My fanfiction as a combination of Maximum Ride and Lord of the Rings... It's a complicated mess, but I like it... It's very much a work in progress, and honestly this is where I'm putting all my thought processes and notes into a somewhat legible state. My friends like it, and as I needed it for reference and other reasons I decided to post it on the Web, and what better place than a-u.com? You can see Jasper's bio
here for descriptions, extra info, etc.... Hope you enjoy (and comprehend) my ramblings...
Oh, and the title is kind of random... It doesn't really make sense at all, now, does it precious?
Eren
The first remembered discovery of the avia Jasper Erenwei opens to see a dark forest shortly after sundown midwinter. Frost gently covers every bough, leaf, and twig as the hollow wind howls mournfully. Suddenly a burst of light flashes a distance away. Eventually an Elf-maid clad in glittering white, slightly glowing, emerges from the thicket. She is holding a large black bundle. Glancing around, as though worried of being seen, she starts moving very quickly, almost floating above the ground. In very little time, she reaches the gates of Thranduil, Elven-king of Mirkwood. She kneels down and removes the black wrapping from her bundle, revealing a small four-year-old Elf-child, with pale complexion, long dark hair, and wide, frightened black eyes.
"Mummy, where is us?" she asks nervously. "I cold. Where's Aunty Izzy? Where Daddy?"
"Shhh," the glowing Elf replies. "it's okay. I'm going to have to go now, but I'll be back for you. I'm not sure when," at this she bites her lip, "but I'll be back for you someday. Some nice people will take care of you, trust me." She places a chain with a small black jewel hanging from it around the child's neck, and gives her a tiny glass bottle containing what appears to be parchment. "I love you. Tell Mummy Ella you love her?"
"I wuv oo, Mummy." she whispers.
The regal Elf holds back a sob, and clutches the child close in a last embrace. "I have to go now. I love you, Ellabeth." And just as strangely as she came, she disappears, but without the child. The Elf-lass just stands there, looking blankly at her unknown surroundings. For hours she stands there alone, unmoving, unflinching, even as the wind screams and frost is coated more heavily on anything immobile. At a quarter till midnight, the howling on the wind changes its note and the child shudders. She look around, strangely calm, and sees dark shapes hanging from the trees. Little did she know that in the future, these small, dark splotchy forms would grow to become the monstrous spider population of Mirkwood, and would cause her much grief. As it was, however, all they did was stir a small disgust at them. Suddenly in the moonlight, a dark ring of shadows appeared. Slowly they grew and formed into a pack of giant white wolves, driven down from the Misty Mountains in search of food. A huge leader stepped out from the boughs of the trees and howled -an awful, heartwrenching howl that awakened an acute, deadly fear in the heart of the lone small Elf. In the background, unnoticed by all but the wind, a light not caused by moonlight stirred and launched itself several times at the mountain gates. The pack began closing in and the Elfling let out a gasp.
"Mummy, Mummy, where ith you? Where ith you? I needth you. I needth you bad!" she cried, lisping in her fear.
The alpha dog snarled and leapt at her. Mere inches from her throat the snapping jaws were stilled. Jerking away, the startled toddler stared at the arrow in the bleeding throat of the huge wolf. The other wolves were also being shot at. As soon as the last wolf had fled, a young blonde Elf boy, about 13 or 14, emerged from the gates, followed by a company of Elves. At the front was a regal Elf, taller than the rest and dressed more richly. The Elfing reached the child in mere moments, and swept her up in his strong arms.
"Father! It's an Elf-maiden! About 4 or 5 I deem."
"Well, Legolas," said the regal figure, "I did not say you could come with us, but I am glad you came. I felt a call, from Elbereth as it were, to come out here. I am glad we did. Let me see her."
