Author's Note: Thank you for MithLuin for beta-reading the story. :)

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Part 1
The Fairy Land

The hovercraft splashed through the gentle waves of the lake with a steady drone. Overhead, water birds circled and cried at each other. Dawn had just broken over the mountain range through the morning fog.

Nine-year-old Raine had woken up early to greet the sunrise on her beloved amphibious vehicle. Given the fact that it was midsummer, it was an accomplishment; and given that also, her parents were still fast asleep in their summer cottage by the lake. Before daybreak, she had stuffed her pack full with drawing and writing equipment, her reed flute and several other things; then she snuck down to the kitchen to pack a breakfast and lunch for herself – plus some snacks, a water canteen, two water bottles, and some bottled juices for reinforcements. She left a note on the kitchen counter, kept in place by a small jar of butter, telling her parents that she would like to go to the little wooded islet on the middle of the lake for some play and brainstorming. She had gone there thrice – twice with her parents and once by herself – anyway, so no one ought to be worried.

  Even though riding her hovercraft in and around the lake was an everyday occurrence these past two weeks, the joy of riding the waves and slipping between them never became old. She still laughed at various little things she found too, from the sudden glint of the newly-rising sun on one side of the waves, the dark and silvery fishes darting away or around or riding the current of the waves, to the bits and pieces of water plants drifting just under the surface, as if waving at her. But a small pang of thirst brought her away from them, and she looked at the monitors on the steering bar as her hand automatically reached under it for the water bottle stashed in a nook there.

  Her hand froze on the cap of the water bottle. Her thirst was forgotten for the moment. Her eyes, wide with shock and disbelief and denial, were fixed on the panel showing the content of her fuel tank. The needle had retreated a bar from the green-coloured F on the right corner of the panel. It had never done so in her previous trips to the islet, the return journey counted. What had happened?  Was something wrong with the hovercraft?  Was it leaking? Not even a trip to the opposite shore would have required such an amount of fuel! The hovercraft had been just fine yesterday evening, and nothing had seemed wrong when she had launched it into the water this morning.  How long had she been out here, by the way?

  Her eyes quickly scanned the cluster of monitors.  Rather than reassurance, her denial was scattered and blown away on the sudden gust of damp and salty wind. The needle magnet in the compass perched above the gauges spun round and round like a mad thing, never ceasing.  What had happened?  Where… where was she?

  She hunched over the steering bar and cried silently, her body shaking with fright of the unknown and childish insecurity. But the hovercraft never ceased its droning, and it ploughed and jerked forward obstinately against the rougher, salty waves. Overhead, the sea gulls wailed as if mourning her tears.

  After awhile, the front wheels of the vehicle struck a semi-solid obstacle, and Raine was jerked awake – literally and figuratively.

  “Where?” she whispered weakly, wild-eyed and trying to look at everything around her at once. The strong waves, almost unnatural in how measured they felt, pushed her farther and farther away from the water. The engine of the hovercraft did the rest of the job.

  It was certainly not the wooded islet she had aimed for. And when she finally came to the realisation of what she saw, just before the hovercraft ploughed through the fine white sand, she was convinced she had been somehow transported to heaven… or fairy land as in the story books her mother had sometimes read to her when she had been much smaller. It was not a comforting notion, although she did not yet know why.

  But everything glowed and was clean – in a sense beyond what the words usually meant – and… alive. The occasional inland breeze was sweet, and the tangy wind from the sea was somehow fresh and freeing. They were in accord with her young and innocent soul, and before long she was lulled into a state of quiescent tranquility. She turned off the engine of the hovercraft when the wheels were stuck on the deep sand, but stayed perched on it with a blissful smile, absorbing the environment with wide – but no longer wild – eyes.

  A wall of jagged cliffs ran opposite the beach, white and creamy and grey and brown. Deep green lines flanked the span of white sand on each end, and Raine was sure they were woods. Clumps of sea grass dotted the beach, making it look more beautiful instead of marring it, and beds of it grew close to the cliffs.

  She frowned with thought on the second inspection of the cliffs. Those were marble, if her sight and memory of her father’s lectures about stones did not betray her. Marble came from limestone, did they not? And limestone was mostly white or creamy…

  She looked down and coiled into herself, balancing on the seat of the hovercraft, fighting back new tears. Could she go back to her own world, to her parents? Or had she somehow died? But she did not remember dying, and she had not remembered going through some sort of portal at all. The changes had been so seamless, too seamless for her to find a crack through which she could return. Those stories – they always returned in the end. They came through a visible border between the two worlds, or died in a world and lived again in the other. They were not like she was, stranded here without hope of returning.

  Her surroundings no longer looked so beatific, but she could not bring herself to scorn all the untainted, indifferent beauty around her. They did no harm to her. They did not mock her. They… welcomed her, somehow.

  With an effort, she pulled herself together and uncoiled herself, returning to her earlier observation. This time, though, she did it not to admire the scenery, but to find an immediate shelter for her to take a rest. Lessons about survival skills from her parents came tumbling into her mind, but nothing fitted the description of this kind of environment. She wished she had paid more attention and asked questions when her mother and father had explained things during their camp-outs. But she felt vulnerable sitting there alone in the open, and she was so tired… She had woken up much earlier than usual for this excursion.

  There was a low, strong-looking overhanging ledge on one of the more prominent cliffs. Short but soft-looking grass thrived in its shadow, seeming like a good bedding to lie upon for a while. Raine drew a brief, shaky smile. She had not sought any adventure. Adventure had found her instead. But she would not call herself a Scottish lass or a Welsh maid if she shirked from it or started bawling like a toddler. She would make her Ata and Mama proud—

  Even when they were not there, and would never know because she could never come back to them?

