Chapter Text
Death was a strange thing to experience. There was pain, yes. So much pain. But the betrayal and knowledge of abandonment were even more so. Amrod knew he wasn’t anything special. With many brothers, it was not hard to think so.
Russo, with his tall and composed nature.
Kano, with his loveliest voice, beheld by all.
Tyelko of the hunt, with Huan and Oromë.
Moryo, with dark and sharp words enough to cut a person.
Curufinwë, the favorite and mirror image of Father, who could do no wrong.
Young Telpe, son of the favorite, brilliant in forge and craft.
And finally, his lovely twin, Ambarussa, sweet and beloved by their father.
Not to mention their loving mother, Nerdanel, wise and brilliant.
What was he but Umbarto? Because that was who Mother saw, despite the confusion it brought to the family.
Not to say he didn’t love his family. Oh no, he loved them so much that he was willing to join them in pursuit of the Jewels. His beloved father’s greatest creation.
And wasn’t that something. Everything that happened was because of the Jewels. Beautiful jewels—he wouldn’t say they weren’t. His father was the greatest craftsman in all of Arda. But the fact that all the horrors he saw were because of said jewels...
He didn’t regret his actions because they were out of loyalty. Twisted and cruel it may have been, his arrogance and pride were fundamental parts of himself. Loyalty to his family twisted his logic until he swore a terrible oath.
But regret was not once thought of.
Sorrow at leaving his beloved mother in Valinor, yes. Because she would be alone. Father and all his brothers were leaving in pursuit of the Jewels. How could he bear to watch her from a distance, all sad and lonesome?
Because while his father beheld his brothers in his heart, his mother beheld him. And perhaps if he had not desired so much to be like his brothers and father, his craft would have been more like their mother’s.
And twins they may be, but he had taken more after his mother in coloring and form.
Therefore, on the sandy shores of Losgar, he made the choice. Not as Ambarussa, but as Umbarto, to return to his mother. It would be his own destiny set aflame.
He remembered the flames, bright and red as their mother’s hair. The feeling of flames biting and heat indescribable. But it wasn’t the flames or smoke that crushed his heart. It was the sight of his father.
Strong form, bright eyes, and a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. They gazed at him, cold and detached. He knew he was not the favorite nor the most outstanding among his brothers. But he was a son and the twin of sweet Telvo. Did that not mean anything?
He abandoned his mother, partook in the Kinslaying, swore an oath, and abandoned their kin on the shores of Valinor. He was a dutiful son and brother. He did it all for love and loyalty.
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His hröa (body) turned to dust along with the swan-boats. His fëa ached from the betrayal. The coldness of the sea brought him salvation. The taste of salt was painful but welcoming. Perhaps it was Ulmo embracing him in his final moments. He was always much kinder and more approachable than the other Valar and Maiar.
He did not end up in the Halls of Mandos as was expected. Nor did he enter the Void, where he had sworn to go. Námo did not greet him, nor did Eru acknowledge him.
Instead, he found himself surrounded by the sea, deep enough that he saw creatures beyond his knowledge. And for a split second, he could breathe as if he were one with the sea. They circled him, curious and eager. They pushed him upward as if knowing his limited air.
He would forever be grateful for their help. They swam him toward land, where he finally felt his body ache from exhaustion—or something. He slept there for an unknown amount of time. The light, sand, sea, and breeze were his companions.
He awoke at night. The light in the sky was gone, and he thought he had imagined it. For the Sun and Moon were not yet created, and the Trees of Valinor were gone.
Though he did not step onto the shores of Losgar, he remembered the sand and trees. The place he was at was not Losgar. Perhaps he had floated elsewhere, but as he walked the shores for days, he was no closer to identifying his whereabouts.
It was also at this moment that he acknowledged what had been done to him. For he was no longer an ellon but an elleth. His red hair had turned brown and his skin had become tan. He would only know his eye color later on. But when he looked at his reflection in the water, he knew his eyes no longer reflected the light.
