Reminder : Except Olympe and her close ones, I don't own anything, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling and J. R. R. Tolkien.
Enjoy !
II
I'll send an SOS to the world
Because of recent events, a change of direction was necessary.
Therefore, Olympe decided to go the same way she'd come - to lower the chances of running into the monsters she'd just seen. Still, she walked a little away from the road and sang to keep herself going.
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle….
All she could hope for was that if they had been fleeing something, it wasn't the same thing in a XXL size.
But the pain in her feet grew sharper, first causing her to limb then later forcing her to stop. She sat down in the high grass, thirty feet from the trail. Close enough to watch the path and far enough to be out of sight in case of danger.
She opened her thermos and breathed in the delicious aroma of (last night's) coffee - still warm thanks to magic. She poured herself a cup and gulped it down, feeling herself come alive, enjoying the warmth spreading through her, chasing away the cold.
She then looked at her feet. Even though she had stopped walking, the ache was still as sharp. Taking off her sock, she felt a sort of resistance. She decided to rip it off in one quick gesture and screamed in pain. The skin of several blisters stuck to the piece of cloth had gotten torn away, leaving about half of her foot bare and bloody.
With tears in her eyes, she took out her grimoire and looked for the deep injuries charm.
vulnera sanenture
She'd never gotten that spell right but this time she had no choice. She read out the words three time, moving her wand over the wound. Once again, her healer's abilities weren't dazzling. The injury was very much still there, under a layer of dried blood. It wasn't bare anymore but she couldn't walk anymore.
She went through the same with her left feet and then set about cleaning all of her stuff with fast Scouring Charms. Once her socks were white again, - having checked before that there was no pervert lurking about with a little hominum revelio - she tried casting the charm on herself and got a nice result.
Now she smelled good and her clothes were clean, what more could she wish for?
« A pair of shoes, perhaps? » whispered a little voice in her head.
After eating a good part of her chocolate frogs and expanded her card collection, she used the spell of Bluebells flames (taught to her by her friend Morgan) in her jar, to warm herself up. This way, she avoided revealing her position to all the neighbouring creatures and enjoyed a soft glow.
But the sun sank, the temperature with it and the cold started creeping back despite her blue fire. Soon she was shaking with fear in the intensifying darkness. Still no word from the Aurors. Hopefully they were looking for her right now.
Morgan and Lisa must have been so worried… not to mention her mother and her little brothers.
What am I doing here...
She opened her grimoire again, this time on a page with a lot of pictures showing people moving, smiling and waving at her. Lisa, Morgan and her on their last trip to Hogsmeade. On the left, Lisa, her smile beautiful, pushing the too large glasses - she'd inherited from her mom - up her nose and Morgan, on the right, with her tan skin and small turned-up nose and there, in the middle, Olympe with her wild curly hair pulled up in a messy bun. She'd looked at each of her friends then pulled them to her side, turning her big blue eyes to the camera.
Tears started stinging her eyes again. Her fingers made their way to her left feet and started scratching.
No, don't, it will tear off the crusts.
On another photograph, two twins with red curls - barely five year olds - were beaming at her with toothless smiles, the one on the right sneezing from time to time. Will and Peter, her little brothers. She let the tip of her fingers glide across their faces, tears flowing down her cheeks.
On the next page was a picture of the whole family, taken on Christmas Eve, three years ago. Olympe stood proudly, surrounded by her parents and Peter in her arms (back when he was small enough to be carried), sobbing because he had already broken his new toy.
Her eyes went over each of her family members. She was trying to memorize every single detail, as if it were the last time she was seeing them.
Here, her grandparents hugging and looking into each other's eyes, there, her uncle making fun of his older brother's (her dad) behind his back, her aunt raising her glass to the camera and there, Willian trying to lift their cat, Mystic, off the ground – then giving up and sitting down next to him. She even noticed Peter's mismatched socks, put on in a rush that evening before going to celebrate the Eve at their grandparents' house. They had barely made it to the Portkey in time.
And her folk guitar, brand new out of its gift wrapping. A gorgeous Yamaha FG 300 that Josh, a friend of her dad and the owner of a music shop had picked up on a trip to Japan a few months before the picture had been taken. The flowery pickguard, the elegant curves and the fineness of the handle almost gave a sense of femininity to the shape.
