Chapter Text
Year 2011 of the Seventh Age of Arda
In her dream, she saw her father and mother standing in a great throne room of ancient white marble. They were surrounded by people who wore crowns of various designs and medieval clothing such as robes and armor made of beautiful, intricate designs. All of whom were conversing with each other.
Behind the crowd, high on a dais, sat a throne made of white marble. It was occupied by the most regal king she had ever seen, looking in her direction. Tall and majestic, with a bright silver-winged crown resting on his long, dark brown hair. But he still wore a small, welcoming smile on his weathered face, which he sent in her direction.
Above him was a banner of a white tree on a black field. Stars formed a semi-circle above the tree’s branches. Above the stars was a crown with wings attached to either side.
But the banner was not what intrigued Lara the most. What did was the fact that some of these people, including her father and the king, were wearing the same ring she did. She could see that even though she was not a part of this congregation.
They were so close to her. And yet so far away. She felt compelled to reach them.
But with every step she took towards them, it seemed like they took three steps away without moving their legs or even acknowledging her presence. Except for the king, whose expression gradually turned into one of concern as he quickly stood. The walls of the hall gradually turned darker shades, going from ancient white to ashen grey to soot black.
The people slowly faded away as the hall changed colors. One by one, they dissolved into mist as though they were vapor in the wind. The king was the last to go, his horrified features dissolving last as he disappeared into the air.
In just the span of a few short minutes, Lara was left wandering alone in a dark room. The smell of incense that once filled the hall was now replaced by a slight scent of sulfur as smoke started to fill the room. And the only noise she could hear was the footsteps she made on the hard ground.
“Hello?” She called out into the void. It was eerie to hear her voice echoing off the walls. “Can anybody hear me?”
There was a response, but it came too quickly for her liking. “Lara Croft.” A voice hissed in her ear. It was small and unpleasant. The smoke was now stronger, obscuring what little she could see.
Lara jumped at the sound of her name. Her breath came out in hitches as she looked around the room. She felt an icy hand run over her body, chilling her to her core.
She dared to speak again. “Is…” She briefly paused. “Is someone here?”
“Lara Croft.” The voice whispered again, this time louder.
Shaking her head, she took her final step before freezing, standing in place as though a giant hand was holding her still. The hall lit up again. Where once it was full of bright light and merriment, it was now flooded with a dim red light. The white throne had turned black, as though it had been scarred by a recent great fire. The banner above the throne became a black one with a red eye in the center. The temperature also increased dramatically, from being neither too cold nor too warm to unbearably hot.
It felt as though she had been cast into hell.
Most chilling of all was the laughter. It was deep and dark and full of malicious intent.
“At last. The Heir of Telcontar.”
There it was, finally speaking. The same voice that whispered her name. Right away Lara could tell it belonged to a male. Baritone and ancient.
Shadows began to swirl around her, causing her to flinch and shrink back. Wispy black smoke danced in front of Lara’s eyes, sometimes taking the form of a clawed hand swiping at her body. Other times a smirking face, revealing to her just how much this being was enjoying this.
She did not know what this being truly was, for it was clearly not of this earth. But one thing she was sure of was that he was here with a dark purpose.
Finally, the shadows settled on an ugly face, misshapen, lipless yet smirking. With flaming cat-like eyes staring at her with malice. “I’ve been searching for you for millennia.” He spoke through the crooked, gapped teeth. “Ever since your ancestors fled the Second Drowning and went into hiding.”
The being let out a dark chuckle. His smile was unpleasant. “Oh, how the descendants of Silmariën and Elboron were clever in hiding their line from my influence. But not nearly clever enough in the end, I’m afraid. And I’m told I have your father to thank for that.”
His face dropped the smirk, turning it into a sneer. “Hers was the only line of ARAGORN’S to have escaped my grasp.” He growled out the name of the legendary King of Gondor. “The Lines of Eldarion and his sisters Fíriel, Luthien, and Gilraen? They had been easy prey for my followers. But the line of their older sister Silmariën? They had been far more difficult. Her descendants hid among the common folk and those accursed horse lords!”
Lara’s eyes widened at the words. She moved to speak but was unable to find her words.
“Oh yes, I know your lineage.” He continued to say, his voice dangerously low. But as he continued his rant, his voice got steadily louder. “Your ancestor Aragorn was responsible for my Downfall long ago, after all. Much like his ancestors three thousand years before him through their accursed alliance with those DAMN ELVES!”
