A single bead of sweat ran its course along the contours of the man's cheekbones, as he frantically moved about. He was completely unused to this feeling of 'panic', and was having a hard time dealing with thinking rationally while he tried to adjust. He was darting about the room, hurling objects away from the surfaces they occupied. Books and papers went flying from the desk, as he swept it all to the side, causing several items to smash onto the floor.
"Come on Dead Sea brine." Castiel muttered, "There must be Dead Sea brine." He had all but torn apart Bobby Singer's old home, desperately searching for it. "Aha!" He exclaimed, find a strange looking capsule. He hurriedly emptied the contents into a bowl. Now... "Blood of lamb... blood of lamb." Once again, the man scoured the tiny house for the ingredient he needed.
Thanks to Metatron, Castiel was human now. It was all he could do, to get out of there. He had watched in horror and sadness as his brethren fell from the skies. It was a hauntingly beautiful meteor shower of angels, but he had fled. Sam and Dean had promised to get things under control. He would have just gotten in their way. Without his powers, what was he really? "Blood of lamb!" He found jar in the fridge. There was a fairly well stocked supply of the substance in the kitchen. He knew this was where Balthazar had come to find the ingredients for the last time they had pulled this stunt. This time however, Castiel was relying on Dean. He hated to leave Dean behind, but he needed him to get at least one angel on their side, so they could pull Castiel back through the dimensions when it was time. They had agreed on two months. That was how long he would have to survive in wherever he ended up. His counterpart, Misha, had died in that other dimension, so he would have to find another.
After finally locating the bone of a lesser saint, Castiel mixed together the ingredients in the bowl, and dipped his finger into the substance. He could trust Dean to help him out, right? He suddenly felt his gut clench, and wondered if he was coming down with some strange human illness. He pondered this subject, as he painted a symbol on the window. His work complete, Castiel strode over to the other side of the room. With no powers, he would have to jump. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and the urge to wince, and cringe away from the glass, but his experience kicked in, and he sprinted straight to the window, and dived through the glass.
Shards exploded outwards around him, peppering the grass with reflected sunlight. It was midday? Castiel had landed alright for someone who had never experienced human fear in their whole lifetime, and he stood up now, to be welcomed by a warm, afternoon sun. It shone down through the trees, dappling the meadows and tiny homes. He inhaled sharply, suddenly very aware that he was not in South Dakota any more.
The man took a step forward, and noted now, that several small-ish people were scurrying toward him down the little path that ran in front of him. There was only a small hedge, and a tiny wooden gate between him and some rather sceptical and peeved looking individuals. They looked as if their concern was only to conceal their curiosity. Each of them looked human, save their rather large feet, and pointed ears. He looked from one to the other, then back to the first,
"Sorry about that." He gestured to the millions of tiny shards that had ruined someone's neatly kept lawn. He hoped his apology would suffice, though he very much doubted that. Just then, he could hear the sound of a door opening beside him. Castiel turned, to see another small-ish person, emerging from behind a round front door. They looked up at him for a moment, then spied the mess in their garden,
"Good gracious!" The small man exclaimed. "What happened here?" He asked, then returned his gaze to Castiel. He soon adorned the same, scrutinizing expression as the other small-ish people. "Are you in league with that wizard?"
"Sorry... wizard?" Castiel asked, hoping he had not left one world, only to get caught up in some dangerous battle between sorcerers. "I can assure you I don't know any wizards. My name is Castiel, and I'm an ange-" He cut off, realizing it was A) a bad idea to introduce himself truthfully, and B) it was not technically truthful to refer to himself as an angel either way. "I'm a man of faith." He settled for the vaguest description possible.
"Castiel? Sounds like an Elf to me." A younger looking, female small-ish person spoke up. "Are you from... you know... one of the forests? Or maybe Rivendell?"
"Uh... no. I'm from um..." Castiel stalled, looking about him for ideas, as if they could be plucked from the garden.
"No look silly, hes a man. He has side burns. Elves don't have side burns." The male small-ish person clarified, then looked up at Castiel with a raised eyebrow, "You must have come a long way."
"You have no idea..."
"Oh my! Are you from Gondor?" The female piped up. Castiel settled for that option.
"Yeah. Yeah I'm lost. Trying to get back to Gondor you know. I was in uh... Rivendell. I got separated from my fellow travellers." He was relieved that these people used less confusing slang than the Winchesters. Perhaps surviving here would not be such a problem. Looking about him, he could see how peaceful and cheery the small village looked.
