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Many Thanks and Random Thoughts First, I need to thank those who have volunteered their time as beta readers to this story. It really was a commitment on the part of these four ladies to do so, but through them I came to see I really needed their help. I would be very hesitant to go without a beta reader again. They showed me many ways in which I might improve my skills and I will always be grateful for their help. Thank you to M.N.Theis, JastaElf, Nosila, and most especially Nilmandra (what a great person!). Each did a wonderful job, and each did it for nothing more than my thanks. How I wish I had another way to pay them beyond just these words. I also wish to acknowledge the following people who contributed to this story by offering their comments, critiques, encouragement and insights. Please forgive me if I have forgotten anyone. This story has been a year and a half in the making, and a name or two (specifically those who emailed me as my server won’t allow me to keep things that long) may have slipped through the cracks.
Thank you everyone who helped me by voicing your desire to see this story go on! I know there were some who felt it went on way too long. I apologize for that. Originally, this was going to be a little summer project. That was two summers ago. However, if it helps, I did follow my outline. A few people commented on my choice of the Romany people. One person even asked if I was Romany. I can answer that as ‘no’, though I do know those people traveled through the woods behind my grandfather’s house on an occasion or two when I was a child. I remember being intrigued, and a little frightened by them. As I came to learn more about them, I decided to use the Romany for this story because of their history. They have roots on nearly every continent of the planet and they are as old as Christian times. Call me odd, but I could see a group of nomadic travelers with a name that translates to mean “the people” existing in Middle-earth. Here’s a little more on the real Romany and what I have done to them for the sake of this story. Linguistic experts would have a field day trying to catalogue the whole of the Romany language, as their dialect and common phrasing is significantly different from one country group to the next. It would be easier to say that there is a different version of Romany depending on which country you are looking into rather than saying there is one Romany tongue. Making this even more complex, the Romany people tend not to chronicle their own language. Words are passed on in spoken form, not written, and often the same phrase or word might be found spelled and voiced in several different ways even within the same country culture. Needless to say, my use of the Romany language in this story is limited to what I could find, which was truly a mishmosh of various regional phrases. Some of it I just had to make up. The rest is combined Arabic, Hebrew, Romanian, etc. versions of the language. My apologies. My Romany speech must read as gibberish. The Romany believe in witchcraft and mysticism, and I thought that fit nicely into Tolkien’s world too, which of course is a place where Wizards, Sorcerers, the Dead, Magical Rings, Trees of Light, etc, already have a place. Actually, in the grand scheme of what Tolkien created, I thought a group of gypsies might be a rather tame gathering. However, I ultimately wanted to show what might happen were our heroes to encounter a horror that was actually of human make. Okay, enhanced human make. I know no humans that wield power such as this. However, in Middle-earth . . . well, we know it happens all the time in Middle-earth. Romany healers are known as ‘witches’ and to be a witch is to hold a powerful position within the tribe, but not so powerful as the eldest male, unless of course, the eldest male is also a witch. Knowing that, you can see why Mattias thought he was dead meat when Bäla took power. Hair charms and other amulets/talismans are common devices of fortune and blessing among these people. A lot of effort is put into what outsiders might see as jewelry, but is considered among those people as a fortification against the spirits and evils guiding the other worlds. The beads are usually hand carved and painted, and wishes or ‘spells’ are put upon them. The Romany are rarely seen without these adornments. They also have many ways of reading fortunes, including using stones as described in the early chapters (though the answers I had Bregus find were far more detailed than what a gypsy might read in a real stone tossing session). Because of the Romany belief in witchcraft, I took the liberty of combining their view on mysticism and tied it into some of the more common information of general sorcery and mysticism available in the libraries and bookstores. My research into common magical spells shows some witches do believe that Protected Places exist, but the form that I gave it in this story was an exaggeration of my own make. The means of creating one was based on what I knew of magical spells calling the elements of earth, wind, fire and water for assistance. Henneth-Annün seemed to fit well with those requirements. Actually, real witchcraft is rather tame in comparison to what literature has portrayed it to be. Most magic is truly a matter of studied herbal remedies and a belief system that focuses on the somewhat magical effects of nature. I can also tell you that witches do center themselves on