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"Who are you?" said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."
"What do you mean by that?" said the Caterpillar, sternly. "Explain yourself!"
"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, Sir," said Alice, "because I am not myself, you see." —Lewis Carrol's, "Alice in Wonderland."
ooOoo
Erestor arrived for them both shortly afterwards. Now that Radhrion had pointed it out, Merrill noticed the steward's eyes on her more often than not. She wasn't silly enough to think it was because he found her attractive (as that was highly unlikely in this land of freakish super models) and his regard was too speculative, for that, anyway. Still, she could feel the weight of his judgment and curiosity on her as he ushered them down long hallways, through empty corridors, and past hundreds of tapestries and paintings.
Erestor and Radhrion spoke softly to one another. After the first few words, Merrill realized they spoke that lilting language she could only suppose was elvish and gave up on trying to eavesdrop. Instead, she occupied herself with examining the artwork she passed.
Merrill paused and ran her hands along the fabric of one such tapestry. It was made of a heavy, dense material that felt solid in her hands. She stepped closer, eyeing the fine details of the embroidery admiringly; the stitches were so small she could barely make them out. The white thread, which made up the body of a swan, glittered against the dark blue background of the waves over which it flew. In the distance, dark brown threads mixed with blues, blacks, and greens to depict a storm tossed ship. A faint, silver glow surrounded a handsome male figure on the deck, whose arms were outstretched towards the bird beseechingly. His hair was darker than the night around them, so dark she almost couldn't make it out, but his eyes shone with desperation.
A polite cough broke her from her ruminations. Erestor and Radhrion stood behind her, one bemused, the other irritated. Radhrion's expression was soft with understanding, and a small smile played around the corners of his lips, but Rivendell's steward seemed impatient, though his face remained a perfect mask of civility. Not for the first time, Merrill wondered if she had offended him.
"If you would, my Lady," Erestor indicated that they should continue down the hallway. "Lord Elrond is waiting."
"Yes." Merrill turned away from temptation and folded her hands in front of her. "Yes, of course."
She cringed as they began walking. Her toe still throbbed from her earlier tantrum on the mountain, and there was definitely less room in her converse than there had been previously. Merrill hoped that she would get to sit still, soon, so she might assess the damage.
Radhrion dropped back and offered her his arm. Merrill stared at it.
"This is the point, my dear, where you graciously accept the gentleman's arm and make attempts at polite conversation."
She made a show of peeking over his shoulder before retorting, "Show me a gentleman, and I'll give him my arm."
He snorted indelicately and they set off once more, Merrill's arm tucked securely around his own. She was amazed at the relief she felt; leaning on him eased the pain in her foot considerably.
When they'd walked in silence for a few moments, Radhrion said quietly, "I thought you were limping. Why did you not say anything, Merilinith?"
"I wasn't sure of where I stood," she replied honestly.
He patted the hand that rested atop his forearm soothingly. "No matter your circumstances, Lord Elrond would see you treated well. You are a guest in his home, now, and with that title comes certain responsibilities on his part, as well as on yours, I suppose. He will accord you every respect and ensure your needs are met, within reason."
Merrill scoffed skeptically.
"Be at ease, êl tithen. You are safe here."
They came to a halt in front of a pair of heavy, wooden doors, intricately carved with bits of knot-work, impressions of trees, and thousands of falling leaves. It was a thing of beauty, and Merrill had to tear her eyes away.
Erestor had been speaking, but she'd missed it. He opened the door, inclining his head, and Radhrion led her into the room.
Lord Elrond's study was magnificent. Floor to ceiling shelves, covered in scrolls and books of all shapes, graced every wall. The parchment was old; its edges yellow and brittle. The ceiling was vaulted and white, with large, square inlets spaced evenly across its length, and a number of fine white beams in the shape of trees stretched down to sink their roots into the floor. The far wall was open to the elements and lead out onto a spacious balcony. Leaves skittered across the polished stone floor and gauzy, gray drapes swayed lazily in the wind. In the corners of the room were metal braziers, heaped high with glowing orange coals, and a small fireplace crackled and popped merrily in a tall grate. On a raised platform to the left of the doorway stood a large desk, its surface an amalgam of scrolls, feather quills, and inkpots. A silver goblet sat at the edge, its contents still steaming. And behind it all, striding towards them, was a male elf dressed in elegant robes of gray and silver that whispered with his movements.
Merrill very nearly forgot to breath. The elf had long, raven hair plaited back from his face, and thick, black brows. His dark gray eyes were level, clear, and framed by copious lashes, and a proud, straight nose led to slim pink lips. Etched around his mouth were deep parentheses, a sign that his life had not always brought him joy, and his chin was rounded but firm.
