DISCLAIMER: The only people I own are, Lilly/Ellorme, Lindan, Asfaol, and
Elanna, the rest all belongs to the late J.R.R. Tolkien. Please R&R, this
is my first elf/Middle-Earth story. I know it's not the best—but I need
some feedback. Thank you!
NOTE: this story takes place in the year 2913 of the Third Age.
1
Lilly looked up at the sound of a neigh, and wiped her eyes dry.
Run, run! her mind shrilled. They're coming to get you! Run!
She looked around frantically, then dove for the cover at the side of the road. She'd willingly brave the waters of Anduin with no boat rather than return to that cesspool of drunks called Bree.
A tinkling sound filled her ears—so soft and light at first she thought she had imagined it. Then, as the sound grew louder and sweeter, she lifted her head cautiously to see who passed.
A beautiful white horse came trotting around the bend, head high and tail streaming behind it. Lilly smiled to herself as she saw the vain arrogance in the creature's movements. He was a beauty—and he knew it!
Slowly she stepped out from the cover of the woods, and timidly she held out her hand to the horse. The horse moved closer and then nuzzled her gently. She giggled and then tears sprang into her eyes again.
"You must belong to someone," she said hesitantly. "I guess I'd better take you back."
The horse huffed in her hair in response. She took his velvety nose in her hands and stroked the soft fur gently. His large brown eyes were kind, if a horse's eyes could look kind. Carefully she slid a hand down his neck and to his saddle.
"Whoever owns you must be very rich," she informed him. "This bridal and saddle costs a fortune—oomph!" The horse nudged her hard with his nose. She stumbled to his side, where a silver stirrup was hanging down. She realized, after a glance at the bridal, that the reins were purely ornamental; they connected with a decorated halter, nothing more. No bit, no hackamore, no nothing.
"Your rider must be very sure of himself—or herself," she muttered. She eyed the horse. He was tall, but not so tall she wouldn't be able to get on him with the help of the stirrups.
"I'd take all night to walk this road," she told the horse, putting her foot in the stirrup. "I probably better ride you." She swung her leg over his back and slid comfortably into the saddle, adjusting her weight. The horse waited patiently for her to get settled. Then, only moments after her fingers were securely wound in his mare, he leapt forward. Wind whipped her eyes, but his pace was so light and smooth she easily kept her balance until her hair was pulled from her eyes. Breathless, she looked between his ears and balanced over his withers, so not to lean on his forelegs.
It was the closest thing to flying she'd ever experienced. His hooves barely seemed to touch the ground, and his bells chimed in a wild song that was constantly changing. She breathed in the fresh air and closed her eyes, imagining she was aboard a smooth-sailing ship, traveling far away from her cares.
* * * *
She opened her eyes carefully the next morning. There was the white horse, chomping grass beside her. Somehow he'd managed to get her off her saddle without waking her. The very thought made her shiver. She had the feeling this horse was not what he appeared to be.
Everything went fine until later that day, when it began to hail. Having little to protect herself from the elements, she soon was freezing and shivering violently, even with the warmth of the horse. They did not traval far that day.
Never having strayed from home before she had no idea how to start a fire, no idea how to hunt for herself. Before long she was thoroughly miserable; cold, wet, hungry, and sick. She coughed hoarsely long into the night as she rode the horse through the rain. Soon she was so cold she'd lost all feeling in her body. Her vision darkened, and she slumped forward…
Suddenly, the horse stopped. She slammed against his warm mane and lay there, too weak to push herself off. The horse threw back his head, hitting her nose. She yelped weakly and turned her head to the side. Suddenly, the horse whinnied loudly, once, twice, three times, then fell silent. Somewhere in the distance of her mind, she heard singing, faint and far away, but steadily coming closer. After a moment, a slim figure came in sight and she heard a voice, too sweet and lilting to be a mortal's.