"Oh you want to go to Bree for that. Here let me point you in the right direction. You can make it to the inn before nightfall if you set out now." One of the males turned, and aimed his entire arm to point down the path. "Follow the road that way." He smiled. Castiel simply nodded, and strode away. Perhaps they were keen to have him gone, so they could clear up the glass.
And so Castiel set out on a journey that would take him far into the mountains, completely lost, and with little supplies. Having been too shy to ask for directions at the Prancing Pony, and much too confused to ask an Orc where he was, he followed a river out of the mountains, and eventually happened upon a deep, old forest in Rhovanion. Here he became further lost, and unaware that he now moved northward, deeper into the forest.
The dark sky let shadows hang on the ground like eerie scorch marks, casting blackness around the forest floor. Dead bark and moss crunched beneath Castiel's shoes, as he trudged on through the night. The air was cool around his neck and hands, and he felt a deep shiver run through his body. Should he have left the Shire? Something told him that he was not the first person to ponder this question.
It was at that moment, than an arrow came hurtling past Castiel's right ear, followed shortly by another on his left. He stopped walking, and stood still. Where had the arrows come from? A moment later, he was completely surrounded by tall, blond men. A dozen more arrows were directed toward his body, so he slowly raised his hands in surrender. One of the men spoke up,
"You will come with us, trespasser." He declared. Castiel could see that now would be a very poor choice of timing to argue. The man had elegantly pointed ears, high, defined cheekbones, and a flowing white mane, tamed by a single thin braid on either side of his head. He held Castiel's gaze with intense, diamond eyes, then turned to lead him away. The men lowered their bows, but they flanked him on all sides, as they marched him to wherever their base was.
As Castiel was lead away from that lonely part of the forest, he hummed to himself. At first this helped him keep his spirits up, but soon he was elbowed in the side by one of the men. He winced, and looked up at the man, but he was facing forward, with a dazed expression that was a little too casual. He was beginning to wonder if he should have said something in his defence, but knew from experience that he should wait for the right moment. He was not very good at picking these moments, as he had originally believed that awkward silences were the correct times to speak up, but now he thought that it was perhaps when he was told it was appropriate.
After much marching, and climbing of trees, Castiel was lead into a beautiful clearing. The ancient trees were lit with lanterns that hung from their branches, casting a warm glow on the wood. Bridges, terraces and balconies were carved out of the great trees, and built up around them. He was lead across one particularly long, and elegantly crafted bridge, and up a staircase that spiralled up around a tree. He was lead up, and up, and finally onto a platform that created a sort of room between two trees. The ceiling was lined with tiny lanterns that lit the room, and vines that had been woven into a swirling pattern. In front of him was a large, ornate, wooden throne; and upon that throne, sat the most majestic being that Castiel had ever seen,
"So majestic..." He murmured. At this, the impressive man slowly, gracefully turned his head, and slowly his eyes turned their gaze upon him. Those deep, fathomless eyes, that spoke of age. They were much like his own. His face looked as if it had been carved by a master, who knew intimately the epitome of beauty in a male face. His eyebrows were laced with silver, and his hair was even more elegant than the soldiers'. It fell back from his head in a cascade of creams and blonde hues, and was held in place by the most amazing crown. On seeing the crown, Castiel realized that he was in the presence of royalty.
"You will kneel before the Elvenking." One of the soldiers commanded. Castiel knelt down on one knee, but instantly regretted this, as his knee began to twinge uncomfortably.
"You believe me glorious?" The Elvenking asked him. His hearing must be good, Castiel thought,
"...I didn't think you'd heard that..."
"Such is the nature of all those whose perceive my visage." He smiled. The Elf perched with his legs crossed elegantly, one over the other. "Why did you enter our domain?" He asked; his piercing gaze narrowing,
"I was lost. I'm looking for... uhh... Gondor. Well, I was. Nobody told me it was so far away." Castiel tried to explain.
"You seek the famed city, yet you struggle to recall its name? You have never been there. Where are you from?" There was a quiet calm to the Elf's voice. He did not see Castiel as a threat, clearly, but he wanted information. Castiel swallowed. He could not explain a dimensional jump, so he would have to 'blag' his way through this.
"I've travelled from Hobbiton. And no, I don't seek the city any more. In fact I should probably go back..."
"You have come all this way from the Shire? Alone? It appears that you are confused about your destination. No wonder you became lost." The Elf was observant, Castiel realized. He would have to tread very carefully.
"Yes." He replied simply; his eyes flitting down then back to the King's. It was more than a little embarrassing.
