Hee hee, same here.I'm really loving this because it's LotR fantasy and has this great moral...
Baldor the Hapless - my Middle Earth fan fiction
- Thread starter Zella
- Start date
Zella
New member
It is a good combination if I do say so myself.
This is probably my favorite part. If the battle seemed kind of anticlimactic, it's because this is what everything was really leading up to.
Several days later, Maglor took a walk up the river, which had been restored to its original course. He wished to escape the condemning presence of the Elves the Valar had brought. Most of them pretended to be civil or at least ignored him, but he had seen the glances and heard the whispers, and he was not fooled. They knew who he was, what he had done, and they had not forgiven him.
He kicked a stone out of his path. This was one of the reasons he had never returned to Valinor, and now it seemed especially cruel. He had finally begun to forgive himself and find a purpose in life again. Maglor sighed. I should not be feeling this way. After all, they were part of the reason that purpose he had found was still alive.
Head bowed, lost in his thoughts, Maglor trudged on until he had lost all track of time. Without warning, he stopped and froze.
No!
It could not be!
It was.
Right in front of him, so close that there could be no mistake, laid the Silmarils that he and Maethros had abandoned.
Maglor’s mind spun. He attempted to think through what he should do now, but no answer was forthcoming. As he deliberated, he found himself surrounded by a presence he could only describe as overwhelming. He gasped, fell to his knees, and covered his face as if by doing so he could hide.
The presence spoke: “Maglor. Do not be afraid.” The voice was deeper than Ulmo’s oceans, higher than Varda’s stars, older than the Valar, younger than a newborn child, harsher than a slave driver, gentler than a mother.
It took all Maglor’s courage to summon his own voice, which seemed week and small in comparison. “Ilúvatar,” he whispered, having no doubt to whom the voice belonged. “What right have I to be in your presence?”
“None, Maglor, but that is no less than any of my children have.”
“But surely there are few who deserve it less than me!”
“My son, do you think I have ignored your many pleas for cleansing? Nay, I have heard and acted! When will you forgive yourself?”
“I try, Lord. I cannot do it.”
“Trust Me; I will help you. I will give you a sign: your body will no longer bear the scars of the evil your heart has long been cleansed of.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will see. I have a task for you, Maglor. It will be difficult, but if you follow Me, you will find the strength you will need.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to take the Silmarils to Valinor.”
Maglor stiffened. “Why me, Lord?”
“It must be done. With them, the Two Trees can be rekindled to give the earth light again; this world was never intended to be ruled by darkness. I have chosen you for the task for reasons of my own. Is that not enough?
For a moment Maglor did not answer, but his love overcame his fear and he replied, “It is enough. I will take them.”
“You need not fear, Maglor, My son. I will be with you; I will never forsake you. If you trust Me, all things are possible.”
With those words, the presence faded away. Maglor opened his eyes and was surprised to find his surroundings unchanged. The river gurgled past on his right, he still knelt on hard dirt, and the Silmarils lay in front of him, emitting a soft glow. He felt changed. His heart was lighter than it had been in years, but something else was different that at first he could not identify. Then he realized that the pain he had lived with so long as gone. He looked at his right hand. Even the scars had disappeared!
Maglor leapt to his feet, joy filling his heart. “Thank you, Ilúvatar!” he shouted to the heavens before striding purposefully to the Silmarils and bending to pick them up. He hesitated a moment. They would not burn him now, would they? No. Of course not. Ilúvatar had healed him. Trust Me. The words echoed through his head. He picked them up, one in each hand. When they bore his touch, he said again, quietly this time, “Thank you,” and meant it with all his heart.
This is probably my favorite part.
If the battle seemed kind of anticlimactic, it's because this is what everything was really leading up to.Several days later, Maglor took a walk up the river, which had been restored to its original course. He wished to escape the condemning presence of the Elves the Valar had brought. Most of them pretended to be civil or at least ignored him, but he had seen the glances and heard the whispers, and he was not fooled. They knew who he was, what he had done, and they had not forgiven him.
He kicked a stone out of his path. This was one of the reasons he had never returned to Valinor, and now it seemed especially cruel. He had finally begun to forgive himself and find a purpose in life again. Maglor sighed. I should not be feeling this way. After all, they were part of the reason that purpose he had found was still alive.