The throne room began to shake with his sudden yell as if his voice had the power to create earthquakes. Black powder dropped from the ceiling above. It looked like the throne room was about to collapse.
The being continued as if nothing had happened. “ HE TRICKED ME !!!” He shouted, the tremors in the throne room gradually getting stronger. “ HE MADE ME THINK THAT HE WAS IN POSSESSION OF MY PRECIOUS RING! IT WASN’T UNTIL I FELT SOMEONE PLACE THE RING ON THEIR FINGER THAT I REALIZED WHAT WAS TRULY HAPPENING! ”
Now the throne room was violently shaking as if an earthquake had suddenly struck. The sound of stone cracking nearly shattered her eardrums as the smell of sulfur rose from the cracks and flooded her nostrils. Lara’s eyes darted around the room, hoping there was a door she could escape through. Or a window. She would settle for a window. But there were none- breaking black walls surrounded her.
Cracks now formed on the throne’s frame just before it crumbled from its high dais and crashed onto the ground. Almost at once, the stones fell onto the black floor. Soon, only a black seat remained.
The being paid the state of the throne room no mind as he continued. “ YOUR ANCESTOR ÉOWYN KILLED MY GREATEST SERVANT! HER UNION WITH THAT FOOLISH STEWARD MADE CERTAIN YOUR BLOODLINE WAS RESISTANT TO MY POWER! ”
The bring took a deep breath, laced with frustration. “Faramir always had too much of his ancestors in him.” He muttered, placing poison on the word ancestors. “Too much of Minytaur and the Aduniëns. So wise and noble .”
The being darkly scoffed. “He certainly showed his quality. Unlike his brother, who had been much easier to manipulate. If only he had taken the Ring from Baggins when he had the chance and used it for his foolish campaign. But that Halfling was too clever for him.”
The being took a shaky breath. “But Éowyn.” He growled. “The Shieldmaiden. How she- and another HALFLING of all people- destroyed my most powerful and feared servant, I will never know.”
Lara’s mind was in overdrive now. Is it true what this being was implying? Was she truly somehow related to the character Aragorn? And maybe Éowyn and Faramir?
She didn’t have time to ponder that idea. The stairs leading to the throne had broken by now, separated in the middle by a giant crack. The pillars had also cracked before falling all around her. The portions of the ceiling they had been holding up crashed onto the floor with deafening thuds.
Lara’s heart quickened as her eyes darted around the room. The place was falling apart! She had to get out of here before the ceiling fell onto her.
She tried moving her right arm. Then her left. And then both of her legs. But nothing budged.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, she became aware of the loud cracking that was beginning to surround her. She looked down and watched with horror at the stone breaking, the lines forming an irregular circle around her.
Lara knew now that she was going to fall. And there was nothing she could do to prevent it.
“But that’s all in the past.” The being said. His voice was calmer now but still filled with insincerity. “My rise and return is inevitable. And that’s all that matters. Now it’s your choice, Heir of Telcontar: bow down to me. Or die.”
And with that, the floor gave way from under her, and she fell. The being’s sinister laughter rang heavily in her ears, amused by her terror.
As she fell, she heard a different voice speak in her mind: “Lara, you must seek out the Twice-Broken Blade.”
Lara turned her head to her right just before she hit the ground. The last things she saw before she woke up were five shards of a broken blade falling alongside her.
Upon waking, Lara shot upright. Despite the heat of the July day, cold sweat clung her pajamas to her body and her hair to her head. Panting heavily, her eyes darted around the room. First, she took in her laptop and a picture of her archery team at her desk at the opposite end. Then she snapped her head at the bookcase to her right, mostly filled with books on various historical periods. And then finally to her end table, occupied by her alarm clock and another picture, this time of her, Sam, and Griffin. Just behind Lara’s copy of The Silmarillion .
But the entity was not present. Allowing Lara to exhale one last time and relax her body.
She swung her feet off her full bed, planting them on the red carpet floor. Lara brought a hand up to her face, rubbing her thumb and forefinger over her closed brown eyes a few times as if it was all that was needed to wake up.