"How can it be that a man such as yourself, has not yet found purpose? You are no more a child than I."
"We are all children of God-" Castiel winced. He could not believe he had just let that slip. A slow, amused smile appeared on the Elvenking's lips, reaching his eyes and causing him to chuckle,
"This cannot be." He mused, "And here I thought it was only the Elves who still held faith." Castiel blinked. What? There was no way they shared the same beliefs. This had to be a coincidence. Further blagging was required,
"No, I too have faith." He put on his most convincing serious face. It was not entirely a lie. He still had faith: It was just in Dean now, rather than his father. He had held onto that faith as he trudged through the plains, mountains and forest for the few weeks.
"Oh but this is a surprise. Tell me your name mortal."
"Castiel." He answered. The Elvenking appeared surprised by this,
"Castiel? That is not a name given to man... it is of our language. 'Casta-i-el' in all Elven tongue, means 'Star-like purpose'. With a name like that, how is it that you have become lost?" Castiel looked up, properly, into the Elvenking's eyes then. He saw a trace of real concern,
"I was betrayed." Castiel admitted, though he had no idea why, "By one of my brothers. He stripped me of my power, and cast me out of my home, along with the rest of my family. They all fell... I had to escape. I'm still adjusting to... this." He indicated to his entirely human form. He could not read the Elvenking's quiet expression, so he continued, "I intend to go back. I won't run. I would just get in the way though... as I am now." There was a long silence, then slowly the king arose from his throne, and walked over to Castiel. He stood just under a meter in front of him,
"Rise, Castiel." He commanded. Castiel stood, "There is to be a banquet tomorrow night. You will join us. It is my wish to hear the details of your brother's betrayal, and these powers which were stolen from you." The king gestured for a servant to come forward, "Take our guest to a suitable room."
Castiel followed the servant away from the throne-room, and out into the night air. He was lead across a small bridge, and down another spiralling staircase, and along a board-walk. He wondered why the Elvenking had taken an interest in him, and thanked the stars he had not taken him prisoner. He was also relieved to be provided with food and a comfortable bed. What he could not understand, was why his name meant something to the Elves. He had always believed his name to mean 'My Cover is God' in Hebrew. He decided that he preferred 'Star-like Purpose'.
That night, Castiel slept in relative comfort for the first time since he had become human. He dreamt for the first time since becoming human, and in that dream, he saw his friends. Dean was in front of him, his hand on Castiel's shoulder, and a smile on his face,
"Welcome back, Cas." He said. And then Castiel woke up. Sunlight was pouring into the room through the trees, though it was well sheltered. He sat up slowly, a little confused. What was this pang in his chest? He did not recognize it, but knew it was not physical. Perhaps it was one of these new human emotions? He had a feeling it somehow related to his dream. Not long after that, a servant entered the room with a tray of food. Freshly baked bread, fruit, and a glass of something that smelled sweet. Castiel took the tray, and thanked the servant. He could not believe his luck at how well he was being treated here. Maybe the journey had been worth it after all. Who knew what Hobbits had for breakfast?
Castiel had learned the name of the small-ish people upon arriving in Bree, overhearing conversations about a rumour: A company of dwarves with a single Hobbit had set out not long before him. He had been curious about this strange rumour, but had a quest of his own to take care of: surviving for two months. That had been challenging enough without encountering dwarves.
Castiel spent most of the day being guided around that part of Mirkwood. He was shown where the banquet would be held later that day, and where there would be dancing and singing outside. The whole area amazed Castiel with its beauty. He wondered why humans were not capable of living in such harmony with the forests. He had glimpsed a great, old wisdom in the eyes of the Elvenking though, and wondered if it was the result of many years of this way of life. Why would you throw away something this good, when you had millennia to live with the consequences. No, you would be careful, and put the safety of your people above all else. This kingdom was cut off from the outside world, though the Elves could come and go as they pleased.
After lunch, Castiel was joined by a young, blonde Elf, who lead him back up through the palace in the trees.
"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."
"Hello." Castiel was having real difficulty with introductions, "I'm Castiel. Everyone calls me Cas for some reason..." Legolas eyed him curiously,
"Do you know who Thranduil is?" He asked,
"No. Sorry."
"He is the Elvenking. You met him last night." Legolas smiled a little, "Funny you should arrive now, for a larger group of trespassers came here not one week ago. Both are rare occurrences in these woods." Castiel nodded, a little unsure of where he was going with this, "They now reside in our dungeon. What caught my attention, is that you have all come from the shire. Now this may seem a coincidence, but it is commonly known that only halflings live in the shire. You are no halfling, and neither were those who came before you. What is really going on here?"
