Protect the Durin Line (Part 1)
Based off of this request:
“Could I request something with the reader being an angel who ended up in middle-earth because Death screwed up and accidentally sent her to the wrong world, and now she’s just like “well, I guess I’m here now,” and assumes the position of guardian angel for the three Durins?”
AN: Thank you for the request! I plan to split this up into three parts, this is sort of the prologue bit where the reader is assigned their task. I hope you enjoy!
“What now?” You asked, staring at the void in front of you, your lifeless body in the hospital next to you.
“You go forward,” Death simply replied, mist shaping into a hand to gesture toward the path that began to wound before your feet and arch. White symbols with meanings that have been long forgotten by the human realm, pooling together to create a sturdy bridge.
“Where does this take me?” You knew death was inevitable, succumbing to your injuries was a blessing, but now fear began to take hold of your heart; rattling around like a wild animal in a cage as you pondered what you were walking towards.
Would heaven be the image that the churches of your land described? Becoming an angel to watch over the rest of your family while sitting in paradise with your other loved ones? Would you go to heaven at all? Is there a heaven-
Your thoughts were interrupted by Death’s gentle voice. “Where you are needed.”
Before you could question them further, it was as if your body had a mind of its own- stepping closer and closer to the bridge until you were on it. And then it was moving.
Now having control of your body, you jerked as the bridge began moving similar to a roller coaster cart. A hissing sound erupted from both sides of the bridge, with two railings guiding up for you to hold onto.
“Where I’m needed,” You murmured Death’s words to yourself, gulping as the void began to take shape. No longer was it a desolate endless black mass but replaced with trees as tall as skyscrapers accompanied by a rich blue sky. You were in a forest.
“This isn’t how heaven is described,” You murmured, looking around, “Or hell,” You added, remembering having to read Dante’s Divine Comedy and his descriptors of hell during your schooling.
The bridge began to groan, making your eyes snap down to your feet in fear that you’d be dropped only for the bridge to begin to stall. The white symbols began to shift to an aged brown, and the railings became textured beneath your fingertips. Magic soon shifted into wood as the bridge settled over a running river. No longer did it appear to be a guider of souls, but a simple bridge built decades past.
Taking a deep breath, you nodded, looking around as acceptance began to fill your being.
“Where am I?” You mumbled out loud, attempting to step off the bridge only to be halted, the air around you rippling with the same white symbols as before.
“Hello?” You called out, eyes wide as you looked around you, waiting for the mist that Death once was shrouded in to appear; Instead, whispers filled your ears.
“Find the Durin’s,” The voices spoke, “You are to guard the Durin line.”
“Guard the Durin line,” You whispered back in affirmation. “Yeah how the heck am I supposed to-”
Suddenly it was as if you were pushed, your body lurching forward. Stumbling, you threw your arms out to catch yourself when you realized you weren’t barefoot anymore.
“Wait a minute-” You looked down at yourself.
You were no longer in the hospital gown of before, replaced with a tunic and pants tucked neatly into boots that laced together and reached just below your knees, all appearing to be of shimmering silver. And on your shoulder, a bag began to manifest.
“What is all of this?” You asked out loud, turning back to where the bridge was, only for it to be gone.
“This is getting really old…” You sighed, reaching your hand down to open the bag. Instead of maybe food, water, you know, necessities, sat a simple notebook and a pen.
Raising a brow, you pulled it out, opening the book to see instructions. “Write what you need,” You read out loud, eyes shifting to the pen that was hooked to the book’s spine.
“Give me a map, to the Durin’s,” You wrote carefully, “-And the travel supplies I will need to get there,” You added, realizing since you were in the middle of nowhere, you might have some traveling to do.
Instantly the bag was a lot heavier, “Jeez-” You gasped, opening the bag again to see a carefully rolled map pressed up against a loaf of bread and a water tin.
“Hopefully they aren’t too far,” You nodded to yourself, putting the book in the inner pocket so it was easier to locate when you’d need it next.
“Durin’s, here we go,” You tried not to think too much of how you’d approach them and inform them that Death themselves tasked you with guarding their lives, instead choosing to start marching through the woods with the map firm in your grasp.
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