logic is sound." Radion admitted, "and I dare not dishonour myself any further by not paying such a sacred debt. I owe you my life, after all."

The elf thought quietly for a moment and then placed his hand over his heart.

"I swear an oath to remain by the sides of my saviours until my debt is repaid and only then will I return to my homeland." He vowed solemnly.

"And return you will with honour." Said Anna with a kind smile.

"So you say." Said the elf.

"So I know." Said Anna.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

Aerin felt her heart become heavy as she stared off into the blue sky.

Blue like her deep eyes.

Blue like the deep deep sea.

She didn't understand why she felt this way. It was like a homesickness so strong and great that it made her heart ache and clench in painful sorrow.

Sea longing.

She stared into the blue above and felt herself fall into it, imagining herself as if she sailed across the western sea and satisfied her longing heart.

What wonders would she see there?

"Oh, Aerin." Mama murmured, "wake."

And then she returned to earth, waking from a day dream, and planting her feet in reality.

She blinked and the dazed glint in her eyes faded.

"Mama," she said after awhile, "who was my father?"

Mama inhaled sharply.

"Have I no right to know of my own father?" Aerin asked with a wounded expression. "I must know."

Her voice was troubled.

As was her heart.

"Tell me," Aerin said, "why do I long for the sea?"

Mama became pale. "Aerin... no..."

"It hurts." She said and rubbed her chest. "A pain dissonant and like a song without music or a realm without hues of colour. Something in me is gone and I cannot find it. I feel a need, Mama. I wish to go to the sea and across it. I wish to cross and find it.”

"No!" Mama cried and begged. "Don't go where I cannot follow. Swear to me that you won't! So long as I live you will not leave!"

"But where is this place I so long to go and why?" Aerin asked desperately. "I cannot fight this for deeply rooted in me is it. I don't understand, Mama. I've never felt this before."

Mama stilled and watched Aerin's suffering and saw how ignorance hurt her.

"Your father," she said at last "was an ellon of the Sindar who dwelled in Imladris."

"What was his name?" Aerin stared at her mother sharply. "Where is he now?"

"You are all I have of him." Mama answered. "He is gone."

"Alas," Aerin whispered, "how I wish it were not so for I have never met my father."

"It grieves me that you will never meet him." Mama said.

"How can this be?" She asked, "where has he gone?"

"Into shadow." Mama replied and whispered. "Into death."

Aerin cried.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

It took many days for Aerin to regain her wits and recover from her mother's declaration.

The tongue wagglers's words weren't as empty as I had thought. Aerin thought, I am an elf... a Peredhil, born from a doomed union of a mortal mother and immortal father.

Aerin tried to remember.

My memories are mangled and fractured and mixed. She thought, but I remember Beren and Lúthien, and Aragorn and Arwen.

Memories from Back When.

She did not like thinking of Back When anymore for all the memories brought to her was pain.

But one thing was certain.

She had not existed before.

And she wondered why she existed now.

Chapter Text

To her disappointment, they would travel around Mirkwood instead of through it.

"Too dark," Mama said when she had asked her why, "too dangerous."

Which is true, Aerin thought, but knew that wasn't the entirety of it.

The truth was that Mama was afraid.

There was much to be afraid of.

Aerin was growing up and every day she became fairer, the point of her ears became more pronounced, and her elven heritage more apparent. Soon it would be futile to even try and hide what she was from the world.

She would be beautiful.

All would love and desire her.

Of that Mama was certain.

It was for that reason Mama was afraid. Mama was afraid of men and their lustful greed.

(She was too.)

Mama was afraid of the elves. She was afraid of them taking her only daughter away in their adoration of her and their sense of kinship with her.

Aerin wasn't afraid of them.

She was curious.

Insatiably curious.

(Elves, dwarves, hobbits, and the Ainur were all things of fantasy in her last incarnation.)

She would gladly learn more of them.

But Mama wouldn't allow such a thing.

Mama would lock her away high up in a tower if she could.

Mama was afraid for Aerin.