  She balled her hands into fists and clenched her teeth. No, she would not cry again this time. And she must not pity herself either. Not now, not when she was already tired from all that had been happening to her. She would make a nice shelter, eat her breakfast, and lie down for a short nap. That sounded like a better plan than moping around. After all, there was no one in sight, so she had to work alone, and working alone took time.

  With a combination of strategy, strength and sheer will, she dragged and pulled her hovercraft through the deep sand to the natural sanctuary under the ledge. By the time she got to the spot she had seen from afar, the sun – somehow clearer and brighter but not scorching here – had reached its zenith, and she was coated in sweat and sand from pony-tailed head to rubber-booted feet. She fetched scattered rocks to pile for the walls of her shelter by sheer will only, and when the little cave was formed at last, she could only sit behind her hovercraft – which walled her from the beach and the sea beyond – and weep with exhaustion.

  She had never exercised her body to this level, and her parents had always let her have some respite when she grew too tired in their trekking or mountain climbing. But here she had no one to ask help from, and she was not sure if she would have asked anyway if there were anyone around, given the strangeness of the place. She felt quite wretched now, and the sand glued to her skin and clothing and hair and face by her pouring sweat did not help her mood at all. She went into a tired half-sleep sitting sprawled on the grass, leaning against the smooth cool surface of the cliff under the ledge.

  What would Ata or Mama do in this situation?

  Ata would almost instantaneously attempt to see if their campsite was safe and secure from any rock-related disaster like landslide, and perhaps get to know if there was any rock or soil formation to examine. Mama would fortify their campsite from possible hostile intrusion from the wildlife, and see how near they were from a source of clean water, and check around for venomous or bothersome plantlife and herbs – to eradicate one and collect the other.

  But this was not a forested area or archeological or geological site, was it? And there was clearly no clean water source around as far as she could see or hear.

  Her brittle frustration, having been fended off by the merest hint of rest, returned like a slamming wave. At length, unable to return to her not-quite-so-restful half-sleep, she huff-sighed and crawled to the hovercraft, searching for her breakfast package among the tarp-covered pile of things tied to the back half of the seat and the end of the vehicle. At least, she thought, she had to eat and drink some in order to prepare herself for anything ahead. She had already felt faint from a vigorous half day without food and water and sufficient rest. And maybe the orange juice could clear her mind a bit? It usually worked…

  She washed her hands just outside the overhang with a bit of water from the bottle under the steering bar, then went into preparing a big bacon-cheese-tomato sandwich to sate her appetite. She catalogued all the food, beverage, kindling and fuel she had in her mind while nibbling at the sandwich, then began to rearrange her pile of belongings and retie them to the hovercraft as soon as she finished it and washed it with some gulps from her orange-juice bottle. Mama would have worried off her ears with her fretful haranguing if she were being careless with the few things she had for surviving in this place. Well, plus, it must do her good in the long run, right? If not, Mama and Ata would not have drilled all those steps and principles into her mind whenever an occasion showed itself – and sometimes even in the absence of it.

  Handling those plastics and tins, though, felt weird to her; it happened also when she had to check the heater and cooler boxes attached to the storage battery set in the hovercraft. They did not feel… right. They did not belong here. It was like when she and her family had to use them in the wilderness, but this time the feeling was stronger. It made her rather uncomfortable, and she felt misplaced. Well, more misplaced than she had been so far, as if she was the only hare in the vicinity, and an eagle had spotted her. It was a very unnerving and discomfiting state to be in, as she was finding out now. There was no way she would forsake them, though – sadly. They were her only hope to survive in the present, as ironic as it might sound. Plus, there was no hostile response yet from anything in the beach or beyond it.

  No, no. She did not want to jinx herself.

  And they were her only tie to her own world.

  Angry with herself for bringing her lonesomeness to the fore of her mind and confused with the tangles of her own emotions and thoughts, she clenched her fingers into tight fists and snarled at the rough underside of the ledge above her. Usually she had worked herself into a fine rage by now, but her energy was too depleted for that.

  Perhaps… just perhaps… sleep would make it all go away? But what would she dream in this strange place, this strange world? Would she dream of angels, given how heavenlike it all looked and felt? Or would she have nightmare after nightmare, because she would never—

  No, no. Not that again! Just sleep… Just sleep…

  With her lips still set in a snarl, she went to fetch the picnic blanket, intending to use it as bedding. She wanted to get the earlier peaceful oblivion back, now that she had lost it. How silly it was.

  But Mama said something about only appreciating something when it was lost…

  She stamped her foot on the ground, regretting it afterward. “Sorry,” she murmured to the flattened grass, gloomy and chagrined. “Shouldn’t have taken it on you, eh?” Mama had taught her better than this. Everything had its own spirit, however lifeless it looked. A thanksgiving prayer to nature had been the first thing Raine learnt from her mother, even before she learned to talk properly or walk, and she had never forgotten it before.

  With a sigh half choked by a sob, she dragged the plaid cloth to the spot where the grass grew the thickest, then spread it over the place, her hands trembling slightly with the effort of forcing the memories back. She went to the edge of the makeshift little cave and tried her best to remove the offending filth from her skin and clothing, but soon considered it a lost battle and returned to her picnic blanket.

  The sun was still high in the sky, and the afternoon air was still warm and humid, promising a light storm in the least. Trying to sleep in such an atmosphere would not be a desirable prospect for most people, but Raine fell asleep just some moments after she had found a comfortable position to lie on her scanty bedroll – curled sideways, with her arms pillowing her head. Her rubber boots and pouch belt lay nearby, and she had a dagger slipped just under the edge of the blanket close to her head. It was usually only used for cutting and shaping wood, but good enough for defense, and she felt safer sleeping in this foreign and unknown environment knowing that she had a weapon handy.

