Naught But A Dream: Aftermath 1/?

Note: words appearing in {these} are spoken in elvish. Yes, I am lazy.

Chapter 1: Welcome ‘Home’

She sighed once more and looked up into the serene face of her ‘father’.

“Let me get this straight: Because I have effected the lives of some important elves here on Valinor, the Valar have granted their requests that I be brought here.” Her ‘father’ nodded. “Because I was living my life in a different world they decided to wait until I had died to bring me here in the form they most remember me. What about my family? What about spending the rest of eternity in Heaven where I belong? This is not right. Just because some prissy, always have their way, elves want me here does not mean that I want to be here.” He gave her a sympathetic look as she continued her tirade. “Then for the Valar to dump me on you, you’ve already lived your life on Arda and are enjoying Valinor, there was no need for them to mess up your life like that. I’m really sorry, by the way.”

His lips twitched slightly, he did not want her anger turned toward him for laughing at her predicament.

“I remember.” She said softly. “I remember my children, my grandchildren, my great grandchildren. I wanted peace, not a new life.”

“You will weep for a time, my child, but you will come to find a peace here, if you are patient.”

She leveled a hard look at him. “Seeing as I have returned to my 20 year old self, I’m not big on the ‘patience’ bit. More like the ‘Fuck the world, I hate everyone, leave me alone’ bit.” She sighed once more and softened her gaze at him. “What do you want me to call you anyway? I don’t feel comfortable calling you ‘Dad’ or ‘Daddy’ at the moment.”

“You may call me either Adar or Ada, if you wish. I only want you to be happy.”

Her eyebrow rose. “Maybe they did pick the right guy to be my ‘father’.”

“What do you wish for me to call you? Bear in mind that you may be called whatever you wish in this new place.”

“I was always partial to the name Willow, but that would remind me of home. So, no. Umm, how about…Mozell? No, Scribe would throttle me. Oy! I never had so much trouble picking a name for myself! Call me Ishmale. Isshy if you please.”

He blinked at her and gave her a curious look. She laughed and shook her head.

“It was a joke. Guess I royally suck at picking an original name for myself so I’ll just stick to the one I was given. Erin Banshee Land. Yes, my middle name is Banshee. My mother said that I came out screaming like one so she thought it appropriate. Not a word about that to anyone else or I’ll make your life EXTREMELY difficult.”

“I understand completely. What is a Banshee?”

“Oh, I guess you don’t have those here do you? Um, think about the awful sound a Nazgul makes. A Banshee is a woman who can screech like that.”

“How horrible.”

“You won’t address me in my full name will you? Cuz, it’s quite a mouthful.” He shook his head.

He rose to his full height, an imposing figure with jet black hair, strong facial features, broad shoulders and kingly aura. She mentally snorted. ‘Kingly Aura’ was because he WAS a king. High Elvish King Gil-Galad. Died in the Battle of the Last Alliance. Fitting that he was to be her ‘father’ as she was recently deceased as well.

“Um, Ada?”

“Yes, my daughter?” He fell into the role of father easily.

“When am I going to get some food? And a bath? Oh and non stinky clothes? They were rude enough to bring me here in the clothes I was buried in.” She gestured to the white flowery dress hanging limply off her youthful frame.

“The bath is being drawn as we speak and the maids are setting out some clothing for you now. As soon as you are dressed we will dine in the main hall where you will be introduced as my daughter, a gift from the Valar. You will be seated between myself and Lord Elrond.”


“Tomorrow, you will begin your lessons in Qenya with Lord Erestor.”

“Sweet…wait. What? Why?” Her brows were drawn together in confusion.

“Not every elf speaks Westron. It would be easier for you to learn Qenya then everyone to learn Westron.”

“Oh, ok. Um, I can deal with that.”

“This way, Erin.” He motioned for her to follow him.


“She may not remember us. It has been many years.” Lord Elrond said to Glorfindel and Erestor.

“How could she not remember us? We think constantly of her, how could she not think of us?” Glorfindel said haughtily.

“Not everyone is self-serving as yourself, Glor.” Erestor commented to his golden haired companion. Since their encounter Erestor had stopped wearing his robes and became more easygoing, but Elrond and Glorfindel both could tell his anxiety about meeting her in the flesh. He carried a parcel for her, in anticipation of this meeting.

“Just be grateful, Gil-Galad agreed to this meeting with her before her official introduction to Valinor.” Erestor continued.

“…meet some people? You didn’t say anything about meeting some people before dinner! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! What if they don’t like me? What if they don’t speak Westron? Do I look ok? I mean really, does this dress suit me? The maids didn’t tell me anything, just threw it on me and made my hair. Ada! Are you paying attention?” A voice yelped, clearly in a state of panic.

“Erin! Yes, I am paying attention. They will love you. Yes, the dress looks beautiful on you, YOU look beautiful. They wanted to meet you once they learned of your arrival.” Pause. “Should have named you {loud one}.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“Are you ready?”

The sound of a deep breath being let out slowly. A sigh.


“Erin…” came a warning.

“Ready.” She squeaked.

Gil-Galad emerged from the hall and into the balcony overlooking a waterfall and came to a halt in front of the trio.

“My friends! Welcome, I have someone I would like to introduce you to. My daughter, Erin.” He looked over his shoulder and frowned. “Erin!”

She emerged slowly into the dying light, wearing a white gown, her slim arms accented by the long sleeves down to her hands. Her creamy brown skin seemed darker by the gown, her shoulders exposed by the cut of the neckline. Her brown hair seemed softened and it fell in soft waves about her oval shaped face. Her green eyes, illuminated by her attire. Her breasts hugged by the dress as it clung to her down to her waist where it fell loosely about her hips, and legs.

She looked apprehensively at the three people, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides, reflexively. Gil-Galad held out his hand to her. She walked to him, in innate grace, as she took his hand in encouragement.

“Erin, dearest. I would like to introduce you to my friends. May I present Lord Elrond Half-elven.”

Lord Elrond bowed, gently took her hand in his and placed a gentle kiss upon the back of her hand and smiled at her. She gave him a smile in return.

“A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, kind Princess.” He said, joy evident in his voice.

She blushed at the comment and mumbled. “Yeah, you too.”

“This is a member of his household, Lord Glorfindel.”

The blond of the trio bowed as well took her hand in both of his and kissed her hand.

“Such a beauty among dowdy weeds.” He said huskily to her.

She cleared her throat, in unease. Gil-Galad glared at the Balrog slayer.

“Last, but not least is Lord Erestor, also of Lord Elrond’s household. He will be giving you your lessons in the elvish tongue.”

Erestor bowed, basking in her wide-eyed gaze. He heard his heart pound in his ears, he wondered if she could hear it.

“My Lady.” He choked out. “A gift for you, in welcome to Valinor.” He managed steadily. “I look forward to our lessons.” He stared into her eyes and flicker of wonder entered her gaze.

“Have we met before, Lord Erestor?” She inquired softly, accepting the parcel from him. He smiled at her.

“Perhaps in dreams, My Lady.” She looked puzzled in his reply.

“We will see you at the banquet. We still have things to prepare for. Farewell.” Gil-Galad quickly ushered Erin out.

The three stood and looked at the retreating backs of the royal family.


2 thoughts on “Naught But A Dream: Aftermath 1/?”

  1. I wish I could write like you I bet you make a lot of money from all your books. Please update the site more often

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