SO! AFTER READING A FEW STORIES LIKE THIS, I TRIED TO COME UP WITH MY OWN SPIN ON THE IDEA. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
Running in the rain has never been a struggle or something to hate for me.
To the contrary, I quite enjoyed it. It seemed to wash away my troubles, leaving them pounded thoroughly into the ground I left behind. That being said…
I had never been in a storm like this. Guess that's what I get for choosing to live in the mountains of Scotland near Loch Ness. I suppose they had a charm I couldn't resist and a peace well worth the occasional storm my choice of habitat cost me. But, again, this was worse than any I had run in before. Lightning flashed all around me, thunder drowning out whatever noise I made. I pressed on doggedly, however, refusing to let the elements beat me into submission.
Cursing, I slip just as I round a tight corner on the edge of a steep bank of the mysterious lake. I tumble harshly down the hill and just as I hit the water, I feel lightning strike my chest, right over my heart, and I know nothing but pain, then darkness takes me as I sink deeper into the water, a strange peace suddenly overcoming me as my eyes slide closed.
=#=#=#=#=
I slowly come to to find myself leaning against something that feels like stone. I would frown if I had the energy.
I had hit the...the water...just as lightning struck me. I hadn't been stopped by a stone. There were no stones in my path to hit, really. So...why was I leaning against stone now? Were there stones in heaven? Had I died? I move to swallow, though my mouth and throat are too dry for it to accomplish anything more than irritating my already sore throat. I hear a ringing in my ears akin to tinnitus as I moan a little.
"Aragorn, the stranger awakes." I hear someone call, his voice melodic and pleasant, rising above the ringing. Was he an angel of some sort? Here to guide me to whatever awaits the dead? I then hear shuffling and a hand upon my brow.
"Gimli, bring water. Our guest is starting to burn with dehydration." Another voice orders, this one a natural leader, a voice of authority, his deep, rich baritones calming.
"Aye." A gruff, but not altogether unpleasant voice replies, moving away to obey the command. I shift my eyes and they slit open. I suddenly am aware of warmth coming from a source directly in front of me and a light crackling noise. My eyes open more to reveal that I am sitting before a fire in the small hours before dawn. I blink. How long had I been out? I'd been running in the early morning…but not this early.
I am then drawn to the man beside me I hadn't noticed before as he accepts something from the figure I take to be Gimli, presumably the requested water. His back was turned to me, so I could not be certain. "Pleasure to see you awake, lass. You gave us quite a shock." Gimli (I recognize his voice from earlier) politely informs me, tipping his head slightly, red hair plaited down his back and beard nearly hiding everything but his eyes. Aragorn, I think, moves the thing he took from Gimli closer to my mouth and I am somehow able to move and accept the water, gulping large mouthfuls down greedily. I suppose a lightning strike would do that to you.
"Careful." Aragorn cautions. I know he is Aragorn now that I have heard his voice. "You do not wish to drink too much and end up worse for it." I nod slowly, looking at Gimli again, and find that he could be a native of Scotland. The frizzy red hair, the full beard, the manner in which he speaks, I've heard and seen it all before.
"Th-thanks." I croak through my slightly parched throat. Aragorn sits back a little, smiling as he puts the water aside. I note it's in some kind of bag, but set that aside for now as the third member of this trio, the one that informed Aragorn that I was awake, comes forth.
"What are your symptoms, milady?" He asks, crouching at my other side. I frown. 'Milady'?
"Ringing in my ears, a migraine, and a parched throat." I report. Aragorn nods.
"All signs of dehydration. However, we are near a river. How did you come to be in this condition?" He asks. I struggle to sit up again and end up against the rock once more.
"Lightning strike." I tell them. Gimli scoffs, opening his mouth to reply, but Aragorn glances at him, and Gimli stills.
"Milady, there has been no rain here in weeks. How could you have been struck by lightning?" I frown. There most certainly had been rain. Just last night, unless I had been unconscious far longer than I thought. And why do they insist on calling me 'milady'? Odd...
"I don't- -I was in a storm. I was running around Loch Ness, and- -"
"Loch Ness?" Aragorn asks. "Never have I heard of a place by that name, and I know these lands well."
"It's just over…" I start before realizing that I had no clue where I was. This place feels unfamiliar. "Aren't we near a lake?" Aragorn shakes his head.
"There is no lake in Rohan, mi- -"
"Rowena." I interject. I wasn't used to being addressed by anything else. "My name is Rowena." Aragorn nods.
"Very well. There are no lakes in Rohan, Rowena." He repeats. I frown. Why does that sound familiar..?
