A Different Faerie Tale part One — The Prologue and Dreams of Mirkwood
A Short Prologue:
This is a story about a woman named Dawn Aaron. To Lord Elrond, Arwen Undomiel, Glorfindel and Figwit (he’s the elf that sits beside Aragorn in the Council of Elrond in the movie)(I like him a little) she is a wonderer, whose parents died when she was young by wolves. She had lived in the woods surrounding the Blue Mountain, and was raised the rest of her life by an elf of the name Celebrought in those same woods. Dawn Aaron is a mortal woman, and at the age of 17. Her hair is dark brown, and is an inch shorter than her shoulders. Her eyes are large and green.
However, deep down, Dawn knows this is not who she is. She took on this roll, this persona, one year previous, when she didn’t know what to say. If she should lie, rather than tell the truth and face unseen punishment. Needless to say, she lied. And that’s why the Elves of Imladeris did not know her true heritage.
Dawn Aaron is a 17-year-old Canadian girl who grew up in the backwoods of Ontario. She was in her last year of highschool when she became immensely interested in the world of Tolkien’s writings. She read all she could get a hold of in the local library about his books, which was actually just the Hobbit and the LOTR trilogy. She loved it all. She even attempted to learn some things in Elvish. On the night of her 18th birthday, she blew out the candles, and had one wish in mind: to go to Middle Earth. Only a short visit would be nice. Just to see the beautiful landscape, and breath yet unpolluted air. Taste unspoiled water. Know that mankind had yet to demolish the beauty of that world, unlike her home.
When she woke, Dawn was in a room in Imladeris. She had been found on the banks of the Brunine by Glorfindel, very hurt in deed. Elrond healed her. She stayed in Rivendell for a year, becoming aquatinted with the Elves’ ways, and spending many days in the library studying the maps of Elrond. She became very good friends with Arwen, and almost saw Undomiel as a sister. Elrond was like a father. She could go to him with anything. Tell him anything. Except her Secret. Glorfindel began to teach her basic warfare skills, even if the elf saw her as a hopeless case. Figwit and her grew close, and he was her best friend. Imladeris was beautiful, and everything she could have hoped for. Seldom did she wish to go back. Everything lay still and peaceful until June of the year 3018… (of the Third Age)
Note: I am not using any specific M.E. calendar, just the normal, everyday one. That we use. We normal ones, anyway
Dreams of Mirkwood
It was a clear, crisp morning. The sun had barely begun to rise, and that’s when Dawn liked it best. She loved to watch the sun come over the trees, painting the sky different shades of pink, orange and blue. As the wind blew strands of hair around her, Dawn sighed contently, and sadly. On that exact day one year ago, she would have been turning 19. It was her birthday. But birthdays in Imladeris were less important or a reason to celebrate than back home. Perhaps that was because among the elves, their age didn’t seem to grow or expand. But she was 19, and that was something. It was the first birthday she was spending in the realm of Middle Earth.
The sun at last poked over the tops of the trees, and after watching it for a minuet, she went inside to dress for the day. She picked her favorite dress, which she personally thought complimented her dark, brunette hair. It was long and periwinkle blue, with long sleeves, and a low chest line. She combed her hair with the brush Arwen had given her, which was silver and adorned by sapphires. She loved sapphires, and almost anything of the colour blue. She went out into the gardens, and decided today she would spend the day with Bilbo. Bilbo was a grand hobbit, a jewel among any of the mortals she’d ever met. But the truth was, he was the only mortal creature besides herself she’d met. Still, he was almost like a grandfather, and a very interesting hobbit to know. He had many stories and songs to tell and sing, ones he’d learnt in the Shire, and ones he’d made up. Dawn always begged him to tell her of his adventure to the Lonely Mountain, the Desolation of Smaug, and what Mirkwood was like. She still dreamed of going there, deciding a long time ago that she was in for the long haul here in Middle Earth. She wasn’t going home any time soon.
So, in the gardens while waiting for Bilbo to wake, she bent down and stared into the water, looking at the little fishes swimming around. There was a great golden one which Dawn called Annun, which was ‘sunset’ and a silver one with black speckles which she called Amrun, ‘sunrise’. She skimmed the top of the water with her fingers, and the fish scattered.
“Good morning, Lady Dawn.”
Dawn jumped, and looked back. Figwit was there, robed in green, his dark hair pulled back. He was a young elf, only in his early 1000s’. He smiled a lot, and that’s what he was doing now. Dawn stood.
“Good morning, Figwit. What are you doing up so early? You usually sleep until mid-day, if you sleep at all.” Dawn said. Figwit shrugged, still smiling. He was always smiling.
“Are you always up so early in the morn?”
Dawn nodded, and looked to where the sun was. It was now a little over the top of the trees, and the court they were in was now bathed in light. “I like to watch the sun come up.”
“Simple joys amuse the wisest of us all.”
Dawn now laughed. “Ooh… what are you sucking up for this morning, Figwit? You usually aren’t this witty.”