Part 2
The Mysterious Boy, and His Mysterious Friends

Unlike what she had feared, nightmares did not assail her as soon as she lost command of her consciousness. She did not dream at all, in fact, only drifting in a haze of peace which somehow involved much, much water. A waterfall here, a stream there, a creek, a brook, an underground channel leaping and rushing through tight tunnels and grand caverns…

  Then there was the sea, ever changing, ever shifting; under the stars, under the moon, under the sun, and under the stars again…

  And there was something wrong nearby. Or was it someone? A condensed version of the other-worldly feeling she had been catching from her surroundings. It tickled at the edges of her subconsciousness, drawing her away from the rest she had been enjoying.

  Someone…

  Raine jolted awake with a gasp, instantly curling tighter about herself. A hand, as shaky as the rest of her, darted to under the picnic blanket and drew out her dagger. But then she realised that there was something draped over her; something as warm as a blanket and as fine as silk. A knife suddenly seemed like a bad idea to face this unknown foe. And with that, her fear was notched up a level. The dagger plopped down back to the picnic blanket, released from limp, clammy fingers which twitched every so often with agitation. What should she do? What could she do?  She could not see anything under this barrier.

  Something landed on her shoulder and stayed there. A hand, owned by someone not older than she was. But who? There had been no one! Why now?

  “Go away,” she whimpered. Against this, she did not even have her bravado – born from sheer stubbornness – to support her. Was that person an angel who would take her back home? Or was it a demon about to kill her and bring her to its overlord?

  But a demon would not hesitate to kidnap her, right? It did not have to wait for her to show herself, right? Unless if the blanketing cloth draped over her somehow impeded it, barring it from her? In that case, she was being a turtle now, until it was gone. There was no way she would forsake her only defense.

  She had not realised that the… demon?… was saying something to her. Ah, but perhaps it was a spell, to break away the barrier, or to trap her will in its allure. Mama spoke about types of spells on some occasions, and she had always been fascinated, although she had never been inclined to try them herself. Now the knowledge paid off.

  Well, it was her thought, at least, before a voice sounded in her mind. `Calm down. Why are you so suspicious and spiteful now? You enjoyed this place, did you not?` And meanwhile, the hand resting on her shoulder rubbed her back, like Mama and Ata did to soothe her. But demons never knew what affection was like, right?

  `I am not a demon.` The voice sounded hurt. `I never intend to hurt you. And before you ask, no, I did not bring you here.`

  Raine was miffed. All the lines of her retort had been stolen from her. She huffed and, intending to surprise the intruder, she jumped out from under the blanket in one motion. All those tedious ballet lessons Mama had insisted came to use now, eh?

  But no, the… who was it?… did not look surprised at all. She pouted with childish exasperation. Was there nothing that this creature did not know in advance?

  `I am not a creature either, unless you would call yourself a creature,` it pointed out in a tone the same as her thought had been. `We are both Children of the One.`

  Raine checked her next retort – or rather, her next thought. `The One?` That sounded like… what her playmates often said. God the Giver, God the Maker, God the Merciful…

  She looked at the intruder closely, just as it – he, eh? – spluttered with amazement and glee in her head on her latest comment about ‘the One’.

  The boy – for he indeed looked no older than she was – had silvery hair which reminded her of the wave-crests of the sea under starlight, a pair of stormy blue-grey eyes which somehow managed to look warm instead of threatening, a strong complexion, and a grin caught between mischievous and gentle. But most importantly, he shone! All over, he shone, not only glowed. Raine looked down at her hands and feet, then scoffed with as much disappointment and sadness as mockery at him. `You aren’t. You aren’t like me. See? I don’t even glow. And I bet you aren’t really a boy.`

  Amazement once again flooded her mind, and it did not come from herself. `You are so perceptive. The Elven children never suspected a thing when I played with them.`

  `Elven?` Raine gasped. She sucked a sharp intake of breath in real, and groped for her dagger. Her insecurity was back, and with that an advice from her Ata about having any kind of weapon at hand when facing an unknown danger. No, no. There was no elves – much less Elves – or Dwarves. Brownie and faery and dwarves were only the substance of folklores and myths.

  `Elven. Yes. Elves, as in Elves, Men and Dwarves… Have you never heard about them all – about the Kindred Children of the One? We are all real, not imaginings born from stories.` Then, somewhat upset, he added, `Put away that dagger, please. I do not mean to harm you. Nothing and nobody here is out to harm you; in this place, at least. You know it, deep in your heart, do you not?`

  A dream. A very real dream. She would not be harmed here. It was heaven, really. Dead or no, returning or no, she had to enjoy it… right? Was it not the purpose of heaven or heaven-like places? But if this was some powerful, surreal dream, she had to relish it all the more, right? Because it would soon end, and whenever it wished too, like all other dreams.

  And then she would be back in the lake, on her way to the wooded islet, just within the sight of the cottage where her parents were grumbling exasperatedly about her note.

  Tossing her weapon angrily aside, she balled her fists and glared down at the strange cloth which had blanketed her, which now pooled on her knees and lower thighs. The boy’s voice broke her muttered litany of “Mustn’t think about it. Mustn’t cry. Mustn’t think about it. Mustn’t cry,” with a quiet murmur. `You must not forget them, child. They live, even if only in your memory. You honour them by remembering them.`

  “You don’t know!” she snarled both physically and mentally. “And who are you? Don’t call me ‘child’!”