Head bowed, lost in his thoughts, Maglor trudged on until he had lost all track of time. Without warning, he stopped and froze.
No!
It could not be!
It was.
Right in front of him, so close that there could be no mistake, laid the Silmarils that he and Maethros had abandoned.
Maglor’s mind spun. He attempted to think through what he should do now, but no answer was forthcoming. As he deliberated, he found himself surrounded by a presence he could only describe as overwhelming. He gasped, fell to his knees, and covered his face as if by doing so he could hide.
The presence spoke: “Maglor. Do not be afraid.” The voice was deeper than Ulmo’s oceans, higher than Varda’s stars, older than the Valar, younger than a newborn child, harsher than a slave driver, gentler than a mother.
It took all Maglor’s courage to summon his own voice, which seemed week and small in comparison. “Ilúvatar,” he whispered, having no doubt to whom the voice belonged. “What right have I to be in your presence?”
“None, Maglor, but that is no less than any of my children have.”
“But surely there are few who deserve it less than me!”
“My son, do you think I have ignored your many pleas for cleansing? Nay, I have heard and acted! When will you forgive yourself?”
“I try, Lord. I cannot do it.”
“Trust Me; I will help you. I will give you a sign: your body will no longer bear the scars of the evil your heart has long been cleansed of.”
“What do you mean?”
“You will see. I have a task for you, Maglor. It will be difficult, but if you follow Me, you will find the strength you will need.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to take the Silmarils to Valinor.”
Maglor stiffened. “Why me, Lord?”
“It must be done. With them, the Two Trees can be rekindled to give the earth light again; this world was never intended to be ruled by darkness. I have chosen you for the task for reasons of my own. Is that not enough?
For a moment Maglor did not answer, but his love overcame his fear and he replied, “It is enough. I will take them.”
“You need not fear, Maglor, My son. I will be with you; I will never forsake you. If you trust Me, all things are possible.”
With those words, the presence faded away. Maglor opened his eyes and was surprised to find his surroundings unchanged. The river gurgled past on his right, he still knelt on hard dirt, and the Silmarils lay in front of him, emitting a soft glow. He felt changed. His heart was lighter than it had been in years, but something else was different that at first he could not identify. Then he realized that the pain he had lived with so long as gone. He looked at his right hand. Even the scars had disappeared!
Maglor leapt to his feet, joy filling his heart. “Thank you, Ilúvatar!” he shouted to the heavens before striding purposefully to the Silmarils and bending to pick them up. He hesitated a moment. They would not burn him now, would they? No. Of course not. Ilúvatar had healed him. Trust Me. The words echoed through his head. He picked them up, one in each hand. When they bore his touch, he said again, quietly this time, “Thank you,” and meant it with all his heart.
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Mozart the Meerkitten
Well-known member
That was great. Definately my favorite part thus far.
Definately my favorite part thus far.
Yeah, that's really great, I love it Zella.
Zella
New member
Maglor returned to Annonnen with a long-lost spring returned to his step. The Silmarils he carried wrapped in his cloak; he did not wish to draw too much attention. As he walked through the Elves gathered in and around the fortress, he no longer kept his head down. Rather, his shoulders were thrown back confidently, and he smiled and nodded at anyone who met his gaze. He left a succession of puzzled faces in his wake, but he did not care about them. He was searching for one small figure. When he spied him sitting on the steps that led to the wall, he called, “Borlad!”
The boy looked up, and when Maglor got close he asked, “What has happened?”
Maglor smiled. “Up on the wall.”
Borlad nodded and scrambled to his feet. The ascended the stairs and found a spot where they would not be overheard. Borlad repeated his question.
Maglor leaned back on the battlements and said innocently, “I just wondered how your arm is healing.”
“My arm is fine! You know that! Now tell me what is happening!” laughed Borlad.
Grinning, Maglor gave in. “If you insist.” He delivered his news solemnly. “Ilúvatar spoke to me.”
Borlad’s eyes widened. “He did?”
Maglor nodded. “He healed my hand.” He held it out for Borlad to see. “He also told me to go to Valinor.”
“Why?” Maglor did not answer right away, for he was not sure if he should tell about the Silmarils; he had debated with himself about telling Borlad this much. Before he decided, however, Borlad guessed, “The Silmarils?”