“Get a grip on yourself, Lara.” She told herself, turning her gaze to the bookcase. “It was just a dream. Much like the White Tree a few nights ago. Or the guy stealing a fruit from the same tree nearly a few years ago. Or that dream of Atlantis. Or a bandit watching a princess dance and sing in a forest. Or the lovers on the bridge above the stream, talking in the moonlight. Or…”
Lara paused as it dawned on her that she had a lot of vivid, strange dreams over the past eleven years. Ever since she inherited her father’s ring, now that she thought about it.
My rise and return is inevitable.
Her brown eyes widened as she felt a chill crawl up her back. Those words were spoken to her in her dream. By a shadowy entity, whose purpose was to cause her harm. She sat up and once again looked around her room, her eyes scanning every corner and space. Nothing had changed.
His rise and return? If this entity was even real, what exactly did he mean by that?
No, it was just a dream. She thought to herself. But even then, she could feel in her gut that it was more than a dream. It almost felt like a warning.
She needed to get her mind off of her nightmare. Lara reached over to her end table and picked up the picture, once again looking at it. It was taken nearly a year ago, on the final day of exams before the uni closed for the summer holidays. Lara had brought her friends Samantha Nishimura and Griffin Arquero to a park to celebrate another successful semester, and the three decided to take a picture to commemorate the occasion.
Looking at the picture always brought Lara a moment of peace and joy. She smiled at Griffin’s bright grin as he leaned back on the blanket, unwittingly drawing attention to his red dragon medallion. Then there was Sam’s playful expression, sticking her tongue out to the side as she held her fingers up to form a V and crossed her brown eyes. And finally, Lara herself sitting cross-legged next to Griffin, her hands on her knees and a shy smile etched on her face.
Lara took a contented breath. Those had been the days when they were united. Where it seemed that, no matter what, they would always have each other’s back. That nothing could form a wedge between them.
But then Zack Eldario entered the picture five months ago. He was a junior with a double major in history and psychology who met Sam one night when she was clubbing. The man had seemingly won her heart despite the numerous red flags that he had displayed. Because of him, Sam had insisted on staying in England this summer instead of backpacking and traveling through another country like she and Lara had done in the past.
Just thinking of her best friend’s boyfriend made Lara drop her smile and blood boil. She placed the picture back on the end table with trembling hands before she could accidentally drop it.
“Sam can do so much better.” Lara whispered in a huff as she rose to her feet.
She reached for The Silmarillion , deciding to continue reading the story of the Children of Húrin for the tenth time since Roth gave her the book on her twelfth birthday. The tale was definitely a tragic one, and Tolkien’s most depressing, with Húrin forced to watch as his house is destroyed due to his defiance of the Dark Lord Morgoth. But it was definitely better than dwelling on Zack.
Before she picked up the book, she took note of the clock on her nightstand. It was now three-thirty-three in the afternoon. Only two hours and twenty-seven minutes until her shift at the Nine Bells started.
“Not right now.” Lara muttered, reluctantly taking her hand away from the book. “I’ll get too invested and lose track of time.”
Heir of Telcontar.
Lara paused as the entity’s words invaded her mind, pulling her hand fully away from the book. Once again, she felt cold on a hot July day. She shook her head to clear her mind.
The only line of Aragorn’s to escape my grasp.
“Just. A. Dream.” She repeated through gritted teeth, resuming her small journey. It was more to herself, however. To convince herself that it really was just a dream, despite her ominous feelings.
Now it’s your choice, Heir of Telcontar: bow down to me. Or die.
I’ve just been reading too much Tolkien. She thought to herself as she once again shook her head. That’s it. That was the only reason I had the dream.
She repeated that thought, though this time out loud and with a nervous grin. She turned to look at the book again. “That’s all. Just a silly dream, stemming from reading too much of Middle-Earth. That’s it. Nothing more.”
She took her eyes off The Silmarillion and regarded her bookcase for a brief moment, eying another series that Griffin had recommended for her. “I really need to continue The Wheel of Time .” She whispered to herself, her eyes resting on the sixth book The Crown of Swords . Which she had been in the middle of reading. “Have to be ready for when the final book comes out next year.”
She scoffed as she walked out of her room. “There’s no way.” She whispered. “After all, me being this Heir of Telcontar? Descended from Aragorn and Arwen? Or from Faramir and Eowyn? Fictional characters?” She shook her head for a third time, her nervous grin turning into a forced smile. “Last I checked, I don’t have an ounce of Royal blood in me.”
