Aeres (Heiress)

Chapter 1

Prologue

Beyond legend, beyond myth, it is the provenance of fairy tales this story of a legacy from a Maiar bequeathed to the ordinary rather than the powerful, an inheritance passed for hundreds of generations across thousands of years, from mother to daughter, from nain to granddaughter, from sister to sister, from aunt to niece, from cousin to cousin, from stepmother to stepdaughter, from dynes hysbys to apprentice.

It is a fairy tale secreted with few of the Ainur, lost to the Elves, unknown to the Dwarfs, dismissed by the races of men and fading, this story of a magical object.

It is a fairy tale of adventure and danger, of anguish and hope, of love and choices, this story retold by bardds over firelight and by parents at bedtime to children on the fringe of sleep. Though its substance, its tenets, its instructions, its warnings ebb with the retellings, lost in the passage of time.

It is a fairy tale of a ring, not of power but other, one hitherto unrevealed and mysterious in its strength, competencies, and potentialities.

ooooo

Third Age 3012

All day the tides pulled at her, the winds whispered to her, the earth vibrated insistently under her feet, the flames of her fire sparked and danced with anticipation. When the four elements spoke in their native language, Seren heeded their cues. After igniting the lighthouse lamp and gathering supplies, she donned an oversized woolen cloak and made her way to a stretch of beach. Settling on one of the large rocks littering the sand she waited.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

Midday sunlight gave way to afternoon shadows. Shadows retreated as the sky greyed and grew ever darker blotting the sun and its warmth. The soft breeze, which earlier whispered, morphed into brutal shouts, angry and spinning. Waves chopped and slapped, their tips frothy with white foam. Rain began, at first a tepid drizzle, then a downpour of icy needles pricking the skin. Seren burrowed into the warmth of her cape and waited.

A tiny dot on the horizon resolved into a small boat riding the rough sea, unsteadily ascending the towering waves, then rocking on their tops before plunging downward. Up, over, down, Up, over, down. Up, over, down. Closer and closer to shore. Up, over, down. Up, over, down. Up, over, down. Up, up, up ...

The boat toppled backwards and vanished under the water. It resurfaced in pieces, flotsam swirling amongst the eddies of rapid currents. Too far from shore for Seren to swim out and search the debris. From the edge of the shoreline she watched, her eyes searching for any indication of life beyond marine.

And watched. And watched. And watched.

Near midnight, with a mournful sigh, she looked away and prepared to return home. Wind howled. Lightening stuck from sky to water. Earth quaked, rolling pebbles to and fro, and shifting the sands into random patterns. A wave crashed at her feet. She resumed her vigil.

An hour passed. The storm abated. Clouds thinned; moonlight trickled through their gaps. A piece of the shipwreck drifted closer, floating on the now calm sea. Seren threw off her cloak and ran to it, ignoring the splashes drenching her skirt, wading once the water's depth reached her waist, pulling with the incoming tide. After trapping the debris in a bed of underwater plants she dragged the unconscious man atop the wooden panel onto the sand. He gasped for air, his breathing then faded until his chest ceased rising and falling.

Rolling this survivor onto his back, she puffed air into his mouth and compressed his heart. With the tenth compression he blinked, eyes widening as airway pressure brought up the water trapped in his lungs. It was expelled via a series of intense hacking coughs. She steadied him, gently turning his head to the side and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. The coughs gradually subsided, he again faced the sky, frenetic gulps for air came too fast, too deep.

"Anadliadau byr bach," she said.

Disoriented, confused by the strange language he tried raising up onto elbows; Seren pushed him back onto the ground and held him firmly in place. "Gorwedd yn llonydd," she said as her hands probed his body with a light touch.

"Who ... you ... are?" he asked in a hoarse voice when his lungs no longer demanded exclusive attention. In response to her slight headshake and frown he pointed at her.

"Seren vch Iola."

"This ... place is ... unfamiliar ..." He paused for a breath. "Where am I?"

She smiled in response hoping a friendly gesture would settle this foreigner. "Dim esgyrn wedi torri." After helping him sit, his arms draped over her shoulders for support, she gestured to his head then rocked her own back and forth.

He moved his head side to side and was surprised the motion did not shoot pain through his battered skull. "No. No dizziness."

She pointed to the sea then to him. In succession, she touched her fingers to her thumb.

"Six others. None surfaced. I dove, repeatedly, but the water was too dark to find them," he said, voice still gravelly now from regret as much as an irritated windpipe. His expression turned sad, brow creasing and the corners of his mouth ticking down. Remembering his rescuer did not understand Westron, he shook his head.

Seren nodded then rose to her feet, she reached for his hands. Clasping them he pushed up while she tugged him forward. His body swayed; she twinned her arms around his waist. His head drooped onto her shoulder.

He shivered uncontrollably; she wrapped him in her cloak then rubbed his arms and legs to aid circulation. After what felt like hours to him, his trembling subsided. Now steadier, he removed the warm covering and handed it back. She pushed his hands and the warm outer garment to his chest. For emphasis she squeezed the hem of his shirt. Water flowed downward in a steady stream. Relying on the few words she knew in the common tongue, her protest came out broken, "Wet ... cold ... keep."

He shook his head and returned the cape.

Seren crossed arms over her chest with hands grasping elbows and mimed shivering. "Cold ... ill ... keep."

"No." He said with emphasis, "You need it."

Broken languages and hand gestures brokered a compromise; the cloak was shared across both their backs. Exhaustion took him, he swayed. Seren drew his left arm over her shoulder and placed her right arm across his back, its hand cupped his waist. Gently she urged him forward. "Cartref."

Initially their gait was erratic. Unpracticed at striding in shifting sand he stumbled tangling their legs and tumbling both to the ground; once away from the beach his long stride reasserted requiring three steps from her to his one; in time they found a compatible rhythm.

The remaining clouds parted; the moon illuminated their path. "Agos," she said, offering encouragement when his shoulders sagged and his pace slowed.

He acknowledged the welcome news with a weak nod. They continued in silence.

ooooo

The music of the wind floated through the window of her tower singing its secret to the handmaiden. With a pleased smile, Ilmarë watched as Seren guided Éomer through the forest.

ooooo

Lexicon

Aeres: Heiress

Agos: Close, near

Anadliadau byr bach: Small, short breaths

Cartref: Home

Dim esgyrn wedi torri: No broken bones

Dynes hysbys: A title in Celtic mythology, a common term for wise woman, wizard, or witch

Gorwedd yn llonydd: Lie still

Iola: Violet-colored dawn

Nain: Foremother

Seren: Star

Vch: Short form for daughter of