Maglor shook his head. “You are too smart for your own good. Yes, the Silmarils.”
“May I see them?” Deciding it would not hurt, Maglor partially unwrapped them, revealing the radiant jewels to Borlad’s wondering gaze. “They are beautiful! With them the two trees can be relit?”
Maglor nodded. “You remember my stories.”
“Of course.” Borlad was silent for a few minutes before asking, “Will you come back?”
“Unless the Valar wish to punish me for my deeds.”
“It seems to me you have suffered enough.”
“They do not know me as you do.”
“You have also learned your lesson,” said Borlad, looking up at Maglor.
Maglor smiled. “Aye.”
“I will miss you.”
“And I you.” Maglor put an arm around Borlad’s shoulders as they began to walk back to the stairs.
“I asked some of the Elves about you,” Borlad said suddenly.
“You did?”
“They said you were once a great singer.”
“I was. It has been long now since I have sung; I have not had the heart for it.”
“Will you sing for me when you return?”
“Do you wish me to?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will.”
The boy looked up, and when Maglor got close he asked, “What has happened?”
Maglor smiled. “Up on the wall.”
Borlad nodded and scrambled to his feet. The ascended the stairs and found a spot where they would not be overheard. Borlad repeated his question.
Maglor leaned back on the battlements and said innocently, “I just wondered how your arm is healing.”
“My arm is fine! You know that! Now tell me what is happening!” laughed Borlad.
Grinning, Maglor gave in. “If you insist.” He delivered his news solemnly. “Ilúvatar spoke to me.”
Borlad’s eyes widened. “He did?”
Maglor nodded. “He healed my hand.” He held it out for Borlad to see. “He also told me to go to Valinor.”
“Why?” Maglor did not answer right away, for he was not sure if he should tell about the Silmarils; he had debated with himself about telling Borlad this much. Before he decided, however, Borlad guessed, “The Silmarils?”
Maglor shook his head. “You are too smart for your own good. Yes, the Silmarils.”
“May I see them?” Deciding it would not hurt, Maglor partially unwrapped them, revealing the radiant jewels to Borlad’s wondering gaze. “They are beautiful! With them the two trees can be relit?”
Maglor nodded. “You remember my stories.”
“Of course.” Borlad was silent for a few minutes before asking, “Will you come back?”
“Unless the Valar wish to punish me for my deeds.”
“It seems to me you have suffered enough.”
“They do not know me as you do.”
“You have also learned your lesson,” said Borlad, looking up at Maglor.
Maglor smiled. “Aye.”
“I will miss you.”
“And I you.” Maglor put an arm around Borlad’s shoulders as they began to walk back to the stairs.
“I asked some of the Elves about you,” Borlad said suddenly.
“You did?”
“They said you were once a great singer.”
“I was. It has been long now since I have sung; I have not had the heart for it.”
“Will you sing for me when you return?”
“Do you wish me to?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will.”
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Aww I love it.
TheGardener
New member
Just caught up. I love both stories and the poem. However, doesn't Iluvatar have to release Malgor from his oath first?
Zella
New member
Aww I love it.
When I started writing it I don't think I even knew Borlad existed, but now their relationship has become one of my favorite things in the story.
I thought of two ways of handling the oath, and I decided I would go with the one that doesn't require Iluvatar releasing Maglor from it. The main reason was because I remembered after I'd already written Maglor's conversation with Iluvatar and there wasn't anywhere that really seemed right to stick it in, but if you want a philosophical reason I can say it's because forgiveness doesn't always mean we don't have to work with what we did wrong.
But anyway, I am planning to address that.
Zella
New member
I finally decided I'd procrastinated long enough. This is the next to last update unless I decide to do an epilogue, which is quite possible. We'll see.
Maglor forced himself not to fidget as he stood silently under Manwë’s stern gaze. He was in Valinor after a long, slow journey. Morgoth had been imprisoned in the fastness of Mandos – permanently this time – and the Valar had finally found time to grant him an audience. They sat in a semi-circle in front of him, and behind him the Elves were gathered. Aside from two or three of the Valar who seemed sympathetic, they were all looking at him disapprovingly. Maglor sent a quick prayer for strength to Ilúvatar as Manwë began to speak.
“Why are you here, Maglor son of Fëanor?”
