Crowslaughter

So the current plot bunny doing donuts in my brain is the fault of AngelSelene's Wreckage fic which is a crossover between FMA Brotherhood and Criminal Minds which got mixed around with my subconcious OC who seems to play a role in all my plot bunnies and now it's rearranging itself on an almost daily basis.

I'd try to make this comprehensible but if I'm very honest I just don't have the patience. This is a brain dump and it will probably be incomprehensible.

With those high expectations let's get to it shall we?

So my OC sprang to life while I was reading an isekai LoTR's fic a while back and for some reason my brain produced a whole thing about it. Huh, maybe I'll start there.

So an Isekai LoTR where Girl from Our World wakes up in Hobbiton on the day Bilbo meets Thorin right? Right. So the story was very Wish Fulfillment and my brain thought 'hey that's neat, but what if we added a heeping tablespoon of trauma?' And that's kept it chugging ever since.

So imagine this girl, she's from Scotland in the present era, a musician and a talented singer - near prodigy with a violin with a strong voice. Talent of a generation. Except our world you know? Our world sucks. The shit keeps piling on, fascism is on the rise and it looks bad, really bad. But she's young and she's not a revolutionary. She just wants to play music. War happens anyway and World War Three turns out to be the last war anyone fights. Nuclear fallout, the end of everything. And everyone dies. She's one of the last, hidden in a bunker with her family, she watches them die from the radiation and she knows she's sick. She knows she doesn't have long. So she opens the door. She wants to see the sky, one more time. Just once.

She opens the door.

And she sees it. The world on fire. A sky of red and orange, pink and deep purple. Golden light stretching out as far as she can see. It's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. It's the most terrible thing she's ever seen.

The sea is gone. It boiled after the bombs dropped. All that was once green turned to ash and dust.

She only see's it for a moment. Just a moment before she falls. You don't last long in radiation. She knew she wouldn't, she just wanted to see.

And she falls. And she dies.

And she wakes up in Hobbiton. She believes, of course, that this is a dream. Of course it's a dream. Her favorite story, her father used to read it to her when she was young. So she wanders through this dream, happy as can be. She's going to meet Bilbo. Maybe flirt with Fili or Kili.

Only it's too real. She feels too real. And she gets to Bilbo's house and she knocks but she can't understand Westeron. And they don't understand English. And of course Bilbo can't put up with anymore unexpected visitors and she's promptly put out on her ass. Suddenly this isn't a dream anymore and she remembers. She knows how the story goes. She knows what happens to Heirs of Durin.

She follows them. What else would she do? Sit on her ass in Hobbiton? No, she follows after and tries, over and over to get them to listen, to hear her, to understand the danger. And she gets close, she becomes a begrudging member of the Company. She earns Thorin's reluctant respect.

She falls in love. Isn't that stupid? A stupid thing to do, falling in love. They hardly know eachother, they can't even speak to one another, not really. And when they ask her her name she says "Freya". Not because it's true, but because it reminds her of her past. Of make believe with her brothers. Of a time before war or loss or blood red skies.

Freya, who falls in love with Fili almost against her will. And Fili, who is loyal to his brother and his uncle but whose eyes can't help but follow this strange wild girl who has followed them across middle earth.

It doesn't help. She can't stop it. The story changes but not enough. Thorin still dies. Fili still dies. Kili still dies.

And Freya wakes up after the Battle of Five Armies and finds she cannot see. She cannot see. She has gone blind. her last sight was the look on Fili's face before he died.

She failed.

And then Oin tells her the news. She's pregnant. One night with a beautiful dead dwarf. One night with Her One. She's pregnant.

Time moves on. She learns Westeron as Erebor rebuilds. She remembers the story of the Lord of the Rings. She begins to understand that her world is gone. She gives birth to Thili, son of Fili. And then Dis, sister of Thorin returns to Erebor with the last of their people. Freya isn't trying to avoid her, but Thili woke up and she felt restless even through her exhaustion so she paces through the city until she gets to an abandoned section. And she stands in this cavernous room and aches with how much she misses Fili, as she holds their weeping child.

