To the Waters and the Wilds
By Miss Jov and PEF
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and original characters. Actually, I don't even wholly own those, as they're shared by Miss Jov. And it's necessary to point out that I don't own the title either. It's from "The Stolen Child" by W. B. Yeats.
Summary: In an attempt to evade the imminent destruction of Tharbad Dúrvain and her family flee to Rohan, although the trip doesn't exactly go as planned and Dúrvain finds herself among the elves in the House of Elrond.
Author's Note: First off, I must point out this was co-written with Miss Jov. The entirety of the credit does not fall to me, and those reading should be wary of that.
And now, a brief history lesson: Tharbad was in fact a town in Middle Earth. It was destroyed by the flooding caused by the snow from the fell winter (which began in 2911 of the Third Age). As far as I know no one has even mentioned Tharbad in anything so I thought I'd give it some publicity.
Chapter 1: Of Running and Rescues
"Lost in the darkness of a land
Where all the hope that's offered is
Memories of being taken by the hand
And we are led into the sun"
-- McLachlan, Sarah. "Lost"
Dúrvain was running. Trees whizzed by her as she ran full out, vaguely aware of her brother and mother running along beside her. She was trying to ignore the pain in her knee, focusing instead on what would happen if she didn't run fast enough. Her brother was panting and making small sounds of fear as her ran, and her mother was practically dragging him along beside her.
She stumbled as her knee gave out from underneath her. She tried to call out to her family, but all she could do was give a short raspy gasp. Reaching for a nearby tree she tried to pull herself back up. She managed to get standing on her good leg, but as soon as she placed weight on her bad one it collapsed under the strain.
She could hear the sounds of fighting in the distance; the growls of the white wolves and the sounds of the men desperately trying to fight them off. It was run now, or not live until morning. She grabbed a fallen branch from the ground and began using it as a walking stick, hopping along as quickly as she could on her good leg.
She kept going, refusing to look back and unable to block out the fading sounds of battle in the distance. From what she had heard, the wolves had remained in a pack and chased some of those trying to escape the camp, but had not come her way. Yet. She remained relatively alert, still aware of the possibility of another attack.
It had, however, begun to seem as if there wasn't going to be one. She had been hopping for what seemed like forever, though was probably more akin to two hours. She was freezing, her fingers going numb from clenching her walking stick so tightly, and her leg screaming in agony. The idea of stopping for a small rest was becoming increasingly appealing.
It was quiet now, she could just sit down for a moment and check her knee, as well as rest. Then, after a small break she would be more able to continue. She had a nagging feeling that stopping would be a bad idea, but her ability to resist the temptation to stop was decreasing. She was shivering, now suffering from hypothermia among other things.
She blinked as a snowflake made contact with her nose. Looking up she saw that it was not alone, as dozens of small white snowflakes swirled down towards her. She barely bit back the impulse to scream, and the snowflakes began to fall faster and more frequently around her.
She looked around, realizing for the first time what being outside her city walls really entailed. Trees; on every side, for as far as she could see there were trees. And she was alone in the midst of them; unlikely to ever find her family again, and probably doomed to freeze to death if the wolves didn't find her first. She started to cry, and her tears immediately began to freeze on her face, which in turn only served to make her cry even more. Finally giving into her exhaustion she crashed down into the nearest snow bank and passed out.
All around the lone dark-haired figure the snow swirled, quickly turning into a full fledged storm.
…
Beldír shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around him regretting his decision to ride on through the night. He was cold, and fairly miserable. Only the thought that he could make home by tomorrow if he kept going now kept him going; that and the idea of sleeping alone in the snow with the wolves prowling. No, it was most definitely a good idea to remain awake through the night. Things would have been much simpler if he had Hírvegil with him. Or if he had simply decided to travel with the rest of the rangers instead of heading home.
But he had promised his Gaerlín that he would return to her before the spring, and he was duty bound to make good on that promise. He had been away from her for almost a year now, and owed it to her to return, cold or not. He began to pass the time coming up with a list of things to do when he returned home. Start a fire and light his pipe were most certainly up there. Due to the weather he wouldn't be able to take a bath, which was regrettable, but he would perhaps be able to attain a decent meal. And then of course make up for lost time with his beautiful wife. Yes, going back would most definitely be worth the trip.
He frowned as it began to snow. Snow in the dark was not exactly his idea of a good time, and he adjusted his cloak once more to compensate for the change in weather. Hopefully it would be a light snowfall, and not affect his visibility greatly. Unfortunately, as it soon became apparent, he had no such luck. Snow swirled down faster and faster, the cold biting at his face and making him well and truly miserable.