"Ahh, there you are! You naughty horse, you had me searching half the countryside…aha, snagged one of the locals I see…no? What's this?" A note of concern entered the lilting voice, which, though was the most beautiful she'd ever heard, was distinctly masculine. "Are you hurt, little one?" she was too weak to respond. She dragged her tongue over lips cracked and bleeding and closed her eyes. Suddenly, something tugged on her firmly. She felt herself falling, but made no move to steady herself. Warm arms encircled her, and a face, angelic and kind appeared before her. She coughed heavily.
"Poor thing, traveling in this weather. And in rags, too! What's your name, little one?"
She struggled to respond, but she could hardly take a breath without coughing. "Come here, Asfaol." The horse obediently came closer. "Lie down next to her while I start a fire." The horse slowly dropped to his knees then dropped his rump. The spirit lay her next to his horse and covered her warmly with his own cloak, smoothing her brow with a gentle hand.
"You'll be all right," he murmured. "Let me get something for your cough." He disappeared into the forest, silent as a shadow. She curled up against the horse and closed her eyes too tired and sick to think.
"Dehydrated, too, I see." The voice startled her out of an uneasy sleep. Something lifted her to an upright positioned and held a cup against her lips.
"Drink," he ordered. She drank in the cool liquid, which soothed her sore throat and cough. He made her drink three more cups of water, and then another cup every time she woke up. He kept her near a fire that had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere and didn't seem to require any wood. He'd rubbed balm on her cracked lips and a cool, damp cloth kept her fever at bay.
After a fitful night, she woke to a bright morning, with no clouds in sight. She blinked in the sunlight, then looked around. The horse was eating grass near to her. His bridal and saddle had been removed, and he was gleaming in the sunshine.
"You look much better," came a voice to her right. She snapped her head in that direction eyes wide and startled.
The beautiful man who had saved her was regarding her a few feet away, sitting underneath a tree, cross-legged.
"Have I died?" she asked sleepily. "Is this the beyond?"
To her surprise, the man laughed and stood. "No, little one. This is far beyond your home, if that's what you mean. But you are alive and well, thanks to the abundant herbs that grow near here, and my horse's common sense, if kidnapping a local girl could be called that." He sent an ironic look over at his horse, whom looked innocent as a sunflower, and snorted.
He moved to her side and felt her forehead. "No fever—good, and you're not coughing." He smiled at her.
"Who—who—"
"Who am I? His smile widened. "To my horse, I'm an inconvenience, but to my peers I'm called Lindan."
"You—you—you're an elf!" she gasped.
He laughed again; throwing his head back, and letting his thick mane of ebony locks fall over his shoulders in wavy ripples. His laugh was a clear, tinkling sound, like rain falling on a woodland stream. "Very good!" he said. "I did not think you'd recognize me for what I am. Yes, I am an elf. And you are very far from home, and still a little sick. Would you prefer I leave you here and let you make your own way back, or would you like to come to Rivendell with me, and go back after winter ends?"
She stared at him, disbelieving. He would take her with him? To Rivendell, the fabled home of the Elves? No more beatings from father, no more slaps from mother…and why should she go back? They were not her parents! They were not even her parents' kin! They were not her kin! What did she owe them? At Rivendell, maybe she could get a job as a stable hand for a little room and a meal.
"Could I come with you?" she asked breathlessly, tumbling out of bed. "Please?" Her eyes were wide and pleading. He smiled, but the expression was puzzled.
"Are you so wanting to leave you family?"
"They're no family of mine," she replied shortly. He nodded slowly.
"Of course you may come," he said kindly. "I offered it, did I not?" he settled back onto the grass, a contented expression on his face. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
She nodded twice. He brought her a piece of white bread, still soft, with a little butter and some dried meat, and a cup of a sweet, cool drink she vaguely remembered having the night before.
She felt much better after eating the food. Before they mounted up she scurried off into the bushes to answer nature's calling. He was already in the saddle when she returned. She swung up behind him and wrapped her arms around him as they broke into a gentle, ground-eating canter. She looked over her, back towards the only home she'd ever known, and felt a moment's doubt. Then her expression hardened, and she looked forward again. A new life awaited her. One where she could actually learn something, actually be someone. She tilted her head back and looked up at the bright blue sky.