She begins to sing (A ógánaigh an chúil chraobhaigh - clip by Malinda)

This is where Dis finds her. And they speak, and they bond.

Thili, by the time they are walking, it is evident they are third gendered. A blessed thing in a dwarf, and marked by the green with which they use to dye their beard.

For thirty years Freya stays in Erebor, and she doesn't explain much to her new family of dwarves about where she comes from or how she knows what she knows. They know she is clairvoyant, but not to what extent. Not how.

She doesn't explain. She doesn't know how. And it hurts to remember her home.

For thirty years she stays and does not age, Thili is still a small child. And then one day she goes to sleep in Erebor and wakes up in Azaroth.

Thus begins the long journey. Freya spends sixty years in Azaroth, still not aging. But she learns to fight even while blind. She learns magic and takes to fire naturally. She becomes single minded in her focus. She will return to middle earth. She will return to her child.

She travels to many other worlds. She stops counting the years somewhere after the second century passed. Perhaps I'll go into Freya plot bunnies another day, I have many and they seem to pop up as I'm going to sleep every night.

Anyway.

She does return to Erebor. She washes up on the river one day, in Rivendell, the day before the Council to determine the fate of the free peoples of middle earth. Gloin and Gimli are terribly surprised to see her, the dwarves of Erebor had long despaired that they'd never see her again.

It's an emotional reunion. The elves have never much known what to do with her, and Gandalf...well. He's curious and very nosy and she has little patience for his mind-reading tricks.

She attends the council, sitting next to Bilbo and holding his hand. The Fellowship of the Nine forms and she stands and approached Frodo. "I cannot accompany you on this journey, but I will walk with you for a time."

She learned through her many, many years of traveling the worlds that she cannot truly divert the path a story is meant to take. Some things can be changed and others cannot. She learned to see the threads of fate, though her sight is still gone, she can see the threads. What is maleable and what is fixed, and what could end in disaster if she interfers too much.

The War of the Ring is a tenuous time for her to be meddling, and she is reluctant to change too much. But she is finally in Middle Earth, she can see Thili's thread, leading north towards home. She will see them again, she knows. But there are changes she can make, if she is careful.

So she walks with the nine until Moria, delivering warnings where she is able. She meets them in Galadriel's wood and enjoys messing with the elves a little bit too much.

She has to get her kicks somewhere.

And then there is the battle at the ruin. The death of Boromir that doesn't need to be. She can see the threads and she stands before him, pulling fire from thin air to battle the orcs. She must be careful, Merry and Pippin must encounter Treebeard, and so they must be taken by the orcs, but Boromir does not need to die.

Boromir nearly dies.

She pulls him from the brink of death through sheer will alone. She sends Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli after Merry and Pippin and takes Boromir towards Gondor. She begins to question whether this was really a good choice, but Boromir is a good man and he didn't need to die. Faramir will need him.

She doesn't know what Boromir being alive will do to the timeline.

She takes him home. She warns him of his father, and bids him to look after his brother. A new thread spins out, she tried to feel more confident than she is and she travels back towards Rohan.

She arrives in time to meet the newly restored Theoden as they prepare to head towards Helms Deep. So they go. At the battle of Helms Deep she lets herself a bit more loose, inadvertently frightening all the men there as she shoots fire from her hands and feet, pulls a black-blade from thin air and cuts through orcs like their wheet grass.

She travels with them to Saurumon's tower, and meets with the Ents. As they stand at the base of the tower and Gandalf banters with Sarumon, she watches the threads. She knows what will happen if Sarumon is permitted to live. She knows what will becomes of Hobbiton. What does not need to happen to Hobbiton.

She looks up at the tower, at this tall wizard. This man fallen. She turns and vanishes into thin air only to reappear behind him. "Sarumon." She says. "Curumo. Curunir. Or shall I call you Sharkey?"

