CHAPTER II
Stop. Breathe. Think.
Silas squeezed his eyes shut tightly, so tightly that his cheeks ached from screwing up his face. He could hear his heartbeat hammering against his ribcage, an unending rapid thud-thud-thud which pulsed in his ears. His lungs felt raw and scratchy: his throat was sore from screaming.
Stop.
He felt grass underneath his hands. But not short, clipped grass like the kind in his backyard—this was tall, unmown grass which felt trampled down. There was the overwhelming smell of heather and fresh air, but it carried a hint of earthy manure with it. A raindrop spattered on his cheek.
Breathe.
The young boy opened his eyes very slowly, squinting into the bright light. The skies were a dull overcast, but with the sun clearly behind them; it was the kind of colorless November day that carried light but no warmth. But that was the problem, it wasn't November, it was August, and he had never been in a field before in his life. Especially not this.
This wasn't a field, this was a plain.
Muscles in his legs trembled as he stood shakily, looking around him. As far as the eye could see, it was an unbroken stretch of plains with grass the color of wheat surrounding him. Everything seemed washed out and devoid of color. The sky was almost white, as though an artist had forgotten to draw clouds or a sun.
Think.
Where was he? What was he doing here? The last thing he remembered was shouting at Sibyll, and—
Oh God.
The basement. The hole. Memories came back to him in bright little snaps, like fireworks: he and Sibyll had been arguing over what to eat, and she had gone down to the basement to find some dried pasta. They had wound up talking about the hole again, and Silas insisted he had seen a light. Scoffing, his older sister had pulled back the cover to prove him wrong, and leaned over just a little too far—
A knot pulled at his stomach and an acrid taste flooded his mouth. Silas dropped dizzily to his knees and threw up, the contents of his stomach emptying onto the grass.
She had fallen. And he had tumbled after her with a scream, grabbing onto her belt loop as she disappeared.
He was dead. That was certain. He was dead, they were both dead, and this was some sort of wasteland of an afterlife, because he wasn't a good enough person to go to heaven and not a bad enough person to go to hell.
"SIBYLL!"
It was a raw, broken scream from his already ruined throat. "SIBBY, WHERE ARE YOU?"
There was nothing to echo his words back, nothing but a dry, empty field of grass. A flock of birds, startled, rose up in unison; the blackbirds spiraled through the air, away from the frantic boy's desperation.
Stumbling, he tried to get up again, but the world spun in colorless circles until he fell, spent, on the grass once more.
There was nothing but a dull throbbing pain in her chest. A burning sensation, really, like a fire crackling in the darkness. She was floating, almost serenely, but it was a downward float. Sinking. The fire was leaden and weighing her down. Was she struggling? Sibyll could feel movement around her but it was weirdly disconnected, as though her brain and body had come unplugged.
Something struck her in the head and the pain exploded across her scalp. This brought her back into sharp, shocking relief, and her eyes flew open—one scrabbling hand found something solid and gripped on with superhuman strength. Her other flailing arm caught onto the solid object and she pulled mightily.
A crashing, roaring noise, and she almost lost her grip because of the noise and the pressure. The burning sensation increased tenfold and she gasped for air, realizing blearily that water was rushing around her. She could barely see, something was wrong with one of her eyes, and the current was pinning her against a tree branch. Every cough brought up fluid and each cough felt as though someone was striking a match in her chest. Coughing and sputtering uncontrollably, her lungs greedily swallowing air, Sibyll clung onto the fallen tree like a drowned cat.
How long she clung there, barely conscious, hacking up water, she didn't know. But when her vision settled, she began inching along the tree branch, taking care not to lose her grip and get swept away by the roaring current once more. Her nails dug into the sodden bark but with growing panic she discovered she couldn't feel her legs. Was it just the icy water? She couldn't feel anything.
It was only when her feet hit rocks that she knew for sure she hadn't lost her legs. The tree was a proper trunk now, and she couldn't hold on for much longer. Her arms ached.
The bottom of the river was rocky, uneven, and difficult to stand on. Half-crawling, half-pulling herself along, the teenager finally dragged herself to shore; wet, mossy rocks lined the bank, and Sibyll lay down, uncaring of the boulder digging into her back. Dark, creepy forests surrounded her, and her bleary eyes saw glimpses of silver bark.
Instinctively she rolled over and her knees drew against her chest. She coughed, and the cough turned to vomit, and the vomit turned to water—everything ached, but the burn was slowly disappearing.
She had nearly drowned. How had she gotten here? Her head ached with a dull throb, and she reached one hand to feel for an injury. There was a deep gash on her head, near the scalp, and the blood was clotting and obscuring her vision on her left side. Was that what had woken her? The teenager clutched her head and coughed again, but it was more of a raspy sob.
"Mommy," she cried, and it was the despondent wail of a child in distress. "Please!" she screamed, as loudly as she could, but it derailed into a fit of coughing.
Her wet clothes clinging to her, a bluish tinge across her skin, Sibyll lay there. After another moment or two of crying, her eyes rolled back, and she knew no more.
The cry of a gull was a lonely, mournful noise, and it was what ultimately woke Rose. Her eye snapped open and she pushed away from the ground where she had been lying. Sand and grit had cut into her cheek, and her mouth was dry as cotton. The roar of the ocean felt close and she sat up, pawing sand away from her eyes and mouth. Overhead the sky was a dull, faded blue without a hint of cloud-cover.
Where was she?
The gull cried sadly again, wheeling overhead, and Rose stood up. Her legs were wobbly and every muscle was tired, as though she'd run a great distance. Around her, stretching for at least a mile in either direction, was a rocky beach with large, craggy stones. In the distance, the ocean boomed and splashed against them. It was unlike any beach she had ever seen, and unlike any ocean she'd ever heard: this was wild and rough, not steady and calming like the pristine beaches of the Cape.
Stumbling, Rose took a step or two south. "Sibyll!" she called, cupping both hands around her mouth. "Silas!"
Her voice was echoed back at her, the desperation sounding mocking and angry. Her children, where were her children? How had this happened? Was she dead, was this some sort of afterlife? An unending beach with black boulders the size of wheelbarrows?
"SILAS!"
This scream echoed for a long, long, time. Nothing but her own voice and the sound of seagulls came back to her.
She shivered as a strong breeze gusted past her, whipping her short red hair around her face. In one direction lay a beach that seemed impossibly straight, while to her right, it seemed to curve into a gulf or a gulley of some kind. She stumbled in that direction, kicking off her heels as she did so. Rose carried the shoes in one hand as she picked her way through the beach, avoiding the rocks and sharp bits of seashells.
Panic hadn't arisen, not yet. How had this happened? The trapdoor in her basement lead to a beach? Rose wasn't an idiot—she knew that the more likely scenario was a dream, a coma, or actual death. But if it was a dream, it was a lucid dream, and if it was a coma, then it was unlike any coma experience she'd ever read about.
Death, on the other hand…that was a distinct possibility.
"Or," Rose said aloud, her voice nearly swallowed by the sound of the tide, "My basement just leads to friggin' Narnia."
Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! We'll have some actual interaction with Arda-people next chapter. :) No canon interaction yet…maybe not for a while, haha.
Adelie P.: Thanks for reviewing! Yeah, I noticed there was a distinct lack of mothers represented in Middle Earth, and in fanfiction in general. And that most of the teenage girls who come to Arda don't act at all like teenage girls, lol. xD And I don't think I've ever heard of a young boy, either. So I wrote what I wanted to read, basically. I hope you enjoy it and keep following the story!
Thanks to Adelie P., KimiAshinhurst, and Tibblets for following!