“I have come to do what I can to right the wrongs of myself and my family.”
“How are you going to do that?”
In answer, Maglor unwrapped the Silmarils and held them up. Gasps of astonishment ran through the audience. Yavanna leaned forward eagerly, ascertaining his intentions. Manwë alone remained unmoved. “It is my understanding,” Maglor said, “that will all three jewels the life of the Two Trees can be restored.”
“How did you get them back?” asked Manwë.
“Ilúvatar brought them to me.”
Once again, disbelief rippled through the crowd.
“Do you have proof of this?”
“Is not my holding them proof enough? How could I have them any other way? They were far out of my reach.”
“That is true. What do you wish to do with them?’
“I want to give them to you so Yavanna can heal the Trees.”
“What of your oath?”
“I am giving them away of my own free will; you will not be withholding them from me.”
There was silence again as Manwë studied him. “Why are you doing this, Maglor? You must know that we will likely punish you now that you are here. You could easily have kept the jewels, gone into hiding again, and lived until the end of the world in possession of what could be called your rightful inheritance.”
“I know,” replied Maglor. “I will willingly submit to any punishment you deem necessary. As to why…” He dropped his head and drew a deep breath before continuing. “For years I lived with guilt over my actions. Then you asked me to venture into the world again, and I found two things I never expected to know again: friendship and forgiveness. They have taught me that no life is ever ruined forever; you can change if you want to. I want to. I do not wish to be known only for my unwise choices. Yes, I could have kept the Silmarils for myself, but why should I keep something that will do me no real good when giving it up can help the whole world?” Looking up again, Maglor found that Manwë’s expression had finally softened.
After a moment, Ulmo spoke. “I do not believe any punishment will be necessary. He seems to have learned his lesson thoroughly.” The Valar murmured their assent, and Manwë nodded.
Maglor offered the Silmarils. “Will you accept them, my lord?”
“Give them to Yavanna.” Maglor did so, and Yavanna accepted them enthusiastically, her eyes glowing with delight.
This is the next to last update unless I decide to do an epilogue, which is quite possible. We'll see.Maglor forced himself not to fidget as he stood silently under Manwë’s stern gaze. He was in Valinor after a long, slow journey. Morgoth had been imprisoned in the fastness of Mandos – permanently this time – and the Valar had finally found time to grant him an audience. They sat in a semi-circle in front of him, and behind him the Elves were gathered. Aside from two or three of the Valar who seemed sympathetic, they were all looking at him disapprovingly. Maglor sent a quick prayer for strength to Ilúvatar as Manwë began to speak.
“Why are you here, Maglor son of Fëanor?”
“I have come to do what I can to right the wrongs of myself and my family.”
“How are you going to do that?”
In answer, Maglor unwrapped the Silmarils and held them up. Gasps of astonishment ran through the audience. Yavanna leaned forward eagerly, ascertaining his intentions. Manwë alone remained unmoved. “It is my understanding,” Maglor said, “that will all three jewels the life of the Two Trees can be restored.”
“How did you get them back?” asked Manwë.
“Ilúvatar brought them to me.”
Once again, disbelief rippled through the crowd.
“Do you have proof of this?”
“Is not my holding them proof enough? How could I have them any other way? They were far out of my reach.”
“That is true. What do you wish to do with them?’
“I want to give them to you so Yavanna can heal the Trees.”
“What of your oath?”
“I am giving them away of my own free will; you will not be withholding them from me.”
There was silence again as Manwë studied him. “Why are you doing this, Maglor? You must know that we will likely punish you now that you are here. You could easily have kept the jewels, gone into hiding again, and lived until the end of the world in possession of what could be called your rightful inheritance.”
“I know,” replied Maglor. “I will willingly submit to any punishment you deem necessary. As to why…” He dropped his head and drew a deep breath before continuing. “For years I lived with guilt over my actions. Then you asked me to venture into the world again, and I found two things I never expected to know again: friendship and forgiveness. They have taught me that no life is ever ruined forever; you can change if you want to. I want to. I do not wish to be known only for my unwise choices. Yes, I could have kept the Silmarils for myself, but why should I keep something that will do me no real good when giving it up can help the whole world?” Looking up again, Maglor found that Manwë’s expression had finally softened.