Gandalf calls to her from below. Admonishes her. Sarumon's fate is not hers to decide.

She disagrees.

She whistles, high and echoing. A horse can be heard in the distance, heaving, galloping, stomping closer. Until suddenly a large black destrier bursts forth, running on air. His mane is streaming green flame, his eyes glowing. On his back a black rider, helmeted and cloaked.

"Weaver." the rider comes to a stop before the edge of the tower and Sarumon reels back, striking at her. He misses, he has been stripped of his power, of his staff, of his office by Gandalf. He is powerless as he falls to his knees on the roof of his tower, between Freya and the black rider.

"Weaver." the rider says, it's voice a hollow echo that rolls over the audience far below. "Why have you called me here?"

"Knight of Infinity," she says. "You are indebted to me, against your will and mine. I offer you a chance to be relieved of your burden."

"Yes."

"I offer this man to Walkers Prison."

"Yesss."

And the black rider reaches forward, grasps Sarumon like a doll, his great hand so large, so solid and heavy and Sarumon may as well be made of straw. With a great screeming cry the horse reers and races off again, vanishing in flame and smoke.

Frey areappears on the ground.

"What have you done."

"What needed to be done."

Freya stays only a little while longer, bids her goodbyes, and then travels north finally, towards Erebor and Thili.

Erebor is under siege.

Erebor does not need to be under siege.

The thing to understand here is that Freya is old. She is so old now. She has made so many mistakes. She has lost so much. She has learned so much. It has been a long time since she was human.

She stands on the hill and faces the army laid out between her and her home. Between her and her child.

"Here me armies of Mordor." Her voice rolls out over the assembled men and orcs. On the wall, the Dwarves freeze.

Dis, armored and straight backed with cold diamond hard eyes gapes out at the red-haired figure on the field, surrounded by an army of black.

"Here me armies of Mordor-" they jeer at her, mocking and eager for a spot of entertainment. "I will give you this one, singular chance. Flee now for your lives, or die where you stand."

No one takes her up on her offer, a command comes from the pale orcs daughter and an arrow flies for her throat. It shatters before it gets within five feet of her.

"So be it."

She stomps her staff once on the ground and a shudder rolls through the valley. A storm gathers overhead, clouds rolling in. A horn can be heard from far off.

In Majdan - sung by Freya accompanied by the dead voices of her ancestors. As she sings the storm rages and fire falls, collumns of flame and smoke. At the climax of the song Freya pulls in a breath, gathers energy to her and points - lightening crackling from her fingertips to clear a large swath of the army.

By the time the song is done only a handful remain.

They run.

The doors of Erebor open as Freya falls to her knees.

"I think I overdid it." she whispers as Thili catches her.

Anyway - all this happens. The War of the Ring resolves as expected with Frodo and Sam. Sauron is defeated. And Freya returns to Erebor. Meanwhile Thorin, Fili and Kili watch on from the afterlife (ala Sansukh fashion). And boy oh boy do they have questions and concerns. Mostly though, Fili is overjoyed that she is alive. That she is back.

After the war of the Ring Freya finds that she is aging again. Finally. She still doesn't answer questions about where she's from, where she was for all that time. Where she learned such magic. Gandalf especially she avoids.

One day, after a long life. After Gimli has gone to Mahal's Hall and Legolas has followed after him. After Aragorn is laid in the white tombs of his forefathers. After Durin has reclaimed Moria and there is peace once more in Middle Earth. Freya finally dies.

Several things happen seemingly at the same time.

In the halls of Mahal there is a disturbance, and Fili, Kili, Thorin and Dis are called before their lord...who is not alone. There is a woman next to him with long dark hair and glowing green eyes. She introduces herself as a Herald of Infinity. Prior to her return to Middle Earth Freya made a choice between the afterlife of her people, where her parents and brothers reside, and the halls of Mahal. She chose Mahal.

The lady looks upon the assembled Dwarves and offers a choice. At her feet is a box, whithin it resides a mirror. If they look into the mirror they will witness all the terrible events of Freya's long, long life.