  The boy looked offended and hurt, but said nothing, only biting his lip and looking away – to the hovercraft. `I am sorry,` he said at length. `As to who I am… We are of the Ainur, the Children born from the Allfather’s Thoughts who lived with him in the Timeless Halls before this world was created. I am from the order of the Maiar, subordinate to the Valar.` He looked back at her, and seemed to realise that his explanation meant very little to her. `I miss our brethren who still live there with Father.` A pause, then he forged on, with an uncertain smile, `I am called Terror, but you need not fear me. Of course, that may change if you decide to trap me in the sand and leave me stuck there, like my brothers and sisters often do.`

  Raine giggled at the image, only realising what she was doing when the boy giggled alongside her. `You looked like I am now,` she said, after her initial surprise had subsided. She grinned at him and let her eyes do the rest of the laughing. `But I can’t call you just Terror, can I? It’s not a name. Mine is Raine. Mauraine Rhallaèice. My grandparents call me Faoilinn, though; Seagull.` She grew relaxed and easy around the stranger. This began to look just like when she had tried to make friends with children in the park near home. Different languages and different attitudes sometimes, but a play would unify them no matter what and broke the language barrier.

  The boy thought for a moment, then said, `Call me Ossë. But when speaking with others, you may want to name me as Eärnur. I am not supposed to be here, you know.` He winked at her, with a somewhat guilty expression on his face.

  Raine chortled. She could not help herself. He looked so… boyish, despite his confirmation of being older than he looked. She balled the cloth on her lap and threw it at his face, before he could react. When it slid down from the target, she was gifted with a pout from him. In response, she stuck out her tongue and giggled.

  He threw it back at her, but she scrambled away, having anticipated the retaliation. She grew serious, then. `Isn’t it yours?` she inquired, baffled. `Sorry for hitting you, by the way. You just looked so irritating.` She glared half-heartedly at him.

  `No. It is yours. My lord – my chief – Lord Ulmo – wishes you to have it. I just spread it on you when you were sleeping, because everybody in the radius could clearly hear your thoughts, and you were afraid of having nightmares.`

  Raine looked away and blushed furiously. They heard her! They heard everything? Her wretchedness, her complains, her suspicions, her curses, her crying, her wanting her parents here—

  `We did. But it was not a shameful thing, child. You were very brave and resourceful, despite everything. Not many people would be so, if they were in your place.`

  `Don’t call me child! And I don’t want your pity.`

  `I am not pitying you. Can you not see the difference between praise – and it was an honest praise, by the way – and pity?`

  He glared at her. She glowered back, but then relented after a moment. The boy was truly hurt, and she had not meant for him to be so. Her anger subsided, and she nodded.

  `Sorry,` she grumbled. Then, a little shyly, she continued, `My thanks for the blanket. Could you please tell Lord Ulmo that?` She picked the blanket up and hugged it, looking back at him with wide eyes, her expression torn between hope and pride.

  His eyes softened. `I will,` he said. `And it could be more than a blanket to shun your nightmares away, you know.` The uncertain smile was back. `You could derive comfort and warmth from it, if you would. He said he might not be able to equal your father in your heart, and he never purposed to steal his place anyway, but he would be very happy to help you in any way possible. You could shape it as a robe or a cloak if you would, and will never lose it.`

  She nodded. Then her gaze, for the first time after she had woken up, roamed beyond the hovercraft to the beach and the sea and the sky beyond them all.

  “Whoa. Night already? I must’ve been more tired than I thought.” And it was a feat, because she had thought she would melt down into a puddle of goo at any time back then.

  She shook her head.

  `You must learn the languages spoken here,` Ossë said after a moment of comfortable silence. `I would not have known what you were saying if not for your thoughts projected out for all and sundry to hear.`

  `Then teach me to block my thoughts too,` Raine shot back, trying to cover her embarrassment at the reminder. `It wasn’t my purpose to let my thoughts be heard by everyone. Well, I did hope someone’d hear me, but not like that, and—` She stopped, realising that she was working up into an incoherent string of babbling. Ata always liked precise reasoning, and Mama always taught her to be calm and collected in every situation. Ah, easier for them; they were adults, after all. But she wanted them to be proud of her, so she would try her best to be good.

  She took some deep breaths and let them out slowly, then, in a quiet and subdued tone, she addressed the boy again. `I would like to learn, please. But I want to learn your language first. You’re the first person I know here… and you – and your boss – helped me, too.`

  `Boss?` Ossë choked. His mirthful laughter surged and trickled into her mind and ears. It became a loud chortle when Raine automatically provided the image of an aristocratic-looking company director in his best professional suit to go with the word. He pounced at her in an impulsive manner and hugged her, still laughing uproariously.

And the sea laughed with him.

  Raine could not care less, for the time being. Ossë’s laughter was contagious, and it was surprisingly comfortable, nestling in his arms while they laughed together as if in childish amusement to a dear uncle’s little faux pas. They could be like an older brother and a little sister, just as she had always wanted.

  `I will,` he promised when their overflow of mirth had subsided a little, but he did not let go of her. She used the chance to settle deeper into his embrace, not questioning why she could do so, as if to a person larger than she was. `Would you like to see the stars now? It will storm soon, and the stars will not shine down here for some hours. But I will always be here with you… if you would.`

  Raine nodded. `I need to wash my hovercraft and clothes and boots too.` Then she remembered that Ossë’s clothing had been clean and impeccable, and she jolted. `Sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin—`

  He chuckled. `Then I will have a reason to play under the rain too, eh?` he joked. She giggled, despite herself.

  Reluctantly, she moved away from his embrace. In the dim light cast by Ossë’s form on their surroundings, she searched for her set of reed pipes, which usually hung from her pouch belt. Thinking the better of it, she fastened the belt around her waist instead of just taking the pipes with her. Then, eager to leave, she waved over her shoulder without looking back, and dashed out of the shelter.