"Alright. Her back feels odd. Not smooth as it should." Legolas gave the shivering toddler over to his father, and looked on with keen eyes as Thranduil carefully examined her. They went back inside their mountain abode, wher t was warmer, and safer. Thranduil, seeing the interest Legolas had for the strange new Elf, gave her care temporarily over to him. Indoors, as the warmth and human contact, along with the strain of the day, put the Elfling to sleep, Legolas discovered two strange things: first, a note reading,
Dear Noldor Inhabitants of Greenwood,
To Thranduil, King of Greenwood and family,
I leave to your care my daughter. I know you never were expecting this -indeed, who was?- but she will someday become a critical instrument in defeating Sauron once and for all. She needs your care and I hope you will treat her as your own. You may notice some odd things about her, but that is normal as I created her specially to destroy Sauron forever. Thank you for your kindness. Her name is Jasper Ellabeth Erenwei. I have called her Ellabeth, which she responds to easily, but when she comes of age to understand you may want to tell her her full name.
-Elbereth
And the second thing was-- Ellabeth was superhumanly strong, and she had...
wings.
**Please note: Most "years" are the Elvish yena (144 Mortal years), except when dealing with Mortals, or when referring to dates, which is the Dunedain calendar. A "loa" or "corranar" are the Elvish terms for the Mortal year (365 days)**
*Nine years later*
Ellabeth restlessly roamed the stone halls of the mountain castle. For the last four years, and especially for the past couple loas, she had an increasing restlessness, a feeling that she was not filling her purpose. She had become very close to Legolas, who thought of her as a little sister due to his being an only child, and who also had brought her up almost singlehandedly, with some help from his mother or a she-Elf in the colony. Still, she felt trapped in these close quarters. She rarely was allowed outside, though she was older now than Legolas was when he found her, and he was frequently allowed to join hunting parties or scout near the Dark Tower. The "Dark Tower" always held a strange fascination for Ellabeth, for it was unknown to her by any other name, and she was never allowed to be closer than 20 miles near it. She hated being confined to the castle. There was very little room in the whole places, the majority of it being made up of halls, storerooms, or private chambers, with only 1 feasting hall and 1 large room for dances or parties. But there was no place for her to stretch her wings, and she was only allowed to fly outdoors if she took Legolas or another light-but-older Elf with her. She felt like her adoptive father did not trust her, though she saw no reason for him not to. Sometimes she felt like she was crawling the walls.
And Legolas had noticed. He wasn't her older brother -and the Elf who knew her best- for nothing. He had watched with growing anxiety the way she paced the halls, the way she was constantly looking at the gates, how she gazed at the sky so longingly. Ellabeth was constantly turning to the few windows at her disposal, or pouring over her mother's note or manuscripts in the library. She was nearly at full-height for a grown Elf, but she had always been tall for her age. He knew that their hold on her was slipping. There was little time left before Ellabeth finally wanted freedom permanently, and as soon as she realized there was nothing they could do to stop her, she'd be gone. In contests against Elf-warriors, she'd always beaten them, and she wasn't even trying. In a test of strength, she broke out of their strongest chains without flinching. As a toddler, she could bust barrels of oak in a petty tantrum. This strength would allow her to leave them easily. Legolas feared for her. His father had protected her too much. Her sharp wits and strength had not been rewarded with information necessary for survival. Of course, there had been ingrained in her an instinct of necessity from her 3% of bird genes, and he knew she could survive anything nature could throw at her. But their father had never bestowed on her the truth of the Dark Tower -Dol Guldor- nor let her know who Sauron was, nor many other things she would need to know out on her own. Watching her that day, he resolved to bridge this gap in her education before it was too late, and led to a fatal mistake.
The result of Legolas' vow was many moonlit nights spent in learning geography, Middle-Earth history, war-training, and learning about Sauron and his embassies. Soon Ellabeth's head was filled with knowledge enough to satisfy her desire for a grip on the outside world. Legolas began taking her outdoors more often, and allowing her longer and farther flights as he taught her visual geography. She began making her plans for her final leave of the Halls of Thranduil.
To be continued...
