Log 1
Have you ever felt out of place? Kind of like, nothing is familiar and everything and everyone is just one more hostile thing to face? I'm not going to lie; I sincerely hope that you have, at least in some way, gone through something like this. How else will you understand all I've been through?
For all those who read this, my name is Dan (short for Danivel, but who cares?). I have always been your average guy: into sports, hanging with friends, skating (when I have the time), you pretty much name it. I was never the most popular dude on campus at school, but I wasn't in with the Goths or nerds either. Sorta in the middle, like a happy medium me. Nothing extraordinary or amazing about me, I was just me and nothing ever spectacular ever happened in my life. So one always has to wonder why all this had to go reversing itself the summer I turned eighteen?
Right now I write to you from a place that is safe, and I feel like it is necessary to document all that is happening as it comes along. I'm still in disbelief, even after nearly a week after the initial shocks. Its just crazy. But that's why I'm choosing to write to all that want to follow my story cuz if I die I want someone to remember all that's happened.
It all started in late June, I was so psyched to be graduating high school: I went to about six grad parties in the next week alone. Needless to say I was pretty dang beat by the time I had to start my job at this hole-in-the-wall painting business a couple weeks later.
It. Sucked.
There were only about four of us in this whole company, which meant only four hands to do the guaranteed one-day paint job. It was even worse if one of us got sick and couldn't come in. Joy. But at the same time it was pretty cool cuz the owner was this really ancient old dude who was pretty much the biggest nut job you'd ever find. I think he served in the Nam war, but I can't remember. He had seven fingers and a glass eye that didn't quite match his real one, but he made up for all of this with his crazy attitude. And he served us dinner on all the working nights, which was pretty cool.
But not my point. The thing is, his house is smack dab in the middle of nowhere, like you have to drive for an hour and a half through forest and stuff to get there. So here I was, three months into the job and I found myself looking around for this old dude's cat after working. Stupid Eric, he spooked the creature when he came all tumbling in after we painted this couple's new house, paint cans clanking and banging all over the place. It ran right into the forest, an crackling "mraaaaw!" signaling its displeasure with being evicted.
At first it was kinda funny, seeing this obese thing waddle/bound away into the dusk, but then I freaked cuz I knew that the old man would have our heads if his furry companion wasn't home when he got back home later. I ran after it, still all grubby and smelly in my work clothes, shouting "Hey Mini! Oi! Mini! Get back here you stupid cat!" Man can that thing run. Who knew that twenty five pound feline could make such good time? So I pretty much spent the next two hours running around like a mad man clapping my hands and making ridiculous kissy noises with my lips to try and locate that darn thing. Next thing I knew I was standing around, looking at the almost-night trees and wondering where on earth I had landed myself. Great.
It was getting really cold, more so than the usual summer nights that we'd been getting. I pulled my sweat shirt hood around my face, my ears beginning to bite in the cold, and I started to panic. How far had I gone? Should I try to find the house again? If I stayed here, would I die of hypothermia? I started calling out for Eric and Josh (the two who were on sight when I left) and jogging in a general direction I thought was safety. Soon enough my fingers started to get numb and purpley, my legs all stiff when I started to jog to keep up my body heat. My feet stung when they impacted the ground, the cold growing more and more intense as the trees swallowed up the last few bits of sunlight.
I began to gasp, my lungs aching as I slowed down, and my chest feeling like there was a vice clamping down on it. I realized I was shivering uncontrollably and I sat down, huddled and numb. I refused to go to sleep, I had seen on TV what happens to lost snowboarders and skiers that fall asleep in the cold. But I couldn't help it, I wasn't able to get enough air to my brain and I could feel my thoughts get fuzzy and my vision was blurring. Last thing I remembered was the smell of pine needles and dirt as all became dark.
I woke up, feeling dazed and confused. It was still dark, like, pitch black out, but not nearly as cold. I sat up and rocked a bit with the sudden blood drain from the head, but got up any way. I looked around, trying to find some sort of land mark or something to point me in the right direction. Instead, I found a little orange spec waaaaaay off in the distance, flickering between the trees, in and out of view.
Yes! Yes! I found someone! Even if it was some hobo, maybe he would know how to get out of here. So I stumbled blithely forwards towards it, bumping into trees and shrubs the whole way. It wasn't until I was within fifty meters that I stopped short. Voices? As in, plural. There was more than one. Did I really want to encroach upon a hobo camp? Would they mug me and leave me for dead if they saw me? I toyed with this concept for a while before I came to the compromise of just sneaking up to see who it was and if they were of any threat to me.
I got down really low to the ground and ninja'ed my way over, half crawling over to the spot. I kept to the many ferns and bushes, doing my best to hide my six one and white-clad body from view. I was soon in place to hear what they were talking about when I reached the outer circle of the fire's light. The light was dim, but I could see the backs of three (four?) figures, all of whom were talking in hushed voices. "Have any of the scouts returned? Or do we still not know the goings ons of the East?" one spoke, his voice soft and somehow perfectly controlled and intonated.