The instrument had caught her eye the first time she'd seen it and she had spent all of the holidays at the store practicing with it, harassing Josh to put it aside for her until she'd spared the money to buy it.
That year, when she had gone back home for the Christmas holidays, Josh had said that he'd sold it. She had felt her heart ripping in two and had barely spoken to anyone the following days. Then on Christmas Eve, she'd seen the shape of her wrapped-up present and immediately understood. Her superb guitar had never really been gone.
And they were beautiful, the whole of them, in their Christmassy coloured sweaters that their grandma had knitted herself and the pretty lit-up tree in the background. Back then, her life had so perfect. Four months later, her dad had been murdered by a death-eater and her mom had never been herself again since. Her grandparents had been killed some time after.
How she longed for them all. She should be by their side, not in this strange place!
She tucked her knees under her chin, the warm jar against her belly and closed her eyes. She thought of her mother, picturing herself curled up against her and her long hair tickling her nose. She tried remembering her perfume and the comforting feeling of being held by her.
But she could only feel that icy wind cutting through her clothes, ripping Olympe's gentle wishful thoughts away and replacing them with desperation and unbearable loneliness.
She burst in tears, failing to suppress her shaking. The wounds were so itchy she wished she could tear her feet off.
Alone, at the mercy of the cold in a valley constantly swept by an artic wind. My kingdom for a horse, right? She easily would have traded all of her Every Flavour Beans for a shelter.
When the first rays of sunshine lit the landscape, she had to acknowledge she'd gone through a sleepless night. For hours, she had kept herself from scratching her feet while enduring visions of being surrounded by giant spiders, werewolves or the reeking monsters she'd come across the day before. She noticed that this time, none of her stuff was wet with dew.
She took out Lisa's makeup bag and found a blush palette with a small mirror. Holy hell! Even after a night out she looked livelier than now! She was quite a sight: Her usually laughing eyes were circled with black, her cheeks were hollow and her unruly blond hair had turned to a colourless mess. Her lips were dry and crackled, cut by the wind, pulling and seemingly about to break. She was in miserable shape.
She set about fixing her hair before it started turning into one big dreadlock. She used the tiny comb from her friend's pouch and a lot of untangling spells.
Olympe had always hated brushing her hair. She'd always been envious of girls like her mom, with sleek shiny hair that looked put together in thirty seconds. With magic's help, she needed about thirty minutes. The good side of things was that she'd inherited her mother's beautiful colour. She's never enjoyed the unruliness she'd gotten from her father.
When she was through with brushing it, she tied her hair in a bun on top of her head. A few rebellious strands still decided to slip out and tumble down her forehead – it would do for now.
She tried getting up but the pain was too intense. Madam Pomfrey would have healed this in the blink of an eye.
She started on a liquorice wand then spread out exhausted on the ground.
⁂
A dream… yes, it had all been a dream! It was obvious now, because she was cosily huddled in her bed, in her warm and beautiful dormitory. After laughing about her overboard imagination, she noticed her friend Morgan sleeping tight in her day clothes, sprawled out on her front over the covers, her head sunk into the pillow.
Huh? She kept on her shoes.
She called her friend in a quiet voice, trying not to disturb anyone else. Morgan woke up, yawned and slowly lifted her head but it wasn't her friend's eyes staring at her, it was the face of one of the monstrous creatures she's seen the day before, a sadistic smile twisting its already distorted features and bearing its yellow fangs.
Olympe tried getting out of under her blanket but they seemed to grapple onto her, keeping her prisoner. Cold sweat slid down the back of her neck. She couldn't breathe anymore, as if something was sitting on her ribcage. The monster that had taken her friend's place got up and drew nearer, seeming to enjoy the fear in her eyes, the terror spreading through her and paralyzing her. It opened its mouth to speak:
- iss!
What?
She struggled against her binding covers.
- iss!
What the hell?
She tried screaming but her voice was stuck in the back of her throat. Something was shaking her. She opened her eyes.
- Miss!
