Dreams: Different Homes

The weather was growing more and more pleasant by the hour – that is, colder and colder. She had begun to see snow along the ground, and secretly rejoiced. That joy was quickly overtaken by a small whine again. Shifting her dark blue eyes to the small bundle wrapped in furs, Tuija gave her daughter a wane smile. The girl hadn’t stopped complaining since they left Snowflood: she missed her friends, the wagon was hard, she was getting colder. That was to be expected, though. Children were never good travelers, especially at Lempi’s age. Once she saw the white huts and felt the cool breeze upon her cheek, she knew her daughter would understand why it was so important to return. The message that was brought to her from a trader, a note saying that Leikko of Sûri-kylä was willing to formally accept her daughter as his grandchild, it brought Tuija a joy she had almost forgotten.

Time warped, and much to her delight, she and Lempi arrived immediately. Her daughter, pink nosed and ill-equipped (Bree-blood was thin, she learned) to survive in this frigid weather, pulled the fur tighter around her. “Maaa, I’ve seen it, can we go n-”

Lempi’s current complaint was cut off by a raising of her mother’s palm, a gentle laying of fingers upon her lips. Tuija’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of her home once again, reverting back to the tongue of her people. “Shhh, love. Listen to the wind, it welcomes you home.” Lempi looked around, and Tuija watched with apprehensive joy. Just to see her daughter surrounded by fluffy white snow, dark blue eyes watering at a cold gust, filled her heart. When that little girl looked back up to her, still speaking in the Westron that she grew up hearing, and said that one awful sentence, her heart fell through the pit of her stomach.

“Ma, I want to go home to Snowflood and see my friends.

Tears filled her eyes and Tuija turned away to hide them. As she did such, the ground fell from beneath her and she tumbled through the sky. She eventually landed on her feet, Lempi nowhere to be found. Slow, cold, horrible panic began to set in. Where did her baby go? Where’s her daughter? Running through what seemed to be thawing antarctic tundra, small dead pieces of grass littering the icy mud, Tuija screamed her daughter’s name until her throat was hoarse and her voice left her. Finally kneeling on the ground, her knees instantly being dampened with the thaw, she cried. Warm tears slid down from her face, dotting her pants with small dark splotches of liquid.


Tuija’s head snapped up so quickly, she was sure it would keep flying backward. Working her throat and finally finding the courage to scream her daughter’s name one more time, she pushed upon the ground and ran in the direction of her beloved child’s voice. She finally saw a small dot in the distance, pressed onward. Her baby came into view, but now she was an adult. Tuija’s eyes grew wide and she stared at the fully grown young woman, a mix of her mother’s eyes and hair, framing a face almost wholly her father’s. “Lempi?”

The young woman whipped off the traditional Lossoth garments she wore, and threw the fine hunting bow to the side. It lit on fire. Lempi, a righteous fire in her own eyes, stared back to her mother with a mixture of contempt and sadness. Her voice startled Tuija further, as her daughter spoke both in Westron and with the voice of Tuija’s father, deep and stern. “My father also named me Aimee. That is my name. I am leaving to go home. Do not try to stop me. I do not belong here.” The woman turned to leave and walked into the cave that had seemingly appeared while Tuija was focused on her daughter.

Screaming once more, barely a shrill sound that was more pain than words, Tuija tried to plead with her in Westron. She went to follow Lempi into the dark cave, sure she could convince her daughter to not leave her. She would go with her, anything; please don’t abandon me. The darkness of the cave was absolute – she no longer saw, and the cave swallowed her whole. The entrance was suddenly gone, and she was alone again. No daughter, no light, and no hope. Tuija wept bitterly.

Her eyes shot open, sitting up with a gasp. Tears were pouring down her face; tears that she immediately wiped away with the fine blanket on her bed. The dream was too real, too poignant to be anything short of the spirits trying to tell her something. Tuija shifted to rest on her elbow and lounged, still rather shaken by the dream. She softly murmured once again to her infant daughter in the language of her people. The baby was awake, her mother’s crying clearly had woken her. Tuija kissed her on the forehead, then sat again and held Lempi to her breast. Her voice cracked as she whispered in her native tongue, “I’m sorry.”

Dreams: The Past, But Not

((Expect a dream from every character in the next day or so. Some deal with their pasts, some will highlight a part of themselves they didn’t realize was there, some are completely random. I hope you enjoy this little series. I was just struck by it last night. :3))


“Come to dinner, darling one!”

A short little girl – no more than four – heeded her mother’s call, bright golden-red hair bouncing happily into the farm house’s main room, blue-green eyes twinkling with anticipation. “What’s dinner, ma?”

The tall and usually stoic woman looked down to her daughter and couldn’t help a soft smile. Her Rohirric accent was still thick, even years after leaving her people. “We will have stew tonight. Now go, call your father and wash up.” She swayed gracefully back to the fire, stirring her concoction one last time; her daughter pranced away with much the same grace, calling for Daddy.