*Approximately 50 years later... I'm not really sure at this point...*
Location: Helm's Deep
Jasper fought on the wall over the sewer long after it was overrun with the Yrch. There were few men of Rohan left near her, and there were only a couple of the Guild left on the wall. Most were further over, fighting near the ladders. Suddenly, Jasper’s raptor hearing picked up a supersonic scream, and she writhed in pain, barely able to still hold her dagger and remain alive amongst the onslaught. It died down, and when her head cleared she knew what it was, not only by the tones and the evil words she could catch, which made it obvious (hey, when you live practically in Dol Guldor, you learn the language of the inhabitants), but by the way her arms throbbed. Whenever a Nazgul was present, and especially when it shrieked, the long, deep scars on her arms pulse and redden with pain from where they stabbed her with a Morgul knife. It was a curse spoken into them by their maker, the Witch-King of Angmar and Minas Morgul. She knew, somewhere, there was a Nazgul nearby. She doubted it would join in the battle, but it would turn and report to Sauron how the battle had fared. She was determined it would be a bad report. A movement caught her eye down below amongst the ranks of the Orcs on the ground outside the Hornburg, and then she noticed all the Orcs had vacated the area over the drain in the wall. Suddenly it hit her what that scream was- a signal. She saw the Orcs make way for one large one, carrying a torch. The thought hit her and Aragorn at the same time:
“Bring him down, Legolas!
Bring him down! Kill him!!!" she screamed & Aragorn yelled. Jasper was already shooting, and Legolas shot three or four arrows his way. It was almost enough. But not quite. The Orc jumped in his last movement, and threw the torch into the hole for the drain. Immediately, there was a huge explosion and the wall flew up in pieces.
Oh my [insert Elvish swear word of your choice], Saruman has learned how to make explosives. It’s not a secret anymore, huh, Mom? Jasper thought grimly, then she noticed something else. She was in the air. And she wasn’t flying.
“[*beep beep beep*] I’m FLYING!” A flaming hot shard of metal from the grate sheared her calf as Eru’s thoughts infiltrated her mind.
No freaking duh! You’re a mutant freak! You have wings! You can fly!
No! And I bet you have blue hair and can read minds! Idiot! Jasper replied.
I’m flying without wings!!! I'm airbourne! Then she ignored Eru. There were other things to think about. She realized that all the other people that had also flown up from the impact had begun their way down already, several yards lower than her. And she was still going up.
Curse these genetically engineered lightweight bones! Jasper was just about to flare her wings out to see if she could fly, when she hit something. No, something grabbed her. Her arms throbbed and filled with pain, and a metal object curled around her arm and pulled her onto something that stunk so badly Jasper wondered if her mother could smell it. But that thought quickly disappeared when her arms screamed out a terrifying message: “Contact with Nazgul!!!” Jasper screeched in horror, but not in fear, as she realized the worst possible scenario- she was caught by the Nazgul.
“Oh, Eru, help me!”
The hand clenched her tighter, and she passed out as the dark steed of the Nazgul gained speed and shot off towards Minas Morgul. The Chief Nazgul now had a more important task than watch a battle that was already practically Mordor's.
Jasper woke up and blinked.
Where the heck am I? It was pitch black and she couldn't see anything. She was lying on a hard, cold, flat surface in God knows where.
"Where under Eru am I?" she asks aloud, her mind completely blank of the events of the past 48 hours. Suddenly green and blue neon lights flared and flashed. The blue one stayed, lighting up the whole room. It was completely bare, made of black marble, the only thing in the room was the marble pedestal on which she rested. The walls were carved into intricate lines that reached up to the ceiling, yard and yards above her. She turned over, and supported herself with her elbow. Her eyes were slightly glazed, and sighing, since there was nothing else to do, asked the emptiness once more,
"Where am I? Am I dead?"
"You are in Minas Morgul, Tower of the Dead, and you will wish you were dead before we are through with you," hissed a voice behind her. It was deep, but had a hissing quality, making it sound like it was from another world. It was ominous and threatening. Jasper rolled over quickly, bruising her sore wings and bashing her elbow against the marble slab. There was Minas Morgul's ruler, the Witch-king of Angmar and the apple of Sauron's eye, in all his glory.
"Megildûr," Jasper whispered under her breath. "I do not fear you!" she declared, loudly, and a little brazenly.