  Her first reaction was: “Oh!” The sand was aglow with a cold but at once soothing ambient light, not as clear as moonlight but somehow better, more preferable. Compared to it, sunlight and moonlight looked… faked.

  Then she looked up, and uttered another exclamation of surprise and awe. The stars shone undisturbed by any other light, bright and clear and cold and multicoloured. The stars and constellations were familiar, but here they looked… more real, as if real things put on the sky by some divine hands.

  Was she not in a sort of heaven now, though? That should make sense.

  That was Orion there, and Sirius, and Vega, and the Big Dipper, and Arcturus, and Polaris, and the Little Dipper, and the Swan, and the Eagle, and the Swooping Bird—

  She fished out her reed pipes without looking down, and began to play even as her head was tilted up to the night sky. Then, feeling uncomfortable with her current position, she laid herself sprawled on the sand and resumed playing. The stars sang to her, but she could not sing back, so she just played, matching their songs and trying to enrich them at length.

  And the stars rejoiced with her.

  When the glee of trying a novel thing had subsided, however, she realised that it was so quiet around her; too quiet. She finished with a set of notes, then scrambled to her feet, looking around warily. Had she disturbed something with her playing?

  There was nobody in sight. But there was no wind also, and no wave in the quiescent sea. The clouds above it retreated, even, exposing more of the night sky for her eyes to explore.

  She hugged her reed pipes and dashed back into her shelter, afraid. There she sat in the deepest recess, and observed everything around her like a doe spotted by hunters.

  When Ossë appeared on the ‘door’ of the makeshift cave, she started and squeaked. “Don’t come in all of a sudden like that!” she snapped, but her tone was several pitches higher than normal.

  Her nervousness eased into bemusement when he just stood there, staring at her as if she were a ghost. That look would have matched her perfectly when she had seen him for the first time. But it did not make sense. He was the unearthly being, not she.

  “You all right?” she asked. Then, remembering that they did not speak the same language, she repeated it in her mind, a little forcefully, `Are you all right? Come in. I’m sorry for snapping at you. The silence… It frightens me.`

  He did come in, at her pleading look, but said nothing. He seated himself beside her and drew his knees up to his chest, and all the while he looked at her intently.

  She lost her patience after some time. `What’s wrong?` she urged, but he did not answer her. Outside, the sea had returned to its restive rumbling and shushing, and above the land now loomed a sheet of dark clouds, blotting out the stars which had previously sung with her. Realising it would rain soon, she went to the hovercraft and unpacked her things and piled them on the grass, so she could use the pail that had housed them to collect rainwater.  The return of the familiar environment – as familiar as it could be in this living land – calmed her down some more, and soon she sought to forget the anomaly she had witnessed earlier. The only thing left to banish now was Ossë’s silence.

  Hmm. He had said that the blanket could provide her warmth and comfort, had he not? It would be good now, for the both of them.

  `Hey,` she coaxed him as she draped the silken cloth over the both of them. Her arm remained on his shoulder across her back in a sideways loose embrace, while she nestled into his side and draped the cloth over herself. `Good enough now? Would you talk about it? I don’t want you like this. It’s like someone else in your body – only that I know it’s you.` She laid her head on his free shoulder and closed her eyes. Ossë had been right. She felt like being embraced by a set of big, fatherly arms now, like Ata’s but not so. It was so comforting, and she felt secure, even as the sky growled and flashed. It was completed when another set of arms was added to it, and her seat was now someone’s lap instead of the grass. It was like a dream coming true. A caring older sibling…

  The wind whistled by, its tendril sweeping into their shelter and upsetting the plaid picnic blanket, but not the cloth they shared. Drops of rain began to fall outside, and soon they merged into a sheet of watery curtain, screening the two huddled under the rock ledge from the view of the sea beyond.

  Well, but the sea did not want to be outdone, or so it seemed. It roared and splashed and bashed, contending or perhaps in accord with the wind. It was like hearing a terrible giant wanting to break free from its bondage, teased by the high-pitched hooting and wooping of a cluster of little fairies. But the undertone of the whispering rain tempered it all down, in a way, and the blend between the two was somehow beautiful… in a sense beyond what Raine could describe even to herself.

  Thunder and lightning joined the tableau soon. Now it was as if there were two beasts fighting for dominance, and the light and the wind cheered them on. The white and red and purple flashes were distorted and reflected by the raindrops into clouds and shadowy figures, mesmerising the wide-eyed girl curled in her new friend’s tight embrace, even as she was shaking with fear, awe, and morbid excitement. An assortment of smells permeated the shelter, giving a more tangible sense to the whole grand performance and realism to its unearthly effects.

  And they all sang. The sea, the rain (now splashing and trickling on wet, packed sand), the wind, the light…

  “Oh,” Raine said softly, and smiled. There was a terrible beauty in the storm, and as long as she was away and safe from it, she could appreciate it for what it was.

  And the person in whose embrace she happily settled in appreciated the sentiment. But the awed feeling he had exuded before, which had been tempered down during the unfurling of the storm, tinged the appreciation he conveyed mentally to her.

  `What do you find me weird?` Raine asked again, automatically, yet without her earlier vehemence.

  `You sang with the stars, and now you recognise the song of the storm – although I doubt you would sing with it,` he said simply. She frowned.