“Well, incase you have forgotten — which I would not doubt: mortal minds are so mere…”
Dawn’s jaw dropped as Figwit laughed more. He continued. “But today is the day one year ago that you came to us, here in Rivendell.”
Turning glumly, Dawn nodded and sighed. “I know.” She did not know why she felt so low. Maybe she was beginning to miss her friends and family.
Figwit looked confused, but sorrowful at her facial expression. “Why do you look so sad?”
“I’m alright. Really.” Dawn grinned, even if she didn’t feel happy. Figwit fell for it, or knew that Dawn did not want to pursue the manor, and let it drop. The two walked around for a while, until it was well in the afternoon, and they parted, and Dawn went back to find Bilbo. He was in the Hall of Fire, sitting and gazing into the red, flickering flames.
“Bilbo?” she asked softly. Bilbo looked up and smiled.
“Dawn! Good afternoon. How are you today?” asked the elderly hobbit, standing up. Dawn smiled when she saw him. She loved Bilbo like a grandfather.
“I am alright. I decided that I would spend the day with you. It is my birthday.”
“Your birthday?” said Bilbo, more bemused by this thought. “And how old are you?”
“I’m 19.” Dawn said, proud. She was legal drinking age! Not that it mattered now…
“Only 19?” Bilbo asked, and he seemed surprised. “Why, you would only be a tween!”
“But no hobbit am I. I am a human girl, and our ‘tween’ age is called ‘teen’ and I am in my last teen year.” Dawn was giddy with the thought that she was almost twenty. When she was ten, Dawn remembered, she had looked forward to being twenty; an adult, fearless and free. And there were even less restrictions here. Too bad Imladeris didn’t have any pubs…
“Well, congratulations.” Bilbo said with a little nod. “But what would you like to do? I had planned on thinking today. And thinking tomorrow. I do a lot of thinking these days.”
“Well, I was hoping you could tell me more about…”
“What? My adventure to the Lonely Mountain?” Bilbo asked, stifling, as if readying to say a long speech. He always took such pride in his tales, and enjoyed telling them.
“Well, actually, on the subject of tweens, I was wondering what you could tell me about the Shire.”
“The Shire?” echoed Bilbo. Dawn settled on the floor, and listened as the hobbit went into deep discussion about the Farthings, the history of hobbits, and other things like the history of Pipe-weed. Bilbo took great pride in the fact of his being a hobbit, because of how he explained it all. At last, Bilbo seemed to have nodded off, and Dawn laughed softly to herself.
“Bilbo? Bilbo, are you awake?” Dawn softly touched his shoulder. Nope. Out like a candle. So she left, and was very shocked to see that she had been in there most of the day. The sun was long gone, and the full moon was high up, and the stars were bright. The cold air ruffled her dressed and blew her hair around. She took a deep breath. Dawn heard a swishing, and turned.
“Hello, Figwit. Here to torment me some more?”
“No. But the winds tell there is going to be a storm to night. Come, or you will be stranded.” Figwit said. It was so cute how he was so protective.
“I think I am going to retire, actually.” Dawn yawned a little. “I am really tiered, ‘k?”
Figwit nodded. He walked her to her room, and Dawn settled into her bed. It had been a good day. Any day with Bilbo was a good day. And any time she saw Figwit. As she tried to sleep, she watched outside. Rain began to poor overhead. The room cooled, and a sweet fragrance filled the air. The pattering of rain helped her to sleep.
Orcs poured through the woods, infesting, cutting down everything in their path, screeching, crying, and disrupting the silence. They killed animals that passed them by, anything else they saw alive. Then, a cry like a bird came, and a small army of elves ran out, bows bent. By a specific tree that seemed important, four golden headed elves looked around in puzzlement. Then black feathered arrows flew at them. It struck one elf in the throat, and he fell. It missed the others, and they turned to battle. But there were too many orcs. They were over taken, killed. A small, skinny creature followed them. Farther into the wood, closer to the Elvenking’s gate, a blonde elf with keen bright eyes stepped over a grassy hill, and peered through the woods. It was Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, and Prince of Mirkwood. He dealt out commands to the other elves like a drill instructor. More blood, black orc blood and pure elf blood soiled the moss underfoot.
Dawn sat up gasping. The rain was thicker than ever, now not a soothing pattern on the roof, but a thundering beating. Sweat poured down her face. What was that? A dream? No, it didn’t seem like a dream. Being in Rivendell was a dream. That was a nightmare. What if she didn’t do anything? Didn’t tell anyone? Would Elrond dismiss it as a dream? Would Legolas or any of the other Mirkwood elves die?
Tearing the sheets off of her, Dawn tore out of her room so fast, one might have thought she was in between hobbits and a buffet table.
**And what will happen? Ooh… you’ll have to read the next one! Was it a dream? Will Legolas die (keep in mind, Dawn has never met Legolas)? What is going to happen? Read the next one! Say what you thought about this one! Be kind…**