So out of breath it felt like she'd just ran a marathon, she breathed in long gulps of air. A nightmare, it'd just been a nightmare! All she could see was a golden halo and two blue dots above her. Shaking like a leaf, she could feel a warm grip on her shoulders. Her vision cleared up.
Mom?
- Miss, are you alright?
No, it wasn't her mother… She'd rarely seen as beautiful a person in her life, except maybe when she was in second year and Fleur Delacour came to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. But that girl had had Veela blood… and when it came to her mother, she probably wasn't fair…
Wait... Wait! A person?!
I'm in a someone's arms!
Someone is holding me!
Her eyes opened wider with shock and her mouth formed a surprised O. Which must have made her look very smart…
She stayed like that for a few seconds, staring at the stranger who'd just addressed her and decided it must be a man.
He asked something, didn't he? I have to give an answer...
Bloody hell, don't just stare at him wide-eyed, answer!
Wait, what did he ask again?
« - Aragorn! », he called to someone who must have stood further away, « A young woman! » Turning to Olympe, he added: « Do not worry, we won't hurt you. »
Great, now she was starting to panic. It was always the psychopaths that said this sort of thing: Don't worry child, I won't hurt you, I'll give you Pumpkin Pasties. Come, follow me, there's plenty in the back room!
Too much information, too much questions were circling in Olympe's brain. Who was he? Where was she? What was the date? What time was it? Where was the closest town? Were they wizards or muggles? Eww! Was it her breath she was smelling right now?
« - Are you alright? » the stranger asked again.
Automatically, her eyes turned to her smarting feet. Traces of blood on her socks lead to think she had scratched and ripped the scabs off during her sleep.
« - Your feet? », the blond man asked, following her gaze.
With his head angled away, Olympe noticed the fine braids framing his face. He really was of a startling beauty. A soft, reassuring aura seemed to surround him. Maybe he had Veela blood after all. But a singular detail caught her attention: his ears, they were… pointy.
Curious, while he was focused on her feet, she reached out and lightly brushed one ear with her fingertips. He swiftly turned to her, surprise painted all over his traits. Olympe was just as astounded as he was, firstly to see the ears weren't implants, secondly to have been caught touching a stranger's ear. She blushed furiously and started stammering on apologies. As an answer, he simply offered her a serene smile. And maybe there was a glint of light amusement in his eyes.
A man wearing dirty and torn clothes approached. He must have been Aragorn. He was tall with blue eyes, dark hair and an untidy beard. Next to Mr Pointy Ears, he actually looked like a homeless person.
Have you seen yourself? her inside voice asked.
They started talking in a foreign language. Olympe had never heard anything like it. A singsong delicate tongue, maybe Italian? No, if it were, she would have recognized a few words.
Lastly, the ho.., well, Aragorn kneeled next to her, observing her clothes with a disapproving air. She would have felt the same if she'd been walking around in her panties. Then, he turned his gaze to her feet.
Are those the main event today or what?
« - May I? », he asked.
She searched Mr Pointy Ears eyes, who smiled encouragingly at her.
« Just so you're know, they're not a pretty sight. », she warned him while taking off her right sock.
As she'd feared, she'd scratched her foot during the night. The scabs the charm had helped form hung on either side of her feet. He gently took her ankle to examine the wound.
A man whose face was half-covered with a shaggy beard came into sight, huffing loudly. Seeing him, Olympe was immediately reminded of Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at her school, shrunk to the size of Professor Flitwick. He looked at her with a stunned expression, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it and sat down.
« - What happened to you? », inquired Aragorn with a worried frown.
« - I have no idea, I don't even know where I am. », answered Olympe, her breaths short.
« - You are on the lands of Rohan, a few walking days away from Edoras, the hill fort of King Theoden and on the road leading to Isengard. »
« - Where? », she asked again, thinking she'd maybe heard it all wrong.
« - On the lands of Rohan. »
The three men exchanged a disbelieving look. Still in the blond man's arms, Olympe felt despair darken her face.
At last, Pointy Ears spoke again:
« - Where did you come from, Miss? », he asked, holding her tight as if to steady her.
« - Oxford. My family is from Oxford but I go to a school in the Highlands... in Scotland, » she explained, noticing their surprise. « England… don't you know Great Britain? »
Where the hell is this place? Even my slightly backward American pen pal knows England. Though she can't find it on a map…
« - We know none of the places you just mentioned. » answered Aragorn.
