About The Sight...

Hey All!

Had this been a regular web page you would have found this all at the beginning, it's all my introductory information (or in this case, closure) so you'll know exactly where I'm coming from and where credit belongs.

Author: Aldalas, the elven ranger of the Dreamer's Myst (a world no longer understood)

E-Mail: sigh yes, e-mail hates me. So far so good though...

Rating: R (warnings of angst, torture and one instance of implied rape)

I personally think this story isn't terribly horrible, but its 'R' to be safe. If there was a rating between PG-13 and R it would be that!

If anything of the above listed bothers you, please don't read this story!

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything but too many ideas, a loyal pen, and four well-loved notebooks (ha ha, that are currently falling apart, the poor things). Whoo-hoo! Go me! grins Ya'll know how it goes. This was written for enjoyment only, I am receiving no money for this, all recognizable characters and places belong to J. R. R. Tolkien that I just enjoy taking out to play with every little once in a while, and any others were made up by me, all that yadidi-yoink. If you're going to be the weirdo who'll actually try to sue me, I'll just roll my eyes and attempt Elrond's eyebrows of DOOM at such a wonderfully stupid attempt of a complete and total waste of time. Cheers!

Genre: Angst, torture, Legolas/Aragorn hurt/comfort, Elladan/Elrohir hurt/comfort, warm fuzzies, very evil moments, and more!

Betas: Celebwen, you rock! Your faithful words of encouragement, support, and editing always kept me going. Thank you for all your help!

Star, my sis, thank you for asking questions, talking to me about it constantly, and telling me even before you read parts that it was great.

Summary: Within mere hours of returning home to Rivendell after a long journey, Aragorn is attacked and taken in the middle of the night without a trace left. Nothing... that is, except for a very short note to Elladan and Elrohir from an elf they hadn't seen since they themselves were young. As they desperately try to find the ranger while fearing for not only the man's life, but his state of mind, Aragorn's only clue to solving the mystery around this strange elf that hates his twin brothers is another young elf with an unknown past and purpose, and a strange fifteen-year-old human boy who hasn't spoken since his father's death. Things aren't always as they seem... and there's more to this evil elf than meets the eye.

Dedication & Thanks: First off, to Sawen, for being the one to e-mail me when I had stopped posting in frustration the first time (way back in like, 2004)– if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have kept going!

This story is, in most part, encouraged by two books. First, the book "The Sight" by David Clement-Davies (don't ask me how!) as well as bearing its name. I am not plagiarizing this story, it stands completely different, but the name fit very well. If you don't like the fact that I took that name, know that it bugged me too but my little sister nearly bit my head off when I tried to change it. So it has remained thus. I highly recommend the book though – it's of the best animal-fantasy read I've ever encountered. The second is a series known as 'The Tennis Shoes Series' by Chris Heimerdinger. This one would have several more similarities to what I wrote (i.e. the falcon, the stone basins, choreography for one fight scene, etc) and I will totally give Chris all the credit of his work and how it has inspired me. Just to me a favor and realize something – I did write this story for myself. I am no thief of work. I did not write it so I could feel like some high and mighty writer, I know I'm nowhere close. It has been both my punching bag and my balm for life when times were hard. The vast majority is my own original work with several small exceptions. Was this inspired? Absolutely, totally, definitely. I will be of the first to admit I am inspired by what I enjoy reading. This story is dedicated in part to those books, and the values they both teach. If anything, I would love for this story to push those two farther into the spotlight. They both deserve it.

To Jim Edwards, for teaching me about healing the heart.

And to the Yahoo MC mailing list, best group of online friends anyone could wish for.

Feedback: Oh yes, please! Questions, comments, insults, threats, etc... All are welcome although the later few I will feed to my Balrog that I tamed he's hungry, man! And send him after you myself! wink just kidding. ;)

Constructive comments (even the encouraging "nice story!" ones! – you will be my friend for life!) I will cherish most appreciated!

Side Notes: I have a very limited knowledge of the northern ranges of Middle Earth, namely the area close to the Grey Mountains. I researched it to the best of my knowledge but I still had to make some assumptions on the lay of the land and so forth. In my story I consider much of the area to be abandoned, dangerous and rarely traveled. If I'm off my bonkers that's my fault, just consider it canon and don't flame me for it! I also do not pretend to be an expert in elvish either. If you are trying to learn elvish, I am not the one to come to though I wish I could be!

I am not J.R.R. Tolkien, therefore I am not an expert on the world he made, nor will I ever proclaim myself to be so. Thanks!

I am not a healer. Yet. I'm going to college for such a position, but as of right now my knowledge is also limited in this area. It was much easier to get information about cures for injuries and other such things, but the credit is not mine. All the medical fun in this story comes from my older brother who is a doctor (currently a field medic for the National Guard) and a few of his buddies. Everything that has to do with healing came from him, and there was little if any that I had to tweak a bit. All procedures are accurate, and all named medicines are too except for one that I made up. Hugs and kudos to my brother! You rock Don!

And I am SO shutting up now...

"Mellyn nin, aa menle mauve calen arta hwesta ealequenle."

/My friends, may thy paths be green and a breeze at thy back./