She glanced at the watch on her wrist. The time was now three-thirty-five.
“Well, I’ve got nothing better to do.” She muttered to herself with a shrug before heading for the bathroom. Maybe a shower would help her clear her mind. “Might as well get myself clean before I head into work.”
Upon entering the bathroom, she quickly stripped down to her bare state. Her nightshirt and shorts had been tossed into the hamper. She’d get around to washing them tomorrow when she has a day off.
Lara turned on the faucet, placing her hand under the running water for a few seconds, feeling the initially cold water gradually warm to her preferred temperature. Then she stepped inside and shut the glass door behind her, taking a deep breath as she inhaled the steam the hot water made.
It wasn’t until after she began massaging the shampoo into her hair that she heard it again. Distant, yet menacing. “Heir of Telcontar.”
She paused, pulling her hands away from her thick hair as her eyes snapped open as far as they could go. The water rinsed the shampoo from her hair, creating soapy rivers thick and thin as they trailed from her scalp down her bare back and to the drain by her feet.
But Lara was unaware of that, for just one brief moment she had thought the entity was back. In an instant, her arms were covering her breasts as her thighs pressed against each other to protect her groin.
She surveyed the room, snapping her head in all directions as she was on the lookout for the smoke and shadows that had been in her dream. But none were visible.
“Descendant of Aragorn.”
Lara shivered at the statement. It was as if the warm water she was showering in had turned ice cold. The entity hadn’t called her that in her dream.
“My rise and return is inevitable.”
Lara absentmindedly reached for the green bar of soap she had on the top shelf. There was that saying again. Rise and return. Almost as if…
Stop it, Lara! She scolded herself with a shake of her head. It was just a dream.
But was it really? A voice whispered inside her head as she began scrubbing her torso. It was the voice she heard whenever she was questioning something. The dream was very vivid, after all.
People have vivid dreams all the time. Lara’s rational side retorted. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Well, Sam, one of the sweetest people Lara knew, was dating a guy like Zack. So of course, something had to be wrong.
Oh no. Lara thought with a shake of her head, trying to clear her mind of the pale stranger Sam had danced with five months ago. Soap-sudded droplets flew in every direction, hitting the shower’s walls and the glass door. Don’t think about that creep. Especially when you’re in the shower.
She ensured every inch of her body had been washed- her face, chest, back, torso, legs, and feet. Then she stood for one moment in the shower to let the suds slide down her body and rinse away any sweat or grime she had accumulated from her unexpected dream.
After ensuring everything had been cleaned, Lara turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing the towel hanging off the rack to her left, she dried her hair before wrapping it around her body.
Then she turned to her right to look in the mirror. As it always showed, a slender, beautiful young woman of nineteen stared back at her with large, almond-shaped keen brown eyes. Thick dark hair framed an elegant face, layered and choppy in the front and long in the back. A circular jade pendant hung from a double-looped braided lanyard around her neck.
And resting on the index finger of her right hand, which secured her towel to her body, was the ring her father had given her on this day exactly eleven years ago.
Eleven years. Lara blinked in disbelief as she tore her gaze away from the mirror and settled them on her ring. Has it been eleven years since she inherited the ring? She could hardly believe it. Eleven years ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime. In those days, she lived in her family’s manor instead of an apartment. In those days, she went on archaeological digs with her father and his friends in the summers when her boarding school was closed.
In those days, she still had her father.
Just thinking of him had opened up a flood of memories that Lara had fought so hard to keep shut. She tore her gaze from the ring, clutching the sides of the kitchen sink with a grip so tight her knuckles turned white. The towel fell, pooling around her feet but she did not seem to notice. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to hold back the tears threatening to spill from the ducts. Just thinking about her father always brought memories of witnessing Lord Croft’s fall from grace. How he was laughed at and ridiculed for his research. How his books were pulled from the shelves of libraries all over thanks to his reputation as a disgraced historian and archaeologist.
She felt her eyes water as she remembered the arguments she had with Lord Croft. “Why couldn’t you listen, Dad?” She whispered with a shaking voice. “Winston, Roth, Elijah. They all said the same thing.”
“I don’t give a damn about my reputation!” She remembered Lord Croft shouting those words on a phone call with Uncle Atlas years ago.
The tears burst when she remembered the gunshot from his study on that horrible day eight years ago.
