By Dawn's Early Light
Joss Whedon created Buffy. JRR Tolkien created Lord of the Rings. I am playing with other people's toys. No money is being made here, it's all in good fun.
Joyce frowned as she watched her daughters leave the house, Buffy still grumbling about having Dawn in tow. Something was not quite right, even though on the surface everything seemed normal. Something was nagging her, right at the back of her head.
She waited until she was sure the girls were really gone before she sat down on the floor. She’d started meditating recently, and it seemed to help her remember things whenever she got that irritating ‘I know I know it but can’t think of it right now’ feeling. She cleared her mind, expecting to remember something silly like having forgotten to empty the dryer.
That was when it all came flooding back.
First, the sudden clarity that she had not always had two daughters. Dawn was new. She had come from literally out of nowhere. Yesterday, she’d only had one daughter in her house. That was followed immediately by the shocking realization that Buffy was not her oldest daughter. She’d had another- and two sons. Buffy wasn’t her daughter’s name any more than hers was Joyce. How ever had she forgotten all this? It was so important!
Sinking deeper into her trance, she examined her own mind. Right on top of her memory, still fresh, she found the traces of the spell that accompanied Dawn’s appearance in their lives. However the girl had gotten here, she was unquestionably blood kin- though it might be difficult to explain to her husband. She didn’t know who had done this, but she didn’t trust whoever it was. She must protect the girl.
Below that, older by a good decade, she found traces of another spell. She hadn’t cast this one, either, but judging the workings, she would guess Watchers. Not Giles, of course- she’d have recognized his touch. Some other one. Meddling before she had known to be on her guard. Making her forget who she was, what she was.
And why she was here- she remembered it now. All of it. The dangerous journey over the mountains, the orcs, her desperate plea to the Valar- if they would not spare herself, at least her daughter should go unharmed. She had seen the glow in the air from the corner of her eye and taken it as an answer to her prayer. Clutching her daughter to her, she had dived into that light.
But it was not the salvation she had sought. Landing in this strange world, among mortals had been a severe shock. Learning how to fit in herself had been hard enough, but teaching her daughter- who had seen only a few summers- to speak the Mannish tongue instead of the language of her own people had been heartbreaking. She could only hope that when she found a way to return, Anariel would still be young enough to learn quickly.
Celebrian frowned as she came out of her trance. This bore investigation. Perhaps this new daughter had been sent to her and Anariel for a reason. She almost laughed as she realized her new daughter’s name was fitting. She would be Tindomiel. And her appearance made finding a way home more urgent than ever.