"I really have no idea." Castiel replied truthfully. "I did hear about some dwarves travelling together... but I didn't know they were coming here. I only found out where here is today."
"Then perhaps I should introduce you to them. Maybe they can give us answers. Please follow me." Legolas noticed the mortified expression on Castiel's face, "Do not be alarmed. I am not arresting you, Cas." At this, he felt a great flood of relief wash through him.
The dungeons were not so dungeon-like anyway, it turned out, but actually rather pretty. They was less light however, and there was a solemn atmosphere in the place. Legolas lead Castiel past several holding cells, to one particularly large one, where thirteen dwarves were crammed in. Castiel was not sure how to react.
"Listen up Dwarves." Legolas addressed the prisoners. "I have here a man named Castiel. He says he has come here from the Shire. What would you know of this?" He asked no one in particular. Most of the Dwarves remained silent, crossing their arms and pulling the most grumpy looking expressions that they could muster. The youngest spoke up though,
"I've never seen him before. Why would we associate with someone like that?"
"Shut up, Ori!" One of the older Dwarves clapped him over the head, then returned to his silent, grumpy state.
"Someone twice your height you mean?" Legolas jested.
"What was that, Elf?" A ginger haired dwarf retorted. He did not look like someone that Castiel would want to mess with, and he had a particularly intimidating accent.
"I don't know any of them." Castiel interjected, before this could escalate any further. "In fact I've never seen a Dwarf before."
"That's hardly something to boast about!" Exclaimed a young, dark haired Dwarf, "We're a very fine race. And we certainly don't belong in prison-" The only blonde dwarf had covered his mouth.
"What Kili means to say, is that if you were willing to let us go, we might be of some assistance." There was a general murmur of aproval from the other Dwarves.
"You heard my nephew." A surprisingly majestic Dwarf stood up. "Release us, and we will tell you what we know."
"Entertaining, aren't they?" Legolas smiled, "It is clear to me that you have never met this man before. That will be all." He strode away from the prison cell. Castiel was torn. What were they all doing, locked up here? He gave the dwarves his best apologetic face, then followed Legolas out of the dungeon.
"You said they were trespassing? What did they do differently to me?" he asked Legolas when he caught up with him. Elves, he observed, were far more agile than humans,
"The King did not like their tone. You were polite, and humble in his presence. They were loud, ungrateful, and did nothing to deserve our hospitality."
"I hardly see what I did to-"
"You were honest. You told him the truth about your reason for being here. Your brother's betrayal... And you did not fight back, or demand release. You behaved like a guest, and so you will be treated as such."
Castiel decided to let the subject drop. He had a banquet to attend, and he did not wish to push his luck too far with the prince. That evening however, was when all hell broke loose.
Silvan clothing had been presented to Castiel, for him to wear to the banquet. A male servant helped him dress, as he was unused to such clothing, and before he was escorted to the dancing area. Being dressed by someone else was a little strange, if not uncomfortable for Castiel. He had grown so used to doing things for himself, and as the Elf's hand had lightly brushed his shoulder, he was suddenly hit with an image of Dean. Why was he thinking of Dean now of all times? And then that pang in his chest returned. Humanity must be very confusing, he decided. It was all so complex.
The dancing was all unfamiliar to Castiel, but after observing from the sidelines for a while, he soon analysed the speed, form and gesture in the movements of the dance. It was not too complicated. In fact it was effortlessly simple, however it required angelic grace, which was not something he had possessed even when he was an angel. He was not one to shy away from a challenge however, and he would at least attempt this... dance. He had not tried the dancing in his own dimension before, but this seemed simply by comparison. There was far less hip movement involved.
After an hour of slowly improving dancing, Castiel followed the other Elves to the dining hall, where the banquet was to be served. He was asked to sit next to the king, who sat upon a throne-like dining chair a the head of the table. Food was brought out to the table, which to Castiel's delight, smelled amazing. Thranduil was watching him from where he sat, observing him,
"How have you found my kingdom?" He asked. Castiel hesitated. What was the best way to respond to this? Flattery seemed to work so far,
"Magnificent. Truly uh... spectacular." This seemed to do the trick. Thranduil smiled once more, and took a sip of his drink.
"And I hear you met my son?"