And I will be someone, she told herself firmly. I have the talent; I have just found the courage, and somewhere I have the patience. No matter what they say, I can do this, I can. And this time, I won't let anyone stop me!
* * * *
It wasn't until later that evening she realized she'd forgotten to mention what her name was. Blushing furiously, she approached Lindan. "Um, sir?"
He looked up from where he was stirring a pot of their night's favor and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Um, I think I forgot to tell you my name."
He smiled when she hesitated. "By all means, oblige me."
She blushed again and toed the ground. "My name is Lilly."
"Well, Lilly, it is very nice to meet you." There was an unending amount of amusement in his eyes. She couldn't help it. One look at him started her laughing. His expression was one of amused composure. He soon joined her in laughter.
Their dinner was pleasant, for Lindan did not mind at all answering some of the questions she'd always wanted to ask, and didn't scold her for talking too much. He listened in amusement and surprise at all the legends about elves her people had made, and gently corrected her from time to time. There was none of the harshness, none of the short-tempered and sadistic remarks that she had come to expect from adults.
"How far are we from Rivendell?" she asked after swallowing a mouthful of the soup. It was the best she'd ever tasted; though Lindan seemed embarrassed about the quality.
"We should reach it tonight," he responded, and paused to chew a particularly stubborn piece of meat. When he'd finished, he added, "You may as well ride in front of me, so I can catch you if you fall asleep; I don't want to stop tonight."
She nodded, and carefully mounted onto Asfaol. Lindan swung up behind her and settled his arms around her. It was already dusk, and Lilly was tired. After about half an hour of trying to sit upright, she finally gave up into weariness and leaned back against him.
"Go ahead and sleep," he said in her ear. "Asfaol and I won't let you fall." She never had a chance to respond; sleep was already pulling at her.
She breathed deeply in the sweet smell of horse and clean leather. His arms encircled her waist gently, keeping her leaning back against him. She turned her head once or twice, but settled down quickly, and it was not long before she was deep within the arms of sleep, curled up against Lindan's warm, comforting presence.
When Lindan had listened to her slow, quiet breathing for sometime, he murmured to his horse, and Asfaol stopped, then said softly into the darkness, "Greetings, old friend."
A shadow appeared at his side, moving silently towards the elf.
"What little mischief do you carry now?" the voice asked in response, but there was no malice in his tone, only calmness that Lindan felt as a presence around him.
"You tell me, my friend; you wander these roads more than I."
The shadow moved closer and gazed into the sleeping face of Lilly. "Probably a Bree-child, from her accent. She doesn't look that, though, does she?"
"No," the elf agreed softly. "She looks like the men of Rohan."
"Aye," the man agreed, stepping back. There was a curious expression in his dark eyes. "Take good care of her, Lindan."
"I intend to. Any messages, or was this just a friendly hello?"
"The later, and a question; have you seen any athelas?"
"Back about a day's walk, why?"
"I have a feeling I may be needing some, soon. I have a wound that will not heal."
Concern knitted the elf's face, and he reached into his pouch. "These are not very fresh, but they should do. Should I send someone to find you?"
"Nay, I'll be alright," the Ranger replied, taking the leaves. "Fair weather and fresh rain, my friend."
"And you, Ranger. Good luck." And so the two parted company.
* * * *
Lilly jerked upright suddenly as Asfaol stopped, and stared about in amazement as she realized Lindan had brought them into Rivendell without her waking once. She stared as Lindan slid off his horse and offered her a hand.
"Home sweet home," he sighed, looking about. "What a beautiful night!"
"Who's that singing?" she asked, listening to the sounds of voices and waterfalls in the distance.
"Why, that's the elves who live here," he replied. "Mae govannen*!" he called to the elf that was approaching them. The elf returned the greeting, and then took Asfaol. "Come on, I'll get you set up in a room before I go give Master Elrond my respects." He paused, realizing she hadn't heard a thing he'd said. She was staring up at the stars, her lips parted in a gesture of complete shock. A slow smile spread across his face. When she looked back at him, there were tears shinning in her eyes.
"It just occurred to me," she said in a thick voice, "that I'm really free."