Heading for a clearing ahead of him Beldír prepared to stop. There was absolutely no use continuing in the freezing cold, with little visibility in the middle of the night. His wife would have to wait one more day, as would he.
As he entered the clearing however, all thoughts of getting home were pushed aside from his mind. On the far side of the clearing, in a snow bank lay a maiden. Her dark hair flayed out against the snow and made her skin look deathly white and at first Beldír feared the worst.
He dismounted quickly and jogged over to her side, quickly checking to see if she was still breathing. Upon detecting a slow and shallow breathing pattern he picked her up and carried her to a tall tree on the edge of the clearing.
He quickly established a small fire under the tree, hoping that its branches would be enough to protect the fire from the snow. If it were not, it was not likely the maiden would last the night. Actually, it wasn't all that likely she would survive even if his fire did last, at least from her appearance and the pallor of her skin.
He went through his pack, pulling out the spare cloak, blanket, and pot as he did. He wrapped the maiden with the cloak and the blanket, moving her towards, but not to close to, the fire. Then placing a pile of snow in the pot, placed it above the fire and waited for the water to boil. He had no herbs with him, as they were all buried in snow and the stores that he had were used.
While the water was boiling her turned his attention back to the maiden. He removed her wet cloak and quickly surveyed her body for injuries. He noted her knee was swollen and bruised, but other than that she was suffering only from the cold. He pulled her close to him, hoping his body warmth would aid her recovery and gently began massaging her fingers in an effort to restore warmth to them.
…
It was early in the morning when the fire died out. Beldír had fallen asleep, despite his attempts not to do so, and it was Dúrvain who first noticed the absence of its warmth. The second thing she noticed was that she was significantly warmer, and that her snow bank was breathing. It took a moment for the second thing to register with her mind, as she was pleasantly content to be warm. Opening her eyes slightly she was surprised to be looking at the remnants of a fire. She was even more surprised however to find herself lying on a dark haired man, in the middle of the wilds where there was previously no one.
She sat up rather abruptly, which caused the man to wake up with a start. His surprise at seeing her awake surprised her and they both wound up jumping to their feet and backing away from each other.
Beldír cursed himself inwardly for falling asleep. He hadn't intended to, most certainly not with the maiden in his arms. He had only intended to warm her, and then let her rest.
"Who…?" Dúrvain asked, her voice shaking slightly.
"Beldír son of Bregnír at your service, my lady." He winced, realizing just how ridiculous that sounded at that time.
"Oh."
"And you, milady?"
She frowned as if contemplating whether to answer or not before speaking, "Dúrvain, daughter of Dínenwen."
He frowned, "You're named in Sindarin? What village do you hail from?"
"Tharbad."
He frowned, "I was unaware that the Dúnedain resided in Tharbad."
"They do not. I am not… I mean, my grandfather was, but I am not. My family is not…"
"Ah."
She looked up, suddenly realizing what his questions meant, "You are though? Are you not?"
Beldír frowned, "I am what, milady?"
"A ranger! I should have known when I first saw you…"
He nodded, "Yes." Then he chuckled lightly, "Though I do not hold it against you for not realizing it right away, you were fairly startled upon waking." She blushed lightly, and he noticed it and added, "Though it was entirely my fault, I had not intended to fall asleep."
"Why… why were you holding me at all?" She was shivering now, and it was beginning to worry Beldír.
"You were freezing, I was attempting to warm you up." He spoke in slight exasperation, what did the silly girl think he had been doing? "And you are still cold, come I will restart the fire. Where is your family? I will take you to them." He began busying himself with restarting the fire as Dúrvain cautiously moved back and sat down with her back against the trunk of the tree.
"I know not. Long gone by now I suppose."
"What do you mean?"
She ducked her head in an attempt to hide the tears forming in her eyes, "I… fell behind. They couldn't hear me and kept running. They got away I suppose. Or I hope at any right."
"Why were you running?"
"Wolves."
Beldír started slightly, "How far from here?"
"Close enough that I could walk."
"And yet you managed to escape?" He questioned sceptically.
She scowled at his tone, what did he think? That she had fed her family to the wolves in order to escape? The very thought revolted her, and she responded rather harshly, "Nay, they chased some of those fleeing the camp, but not in my direction. I was lucky."
He nodded in weary acceptance, "Apparently so." It was unlike the white wolves to allow some to escape, but he could come up with no other explanation than hers, so he changed the subject, "Where were you travelling to?"
"Rohan."
He smiled as a small blaze began again under the tree then walked over to his pack and removed a long bandage before returning to Dúrvain. He knew her knee would need attention, as the sooner it healed the faster they could travel. "May I see your knee?"
She looked startled, then nodded slightly gently extending her leg so he could better get at it. She watched curiously as he bound the knee with the bandage. Once he was finished he moved back to the fire and began to boil water.