It was horrific, a change so sudden and profound. He refused to acknowledge it until he realized that he could no longer tell where he was.
He theorized that his hröa was so badly burned, perhaps even turned to ash, that he had been given a new one. But being an elleth was too confusing. His last thought was of his beloved mother. Maybe whoever returned him to life could not identify him as an ellon or elleth. Therefore, he would use osanwë and see his mother.
Because he looked more like her now, coloring aside.
He didn’t mind looking like his mother. If anything, it helped him on the nights when he would use the moon and stars as lights to look into the waters and see his mother’s face.
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The time of moping ceased when he saw the giants. The monsters. The Titans. Servants of Morgoth, he fearfully thought.
He hid from them, scared and tearfully wishing for his father and brothers. Because he had always had them, despite the burning of the ships. As the youngest children of Fëanoro, they were protected and spoiled. He hunted with Tyelko, learned from Russo, forged with his brother, nephew, and father, but never did he do anything alone.
His sweet Ambarussa was always a turn of his head away. Smiling at him and making him laugh. And all the other Elves in Tirion watched out for the younglings. There was never a time of aloneness.
Until now.
He could make weapons, yes. But it was harder and more difficult without the proper tools. Even more so when all he had to do was turn one way and already a creature was walking across the plains.
He didn’t want to draw their attention. The danger alone brought fear into his fëa. No, it was better to play it safe. Hiding and hunting when it was safe.
And that was how he survived the First Age and how he found out he was no longer in Arda.
The rise of the Gods gave him sight. They were not Valar or Maiar. They had no song nor the light of Valinor. He knew then, at the rise of their power, that he was lost.
Even so, he moved on. There was no use wallowing in what-ifs and whys. Instead, he migrated among the humans and learned from them, searching for a way home. He did not think he would find it anytime soon. He couldn’t find it in himself to be so upset.
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Human.
That was what he had become.
He still felt his fëa, but his hröa was human. Strange, with nobody to answer his piling questions. But he was a son of Fëanoro. Minor inconveniences meant nothing.
Except it changed him more than he thought.
Because to be human was beautiful.
Life was short and overwhelming. He fell in love. How could he not, when he was stuck in one moment and all he had to do was close his eyes and watch humanity evolve? It was amazing.
They thought him patient and caring.
Hate and love, grief and suffering.
Most of all, forgiveness.
She never stopped looking for a way home, of course. She missed her mother, father, brothers, nephew, cousins, uncles, and aunts. Grandfather and grandmother. Oh, how she missed them as each day passed. And each day that passed, she would return to the very beach on which she had come to life and dream of home.
But for now, she would live her life as Salacia.
A name she picked up, a homage to the sea that brought her here.
Salacia was a young girl from a small village.
Salacia was a young girl from a town.
Salacia was a young girl from Athens.
Salacia was a young girl from Troy.
Salacia was a young girl from Ithaca.
Salacia was a young girl from Paris.
Salacia was a young girl from England.
Sally was a young girl from America.
Sally Jackson was a young girl from New York City.
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The Jackson family was a nice couple who adopted an orphan girl from the streets. They helped her go to school and get a new life for herself. They wanted her to be successful, and they grew to love her, just as she loved them.
Because they saw something special in her, and for some odd reason, she felt comfortable enough to tell them her story. They didn’t understand, but they did not fear her.
Instead, they nurtured her so that she would not be alone, and she was thankful. So when they died, she honored them and continued on as a Jackson. She took care of her uncle, even if he cared little for her.
And when he passed, she still held their name as her own and lived in the city they had lived in. She did not need an education, for she had already lived it, but for them, she continued.
That was until she met him.
She never interacted with them, of course, fearing they were Morgoth’s. And when the fear passed, she still had no desire to interact. There was no need for it. After all, she had witnessed their deeds even from afar. And with the Valar and Maiar not in his favor, their actions severed all relations.
And yet, as he walked by her sea, she couldn’t help but watch.
He would then watch her in turn.
