Fan Fiction ❯ Lord of the Rings: Chronicles of the Light ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Return of the Ring

 

Prologue

 

It's so dreamy, oh fantasy, free me
So you can't see me, no, not at all
In another dimension
With voyaristic intensions
Well secluded, I see all...

~Magenta, Rocky Horror Picture Show~

 

 

Ramla was late and it was unwise to be late in her position, however great the Aratar were; they were not well known for their patience. Ramla knew this and that is why she was worried. Shutting her sightless eyes tightly, she moved to stand. She was terribly cramped; she had been to work since the moment she had been summoned. It was not common for a seer from the lesser world be called to fulfill a duty to the Aratar, yet here she was. Ramla was different, that was perhaps why the Lady Varda insisted on her presence.

 

The young prophetess was blind; she had been since birth, an uncommon trait for one of her kind. Ramla was tall, well reaching past the height of any Elf. Her hair was a deep auburn that traveled down her back in rivers. She was pale in complexion, her face only slightly marred by numerous freckles that dotted over her nose and cheeks. She had a round face and her eyes, which were large and seemed to over crowd her other features. They were grey mists that seemed to swirl with her thoughts. She wore a dress of deep brown that fitted her form well, it was a simple dress compared to others in her species. It had a high neck and tight sleeves opposed the flowing ones her comerades chose. Around her neck hung a large oval amber stone that hung from her neck by a long thick silver chain. All of these things made her different from the wane, moon children with whom she was a kin to, but these were not the reason for her presence here. She was the first of her kind in many ages to merit an invitation to the garden of Arda, and she was here because she had a true sparkling talent. Unlike many of her kind who had turned to carnival, tricks and slights of fancy, what Ramla saw was real.

 

Inhaling, Ramla stood raising her arms behind her head she stretched the full length of her body. Turning curtly on her heels she walked out of the temple at which she had been placed upon her arrival in Arda and made her way briskly to the main house. The main building, like everything on the mountain where Manwë and Varda resided, was made of the whitest stone and was lit brilliantly with torches. Sensing her way briskly to the large oak doors to which the great hall and the Aratar who awaited her arrival, lay just beyond. Pulling on the handle hard she just managed to move the door just enough for her to squeeze through with only a little difficulty. Slowly she made her way to the great hall, where the Aratar sat feasting.

 

Manwë, was not a man to be tested in truth he had never been so, very few dared to cross him from the very time of creation. He was a man to be worshiped feared and obeyed. He was also in a foul mood. Manwë was the high lord of the Aratar, yet here he was being made to wait to hear some prediction made by a mere girl. Manwë was large in every sense of the word; he fairly towered over every being, whether of Arda or not. His eyes had a somewhat irate look to them and his mouth was twisted in a stern grimace. It had been Varda's wish to bring the girl. Manwë, growled lightly at the very thought of the girl, as if he, the great Manwë, could not handle the problems of Sauron on his own. His eyes drifted toward his wife and he glowered.

 

“Well, where is she?” he asked gruffly not bothering to hide the contempt that was laced through out his voice.

 

“She will be here” Varda replied simply, her eyes drifted lightly toward the door.

 

If Manwë could be described as light, Varda could be described as dark. She was near the exact opposite of her husband. She was fragilely built, reaching just to her love's shoulder. Despite being calmer then her at time erratic mate, her will was no less strong. As was proven to all that night, it was no secret to the rest of the Aratar that Manwë wanted no part in the girl's predictions.

 

“Very well” Manwë muttered darkly, he was not happy and he was not going to win the argument so he had taken to sulking.

 

It was to this scene that Ramla entered, she walked calmly and sedately forward, squelching the nervousness that rose from her stomach she stepped into the light. She knew she was unwanted by Manwë, she also knew that without the knowledge that her vision had provided, the Aratar would be lost. For as great and powerful as they were, the Aratar had left the realms of Middle Earth to fend on there own for a little too long. The might and power that they had once held had faded into a mere shadow.

 

“Your graces” Ramla whispered breathlessly as she stepped out in front of the greatest powers. She lowered herself into a seamless curtsy, she looked calm and unaffected as she usually did, a tell tale sign of the moon child she was. On the inside unfortunately, Ramla was far from calm. She cursed at herself fluorescently in her mind, she had sounded so stupid, so childish, so… pathetic. They would never listen now… oh how she regretted coming.

 

Varda looked down on the young child before her, when she had sent for the girl, Vera knew she was young, but this young, was a shock even to her. The prophetess was barely a woman, a slip of a girl really. Not at all what I was expecting, Varda smiled to herself, she was well pleased with the girl already.

 

“You must be the prophetess” Manwë grumbled, his rich voice vibrated richly against the walls. “You're late” he growled out again, a thin snarl became apparent in the corner of his lips.

