| Subject: Magic |
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Faeirex
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Date Posted: 18:50:50 07/08/02 Mon
Faeirex stood opposite the mirror, gazing into its depths. The girl staring back at her didn't look like her at all. She was someone different, someone strange to her.
The person she should have been, perhaps. The person her father had wanted her to become.
He looked at her steadily, an unwavering gaze. She longed to be able to wipe the look of sadness and regret from his eyes, knew she could not.
“Father, please…”
He silenced her with a hand. Tall, regal and dignified, with an imposing presence, he was everything she should have been. Yet she was not, and had disappointed him in almost every way imaginable. There was an expression of indescribable pain on his face whenever he looked upon her, his only female child. He spoke gently, as if to try to spare her feelings, but nothing could protect her from the stab of his words.
“You are not my daughter.”
The last words she had ever seen him speak, to her at least. She had broken away from him, sobbing, and run. And the next time she had seen him all she could do was watch helplessly through a seeing stone as they cut him down.
“We have no quarrel with you, Erliân. All we want is the girl. Where is she?”
“I cannot tell you. Whatever her crimes, she is still my blood. You will never touch her while I live.”
“Then you must die.”
The elf in the mirror raised a tiara to her head, slipping it into place in shining hair. When she lowered her hands her eyes were filled with tears, the image blurring. She dashed them away. It was too late for tears now. Aralias was cleverer than even she sometimes gave him credit for. With just a few subtly-worked in words, he had given her almost all the motivation she needed. Like to pay like, blood followed with blood.
Until the end.
She forced her mind to the buisness in hand. As far as Aragorn was concerned right now, she was just a she-elf, of no especial import. She herself had encouraged that belief. But if she were to face him as Lómódë she would be thought of as his inferior. Would he believe her? She thought not. No, it was as Faeirex of the Valedhel that she must go to him, her power shown even if not named. It seemed a demonstration was called for.
There was no need to go to the palantir this time. She delved deep into her own special abilities, unique to her as the last of the Valedhel left on Middle Earth. Rather than looking on the throne room, she expanded her consciousness to sense it. Tirolian had once told her that when she did that she lost her grip on her power and let it come with her, spilling out into the air around her. Well, that wouldn't matter right now. The more of an impact she made, the better.
Finding what she was searching for, she began to pull herself inwards again, centering on the ancient carved throne. The tree in the centre. She smiled. It was rather ironic that her own especial gift should be called into play here.
Grow
With the word came the power, rolling out from her in a great rush as if it were water unleashed from a dam. The change began slowly at first, but took speed as it came. Gradually, inch by inch, a finger-long tendril of light wood peeled away from its dark housing. Others followed, then more. She waited until the first cry of astonishment came, then continued to the next stage of the change. The branches began to grow longer and thicker, becoming less of a pattern come to life and more of a living tree anchored in a chair. The room had grown deadly quiet.
Agonisingly slowly, the final touch came into place. The flowers of the mellon tree opened on the ends of the new-formed twigs, filling the room with their sweet perfume. Where the lowest bough nearly swept the floor gathered a dark sap in a gradually swelling drop, that finally gained in weight enough to fall and splash on the hard stone. Blood.
And then all was silent.
Faeirex's skin glowed with the power and her dark hair blazed. The meek raiment cast away, there was no mistaking the marks of her race and the whisper of her power. All as it should be. Satisfied that she had done enough to make Aragorn take notice, she swept from the room.
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