"Come on then, my little one," the elf replied kindly. "Lets show you around your new home."
*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?
2 *Mae govannen = well met
NOTE: this story takes place in the year 2913 of the Third Age.
1
Lilly looked up at the sound of a neigh, and wiped her eyes dry.
Run, run! her mind shrilled. They're coming to get you! Run!
She looked around frantically, then dove for the cover at the side of the road. She'd willingly brave the waters of Anduin with no boat rather than return to that cesspool of drunks called Bree.
A tinkling sound filled her ears—so soft and light at first she thought she had imagined it. Then, as the sound grew louder and sweeter, she lifted her head cautiously to see who passed.
A beautiful white horse came trotting around the bend, head high and tail streaming behind it. Lilly smiled to herself as she saw the vain arrogance in the creature's movements. He was a beauty—and he knew it!
Slowly she stepped out from the cover of the woods, and timidly she held out her hand to the horse. The horse moved closer and then nuzzled her gently. She giggled and then tears sprang into her eyes again.
"You must belong to someone," she said hesitantly. "I guess I'd better take you back."
The horse huffed in her hair in response. She took his velvety nose in her hands and stroked the soft fur gently. His large brown eyes were kind, if a horse's eyes could look kind. Carefully she slid a hand down his neck and to his saddle.
"Whoever owns you must be very rich," she informed him. "This bridal and saddle costs a fortune—oomph!" The horse nudged her hard with his nose. She stumbled to his side, where a silver stirrup was hanging down. She realized, after a glance at the bridal, that the reins were purely ornamental; they connected with a decorated halter, nothing more. No bit, no hackamore, no nothing.
"Your rider must be very sure of himself—or herself," she muttered. She eyed the horse. He was tall, but not so tall she wouldn't be able to get on him with the help of the stirrups.
"I'd take all night to walk this road," she told the horse, putting her foot in the stirrup. "I probably better ride you." She swung her leg over his back and slid comfortably into the saddle, adjusting her weight. The horse waited patiently for her to get settled. Then, only moments after her fingers were securely wound in his mare, he leapt forward. Wind whipped her eyes, but his pace was so light and smooth she easily kept her balance until her hair was pulled from her eyes. Breathless, she looked between his ears and balanced over his withers, so not to lean on his forelegs.
It was the closest thing to flying she'd ever experienced. His hooves barely seemed to touch the ground, and his bells chimed in a wild song that was constantly changing. She breathed in the fresh air and closed her eyes, imagining she was aboard a smooth-sailing ship, traveling far away from her cares.
* * * *
She opened her eyes carefully the next morning. There was the white horse, chomping grass beside her. Somehow he'd managed to get her off her saddle without waking her. The very thought made her shiver. She had the feeling this horse was not what he appeared to be.
Everything went fine until later that day, when it began to hail. Having little to protect herself from the elements, she soon was freezing and shivering violently, even with the warmth of the horse. They did not traval far that day.
Never having strayed from home before she had no idea how to start a fire, no idea how to hunt for herself. Before long she was thoroughly miserable; cold, wet, hungry, and sick. She coughed hoarsely long into the night as she rode the horse through the rain. Soon she was so cold she'd lost all feeling in her body. Her vision darkened, and she slumped forward…
Suddenly, the horse stopped. She slammed against his warm mane and lay there, too weak to push herself off. The horse threw back his head, hitting her nose. She yelped weakly and turned her head to the side. Suddenly, the horse whinnied loudly, once, twice, three times, then fell silent. Somewhere in the distance of her mind, she heard singing, faint and far away, but steadily coming closer. After a moment, a slim figure came in sight and she heard a voice, too sweet and lilting to be a mortal's.
"Ahh, there you are! You naughty horse, you had me searching half the countryside…aha, snagged one of the locals I see…no? What's this?" A note of concern entered the lilting voice, which, though was the most beautiful she'd ever heard, was distinctly masculine. "Are you hurt, little one?" she was too weak to respond. She dragged her tongue over lips cracked and bleeding and closed her eyes. Suddenly, something tugged on her firmly. She felt herself falling, but made no move to steady herself. Warm arms encircled her, and a face, angelic and kind appeared before her. She coughed heavily.