“Manwë” Varda reproached sharply, her voice deadly as any blade, “the girl is of little use terrified” Varda then turned her attention to the child before her. “Come here child and let me have a look at you”

 

Ramla stepped forward, raising her head high she faced the Lady Varda. “My lady, I am Ramla, daughter of Barnabas, child of the moon. I am here at your request and I bring you tidings.”

 

“How old are you child, you are very young.” Manwë snapped peevishly at the girl. He was tired and this no longer amused him.

 

“I am 16 rotations, my lord. However, my age does not mean I lack experience nor make my message any less important.” Ramla returned as politely as she could manage under such circumstances.

 

“Well now that is settled, you will continue with your message prophetess” Varda quipped after a quick glance at her husband.

 

“Thank you my Lady, we haven't much time. I have much to tell you and any delay could have horrific consequences” Ramla breathed quickly.

 

“Well get on with it.” Manwë interrupted, he had a distinct distaste for drama when he was not the one being dramatic.

 

Ramla slowly raised her arms stretching them out in front of her she began her timeless dance. As she moved the room faded away into nothing, stars and cosmos, raced before them in a blinding whirl. Ramla ran to the center of what had been the room before dropping to her knees, she began to sing softly. “What do you see when you gaze in to the Looking Glass? What do you see when you gaze in to the night? What do you see when you gaze in to the Looking Glass? What do you see when you gaze in to the night?”

Her voice was rough and not particularly beautiful as you would have thought it to be, it was that of an untrained voice, ugly in its quality but it did what it was supposed to the scene changed to splashes of red. High pitched laughter rang through the air heartlessly. Bodies lay mangled, dripping with blood on battlefield as crimson rain fell, and the voice kept laughing. Darkness consumed them; images of gold rings with cursed writings flashed though the air encircling the world of Middle Earth. Finally the hideous voice stopped its fearful laughter and the room exploded into a ball of light, then darkness consumed. The darkness continued but the room returned the only light in the room was a pillar landing on Ramla; she glowed with an unholy light.

 

“It will never be ended by the people of the lesser land, all will wither and die. No one born from mortal blood can stop it. Innocence is the only way, to kill it. It must be brought to a halt by a child. It has become to powerful, even you could not destroy the darkness to come, and you are all tainted with pain. The only way to kill it is by one pure and untainted with out that we will all die” Ramla called out eerily before crumpling haphazardly to the floor.

Varda leapt forward racing to the girl. Holding her gently to her bosom she implored the girl “What has become to powerful?”

 

Looking up briefly and whispered to small words before passing into the world of the oblivion “The ring”.

 

Hours had passed since the girl had been taken from them. The Aratar stayed at there tables in deep conversation into the wee hours of the morning. There was much argument over what was to be done if anything. Varda stood on the ground of the prophetess, Manwë stood opposed, the rest of the Aratar took sides accordingly. Even though the most stubborn of the skeptics would not admit it they had all become quite spooked by what had passed that evening.

 

“We must do something! Manwë, dearest even you must admit that what the girl spoke was the truth. We have known for sometime now that the ring no longer needs Sauron and to try to destroy it in the fires of Mount Doom as we had first intended would only free it from its bond with Sauron. Then all proverbial hell will break lose and you know it! They girl did nothing but confirm our earlier convictions.” Varda pleaded, she knew as they all did, that since the ring retained its power so long without Sauron, it no longer needed him. It just needed a shell to act through, and that could be anything as proven by the creature Gollum.

 

“Well what would you have us do? The girl, if she's as accurate as you believe her to be, told us we couldn't destroy the damned thing.” Manwë glowered at his wife; she kept attempting to show him up today, it was rather unnerving. “She kept blathering about a child, who is obviously not here”

 

“A child, I had forgotten! What a brilliant idea! We shall create this child, a child of pure light we shall make it from all of us” Varda exalted, quite impressed at her own intelligence. A chorus of agreement followed, as the other Aratar had become bored with the situation and simply wanted a solution so they could return to there games. Moving everyone together, Varda began the spell. It was old and worn with use, it took a little of all of the Aratar and melded it together into a small precious baby girl with a swirl of black hair and deep blue eyes.

 

“She will be called Asha because she is the hope of the world” Varda stated calmly. Carrying the precious bundle to where the prophetess Ramla she gave the order that she be taken to Saruman, the head of the wizards council, whose deception had yet to be discovered.

 

“The fate of Middle Earth is out of our hands now. Come my loves let us have a dance!” Turning back to the festivities at hand little else was thought of small Asha and the fate of the world the Aratar had created.

 

 

 

 

 

A/N Hello everyone, thank you for reading my story… and even though it is just the prologue I hope you like it. If you would like to see artwork for this story you can find it on my deviantart account, my user name is Star-Bunny. Please review, it makes me happy and I accept criticism.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the original characters and the situations in this story I have created. Everything else is owned by Tolkien… don't sue… my O.C.'s are all I have.

Lord of the Rings (C) Tolkien
Return of the Ring and the original characters there in (c) me