FicWad

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything by the wonderful Ursula le Guin, who created the world of Earthsea. I can dream though...


Dreams of Earthsea

The dreams started after you returned home. They are not like any visions or dreams you have had before. They do not feature Voldemort and his minions in their most recent atrocities. They don't give you a killer migraine and make you feel like your head is splitting open along your scar. And they have absolutely nothing to do with naked girls rubbing against you, although you regret that you have only had one or two of those dreams so far yet.

No, the dreams are like nothing you have experienced before. There is what appears to be a vast sea. Wild and stormy, untamed but eerily quiet. You think you are some kind of bird, soaring high above the water, flying home. How you know you are heading home is something you cannot explain. It is instinctual, as if the wind is whispering to you, guiding you somewhere beyond your sight.

Flying has always been your one release from the pressures that have been heaped upon you for as long as you can remember. Flying on your broom is good, but flying in this dreamspace is absolute freedom. Time passes and you are diving and playing with the wind until you notice an island on the horizon. It is hard to miss, as it seems to be nothing but a big mountain rising up from the sea, making the island stand out even in the stormy waters. Again you just know that the island is your destination, and whatever being you are feels happy.

The dreams are returning more often now. The first one, a mere few weeks ago, was a nice reprieve in the turmoil that is your life. But recently, you dream almost every night of the Sea and the Island, as you have come to think of them. In the morning it takes a while to reconnect to the world around you. It always comes crashing down with the same thought. 'He is gone. The last parental figure you have, the last link to the parents you have never known is gone forever'.

In your waking hours, during the many chores your loving relatives make you do indifferent to the emotional storm you are going through, your mind wanders to your friends. Your ex-friends you correct yourself as your heart constricts at the thought of the confrontation the day before the train dropped you of at Kings Cross.

They cornered you hours after the old man informed you of the prophecy. Ginny, Ron, Neville, Luna, Remus and even Hermione. They were your rock, your last support and hope in a world that came crashing down around you. They killed that hope forever, shattering your already fractured heart with a smile on their faces. “We want you to leave us alone Harry... we want you out of our lives Harry... you almost got us killed... you got your godfather killed... don't contact us anymore... it is your fault Harry... your fault... your fault... ”. Different voices but the same hurtful words. At least your relatives never pretended to like you.

Grieving by day and dreaming of the Sea and the Island at night has become the pattern of the past few weeks and you feel that something is slowly changing deep inside yourself. It feels like your connection to the world around you is fading. You do not want to be here anymore. You want out. A new hope awakens, a longing for the Island of your dreams.

It is dark outside and you are sitting at the small desk in your tiny room. One leg is missing, but you have balanced the desk against the wall to keep it upright. When you looked in the mirror earlier you noticed that your eyes, once sparkling and vibrant green, are now dull and listless, empty. You are not surprised really, what is there to be sparkling about in your life anyway. Not your past, relatives, friends, school or future anyway. Oh right, that's pretty much your whole life there. Well bollocks to life then. You just want to sleep. To sleep and to dream, to fly, to soar and to be free.

Something is different tonight. Your senses are more acute and you are more aware than at any other night in the familiar dreamscape. You feel the chill in the air against your wings as you beat them to gain some altitude and you realize you hear the sounds of the Sea and the wind around you. It is also the first time you actually feel the strain of flying through the storm. Hour after hour you are flying towards the Island, your destination. You are getting tired, so tired, but you know that giving up is not an option. And still, even if your body is exhausted and your wings are aching, you feel alive and free.

Finally you see the Island on the horizon, as many nights before. The previous dreams always ended with a feeling of achievement that you saw the Island in the distance. You realize that this night truly is different when the dream does not end and the mountain is coming closer and closer. It is the first time you have a change to really look at the Island. You were only partially correct that is is a big mountain rising up from the Sea. What you didn't know was that it the mountain looks to be covered in green. Trees and forests as for as your sharp eyes can see. You are exhausted, trees coming closer, flying high towards the mountain, you need to rest.