  `The stars didn’t sing in my place,` she confessed. `They were mostly obscured, too. But here things are alive, and bright, and singing.`

  `And you reciprocated.`

  `Is that a bad thing?`

  `No. Just unheard of – And no, I am not mocking you.`

  `I wanted to sing with my throat, but I couldn’t, so I played the notes on my reeds… and everything was suddenly quiet. Why?`

  `Because then you did not sound like a Mannish child at all.`

  `What do you mean?`

  `The world – the universe – Eä – was created by Music, Raine. Songs shaped it, and they maintain it until the End. Themes were woven into its fabrics, and they are still present until now… only to the ears that can hear.`

  `I still don’t understand.`

  `Do not ask me. None of us know why you can, while there is neither Ainurin nor Elven blood in you.`

  The storm raged on as the friends lapsed into contemplative silence. Then it, too, shifted into a mere downpour. Raine, smiling with anticipation, freed herself from Ossë’s arms and the gift cloth. She unbuckled her pouch belt and freed her hair, then picked up her boots before going into the rain. `Coming?` she asked.

  `I will stay here and look around, if you would permit me.`

  `Suit yourself. But please don’t touch anything… yet. I don’t want any mishap.`

  `As you wish, my lady.`

  `I'm not a lady.`

  Ossè chortled. `You behaved just like one now,` he retorted cheekily.

  `I’d spray you with water if I didn’t worry about it wetting my things.`

  `Ah, I am most wounded, my lady. You place your belongings above this faithful friend of yours?`

  `I'm not a lady!` Raine snapped, but she could not help herself from smiling. `And I’m not a lord, either, in case you’d say so.` She jolted and shivered from the barrage of rainwater tumbling down from the ledge, but forced her body to adapt as she moved some steps away onto the wet sand. The sound of uproarious laughter came muffled to her from the direction of the shelter. She ignored it as best as she could.

  She checked the pail, and saw it was doing its best catching the deluge pouring down from the sky. She busied herself scrubbing her boots some steps away from it, then her skin, clothes, and at last her tangled hair. All the while, she hummed the old rain songs her parents and grandparents had taught her, thanking it for a chance to clean herself and provide some much-needed fresh water.

  She could not bring the full pail back to the shelter, though. She gave up after some attempts – in which a big toe had been stubbed, an ankle had been twisted slightly, and her hands and arms were sore. `Help, please?`

  And just like that, the pail vanished from under her hands. She shrieked.

  `It is here. Do not worry,` came Ossë’s voice in her head, reassuring.

  `Warn me next time,` she snapped. He projected a sense of sheepish grin into her mind and a feeling of mild guilt. She yielded to his coaxing at length and grudgingly gave him a mental smile. `Don’t do it again,` she said weakly, her heart still racing. She approached the outer side of the hovercraft, reached above it for the mound of tarp, and flicked it towards the inside of the shelter. A muffled cry greeted the action, and she grinned.

  `Payback,` she teased while tossing the boots to another part of the shelter. Afterward, she maneuvered the hovercraft out to the rain. It was time to wash it now, taking care of it, as she had promised her parents a year ago on her eighth birthday, when they had given it to her as a birthday present. She had to take care of it, Mama and Ata had said (and kept reminding her), so that it would take care of her journeys on land and water alike without any complaint. Ata had even joked that the only difference between it and a horse was that it did not have a conscience.

  And now it was vital for her, regardless of its instigating this whole mess in the first place. Besides, she could not in her right mind miss the chance of having to pay attention only to scrubbing the hovercraft, not about the water.

  Hmm. But where was the water bottle under the steering bar? Its nook was empty. She did not remember ever taking it away with her other belongings before this…

  `It is here. I took it,` Ossë chimed in. Raine glared at the said bottle’s nook she was scrubbing, irritated.

  `I knew what it is, and I intended it to house a gift from this land for you,` he said defensively, but then relented. `I am sorry for panicking you. I hoped to give you a surprise gift.`

  `Just forget it,` Raine grumbled, then sighed. She finished scrubbing the hovercraft in silence, then led it back to its former place. By now, her palms and fingers were all raw from the constant friction against sand and dirt and various other clinging filth. In her eagerness, she had forgotten the small towel stored in her pack. Everything could have gone differently…

  She grimaced when she returned to the rain-free square under the ledge. Ossë was there, standing beside the pile of her belongings and holding her missing water bottle, looking at her in concern. `Just stand there, and I will dry you,` he said. His serious tone was the only thing barring her from retorting or disobeying.

  `You’re upset,` she commented instead. He did not deny it, but did not answer either. Before she could force the matter, though, he uttered a series of melodies; only that, he did not open his mouth at all, and his throat did not even vibrate, although she could also hear the wordless song through her physical ears. That unnerved her, much. It was hard to stay where she was and stand still.

  But her clothes did dry up, quickly, and she even felt warmer, as if she had never gone under the rain.

  And speaking about the rain, it had – rather mysteriously – stopped when she had not paid attention. Hmm. Curious.

  `Could you please teach me that? Can I even do it myself?` she asked when the notes had ended. Eagerness mixed with awe and an overwhelming curiosity in her voice and heart.

  `I am not the right person to ask,` he said ruefully. `You have to ask my brother Salmar. I will ask if he would teach you, and perhaps Estendil would heal your hands too.`

  `Oh.` She took the water bottle proffered to her and stared at him. `You’re upset because I’m hurt?` On his nod, she shook her head. `Things happen, Ossë. It was my fault, anyway. Mama and Ata would say so… in more words than that.` On his bemused expression, she sighed exasperatedly. `Why don’t you understand?` she asked. `It’s nor— Oh. You’re not normal, are you? You’re some sort of angel, aren’t you?` She looked into his eyes as if for the first time, then smiled dreamily. `You’re never hurt? That’s great!`

  She gave him a big grin and skipped lightly away to her pile of belongings, ignoring her throbbing hands for the moment as she searched for something to eat and drink – aside from rainwater. `Wanna eat something? I have apples here, and oranges, and two bananas. There’s some ice cocoa in the thermos. Oh, and there’s some leftover steak in the heater box which should’ve been my lunch yesterday…`

  She broke off and clenched her jaw. It had been quite some time since last she had thought of home, and the event that brought her here. She had almost succeeded in convincing herself that here was home.