"Yes. He took me to see the prisoners. They were uh... short." He had carefully observed that height jokes seemed popular when it came to Dwarves around here. Thranduil chuckled,
"So I believe we have a few matters to discuss. Firstly, I would like to know what you were doing in the shire, before you left, and secondly-" The king was cut off, as a great light came pouring in from the wall. A red symbol had appeared there, and a moment later, a figure came crashing through. Bark and wood flew everywhere, causing several people to duck and lurch away. The damage was minimal though, compared with the window smashing. Obviously wood did not rupture so dramatically. What held everyone's attention however, was the man who stood up now, to face all the Elves. He winked at Castiel.
"Hey Cas." Dean grinned. "Sorry to intrude. I uh, came for my buddy over here." He walked over to Castiel, without really taking in his surroundings.
"Dean? What is going on? I thought I was staying here for another month." Castiel rose from his seat, "Is something wrong."
"Yeah..." Dean replied, finally taking in the gazes of the other Elves in the room, "Uh, yeah, really sorry about the mess." He walked right up to Castiel "Cas, where the hell is this?" He whispered in his deep voice,
"Mirkwood, apparently. I believe this dimension is called 'middle earth'." He explained. A look of confusion, followed by shock, followed by doubt, followed by amazement flashed across Dean's face,
"Middle Earth? Really?" Dean looked around him. The Elvenking was now standing,
"Who dares to intrude on my party... unannounced?" He asked. Dean turned to look at him, then took the hint,
"I am uh, Dean, son of John. I have come here to escort my friend back to uh..."
"Yes?" Thranduil eyed him. Neither of them had yet answered the King about where they were from, and he was growing highly suspicious.
"Our world." Castiel sighed. He knew now that the king would spot any lies or skirting around the truth, and he had never been a good liar, "We came from another dimension. I landed in Hobbiton... and Dean landed here." Thranduil looked taken aback at this,
"Another dimension? You mean to say that you are not even from Middle Earth? How can this be... your name is like ours. Your visage is that of the mortal race."
"There are humans in our world too. They're just a bit... different." Castiel explained. Dean tugged at his sleeve,
"Cas?" Dean whispered, "What are you wearing? And we need to go. Now. The angels are causing chaos, but I managed to bag us a few. One sent me here. I've got the ingredients for the spell, lets go."
"Go? How will I be able to help you now? I'm still like this..." He gestured to all of himself.
"It would seem to me," Thranduil interrupted, having overheard Dean's not-so-quiet whispering, "that you would be in need of some aid." He continued, "I am curious about this other dimension." He paused for a long moment, his gaze flickering between Dean and Castiel. "I will send with you five of my best archers, and my son. I want you to return them to this domain once matters are settled there. Do you understand? They will report back to me within the year." The colour drained from Legolas' face,
"Father? I will not hesitate to go with them if that is your will, but we know nothing of their world."
"Exactly. I trust the adventure will do you some good. Now go. Do what you must." He turned back to Castiel, "I expect them back in one piece."
Dean was already going over the symbol on the wall again, in the dark, red mixture. Soon it glowed, and he took a few steps back.
"We'll all have to run through at once." He announced.
"Through solid wood?" exclaimed one of the archers,
"Its magic, just trust me." Dean grinned. They all closed ranks, and Dean counted down from three. On three, they all dashed toward the symbol, and reappeared, a moment later, next to a warehouse. No broken anything, just dust. Legolas was already walking away from them, inspecting a sleek, black car. "No, no no, no no." Dean darted past the Elf, and stood protectively in front of the Impala. "Nobody touches my baby." He explained. Legolas looked confused. Dean then walked back over to Castiel, and whispered in his ear, "Dude, how are we going to explain this if he is caught on camera? He looks like... he is Orlando Bloom."
"Is that some sort of flower?" Castiel asked,
"Oh I should have known... You have got to watch Lord of the Rings man!"
"Sorry?" One of the Elves had approached them. "Lord of the rings? That sounds like... but it couldn't be..."
"Nothing to worry about!" Dean clapped his hand onto the Elf's shoulder. "That is, really not something to worry about here."
Castiel watched, a little confused, as Dean explained what a car was, and why it was not to be attacked, and why they would need a 'cab'. Something had been building up in Castiel's chest, and he realized now, watching Dean, that he finally understood. He walked over to him, ready to face this new human emotion.
"Dean?" He lead Dean a short distance away from the Elves, who proceeded to inspect the car, discussing the strange materials the wheels were made out of. "Dean, I have something to say to you."
"What is it, Cas? I'm worried those blondes are gonna wreck the Impala..." Dean was suddenly pulled into a tight hug,
"I missed you, Dean."