Was it love?
Confusing as it was, she knew then that he was someone special to her. And, in turn, she was special to him.
They shared that summer together, and she should have been worried, as Elven law was marriage through contact. But maybe it was because of his godly heritage that it confused her fëa. Hröa and fëa were interwoven but not entirely one.
And the law stated that no child should be born during war, and yet she knew that within her lay one. And it would be the first time, after two Ages, that she would reach with her fëa for the oath.
She would find a broken thread and come to realize that ages had passed and she had been here so long that the terrible oath had broken.
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She named her beautiful boy Perseus.
A strong name for her strong boy.
After a demigod who had a happy ending. Or maybe it was due to the slight vision she saw at Percy’s begetting that made her name him that.
It mattered little when her beautiful boy gave her a smile.
Poseidon was by her side when he should not have been. Laws and whatnot—not that she ever followed them.
He begged her to live together, promising her the world, and she almost gave in. His love for her and their son was bright in his eyes.
But they were not meant to be.
She was not his, and he was not hers.
Her fëa found no marriage in him, and she accepted that. He did not ask. He never did. He loved her enough to understand.
And he left, one last kiss and longing look toward their son.
So she kept her son with her, teaching him their heritage. Unfortunately, only hers and not his father’s. She made a choice she regretted and faced consequences that made her weep.
Her son’s life was more important than anything, but she couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.
She watched him make choices and dream of a future free from restraints. She didn’t know if he had inherited more of her fëa, but the knowledge of her son’s choice of mortality kept her mouth shut.
An action she would later regret when she realized that she would one day never see him again.
But her love was in no way any less. If anything, it was more so, cherishing every moment they spent holding hands.
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Parts of the story that I couldn’t fit:
1. Why did the Gods not notice Sally?
Because of her new body.
Hröa and body may translate as one, but they are not the same. Sally has a human body now, not an Elven body. Her human body concealed her fëa. So even though she saw her Elven mother, to the eyes of humans and Gods, she was just another unremarkable human.
2. Why did I make Sally insecure?
Because she had six remarkable brothers. Uncles and aunts who were talented. Not to mention amazing cousins. A father and mother who were known for their craft.
Sally is a twin and the only known twins until Dior’s time, and in his eyes, Telvo held more of their father’s heart. He wasn’t even the youngest.
He wants to be praised as his own person like everyone else, and Amras does get praised a lot because he’s the youngest one. And even though everyone talks to them as if they are one, it is mostly Amras taking the lead while Amrod follows along.
3. Nerdanel and Amrod are much alike.
If Amrod wasn’t so focused on being like his father and brothers, he would be like their mother in craft.
4. Amrod and Amras
They are alike in mood and face, but they are still different people. Osanwë is how they communicate, yes, but they don’t encase each other’s thoughts. They love each other and respect each other’s personal space.
Amras does take the lead in many of their activities, but he always asks Amrod for his opinion. Amrod is a lot shyer than people think, often just letting things play out and following Amras, as he is more confident.
5. The Titans
Sally was very afraid of the Titans. They were like Morgoth’s servants, but taller. And there were so many of them and only one of her.
She could craft weapons, but poorly made ones, since this was the Golden Age, when there was no need for such weapons to exist.
She lived in a cave by the beach where she woke up from. The crashing waves hid her from sight as she hunted fish and gathered berries. She stayed there until the Titan War.
6. The Olympians
The hatred of the Valar and Maiar was planted deep within her by Fëanor. The death of her grandfather solidified it.
Then she watched the Gods be even crueler.
Yeah, she was not impressed.
7. Lives
She lived her life as an orphan. It was believable. Death by disease was common, not to mention war.
She got hired as a servant and stayed a servant for many decades. She was unnoticed, and she got a home and food out of it.
8. Hunts
She still hunts, but as the ages passed and technology boomed, well, there really wasn’t any need.
She does go camping, but cameras kind of ruined it, especially when she was thought to be Bigfoot. 🤣