  `This is not your home, Raine, as much as we wished it was.` Ossë had come up beside her without her notice, and now he gingerly touched her shoulder. The hand stayed there when Raine did not react to it. `Thank you for the offer, but I have to go to ask for my people’s help. My lord’s power runs here. You will be safe. I would love to taste some of the food you brought with you when I am back, if you please. And there are some terms I did not understand too, which I would like to know.`

  He sounded totally unlike his child form now, but it felt much more natural. Raine leaned into his touch and stifled a sob, trusting him not to mock her weakness.

  He did not, and he embraced her, kissing her forehead.

  The sky had lightened up when he went, running across the wet sand to the water line without leaving any mark. Raine sat on the seat of the – surprisingly dry – hovercraft after putting on her boots and gathering her nearly-unmanageable hair into a pony-tail, and played on her reed pipes, blowing some melancholy notes while her heart renewed its yearning for home. Ossë had been right – yet again. This place was not her home, and she did nothing good by forsaking her own. It was painful, though, thinking about it. So far, so unreachable…

  “Dug.” “Squeak!”

  Her contemplation was broken, rudely, by a heavy leather ball bouncing against her knees. She picked up her reed pipes, which had fallen onto her lap in her surprise, and put it down beside her. Then she glared at the grinning man in the beach, her arms akimbo. If he did not hold up his hands and stop grinning, she would have snapped at him, regardless of the fact that he was shining as brightly as Ossë. Angels should not have behaved so mischievously, right? Weird. And when had he come? Was this Salmar?

  `I am not, little one,` a new voice spoke in her mind, sounding like the cherning of a rapid in a rushing river. `My name is Calmion. And you are Raine, are you not? I heard Ossë talking about you, so I came to check. Do you want to play? I saw some Mannish children play a ball like that once.`

  `I’m not a boy,` she retorted, but jumped down from the hovercraft nonetheless, approaching the ball which had bounced down to the wet sand and stuck there. She kicked it at the man with her good foot sullenly. Before long, though, she was completely immersed in the simple game and forgot her misery. When Ossë returned, this time as a man and accompanied by three people, she was coated liberally by splotches of wet sand and laughing until her face flushed. Calmion had just tripped on the ball and was now sprawled gracelessly on the sand.

  The moments that came afterward were a blur for Raine. Gentle Estendil healed her small injuries, while Ossë – behaving just like when he had been in a child’s body – barraged her with questions about her world. Calmion, recovering from his undignified fall, had found her – empty – drawing tablets and proceeded to draw God-only-knew-what on one of them, using the equipment he had also nicked from her pack. Stately Salmar talked with her about musical instruments, and music, and Music, and Notes, and Songs, and she understood that she could not instantly learn about them all to perform.

  And she at last met Lord Ulmo, who had given her the multifunction blanket which had been so useful to her. (Her instant reaction when Ossë introduced him to her was running away from Salmar and his lyre and leaping into his arms… She did not know why her new friends looked rather mortified. He had consented to be a father figure for her, had he not? And he had proven it to her, and now he was laughing with her. What was wrong with it?) He showed her a beautiful horn he was carrying, and she was allowed to touch it! He forbade her from blowing into it, but that was fine, because Salmar also forbade her from playing with his lyre if not under his watch too. She did not quite like any trumpet-like instruments, anyway. It was only that this horn looked so much like a giant conch…

  She met more people, but did not remember them well. She did not stop to think when or how that many people had come either, giddy with happiness of her incessant questions being answered instead of shunned. She shared her food and drinks with them, and they in turn taught her their language. Her drawing tablets were full of pictures she had no time to see, after being passed from person to person, and she spent much time practising the set of letters used in the land on her notebook. Now she was glad that she had capitulated to her father’s insistence that she learn her Gaelic scripts. Learning this new set of alphabets was made easier; and the language too, come to think of it again… perhaps too easy, even.

  It felt truly like heaven now; it was in her heart, not her surroundings only. It completed her, perfected her.

  But it was not her home… and there must be a way home, now she was sure.

Just as the sun set on the western horizon, she felt a tug in her heart which drew her to the sea. Calmion said that her Notes of home-yearning had been answered, and not a few people were surprised – including Raine herself. But there was no time for answers and explanation. Time was running out, and they knew it, somehow. Farewells were spoken, embraces were exchanged, trinkets were given, things were packed, and then Raine was on her hovercraft again, riding across the beach from her night shelter on the path of packed sand her new friends had created to the water line. They stood solemnly along the way, as if soldiers in a ceremonial inspection, and then they swam around her when she reached the water.

  This time she felt it when the environment changed. But, before the land she had left behind deserted her completely, her eyes caught the sight of two figures standing side by side above the waves, looking at her with bittersweet expression; Ossë and his Lord Ulmo. She raised a hand from the steering bar, as if wanting to bring them along with her, while tears of the same bittersweet emotion ran down her cheeks.

Epilogue 1
Home?

Sunlight filtered through foliage danced merrily on the crest of the wavelets. Lonesome leaves swung and swirled wildly on the uneven surface of the water – like Ossë’s storms and his ships… Or was it otherwise?

Raine bit her lips, stemming new tears with all her might. It was the umpteenth time she had to do so. Why was it happening to her now? She had never had a big problem walking away from her new friends before. And she had experienced it many times too – although she wished otherwise – what with her nearly nomadic lifestyle, following her parents in almost every expedition and trip they conducted. What made this lot special to her? She could not fathom the cause; or at least her mind could not. There must be something in her which could, though…

And the lake – How lifeless it was! Harmaluinë had said he was present in such tranquil lakes… But he had never promised her specifically, right? He had not broken any word to her, then.