"Poor thing, traveling in this weather. And in rags, too! What's your name, little one?"
She struggled to respond, but she could hardly take a breath without coughing. "Come here, Asfaol." The horse obediently came closer. "Lie down next to her while I start a fire." The horse slowly dropped to his knees then dropped his rump. The spirit lay her next to his horse and covered her warmly with his own cloak, smoothing her brow with a gentle hand.
"You'll be all right," he murmured. "Let me get something for your cough." He disappeared into the forest, silent as a shadow. She curled up against the horse and closed her eyes too tired and sick to think.
"Dehydrated, too, I see." The voice startled her out of an uneasy sleep. Something lifted her to an upright positioned and held a cup against her lips.
"Drink," he ordered. She drank in the cool liquid, which soothed her sore throat and cough. He made her drink three more cups of water, and then another cup every time she woke up. He kept her near a fire that had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere and didn't seem to require any wood. He'd rubbed balm on her cracked lips and a cool, damp cloth kept her fever at bay.
After a fitful night, she woke to a bright morning, with no clouds in sight. She blinked in the sunlight, then looked around. The horse was eating grass near to her. His bridal and saddle had been removed, and he was gleaming in the sunshine.
"You look much better," came a voice to her right. She snapped her head in that direction eyes wide and startled.
The beautiful man who had saved her was regarding her a few feet away, sitting underneath a tree, cross-legged.
"Have I died?" she asked sleepily. "Is this the beyond?"
To her surprise, the man laughed and stood. "No, little one. This is far beyond your home, if that's what you mean. But you are alive and well, thanks to the abundant herbs that grow near here, and my horse's common sense, if kidnapping a local girl could be called that." He sent an ironic look over at his horse, whom looked innocent as a sunflower, and snorted.
He moved to her side and felt her forehead. "No fever—good, and you're not coughing." He smiled at her.
"Who—who—"
"Who am I? His smile widened. "To my horse, I'm an inconvenience, but to my peers I'm called Lindan."
"You—you—you're an elf!" she gasped.
He laughed again; throwing his head back, and letting his thick mane of ebony locks fall over his shoulders in wavy ripples. His laugh was a clear, tinkling sound, like rain falling on a woodland stream. "Very good!" he said. "I did not think you'd recognize me for what I am. Yes, I am an elf. And you are very far from home, and still a little sick. Would you prefer I leave you here and let you make your own way back, or would you like to come to Rivendell with me, and go back after winter ends?"
She stared at him, disbelieving. He would take her with him? To Rivendell, the fabled home of the Elves? No more beatings from father, no more slaps from mother…and why should she go back? They were not her parents! They were not even her parents' kin! They were not her kin! What did she owe them? At Rivendell, maybe she could get a job as a stable hand for a little room and a meal.
"Could I come with you?" she asked breathlessly, tumbling out of bed. "Please?" Her eyes were wide and pleading. He smiled, but the expression was puzzled.
"Are you so wanting to leave you family?"
"They're no family of mine," she replied shortly. He nodded slowly.
"Of course you may come," he said kindly. "I offered it, did I not?" he settled back onto the grass, a contented expression on his face. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
She nodded twice. He brought her a piece of white bread, still soft, with a little butter and some dried meat, and a cup of a sweet, cool drink she vaguely remembered having the night before.
She felt much better after eating the food. Before they mounted up she scurried off into the bushes to answer nature's calling. He was already in the saddle when she returned. She swung up behind him and wrapped her arms around him as they broke into a gentle, ground-eating canter. She looked over her, back towards the only home she'd ever known, and felt a moment's doubt. Then her expression hardened, and she looked forward again. A new life awaited her. One where she could actually learn something, actually be someone. She tilted her head back and looked up at the bright blue sky.
And I will be someone, she told herself firmly. I have the talent; I have just found the courage, and somewhere I have the patience. No matter what they say, I can do this, I can. And this time, I won't let anyone stop me!