After a moment, Ulmo spoke. “I do not believe any punishment will be necessary. He seems to have learned his lesson thoroughly.” The Valar murmured their assent, and Manwë nodded.
Maglor offered the Silmarils. “Will you accept them, my lord?”
“Give them to Yavanna.” Maglor did so, and Yavanna accepted them enthusiastically, her eyes glowing with delight.
TheGardener
New member
Yes! I Like!
Yay, happiness.
Zella
New member
I really wanted to write the song in Elvish, but I'm not that good. Pretend it's a translation. And I did decide to do an epilogue, so this won't be the last update after all.
Soon after, they all gathered around Corolairë where the withered forms of Telperion and Laurelin stood. Eärendil had surrendered his Silmaril, the three jewels had been broken, and the light they contained collected in a bowl. Yavanna poured out the light at the bases of the Trees and began to sing. She sang of light, of life, of power, of beauty, and for a long time there was no sound but her voice. As she sang, the Trees began to come alive: drooping branches lifted, shriveled leaves flushed green, and buds and flowers formed.
Telperion was the first to come to full bloom, as when the Trees first blossomed. When his light was full, the stillness was broken by cheers. Joy so strong it could almost be tasted filled the air. Laughter, shouting, and weeping most of all sounded from every direction. They could now feel that the defeat of Morgoth was complete, for not only was he overcome, his goal of darkening the world had been thwarted.
With tears in his eyes, Maglor lifted his voice in song for the first time in many years. Words of joy and praise flowed from his heart, reminding those around him of the time when he was daily heard singing in Valinor.
What now can steal our joy?
Morgoth is conquered, darkness banished,
Yet the streets are filled with weeping,
For this happiness is too great for laughter
And too strong for smiles;
Tears must express it.
Arda has been granted peace
When she no longer hoped to find it.
The Father of All has blessed us beyond measure.
How will we thank Him?
Our hearts must speak for our tongues,
For we have not the words, only emotions.
One of the Elves close to him clapped Maglor on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “It took courage to come back; I am glad you were willing to take the risk.”
Maglor smiled at him. “It was my pleasure.” Turning his eyes back to the Trees, he thought about the events that had brought him to this moment. Many had been difficult and painful, but over all, he decided, they had been worth it, and it was his pleasure.
Pretend it's a translation. And I did decide to do an epilogue, so this won't be the last update after all.Soon after, they all gathered around Corolairë where the withered forms of Telperion and Laurelin stood. Eärendil had surrendered his Silmaril, the three jewels had been broken, and the light they contained collected in a bowl. Yavanna poured out the light at the bases of the Trees and began to sing. She sang of light, of life, of power, of beauty, and for a long time there was no sound but her voice. As she sang, the Trees began to come alive: drooping branches lifted, shriveled leaves flushed green, and buds and flowers formed.
Telperion was the first to come to full bloom, as when the Trees first blossomed. When his light was full, the stillness was broken by cheers. Joy so strong it could almost be tasted filled the air. Laughter, shouting, and weeping most of all sounded from every direction. They could now feel that the defeat of Morgoth was complete, for not only was he overcome, his goal of darkening the world had been thwarted.
With tears in his eyes, Maglor lifted his voice in song for the first time in many years. Words of joy and praise flowed from his heart, reminding those around him of the time when he was daily heard singing in Valinor.
What now can steal our joy?
Morgoth is conquered, darkness banished,
Yet the streets are filled with weeping,
For this happiness is too great for laughter
And too strong for smiles;
Tears must express it.
Arda has been granted peace
When she no longer hoped to find it.
The Father of All has blessed us beyond measure.
How will we thank Him?
Our hearts must speak for our tongues,
For we have not the words, only emotions.
One of the Elves close to him clapped Maglor on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “It took courage to come back; I am glad you were willing to take the risk.”
Maglor smiled at him. “It was my pleasure.” Turning his eyes back to the Trees, he thought about the events that had brought him to this moment. Many had been difficult and painful, but over all, he decided, they had been worth it, and it was his pleasure.
THE END
Wonderful! As was the rest of the story, I eagerly anticipate the epilogue.
And maybe someday I'll translate it into Elvish for you...
And maybe someday I'll translate it into Elvish for you...
What a great story, Zella! I'll look forward to the epilogue!
I'll look forward to the epilogue!