Reality swirled around them, but no one seemed to mind; the next Loriwen knew, she was sitting at the table, a few years older. Her hair was in pigtails, like she hated, but she had to look nice for mourning. She didn’t mind, if only because she was so sad, herself. She had only met her Uncle Thurwald once, but he was a real nice man with great stories and the best laugh of anyone ever in the whole world – well, except for Daddy. They were going to wear black all week and she had to look nice. That meant no playing outside or sneaking woodcarving behind the house when Mommy wasn’t looking. Her parents stood up and held each other, then parted on one side and motioned for her to join them. She quickly hopped down from the chair and rushed over to be comforted.

As soon as she reached them, everything shifted. Loriwen felt the same, yet she was a young woman getting married. She didn’t feel very happy for it, but it was a good match. He didn’t care about naught but inheriting his parent’s farm; she was just too old by the village’s standards to stay single any longer. It wasn’t normal. They both agreed, as childhood friends, to stay just that: friends. It was acceptable enough, giving small kisses in public and never expecting more from the other. As they kissed, they froze. It seemed as though they stood still while time flew away from them.

When they parted, both were older. Holt was beginning to grey early, only thirty-two. She herself was almost thirty. He was off to work in the field again, working on keeping the squash safe from the impending summer – it had been a horrible spring with too much rain. How did she know that? She just did. He walked off, and she waved; then quickly rushed to change and go into town. Once she walked out the door again, the door became the door to the Pony. She was suddenly carrying a small basket that only had a few loaves of bread in it. Unfortunately, she managed to walk into a scuffle on the porch of the Pony, and she was quickly and unintentionally pushed off the edge. Landing with a thud, everything changed again. Suddenly a strange man – she knew his name was Tarlanc, somehow – walked over with his friend Brant. Brant, she knew if only by face; he was one of those rich Heartwood boys, the one that managed to get himself lost for a long time. Gossip spread fast amongst the housewives. She would know, she was often the butt of it…what with her still not getting with child. The stranger with dark hair and eyes that seemed to shift reached down to help her up, and she couldn’t take her eyes away from him, even as it seemed like he couldn’t take his away from her. Where their hands touched, it was like an ember: a long-lasting and smoldering heat that, with the slightest provocation, would ignite into a flame. Everyone, even that rich boy Brant, faded away completely.

Then they were behind the Pony, hidden by trees. Weeks had already passed somehow; he looked at her, calling her “Loriwen” as he always did. He was the only one who ever called her by her full name. It made her knees weak every time. He held her hand in much the same manner as they did when they met. She already talked to Holt, he didn’t care she was sneaking around with the strange Gondorian sailor; not in the slightest. He’d snuck around with other women, too. But Holt didn’t know the true decision Loriwen came to in that moment. She looked up to Tarlanc – so much taller! – and caught her breath once again. She was running away. Staying in a friendly but entirely dead marriage was something she couldn’t do; not now, not that she found someone who made her feel so alive. Her hands reached up, grasping the grinning man by the long, dark hair; she yanked him down for a rather passionate kiss.

When they parted, she was in Dol Amroth. She didn’t know how she knew, given she had only ever heard stories of the port town, but this certainly fit those descriptions and she just knew. Her tall man had already pledged himself to her, and they walked by the docks hand in hand. Even that simple act, with the sea salt and warm ocean breeze washing over their senses, made her heart soar. She closed her eyes, standing on the end of a pier as her scandalously new betrothed (or husband? He certainly acted like it was the latter) protectively wrapped both arms around her waist.

Loriwen’s eyes opened, and she saw ceiling. All which had just happened played through her mind at lightning-fast speed, ending when she blinked a few times. A yawn finished off her confusing reverie, and she turned to see a bare shoulder illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Her eyes drifted over to his face, jaw agape as another loud snore escaped. It was still the face from her dreams. Dreams. It was just a dream. A convoluted, entirely made up dream. Well, at least they ended up together in it. She smiled and quietly brought a hand to his forehead, brushing her hand down his face, cupping it quietly. She’d always run away with him, if given the chance. They were meant to be together. Scooting up to kiss his forehead, she snuggled back into him. His arms automatically went around her protectively – just like in her dream. Loriwen went back to sleep, hoping she would dream of a future this time instead of a completely disjointed past.

Lempi Lawson: Present, Future, and Really-Future!

So I got it in my head (thanks to the ever-wonderful Laenlis and Celeveren and their planning ahead) to get an actual face on Tuija’s daughter, Lempi. This is how I envision this young baby growing up. I have ‘shopped up a current (baby) picture, a girl picture, and a young woman picture. I think I did a faaaairly good job of finding similar features and matching the eyes/hair well enough. Her features are more like her father’s, rather she got most her coloration from her mother. Well, except for those cheekbones! Apologies for a “longer” entry, as there’s three pictures! I hope you enjoy. Tuija is my one character I’m allowing to be just plain gorgeous, and some of those genes certainly passed on to her daughter. (Link if you’d like to compare. :3)

Lempi Lawson: Infant
Baby Lempi


Lempi Lawson: Girl
Lempi as a young girl


Lempi Lawson: Young Woman!
Lempi Lawson: young woman.