* * * *
It wasn't until later that evening she realized she'd forgotten to mention what her name was. Blushing furiously, she approached Lindan. "Um, sir?"
He looked up from where he was stirring a pot of their night's favor and raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Um, I think I forgot to tell you my name."
He smiled when she hesitated. "By all means, oblige me."
She blushed again and toed the ground. "My name is Lilly."
"Well, Lilly, it is very nice to meet you." There was an unending amount of amusement in his eyes. She couldn't help it. One look at him started her laughing. His expression was one of amused composure. He soon joined her in laughter.
Their dinner was pleasant, for Lindan did not mind at all answering some of the questions she'd always wanted to ask, and didn't scold her for talking too much. He listened in amusement and surprise at all the legends about elves her people had made, and gently corrected her from time to time. There was none of the harshness, none of the short-tempered and sadistic remarks that she had come to expect from adults.
"How far are we from Rivendell?" she asked after swallowing a mouthful of the soup. It was the best she'd ever tasted; though Lindan seemed embarrassed about the quality.
"We should reach it tonight," he responded, and paused to chew a particularly stubborn piece of meat. When he'd finished, he added, "You may as well ride in front of me, so I can catch you if you fall asleep; I don't want to stop tonight."
She nodded, and carefully mounted onto Asfaol. Lindan swung up behind her and settled his arms around her. It was already dusk, and Lilly was tired. After about half an hour of trying to sit upright, she finally gave up into weariness and leaned back against him.
"Go ahead and sleep," he said in her ear. "Asfaol and I won't let you fall." She never had a chance to respond; sleep was already pulling at her.
She breathed deeply in the sweet smell of horse and clean leather. His arms encircled her waist gently, keeping her leaning back against him. She turned her head once or twice, but settled down quickly, and it was not long before she was deep within the arms of sleep, curled up against Lindan's warm, comforting presence.
When Lindan had listened to her slow, quiet breathing for sometime, he murmured to his horse, and Asfaol stopped, then said softly into the darkness, "Greetings, old friend."
A shadow appeared at his side, moving silently towards the elf.
"What little mischief do you carry now?" the voice asked in response, but there was no malice in his tone, only calmness that Lindan felt as a presence around him.
"You tell me, my friend; you wander these roads more than I."
The shadow moved closer and gazed into the sleeping face of Lilly. "Probably a Bree-child, from her accent. She doesn't look that, though, does she?"
"No," the elf agreed softly. "She looks like the men of Rohan."
"Aye," the man agreed, stepping back. There was a curious expression in his dark eyes. "Take good care of her, Lindan."
"I intend to. Any messages, or was this just a friendly hello?"
"The later, and a question; have you seen any athelas?"
"Back about a day's walk, why?"
"I have a feeling I may be needing some, soon. I have a wound that will not heal."
Concern knitted the elf's face, and he reached into his pouch. "These are not very fresh, but they should do. Should I send someone to find you?"
"Nay, I'll be alright," the Ranger replied, taking the leaves. "Fair weather and fresh rain, my friend."
"And you, Ranger. Good luck." And so the two parted company.
* * * *
Lilly jerked upright suddenly as Asfaol stopped, and stared about in amazement as she realized Lindan had brought them into Rivendell without her waking once. She stared as Lindan slid off his horse and offered her a hand.
"Home sweet home," he sighed, looking about. "What a beautiful night!"
"Who's that singing?" she asked, listening to the sounds of voices and waterfalls in the distance.
"Why, that's the elves who live here," he replied. "Mae govannen*!" he called to the elf that was approaching them. The elf returned the greeting, and then took Asfaol. "Come on, I'll get you set up in a room before I go give Master Elrond my respects." He paused, realizing she hadn't heard a thing he'd said. She was staring up at the stars, her lips parted in a gesture of complete shock. A slow smile spread across his face. When she looked back at him, there were tears shinning in her eyes.
"It just occurred to me," she said in a thick voice, "that I'm really free."
"Come on then, my little one," the elf replied kindly. "Lets show you around your new home."
*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?
2 *Mae govannen = well met