Zella
New member
And maybe someday I'll translate it into Elvish for you...
I hope to be able to do it myself someday, but if you beat me to that point, I'll gladly take you up on that.
Epilogue
Maglor stepped onto shore with a sigh of relief. Ulmo had been kind enough to transport his boat quickly across the ocean, but it had still been a long trip. It was a beautiful day. The sea and sky were endlessly blue, the sand golden, and the trees verdant green. Singer’s Beach. It was a lovely place and held thousands of years of memories, but it was not why he had returned.
Turning his footsteps toward the nearest city, Maglor began to relax. It was good to be back, and good to be able to see the world again. He wondered to what most of the Men attributed the abrupt changes.
Although the Valar had told him he was welcome to stay in Valinor, Maglor had not even needed to consider the offer. The Elves were kinder now, but he still did not feel at ease around them. He had friends in Middle Earth, and if nothing else, there was a certain promise he recalled making.
A short journey brought him in sight of his destination. He picked up his pace, eager to arrive. Soon a figure came running out the gates and over the fields toward him. Maglor grinned. Borlad had been watching for him.
When he reached him, Borlad threw his arms around Maglor, who laughed and returned the hug. “You came back!”
“Of course I did! I told you I would.”
“I thought you might change your mind and decide you liked it better there.”
Maglor shook his head. “There are too many painful memories there.”
“There are painful memories here, too.”
“True, but the world has changed so much that there is little I can see that brings them back, and my most resent memories here are anything but painful.”
Borlad smiled. “Did they forgive you?”
“Yes they did.”
“Good. I thought of you when the light came back.”
“And I thought of you.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
“Certainly. First, however, I believe I promised you a song….”
After the midnight, morning will greet us;
After the sadness, joy will appear;
After the tempest, sunlight will great us;
After the jeering, praise we shall hear.
After the battle, peace will be given;
After the weeping, song there will be;
After the journey there will be heaven,-
Burdens will fall and we shall be free.
- James Rowe
After the sadness, joy will appear;
After the tempest, sunlight will great us;
After the jeering, praise we shall hear.
After the battle, peace will be given;
After the weeping, song there will be;
After the journey there will be heaven,-
Burdens will fall and we shall be free.
- James Rowe
And this is the official end. Thanks so much for reading! If you're an invisible reader, comment! Please? Even just to say that you read it, although something more would certainly be appreciated. I know the theme - struggling to forgive yourself and to believe God and others can forgive and love you - is common (and in my opinion overused, which makes me wonder why my sub-conscience decided to write about it), but I like to flatter myself that this was a new way to go about it. (Can you imagine feeling guilty about something for thousands of years?
Maybe I don't want to be an Elf after all.) I really, really hope you enjoyed it and maybe even got something out of it. I had such fun getting to know Maglor; I hope you did, too.
Oh it definitely was a new way, I really really really loved it!
And yes, I hope to get myself a book on translation sometime.
And yes, I hope to get myself a book on translation sometime.
Mozart the Meerkitten
Well-known member
Well I'm not exactly an invisble reader but I haven't commented in awhile. I loved the ending and the epilouge. I can't think of words that decribe how wonderfully awsomeatic it was so you'll just have to settle with it being "wonderfully Awsomeatic".
(I. love. your. Middle. Earth. fan. fics.)
(I. love. your. Middle. Earth. fan. fics.
)
TheGardener
New member
An excellent ending.
I love your ending, Zella! It was a very satisfying completion to a great story!
Zella
New member
Some pictures to go with these stories!
This one is a banner I made for the first story in this thread, Baldor the Hapless. The person is actually a picture of someone in Rohan in the Lord of the Rings; if you watch closely in The Two Towers, you'll see him walk by carrying a barrel. Without the barrel, though, he looks just about exactly the way I pictured Baldor.
And this, thanks to the lovely, talented SeaStar, is a book cover for After the Midnight. She did a great job!
This one is a banner I made for the first story in this thread, Baldor the Hapless. The person is actually a picture of someone in Rohan in the Lord of the Rings; if you watch closely in The Two Towers, you'll see him walk by carrying a barrel.
Without the barrel, though, he looks just about exactly the way I pictured Baldor.
And this, thanks to the lovely, talented SeaStar, is a book cover for After the Midnight. She did a great job!