"No, not yet," replied the one to his left, "five groups were sent out, each on their own way, and one has still yet to return" This interested me. Hobo scouts? Maybe they were stoners in their little fantasy world. I began to think that I'd have a good chance with a gang of stoners than some beefy hobos, but my thoughts were interrupted by further talk. "From the last report, His forcers were beginning to grow in the northern parts, but they have still yet to make any advancement. For now, I believe my good Handruil, we should feel content that nothing has gone awry for our side of the matter." Yup, Stoners.
They chattered on like this for a couple of minutes and I began to feel sleepy, my legs cramping from squatting ninja style in the bushes. However, I quickly began to panic as I hear on of them say to the first "My good Halen, I do believe our conversation is no longer private." He couldn't possibly mean me, I thought, I hadn't made a sound for ages! But my heart began to pound immeasurably fast as I counted their numbers: what had happened to the fourth one? I hadn't even seen him move off and yet he was gone from sight. A light brush of fabric against dry leaves was all the warning I had to the sudden club against the back of my head. I hurdled forwards, landing dazed on my belly and rolling to meet my attacker. He was standing there, quickly multiplying as the other three joined him. I twisted, and my hand met a long dead branch to my side and I grabbed it, doing a half roll thing and stumbling to my feet.
My ears were ringing from the blow and I felt off balance, but enough adrenalin was pounding through my veins I didn't care. I wasn't thinking, I just launched myself at the others, flailing my stick around and yelling, hoping to spook them. But rather than the four running off into the trees like crazy stoned guys, I found myself suddenly off my feet, the night sky in view, then landing with a perfect back breaking thump on the ground. I kick to my side and I was on my stomach again, my hands being jerked back and tied unbelievably tight around my wrists with a rough chord. I felt to pairs of hands grip each arm, restraining me further. I'll tell you what, these guys were efficient. "Who are you, stranger?" hissed a voice in my ear. Cold, harsh and perfect.
A metallic taste began to spread through my mouth and I spat sideways into the ground (as my face was pressed into the dirt) and tried to struggle away, kicking my legs desperately and arching my back. Another box to the head and I ceased my movements, my head was whirling too fast to want to try again. "Stranger! Speak or you may bid farewell to your neck!" bellowed the voice again, a cool press against my carotid artery telling me he wasn't kidding. "What business do you have wondering our forest during time of war? Speak!"
What was I supposed to do? I started yelling all the answers that he wanted, struggling to cough out the words for the pain in my back and ribs. "Dan! I'm Danivel James! I come in peace!" Cheesy and contradictory to my stick flailing, but it sent the message. I felt the blade lessen its pressure and my head began to buzz with sudden gratitude, the grip around my arms lessening a bit. "I just want to get back home, you guys can leave me alone and I won't tell anyone that I saw you or nothin'" I bargained, my voice echoing strangely to my ears from this unaccustomed position on the ground. "You guys won't even know you saw me."
There was a pause and some hushed tones whispered above my body for a few minutes, and I began to wonder what could be taking so long to solidify the deal. I was worried that they would decide to just slit my throat right then and there to skip all the trouble I might cause them later. Lovely thoughts, no? But after however long it took them, I heard the same voice in my ear again, a little less edgy this time, whisper "Where are you from, stranger? You are clad like none we have seen before…" He pulled back my hood to reveal my tousled hair that was specked with white and yellow paint, clumped and spiked in places because of this. They were like curious aliens, probing a new found creature.
I was cautious when I answered this; didn't they know where they were? "Auburn? Um, like Auburn California," I answered. "Isn't that where we are now?" my weariness was thick in my voice and it did not go unnoticed by the other four. The grips tightened around my arms again to a bone crushing point, a hand gripping my hair and pulling my head up to face the first guy who was talking at me. I let out an strained "Aurgh!" when they did this, involuntarily jerking my arms and legs in an instinctual attempt to escape. I gritted my teeth, afraid of speaking. What the heck was going on?
"Liar!" shouted the first guy, "Liar and a filthy spy! Why should we believe a lone traveler that not only finds himself traveling without guard or permission, but also wears the white garb of the East? Do you think our wits have dulled over the years of peace? You fool of a spy!" The hand behind my head thrust me into the dirt again and I heard the sickening sound of blade against metal sheathe. I felt sick and I knew that I was going to die and no one was going to ever find my body, leaving everyone at home confused and worried as to where I got. And that stupid, stupid cat was still probably lost, enjoying the fresh air while I faced my doom at the hand of these four wack job maniacs.
"To your luck," said the first guy, getting to eye level with me while the other three proceeded unseen above me, "A fool is rarely missed in Middle Earth."