Lara wished Sam was here as she cried. Sam always knew how to calm her down whenever she was sad or angry. No matter if her mood was caused by a patron making too many suggestive comments her way or her stressing out over a test, Sam was always there to cheer her up or provide comfort.
But her friend had chosen to spend the day with Zack today.
Lara gritted her teeth at the thought of the man as the pain of loss in her heart turned to wrath. “I hate that creepy bastard!” She growled, slamming a hand on the counter. “He took Sam away from me!”
Her brief anger returned to sadness and she sniffled and cried. She cried for the father she lost and the friend whom she feared would one day become distant. That was her fate, it seemed. Everyone she has ever loved has been taken away from her.
It was only after a few minutes of crying that she heard it again. The same song that had been first sung to her eleven years ago in her bed. And many other times when she was upset or stressed, such as the day when she had an in-school suspension for getting into a fight with some of her classmates. It was sung in the same strange yet beautiful language that it had been back then.
What was more surprising was this time the song was accompanied by a smell of lavender and lilies. Whereas before it was more of an earthy smell of trees, grass dew, and campfire. Even more intriguing than that, the song was sung by a woman this time. Accompanied by tingling on the small of her back, as if a ghostly hand was running its trail over it.
Lara took a deep breath and released it, letting the song wash over her. Breath in, and breath out. In and out. With each breath, the negative energy she had pent up- the anger, the sadness, the pain- gradually faded until nothing was left.
And then, when the song had reached its conclusion, she heard a gentle yet otherworldly voice: “You are loved, Lara.” The voice Lara knew belonged to a woman.
Lara chose this time to look back at the mirror, seeing the pained eyes of a young woman who had lost too much in her short life. She was loved? By whom? Her mother was missing- in all likelihood dead. Her father would have rather spent time in his study with his ancient scrolls than with his daughter when he was still alive. Winston the butler lost his job when her father died and moved back to Ireland to be with his family. Roth, who did make time for her, was often hired by the wealthiest people to either reclaim, or more often steal, an artifact. Even Sam, her best friend, had ignored the warnings she and Griffin told her about her latest boyfriend.
And Griffin? Lara honestly wondered how long he would stick around. If there was one thing she learned, her friendships never seemed to last.
“You are loved, meluihuin.” The voice repeated. “The armir of our family. Even if you can’t see it.”
Meluihuin . Armir. Lara had no idea how she knew this, as she had never heard the words before. But she knew the first word meant “sweetheart.” And the second “noble jewel.”
Lara bent her head, closed her eyes, and exhaled again. As it always did, the song had calmed her down.
She opened her eyes and glanced back up at the mirror. She really looked like a mess, didn’t she? With her hair sticking up as if she stuck her finger in an electric socket. That would not fly with her boss Matt Slater.
Picking up the brush on the counter Lara ran it through her hair a few times until no tangles were left. Then she pulled her hair back into her usual ponytail and secured it with the leather hairband she always kept on the sink counter.
She blatantly ignored the makeup that Sam had on the counter. Even though her friend said she was free to borrow it whenever she wished, Lara never had any interest in makeup. Not for preparing for a shift. Or a night out. Or just anywhere, period.
Satisfied with her look, she left the bathroom, the towel she had used all but forgotten on the black rug she had been standing on. Lara returned to her room to get ready for her shift. She walked to her wardrobe and selected her clothes for work.
Soon, she was dressed for another night at the Nine Bells- a white button-up long-sleeved shirt under which she wore a black tank top, a pair of black jeans, and her grey Converse.
She rolled the sleeves of her work shirt up to her elbows and smiled as she examined the rest of her outfit, satisfied with everything. All in all, she was ready for another day. Hopefully Slater will be in a good mood tonight.
Lara looked at her watch again. It was now four-twenty-nine. Her eyes widened in horror. Had she really spent nearly an hour in the bathroom?
Shit, I’ve got to get going! She thought as she rushed out of her room, through the common room, and out the front door. To get to the seaside pub, she took the London Underground. While she still had an hour and a half until her shift started, her choice of transportation often took a while to get from Point A to Point B thanks to the multiple stops it made. After which she would have to walk half-an-hour to an hour through a seedy side of London to get to the pub.
The only thing she could hope for at this point, as she locked the front door behind her, was that tonight would be an uneventful night.