"Emerwen, you should fear me," and he laughed, a laugh that filled all in hearing with horror and loathing. It was an evil laugh. "You should fear me, for your fate is in my hands." His hands moved, and Jasper's eyes shot to them. She saw an apparition, and she knew it to be one only by its transparency. First there were black feathers swirling in the air. A black cloth caught them and wrapped itself around them. A dark hand, clad in armour shot out and took hold of the bundle and squeezed them. A red liquid one could only take for blood spilled out between the fingers and pooled on unseen ground. The hand released the fabric and unwrapped it, revealing torn bloody feathers, bereft of their shine and health. Horror filled Jasper's eyes as she let out a small shriek of agony. The tips of her wings felt a small but sharp and intense pain, and she knew the Nazgul was responsible. He laughed again, and fury kindled in Jasper's heart. she jumped up and launched herself at the evil figure, but she rammed into an invisible wall, a force of some kind, and was slammed violently back down on the marble table. The Witch-king slowly but steadily approached her, and seized her neck. He lifted her, feet high above the table and made her stare into his dominant gaze. Darkness and despair filled Jasper, and he laughed once more.
"You should fear me, Emerwen. This is only the beginning." He dropped her back and she fell with a thud, as everything once more faded to black.
The following weeks were pure torture for Jasper. Black memories to haunt her forever filled her mind, and at this point time, were her life. The first time she awoke after her initial meeting with the Nazgul, she found herself again held by her jaw, her feet dangling far above solid -or even not-so-solid- ground. He hissed in her face, and slapped her face -even the Nazgul can fall to petty rages in which he can only come up with cliche pain, eh? Well, the metal armoured hand was not so pleasant, nor so cliche, but Jasper bore it. A nice thing about owning superhuman strength was with it came superhuman endurance. She would survive, or he would break her. She resolved to never bend her will to his. The days passed like a fog, separated only by the brief periods of time in which she was allowed blissful relief from consciousness. She remembered being shaken like a rag doll, thrown across rooms of stone, and fingered by Orcs (the worst of the nasty business). But the true worst was yet to come.
Truly she endures much, contemplated the Nazgul,
but her will is not invincible. Even steel can break, when frozen or fired. Let's see what Ice can do, when Fire fails. A day came when Jasper, her body bruised but not broken, her soul desperate but not defeated, her will crumpled but not crushed, was taken to a room she'd never seen before. Twas lit with an eerie yellow-green glow, its source apparently being a shallow and wide circle at the back of the room. In the center was a large wooden table, with various beams, levers, ropes, and chains attached to it. Jasper's eyes widened.
"No," she whispered. "Not..."
The Witch-king smiled.
A hideously evil smile... thought Jasper.
"Yes," said he, "Torture by force. You shall bend to my will, Ellabeth, before you leave my power."
A dark hatred flamed up inside her again. Use her middle name, would he? ACKNOWLEDGE her mother, would he? Try to kill her, would he? No, not if she had anything to say about it. Immediately she sprang into action, kicking and punching like a fiend, Orcs and succumbed men falling and crumpling at every turn. Again, a smile played on the Witch-king's lips. Violence was his amusement, and she was doing his work for him. Hatred always leads to despair, and despair to submission. When she had finally reduced most of her escort to ashes, piles of bones, or moaning collapsed figures, her wings shot out and she prepared to escape. It was not to be. A cruel, metal-shod hand shot out and seized her wing, clenching and ripping as he pulled her to the ground again. He wrenched her face to look at him. A cold flame blazed in her eyes. He laughed.
"Your first test has finished. You are doing well, Emerwen Ellabeth. You shall end nicely." he dragged her by force to the contraption and dozens more Orcs issued from unseen doors in the rock walls. "You know what to do." he hissed, and strapped a mask-like device to Jasper's face. A green gaseous cloud filled it, and she blacked out again.
To be continued...
(Megildûr is translated from Elvish into "dark sword", a name of contempt [obviously] by the High-Elven kind.
Emerwen means shepherdess, a derogatory term in this instance, for since Jasper is a hybrid, it is like saying she is a beast herself, not even partially human. It's very degrading.)
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