"Why?" they ask. She smiles, kind and cold and sad. "She deserves to be understood, by those who claim to love her."

They take the mirror, and with it her instruction. "When you look into the mirror, there is no going back. This is not like the starry waters, while you are in the mirror, time does not move elsewhere. You will walk through the many events of Freya's life. And when you return it will be as no time has passed. But to there is a risk, you cannot look away. You cannot leave the mirror. Not until it is done."

On Middle earth Freya is yet breathing her last, soon she will arrive in the Hall.

They look into the mirror. A single, horrible moment. A life unlike any they'd ever seen. When they are released, they are not the same.

Freya arrives in the Halls of Mahal, as many have done before her. But instead of stumbling blind and naked into the arms of her family, she is clear eyed once more, able to see for the first time since the last time she saw Fili. His face is the first she sees in this new place. His arms are the first to hold her, and she is home.

Thorin, stubborn and heartfelt as ever. Takes her to the starry pools to look at Middle Earth and see how she is loved. See how she is remembered.

She knows. Of course she knows.

But she didn't, not really. She didn't understand. Truly, how she was loved.

The great hall of Erebor is filled with Dwarves, men and elves. With hobbits. Friends and strangers both. Gathered to remember the Strange Lady of Erebor.

Thili stands by the King in mourning robes. In singers robes, and begins to sing. At their side, their daughter Dis sings as well.

Freya watches in wonder and tears as her child and granddaughter sing for her. Fili holds her as she weeps.

...

Wow a thousand words is longer than I anticipated. Okay.

I feel like I used to have a voice you know? When I was young and filling notebooks with story ideas and bad poetry, half written songs and dreams. I remember being twelve and my dad, half drunk on whiskey and beligerent with it, stood me in the middle of the room and made me defend my dream.

"Why do you want to be a writer?"

I still remember how I felt when he asked me that. Frozen solid on the spot, terrified and angry and so so sad. How could you ask me that? As if I didn't deserve to be what I wanted to be. As if I had to earn my dream. As if this was his way of reaching in, grabbing hold of the stitching in my soul and tearing it out. As if this was his way of saying you'd do better to dream less. Give up now, you'll never be a writer.

I stuttered out some kind of response. I don't remember what I said now, only that he didn't accept it. "That's not good enough." He said. I remember that.

I don't think he ever actually read any of my writing, now that I think about it.

It wasn't the first time he'd tried to kill a dream I had. When I was six I wanted to be a singer. I loved music so much. I still do, as much as I can. But when I was small and music was magic. It filled my chest and made me feel like I could fly.

I don't remember telling him that's what I wanted to be. I don't think I did. Maybe he just heard me singing and decided to do something about it.

I was six years old and he stood me in front of a wall and told me to do scales. I tried. I was nervous. His hand was big and heavy on my back and it made me feel too big for my body. I tried to sing, I did.

He told me, very seriously, in that tone he had like he was delivering benevolence. Like he was being kind. "You're tone deaf Allie, you'll never be a singer."

It took me nearly twenty years to be able to sing in front of another person again.

To be clear I'm not tone deaf. I've been told, on more than one occasion, that I have a lovely voice. I don't know if I'll ever be able to sing comfortably in front of others though. The few times I've tried my throat closes up, the notes breaking apart on my tongue like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Tone-deaf. Don't you know you're tone deaf?

I think I'm afraid, really, deep down. That if I let this dream die, it'll be because of him. It'll be another dream he stole from me with his too big hands and his benevolent smile.

So I do actually plan to make a family tree/profile for the Salkeys. I'm fond of them and I have many thoughts, but this came as I was tearing apart canon material and the idea of having a character named 'Kingsley Shacklebolt' was so distasteful for me I got a little ill. So I did some research and then fell into a worldbuilding hole and then the Salkey's were born.

Kingsley's interesting to me and I like the idea of him being a little brother in a big, loud, colorful family.