***********************

“In a dark time the eye begins to see, I meet my shadow in the deepening shade; I hear my echo in the echoing wood – a lord of nature weeping to a tree”

Ogion the Silent had come home late to Re Albi from his autumn wanderings. More silent and solitary than ever he had become as the years went on. The new Lord of Gont down in the city below had never gotten a word out of him, although he had climbed up the mountain to seek the help of the mage in a certain venture. Ogion who spoke to spiders on their webs and had been seen to greet trees courteously, never said a word to the Lord of the Isle, who went away discontented.

The morning after his return he rose late, and wanting a cup of tea he went out to fetch water from the spring that ran a little way down the hillside from his house. It was broad daylight, but the sun would not clear the shoulder of the mountain for an hour yet. All western Gont, from the sea-beaches to the peak was sunless, silent and clear in the winter morning.

As the mage stood by the spring looking out over the falling lands and the grey distances of the Sea, wings beat above him. He looked up and raised one arm a little. A great hawk came down with loud-beating wings and lighted on his wrist. It wore no broken leash, no band or bell. The claws dug hard in Ogion's wrist. The wings trembled and the round green eyes were dull and wild.

“Are you messenger or message?” Ogion said gently to the hawk. “Come with me”. As he spoke the hawk looked at him and Ogion was silent for a few long minutes. “I do not believe I have named you, yet you found me”. He strode to his home and entered, carrying the hawk on his arm. Placing the bird on the ground before the fire he offered it water, but it would not drink. Then Ogion began to lay a spell, very quietly, weaving the web of magic more with his hands than with words. When the spell was whole and woven he said softly “Harry”.

You wake up cold and aching. You keep your eyes closed trying to determine what happened and why it feels like you just woke up in hospital wing, again. It is summer, so you are at Privet Drive, but no one has screamed at you yet for not preparing breakfast. Strange, no stomping feet up and down the stairs as the Dursley men walk up or down the stairs.

You are certain that you are not dreaming. You hurt to much to be dreaming, but nothing else makes sense. Why are you hearing birds around you? And what is that smell? What happened to the relatives? You open your eyes slowly and look straight into the eyes of a stranger standing over you. You scoot back with a yell and look around you. Where the hell am I? Your heart is beating in your chest as you look wildly for an exit from the wooden cabin you find yourself in. The door is open. You tense, ready to run for it, when someone clears their throat.

“Welcome child”. The voice is gentle and warm and calming, but it is a voice you do not recognize. Blinking furiously to fully wake up and stamping down on your rising panic, you locate the voice. It belongs to the same man that was standing over you as you woke up. He is a strange man. Dark copper-brown skin and grey hair and a kind face that speaks of an inner wisdom and serenity.

“Where am I? Who are you? Why am I here?” The questions leave your mouth before you can stop them, but the only response you get is a deep chuckle from the man. He hasn't moved closer to you and does not look threatening, so you allow yourself to relax marginally. You are after all not unfamiliar with strange happenings in your life.

“Welcome lad. You are in my home in Re Albi on the Isle of Gont and my name is Ogion”. Re Albi, Gont, Ogion? Apparently you look as confused as you feel, and the man, Ogion, chuckles again. “Peace child. You are safe here. I do not know how you came to be here, nor do I know why you were in the form you were in when you arrived. But you were exhausted and dehydrated and I had to change you back before I could make you drink some water.”

You try to sit up, but feel faint. “Rest now child” Ogion says to you as he moves his hands in patterns you are not familiar with. “You have over exerted yourself lad, and you need some more rest.” Feeling drowsy all of a sudden, you lay down and fall asleep. Your last thoughts are that Ogion can do wandless magic and that you feel safe. Even though you are in a strange place with a strange person and with millions of questions, you feel safe.

***********************

Snow is falling. The first of the winter here on the lower slopes of Gont. Ogion's windows are shuttered fast, but you can hear the wet snow as it falls soft on the roof, and the deep stillness of snow all around the house. Your house. Your home. You sigh in contentment and listen to the snow with peace in your soul. Ogion is sitting across the table and is looking at you with a small smile on his face.