Somehow, she wished he had, if only for her to be mollified by the cold comfort of vindication. The emptiness around her now was so crushing and frightening; as if she was plunging into an abbis, never to resurface again. She hated the feeling and the helplessness it caused; and most importantly, her self-loathing that she had chosen to forsake that other world, and her friends, for this previously-familiar one. But surely her parents meant more than everything to her? They had—

They were who had prompted her decision, indirectly. Were they worth her hatred? –

No! nonononono… Where had the thought come from?

She clenched her fists and pursed her lips, trying to keep them from trembling with all her might. Her watch, which had worked again – along with her compass – after she was back in the lake, showed that it was nearly evening. Her parents would be expecting her home soon, and they would surely question her if she had bloody lips and puffy eyes. Crying was not something usual for her, and her parents knew it well. She did not want to be obliged to tell them about her new friends—

Her lost friends…

It felt as if her brief sojourn in the fairy land had been a lifetime ago. But it could not be so, could it? It had only been hours ago, surely? Yet indeed she felt that she had been another person entirely then, with all the stark differences between the two worlds. She could not decide which she preferred to live out; and anyway, the choice had been robbed from her.

Had it really been taken away from her, though?

She had chosen to go back here. She had chosen her parents over her new friends…

And it went back to the same point. She had lost track of how many times the circle had been completed during these few hours. She was sick of it, and very exhausted. She just wanted – her parents…

“Mama. Ata.” A small whimper escaped the soft tremor affecting her teeth and lips. She pulled her legs up from the sides of the hovercraft and hugged them to herself. She just barely prevented herself from rocking her own body back and forth in the effort of consoling herself. It would not do, tipping her hovercraft over with all the things attached to it. She was not in the mood of salvaging things and cleaning up. She must find the will and courage to go back to her parents…

She knew she was changed. It was not that she was no longer innocent – or rather, ignorant – of the world around her. (She had realised the fact during her interactions with her angelic friends. They had treated her as fondly and carefully as she would guess they would a very young child – much younger than she was.) She did not really mind it, and after all, she had previously been aware that her parents had gone out of their way to put her in a sheltered life. What bothered her was the senses she had slowly developed around her other-wordly friends, which none of them had purposefully instilled, and the knowledge that came with it. She was afraid it would take precedence over her behaviour and attitude now, separating herself further from her environment. She had been an oddball among her peers, given her interest in scientific journals, history books and other miscellaneous things others would call boring; she could not stand the thought that she might unwittingly alienate even her parents now because of the changes in her view of the world. It was too terrifying to contemplate.

But she would never know if she never even attempted to find out… right?

With a drawn-out, shaky sigh, Raine straightened up and squinted to gauge a point far off. She had sacrificed so much. She had to make sure that it would not go to waste. And after all, it was not like she was going to the house of a stranger. They were her parents! The least she could do was to make sure to them that she was all right. She did not know how much time had actually lapsed during her absence, but she did not want to take chances. (It had been evening when she had parted with her friends, and it had been morning when she arrived at the familiar islet on the middle of the lake.)

From her current position on the bay of the islet, the cottage was a hazy outline on the brown-and-green horizon, obscured by both distance and late-afternoon fog. She could tell that it would rain this evening, and probably tonight. Somehow she could feel the gathering of a large amount of moisture in the sky, and how the clouds moved towards each other to create a sheet; all without scrutinising the sky with her own eyes. It was disturbing, and surreal… and great. In a way, she felt even closer to her friends, believing that they were always there although she could not feel their presence around her. She was not alone. And she had a good downpour to look forward to.

And if everything went as hoped, she would also have two people to cuddle to shortly. She just had to go home, say something about her excitement of the day somehow without attracting too much attention or concern, wash up, eat dinner, and go to bed for the night – preferably with his parents. As simple as that. But why did she have the feeling that it would not be as easy as it appeared?

“There isn’t a thing like the present,” she muttered glumly as she turned on the machine of the hovercraft and steered it out of the bay. She would cross the proverbial bridge when she came to it. Her brain could not suffer more thinking. She was tired; very tired… The fog blanketing her felt like someone’s light, damp hug…

A familiar someone…

Moikahisië?

She blinked and jerked up on the seat of the hovercraft. Ah, she must have been more tired than she had originally thought, then. Definitely home now, straight to the cottage; no tarrying.

Epilogue 2
Family

Storm raged overhead. Thunder barked and rumbled and roared, while lightning danced as if in delight of the cacophony. Waves battered the lakeshore and the tiny pier of the cottage, adding up to the frightening harmony. And inside the cottage, Raine curled up sandwiched by her mother and father, faking sleep.

No, she did not fear the storm; no more. But it reminded her too much of the night she had spent with her new friend – and later, his friends. It was just last night, in her mind’s reckoning, but it felt as if an age ago. Those kind, wise and even playful spirits seemed so far away.

And yet so near. So near…

She could picture Ossë drifting in the storm in his spiritual form, delighting in the crackling energy and the mergeing of many elements. She imagined Uinen dancing on the high, strong waves. She could almost hear Salmar somehow managing to find a tune for the storm on his lyre. She wanted to run together with Calmion under the pelting rain and danced madly to the convoluted, energetic tune…

Two hands, two quite familiar hands warm with sleep, reached for each other, tangling in each other on her midriff. And on her chest, a small conch pendant warmed as if on response to the intimate gesture. And a set of strong, invisible arms cocooned her in a gentle embrace.

Her family was here, and in her heart, and in her memory. She could live with it, for now. Until they all were reunited again, perhaps when the world was renewed.