« - Are you kidding me? Is that it? You're messing with me, right? »
Angrily, Olympe tried pulling away from the blond man.
« Is this a joke to you? »
She turned around, gathering all of her things like a madwoman, muttering to herself. « Yes, it's a prank, it's only a prank, or a spell… yes, it must be a trick. »
« - Miss », Aragorn started, but she ignored him, still talking to herself and packing her stuff in a trance.
« It must be those scumbags from Slytherins… probably Raynolds… she picks on me the most. An illusion... It's all in my head… » her vision blurred slightly « Nobody dresses like that anymore… It's an illusion... »
She burst into tears and crumpled to the ground in a foetus position, her bag pressed against her chest. The three men threw one another incredulous looks and Aragorn kneeled next to her, grabbing her shoulders to force her to meet his eyes.
« - Miss, I don't know where you're came from but we're going to help you as much as we can. You just need to explain to me what's happening to you. My name is Aragorn and my companions here are Legolas and Gimli », he said, indicating his acolytes.
She kept quiet, concentrating hard to stop her crying and taking deep breaths. She dried the last of her tears on her sleeve.
She cleared her throat and started talking:
« - I was at school, with my friends. You see, we like to go for a walk at night... », under? their perplexed expressions she quickly added: « wait, it's the word 'school' that confuses you ? » They nodded.
Are they idiots or what? What world do they live in?
She spoke again:
« It's a place where children gather to get an education, where they're taught to read or count… or even history and geography. So, I was at school and at night, with my friends, we like to walk around in the castle… yes, the school is a castle » she pointed out to make sure they were still following « and we got back to our dormitory really late, went to bed... and I woke up here. I walked all day yesterday to meet someone. » She finished with a disheartened countenance.
The trio scrutinized her, obviously wondering if she wasn't just point blank crazy. But they had to admit that they'd never seen clothes like hers.
« - You said a few minutes ago that someone might have cast a spell on you. Did you get in trouble with a wizard or a sorcerer? »
« - What? I- I said that? » she started panicking again.
« - Listen up, Miss » growled Gimli with a menacing air, « I really hope for your sake you're not one of Saruman's spies… if you are, you're in a really bad position! »
« - Who? No, no, no stop - I don't even know who that is. » responded Olympe with indignation.
« - You can never be too careful, young lady! »
« - She seems to be telling the truth » intervened Pointy Ears.
« - Saruman is an Istari, the head of the Wizards sent by the Valar to help the Free People fight against the forces of darkness. But he has betrayed us to side with the Mordor. » explained Aragorn.
The only thing that had caught Olympe's attention was the word 'wizards'.
« - Wizards? »
« - Yes. »
« - So… these sorcerers, they do magic? »
« - One of our companions was an Istari. » added the blond, ignoring her question.
« - Yes, but did he do magic? » insisted Olympe, worried.
« - Of course he did magic. » grumbled mini-Hagrid.
« - We don't call them Wizards for nothing. » replied Aragorn with a kind simple.
She looked at them, puzzled.
A wizard… in the worst-case scenario, it would only be an insane muggle but if they were talking about a real wizard, this could mean her going home.
« - Good, » she finally voiced, in a lighter tone, « which way is it to the wizard's house? »
« - Are you asking to go to Saruman? » asked Aragorn, baffled.
« - I don't think I got here through divine intervention. I'm curious about your wizard. »
« - You would get killed before setting a foot in Isengard! » laughed mini-Hagrid.
« - You do not know me, I am perfectly able to defend myself. I can protect myself. » she insisted.
They don't believe me...
« - You did seem very vulnerable when I found you a while ago. » remarked the blond in a lecturing tone.
« - Would you have had the time to defend yourself, if an Orc had found you first? » asked Gimli with a mocking voice.
« - Pardon? »
« - Maybe we should take care of that wound. » suggested Aragorn, pointing to Olympe's feet, wisely changing the subject.