You have been in Gont for almost two years now and time has flown. The first few weeks there was the panic of not knowing where you were and why you were here. It wasn't that you wanted to return to your old life, hell no, but you felt uprooted and alone, vulnerable. You clung to the one familar face in this new world, but Ogion understood. The quiet mage took you in and healed your broken heart and battered mind. Listened to your fears and soothed you. He never spoke much, but managed to reach you with his silence and his gentle compassion.

After you got over the first shock of being in a different world, Ogion took you on his frequent wanderings and started to tell you about the herbs and plants, the animals and the trees. And you listened, enraptured. A new world opened for you and it was exactly what you had longed for all your life. You soaked up the silence and sounds of the forests and hills as a balm for your soul. After a year Ogion started to tell you about the True Speach. The incredible power of true words, and true names. Nature and balance. No wand magic could ever compare. The warning he gave you will be forever engraved in your mind. “Sorcery is not a game Harry. Every word, every act of our Art is said and is done for either good, or for evil. Before you speak or do, you must know the price that is to pay”

The first time Ogion had to use his oaken staff in your presence and used True Speech it was to single-handedly stop an earthquake from destroying a village. You were shocked to find out exactly what he meant with his warning and that the staff he always used was not just for walking. Even after two years you are still in awe of the amazing amount of power the gentle mage wields.

Likewise, you will never forget your own first attempt at True Speach. It was the first and only time you have seen Ogion rolling over the ground in laughter. He could have told you the effects of the words, before he told you to try them, couldn't he? It happened a year ago when you were herding the longhaired goats on the meadows.

"North hierth malk man. Hiolk han merth han"! You yelled the rhyme aloud and the goats came to you. The came very quickly and all of them together, not making any sound. They looked at you out of the dark slot of their yellow eyes. You were happy with your succes in True Speach and spoke the rhyme again, before Ogion could stop you. The goats came closer, uncomfortably close, crowding and pushing around you and suddenly you were afraid. You looked over to Ogion for help, but he was laughing too hard to help you. He never mentioned it again, but you learned another lesson that day.

And now two years have past and tomorrow Harry Potter of Surrey England will no longer truly exist. In true Gontish tradition you will undergo a Rite of Passage at the feast of Sunreturn that is held tomorrow in het village of Ten Elders.

Ogion explained to you that the Rite of Passage is one of the most important occasions in any child's life. It is the moment that you receive your true name. When you asked what he meant by true name, Ogion elaborated that every person in Gont, and in the whole of Earthsea, has at least two names. One is the name given by the parents when a child is born, and this is the name you use for everyday use and the name you are known by.

Your true name is a different matter altogether. The old mage stressed the importance that to no one knows your true name but you and your namer. If someone were to know your true name, they hold your life in their keeping. You may choose at length to tell it to your wife, or friend, but even those few will never use it when any third person may hear it. In front of other people they will, like other people, call you by your use-name or nickname.

After a restful sleep and properly instructed by Ogion in the details of the Rite, you prepare yourself for the upcoming ritual. You use the last few hours before the ritual to say a last goodbye to the old Harry Potter. Are you happy with the monumental changes in your life? Yes and no. No for others, because leaving England meant that you left the innocents in the war to their own devices. And if the prophecy was factual, which you doubt, that is a grim outlook.

At the other hand, a complete and heartfelt YES for yourself. You are where you are because fate intervened, and that must mean something as well. You have never ever been so whole, healthy, peaceful and happy in your life. You found a true master is Ogion, and after many long talks and longer walks through the Gontish forests you have made peace with what happened. Both with the things you cannot change and with the things you can. In this strange world of Earthsea you have finally found your home.

Nameless and naked you walk into the cold springs of the Ar where it rises among rocks under the high cliffs. You cross to the far bank, shuddering with the cold, but walking slow and erect as you should through the icy, living water. As you come to the bank Ogion, waiting, reaches out and clasps your arm whispering your true name : "Ged".

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AN: First story ever. Please review...