whether they are white witches or black witches. As you can guess, white is considered good and black is bad (black witches are seen as using their powers to manipulate and provoke). Now, onto our characters. When I conceived this story, I did indeed know that Orlando Bloom had broken his back at an earlier point in his life. It was one of the things that drove me to add that part to the story. I love parallels, you see. And foreshadowing. That’s why I had Mal calling him Legless in the beginning of the story, and you will note that Bregus, for most of the tale, had him caught in a spell where he had no use of his legs. Parallels to real life have a way of popping up though. I did not know when I concocted this story that my husband was going to have major back surgery during the course of writing it. He had spinal fusion done on three vertebrae, in April, right around the same time that our dear Legolas fell from the tree. Some of Legolas’ pain was based on what I observed of my husband’s agony. Some too was from the memory of a friend who had suffered paralysis due to a broken neck, way back when. She walked again in the end, but not without spending a long time working toward it. For my husband, he is up and about, but it was a long, slow, and tedious recovery, especially those first three months. In my mind Legolas suffered worse harm, but he also recovered much faster than the spousal unit has done. Such is the weakness of mortals! (Can I trade him in on an Elf? No? Bummer!) Gimli’s halberd was a personal joy to write. Originally, I chose it only because I found it to be a ridiculous weapon. Really, I had no idea how it would play out as this story went on. I just thought he would never pick up a bow with Legolas around, thus he needed another weapon with which to hunt. I also thought an axe was an ill-conceived hunting implement. That left the choice of either a sword or the halberd. Were I a Dwarf I might argue setting snares as a means of capturing game though (they aren’t exactly stealthy in the woods). Even still, I had fun playing with ways to make the halberd fit. Again onto parallels, indeed it was intentional to show three women struggling with conceiving children. I can say I have walked the path of all three of our heroines at various points in my life. This story was partly about that, and also about the aftermath of choosing parenting when there clearly isn’t an interest in parenting, such as Bregus represented. Though it irritates some of you to think of it, she was a mother too, and though her ambitions were rather extreme, I have seen parents in real life who all but abandon their children for the sake of their own glory. Funny, but they still love their kids, even if they are bad examples of how to love. Actually, they usually don’t realize they are bad examples. Usually their children don’t turn out quite as whole as Mattias or Gordash either. Ah well, I wanted a happier ending than that. I really wasn’t going to tell what happened to Faramir, but in the end I found I needed to do so for the sake of understanding his agony. So, yes, at last you all know. Faramir was raped. Or something like raped. Is it rape if no one physically touches you? Actually, same question to Legolas, as what happened to him was a mental assault. At least that is what I was trying to imply by having him say, “Do not touch me,” just like Faramir had been saying. As for the rest of the story, I wanted to show what comes of marriage after a time, even for the perfect mates. The “I do” part is just the beginning. After that, the work really begins. A working marriage requires communication, understanding, compromise, and a sense of humor. At least! And that is if it is just the couple one is dealing with. Adding children to the mix makes it even more difficult as expectations start to interfere. And let us not forget in-laws, friends, careers, religious beliefs, goals, lusts, personal interests, money and how those too have an effect. It’s just part of co-habitation, and a sampling of what you put up with after the intoxication of romance is past. I think not considering all those points was Bregus’ mistake. Spousal abuse is a very scary topic, and I really didn’t get into what attracted Bregus to Bäla, though I had that couple figured out a long time back. I didn’t go into it though because, A) I couldn’t figure out where it best fit, and B) had I written it, I could have spent many a chapter analyzing just them. Yes, it is a sick relationship, but there are many couples in this world who could readily pass for this pair (and no, my marriage is not a model). Abusive relationships feed off of themselves, and as outsiders it is very easy to say, “Why doesn’t she/he just leave.” It is far more complex than that. In some ways being with an abuser almost like an addiction. There is shame and coercion and control all playing into the mix and the heart of the problem stems from low self-esteem. I have more I could say, but that would just force me to write another story. Email me if you like, and I’ll be happy to dissect this story into shreds, unveiling all the hidden agendas I put into it. For now, I am done. Thank you again to everyone who read this story and stuck with me. It was a long journey, but now it is time the ride came to an end. Oh, and don’t forget to turn in your safety harnesses as you leave the pavilion. Best to you all, and have a great day at the rest of the park! Ithilien
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