⁂
Out of his pockets, he took strips of cloth and a metal bow filled with a curious green mixture that he started spreading over the injury. Almost instantly, the dreadful itch was replaced with a pleasurably cool sensation. She sighted with relief and let her head fall back while he got started on the second foot and said to her:
« - You know our names, but we do not know yours, my young friend. »
« - You're right. I'm Olympe. Olympe MacLewis. Pleased to meet you. »
That was a lie, she wasn't pleased, she'd just said that out of politeness and habit. She would have really loved to never meet them. She would much rather have been cosily tucked in her bed at Hogswarts, the worst thing being her approaching Potions exam.
She thanked Aragorn who had just finished bandaging her feet, then inquired:
« - What is an Orc? »
« - They are vile creatures sent from the Mordor that do Sauron's bidding, aiming to end mankind. Actually, we are on the trail of a troop of Uruk'hai, a species of Orc. They took two of our friends. »
Immediately, Olympe remembered the two small persons she'd seen on the back of the monsters the day before.
« - I saw them… I think I saw the group you're talking about! Yesterday, I saw armed monsters. I am not sure about your friends... but I think I saw them carrying children. »
« - There is no time to lose, » declared Aragorn to Legolas with a determined look on his face « we have to be on our way. »
Legolas threw Olympe a side glance, asking his friend a silent question. Once more, they started talking that strange tongue. She didn't have to be a genius to know they were talking about her. Not daring to look at them, Olympe stared at her feet.
If she hadn't been injured, she could have come along but in this specific situation, she was a dead weight. This made her feel terribly uncomfortable. She had only just met people she could call kind and now they had to leave her to go save their friends from grave danger – because she couldn't stand on her own two feet.
What would she have done if it was her? If her friends were in mortal danger, what would she do? She stopped wondering, the answer too painful and obvious to accept.
They didn't even know her, why would they help her? They didn't owe her anything. Despite this she still felt a sting, imagining them walking away – her on the ground, supplication written in her eyes.
She tried peeking up at them discreetly but Legolas's grave eyes were locked on her, catching her gaze as soon as she'd lifted it. Embarrassed, she stared at her feet again. She felt frustrated and excluded, as if she'd been too fragile or not smart enough to hear what they were saying about her.
She felt pathetic, inside and out. Her last option was pleading. But her pride forbade her – she was still a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! She had to act proud.
Maybe if she told them she was a resourceful witch with a hundred ways to make their lives easier, they would reconsider. She was about to speak up for herself when Gimli put hand on her shoulder.
« - I will say this now my friend », he grumbled angrily to Aragorn, « I may not understand what you and Pointy Ears are saying, but leaving this girl behind is sentencing her to death. Killing her yourself would be more merciful. I'll carry her on my back if I have to but I will not leave her here! »
Olympe was touched by the imp's speech. She threw a grateful look in his direction but refrained from embracing him. A reassuring smile turned his lips up at the corners, bringing dimples to his pink cheeks.
« - Have no worries, master dwarf, » started Aragorn, « we were roughly saying the same. »
The three men shared a smile. Aragorn took off his heavy travel cape and draped it around Olympe's shoulders. Warmth spread through her instantly.
« - Climb on my back », he urged, kneeling.
« - Are you certain? I'm not weightless, you know. »
« - Do not worry, I've endured much worse. »
« - How can I thank you? » asked Olympe as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
« - Thank me later, we have to hurry now. »
As soon as it was settled, the group started walking – or rather, running. The strong wind kept blowing the mantle's hood off her face and looking behind, she could see Legolas calling encouragements to Gimli who had trouble keeping up. At each of Aragorn's steps, she had taken care not to hit his shoulder with her jaw.
She found herself wishing for a broom, whichever one. Even her dad's old Shooting Star – slow and uncomfortable – would have done the trick…
There you go, another chapter.
Note that this one is twice the size of the first one.
The translation is far from perfect, it's hard minding the tone/the level of speech at all times.
It's not always the literal translation because I try to make this version as natural-sounding as possible and do my best to not use the same words over and over again.
I have a lot fun finding out equivalents for what Lynn writes in French and I will keep at it.
So, what do you think of the trio's arrival and the turn of things? If you have comments and/or remarks, please don't hesitate to share them – at least you don't feel like you're writing to the wind.
It takes a minute and means the world.
You'll get the third chapter soon! Hope you have a great day.