Afraid of her, even.

She was afraid of Aerin hating her for her selfish desire to keep her forever.

(How silly, Aerin would say if she knew, how could I ever hate you, Mama?)

(Easily, Mama would answer, just as I once hated my brother.)

They took the long way round Mirkwood.

( ˘ ³˘) ♫

"Why am I here?" She asked upon falling into the dreamland Garden of Lorien. "How am I here? I know my past and this is the second time I've lived."

"Are you sure?" Irmo asked her with a strange glint in his eyes. It was a glimmer of wistfulness and nostalgia, one that she didn't understand.

"Yes," she said but she no longer sounded certain.

"Memories are curious things." Irmo said, "they shape and change but only with matters of the spirit and mind. They're like the wind, coming and going..."

"They are fleeting," Aerin said, suddenly feeling sullen. "They come and go as they please and leave me with more questions than answers."

"The answers will come with time." Irmo promised and she believed him.

Aerin frowned.

"I'm afraid." She admitted, "I'm afraid because we are going to the Ruins of Dale and near the Dragon Hoard of Smaug who has yet to be vanquished."

"Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid; for the One is with you and he will not leave you nor forsake you." Irmo said to her. "Just as Eru is with Bilbo Baggins as he journeys with Thorin Oakenshield, he is with you also."

Eru is God, isn’t he?

She felt oddly about that.

"I want to trust that he'll protect me." She said, "but I've lived through such terrible things and h-have already d-d-d—died."

She shut her eyes.

She remembered so many nights of just hating herself for even daring to hate him.

Not him.

(She could hate him easily.)

But God.

She hated God.

And felt so guilty.

And angry.

And confused.

Where was Eru when she needed comfort and was hurting?

(Where was God when she was suffering?)

(When she was dying?)

Cold.

Dark.

Lonely.

Tendrils of shadow dragging her down.

Wet.

Burning.

Fear.

She shuddered and let a tear slide down her cheek.

"I—-I want to trust Eru." Aerin said, "I want to but I'm so scared. I trusted him too and he hurt me. He took something from me and never gave it back. I felt so—-I felt so empty! I'm only just beginning to feel that emptiness being filled and I'm so afraid of feeling empty again. But Eru is different and I know that. At least, on an intellectual level but I can't help but feel—-!"

That nothing will be different.

She'll get hurt again.

Irmo cupped her cheek and dried her tears.

"En—-Aerin," he said and she glanced at him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and looked away, "there's something wrong with me. I can't even trust the ones I know shouldn't—-won't harm me."

Like Mom.

Mom wouldn't never hurt her and yet she still feared Mom.

"You are not alone," Irmo said, and she remembered a song from a long time ago.

"You are not alone," she repeated. "I am not alone."

"There's no need to feel ashamed or afraid." He said, "you are loved and cherished, Aerin."

Loved and cherished.

She remembered Mom’s song.

(You are not alone)

Mom was a Christian.

(When you are lonely)

Dad was an atheist.

(When you feel afraid)

She was...

(You’re not the only)

She was someone who had lost of all faith in anything and everything. Someone who first believed in Christianity but whose faith just... fizzled out and died.

(We are all the same)

Nothing mattered to her.

(In need of mercy)

But in this new life?

(God knows we tumble and fall)

Things...

(But he so loved the world he sent his son to save us all)

Things mattered to her in this life.

"I want to believe” She said to Irmo, "in hope and healing. In Eru, God or whoever it is up there."

But she couldn't.

Not yet.

"But I can't." She said, backing away. "I—-I need time."

She stopped trusting God in her first life.

She had even resented him.

(How could someone allow such terrible things to happen?)

(If God truly cared then why does suffering exist?)

"I need to sort myself out first."

She breathed out shakily.

"I need to be able to love and trust myself before I can love and trust another.”

Especially someone as abstract as God.

The song playing in her mind fell silent.

She shifted. “Is that—-is that alright?”

Irmo squeezed her hand.

“Of course it is.”