"Rohan?" I ask Gimli comes forward.
"Aye, Rohan. Where else should we be?"
"Um...Scotland?" I reply, now feeling up to moving to sit up and accomplishing the goal at last. Aragorn steadies me with a hand on my back.
"There is no Scotland in Middle-Earth, Rowena." I pale. Wait… "Where exactly do you think you are?" Aragorn asks. Good question, I muse inwardly. I swallow.
"My...my home in...oh, man…" Suddenly, everything clicks and I groan, realizing what this means; I had somehow been transported to Middle-Earth, a fictional land in a book series I hadn't heard or read in years. I'd never even finished reading it all the way through; I only got to Two Towers before my life became too busy and I was too bored to continue reading. "Okay…" I breath. "I am sorry. My mind was...was hazy." I apologize, trying to sound more confident that I knew where I was now than I truly felt. "So, we are in Rohan?" Aragorn apparently can tell I lie, but does not press me.
"Yes. We are tracking Uruk-Hai across these lands to rescue our companions, a pair of Halflings." I searched my memory. Someone created Uruk-Hai, right? In a palace-tower thing? And Halflings...were Hobbits, if I remember right. I nod. "We came across you when we stopped for the night. On our approach, I swore nothing was here, but you were lying against the rock when we arrived to rest for a few hours." I nod again, processing all this information.
"So I've only been out for a few hours?" Aragorn nods.
"As far as we can tell, yes."
"Gave us quite a scare, you did. Thought you were dead, but here you are, and we are glad to hear it!" Gimli adds cheerily. I smile.
"Yeah, me, too." Aragorn frowns, moving to get a better look at me.
"I would say you are Gondorian, by your dark hair, but you have the eyes of a Rohir." I chuckle.
"Not an uncommon combination, where I am from." I reply before I can stop myself. The trio stiffens, but Aragorn and the still unknown man (he's startlingly beautiful and entrancing to look at) act as though suspicions were merely being confirmed.
"Are you not from here, lady Rowena?" The only member whose name I don't know asks. "There is something foreign in your presence and countenance, but perhaps you are simply a traveler." I suppose that's somewhat true. A traveler between worlds, apparently. I swallow.
"...No. I am from a...a very distant land, far, far away." Aragorn leans forward.
"Tell me. I know of many lands."
"...A land called Scotland, in what I believe may be an entirely different world." I reply after a moment. Aragorn frowns, a calculatingly piercing gaze fixed on me.
"And yet, you wear clothes that seem from this world." He notes. I look down, frowning. I realize that I have, indeed, gotten a change of clothes. Where should have been drenched running capris, a three-quarter sleeve shirt and running shoes, there was now a pair of cotton leggings, thick and warm against night's chill with a simple shirt under a thick, fur-lined coat, complete with knit arm warmers to keep my forearms warm whenever I remove the coat. I was also wearing a pair of knee-length leather boots that seemed already molded to my feet, fur peeking out. I blink.
"I was not wearing this a moment ago. I was running around a lake in a thunderstorm, when I stumbled and fell, lightning striking me as I hit the water." I explain, finding a satchel beside me. I had never seen it before and yet it seemed familiar to me. Aragorn frowns.
"Why were you running in a thunderstorm? Were you being pursued?" I shake my head.
"I am stubborn and didn't let the rain deter me from my daily run. I see now it was a very foolish idea, but the rain did not start til I was already a few miles away from home and I didn't want to cut the run short." I explain. The three men look at me strangely.
"Your...daily run?" Aragorn asks. I nod.
"My daily exercise. I run around six miles a day." Gimli guffaws, but Aragorn nods.
"If that is true or not, we will soon know. Our pursuit is delayed by your arrival, milady, and now we must press on. You are to come with us, I'm afraid. I would not risk harm to you in these lands and we are out of other options." I nod, grabbing my satchel, pulling the strap over my head and settling it in a position that would not (hopefully) hinder my running.
"Alright then." I tell them, motioning them on. "Right behind you."
=#=#=#=#=
I regret my decision! My legs are aching and my breath has long since abandoned me. My satchel has created a bruise against my thigh and I am about to pass out or give up, letting them run on without me.
"Keep breathing. That's the key." Gimli groans beside me, falling a little behind. "Just keep breathing." I nod, but can't speak as I press on doggedly. It felt as though I were on my first run. It was nearing 11:00 in the morning and not once had we stopped.
These three must be truly desperate to reclaim their friends if they press themselves past physical limits like this, which brings me to a slightly disturbing thoughts: How are we going to be able to fight off whatever awaits us if we are exhausted from running? I ignore the thought and continue on.
I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.