"Well I certainly cannot bring you to Rohan. The journey is much longer than one I am prepared for, but," He bit back the urge to sigh, realizing he had no choice but bring her with him, "I would be willing to bring you to bring you to my home. There will be a warm fire there, and food." His wife would not be happy with him…
"I, I do not wish to be a bother."
He frowned, "Well I certainly can not leave you here in the cold, can I?"
She noted that he had not said that she would not be a bother, but accepted seeing the logic in his statement. She also gratefully accepted the cup of hot water he handed her with a smile. He nodded and turned his attention to his own cup of water, wishing it would turn to wine simply by staring at it. Now he was not only out in the cold, not going to make home for at least a full day, but he was also carting around a lost (and wounded) maiden, to whom he had offered out of moral obligation a place in his home for the time being. This was most certainly turning out to be a miserable trip.
Unbeknownst to Beldír, Dúrvain was equally as unhappy with their current arrangement. She was, of course, grateful for his offer of hospitality, but she was still upset about his scepticism about her escape from the camp. He made it sound as if he thought it unbelievable that she could have escaped! Granted, she was doubtful herself as to whether she was even truly awake and alive, or simply dreaming, but he had sounded like he was implicating her! Yet she said nothing, as he had warmed her, lent her the cloak that she was now wearing, and offered her a place to stay, and she owed him a great deal.
She looked up as he began moving, putting things in his bag and preparing his horse for travel. She quickly finished the last of her water, fearing he would take it from her, which he did – the empty cup at any right. He then offered her a hand and brought her to a standing, then lifted her atop his horse before jumping into the saddle in front of her.
Dúrvain started slightly as he jumped into the saddle before her, but quickly adjusted herself to make herself comfortable realizing that they probably would not be stopping for a long time.
"I apologize, but I have very little food. We will eat later today, but the hot water will have to suffice for now."
She nodded, then realized that he could not see her gesture and spoke her agreement aloud. He nodded slightly and kicked the horse into motion beginning their long horse trek across the snow-covered terrain.
Beldír was pleased to discover that Dúrvain was a competent rider, and did not feel it necessary to cling to him in an effort to hang on. But he could not shake the feeling that she had gotten off to easily, it was not like the wolves to allow anyone to go free, and she was injured making her an obvious target for their attack. He was also now constantly alert, weary of any sound and worried that they were still around. From what Dúrvain had said, Beldír supposed that most of the people travelling with her would have fled away from where his village lay, but he was still worried that it might suffer an attack of its own. He was startled out of his reverie however by the sound of soft crying coming from Dúrvain.
Dúrvain sighed, happy to no longer be walking, but now able to think about the events that had taken place. It was finally sinking in that she was separated and alone from her family, who for all she knew were dead. She was completely alone with this ranger, who had been unreasonably untrusting of her and obviously didn't like her. She would have given anything to simply be with her mother now. The thought of her family brought tears to her eyes, and she tried desperately to brush them away. The first one fell, and she lifted her hand to rub her eyes and brush it away from her cheek, but another fell and she brushed that off as well. Soon, more were falling than she could catch, and tried to silence herself worried that Beldír would hear her and think she was just a silly little girl.
He sighed his compassion coming forward, and feeling slightly awkward. He had, so far, had no children, and had absolutely no idea what to do with a crying girl of any age. He grasped one of her hands in his hoping that it would reassure her and stop the flood of tears. It didn't.
Dúrvain's attempts to stop her crying were only causing her to cry more. She felt Beldír grasp her hand and heard him tell her that everything was alright, but it did nothing but cause her to miss her family more. She missed her brother's silly jokes about being a warrior; that warriors didn't cry, and that he would protect her, the damsel in distress, from anything that would harm her. But he wasn't here, and Beldír's attempts to stop her crying were actually rather pitiful.
He gave up after a while; seeing that it was doing no good, and opted to simply let her cry herself out. Though to him, it seemed to take a lot longer than it should have. He hoped that she wouldn't spend the entire trip like this, because if she did he would likely go insane.
…
A/N: Well that concludes chapter two. This chapter had a bit of switching back and forth, but I probably won't be doing as much of that in future chapters. It, however, was necessary. I hope it wasn't at all confusing to anyone. I hope that anyone giving this story a chance found it at least moderately entertaining. If you did, feel free to tell me so. Or you know, just let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, why it sucked (if you thought it did). Reviews make me happy.
Aislynn Crowdaughter: You made my day, you truly did. I'm immensely glad you found Dúrvain credible; I've tried to make her as realistic as is possible. Anyway, I hope you enjoy(ed) this chapter, as you are, so far the only reader to comment, this chapter goes out to you.