At the moment, those profound pools of silver were gentle with welcome, but Merrill could imagine them stormy with sorrow or rage. His back was straight, his arms settling easily at his sides, and his stride was confident and poised; he wore all the trappings of a scholar now, sure, but she recognized the bearing of someone well acquainted with battle beneath. Anne's brother (and Merrill's first boyfriend) had been in service, and he'd walked much the same way.
The Lord of Rivendell, for there was no one else he could possibly be, placed his hand over his heart. "Le nathlam hí, Radhrion; it has been many years since last I saw you." (1)
Radhrion returned the greeting. "Mae g'ovannen, Lord Elrond. It is a joy to be returned to your halls." (2)
Lord Elrond then turned to her, his eyes kind. "Le nathlam hí, Merilinith." Merrill gaped like a goldfish on dry land until Radhrion nudged her. Elrond hid a smile behind his hand at her blatant admiration, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
"Umm… Nice to meet you."
He waved his hand towards a grouping of couches besides the fire and called over his shoulder, "Erestor, please bring our guests some refreshment. I think tea and spiced wine, will do." He considered Merrill, whose stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly, "…Perhaps some fruit and cheese, as well."
Merrill perched nervously on the edge of a blue velvet chaise. She twiddled her thumbs round and round, glancing at everything and nothing in the hopes that activity might help her remain calm. Radhrion took a seat beside her and smiled encouragingly.
"Now," Lord Elrond sank into the only available seat and folded his hands across his lap. "Unless I am much mistaken, Radhrion would prefer we start with you, Merilinith. What brings you to Imladris?"
"Well," Merrill swallowed, her throat suddenly bone dry. "I'm not sure how to answer you, because I am unsure, myself." She saw that he was patiently waiting for her to continue. "So, what I mean to say is… I'm sort of not from around here?"
Elrond's face remained impassive; Radhrion didn't even look up from his hands.
"Would you explain what that means, exactly, Merilinith?"
Merrill's mind flashed back to History channel reenactments of the Salem witch trials and she gulped. "You guys don't have puritans here, do you?"
He blinked. "What are puritans?"
"Never mind," she ran her hands over her face, her fingers bumping into her elongated ears. "My name is Merrill. I'm human and from another time… or possibly the future? Or… from the real world? I was on my way to my dentists' office, which is smack dab in the middle of downtown, when I suddenly… wasn't." She finished lamely.
Elrond stroked his chin, "And when you were no longer 'downtown'? Where were you, then?"
"I was in the forest, and Radhrion tried to shoot me."
Radhrion rolled his eyes. "You have a flare for the dramatic, Merilinith. I barely even drew my bow."
"Says you."
The Lord of Rivendell cleared his throat; Merrill looked away sheepishly. Radhrion grinned.
"So you were in the forest with Radhrion after being suddenly transported from your home. What happened next?" Elrond's attempts to keep them on task were admirable, but ultimately doomed to failure; Merrill was just too nervous, and Radhrion had appointed himself her caretaker.
"Ummm… we talked. He told me we were in Middle Earth and that I was an elf."
"You were not always an elf?"
"No… I was human. There are no elves or anything in my world."
This drew a similar lack of reaction, which piqued her interest. "Can I ask you something?" Merrill added as an afterthought, "… my Lord?"
"Please."
"Well, you don't seem all that surprised by any of this," she gestured vaguely to herself. "Which makes me think that this has happened before… Am I right?"
Elrond acknowledged Erestor's return and quickly furnished both Radhrion and herself with plates of fruit and cheese as well as goblets of spiced wine and tea, respectively. Only after everyone was situated, and Erestor had left, did Elrond answer, "Yes, it has."
Merrill leaned forward eagerly, her tea forgotten. "And? What happened? Did you send them home?"
Lord Elrond glanced at Radhrion before replying gravely, "Not I, and not exactly. I sent that individual to the Lady of the Galadhrim. It was she who provided them the answers they sought." When his response caused Merrill to visibly droop, he added, "Though she was not able to send them home, herself, she was able to assist them onto the path that was most likely to lead them there, according to her mirror."
Ah, Merrill thought. Galadriel.
"And did it?" she asked.
"Did what, Merilinith?" Elrond replied, not unkindly.
"Did the path the Lady put them on lead them home?" Please, she thought a little frantically. Please tell me that they got home. Tell me that they survived this – that I'll survive this. Please. Merrill tried not to let her anxiety show, but she was almost certain she failed; Radhrion pressed her hand.
"Yes. But the Lady of the Wood is seldom mistaken in matters such as these. If you would like, I could send you to Lothlorien with an escort in two months time. Perhaps she will be able to assist you."
Merrill's heart sunk into her stomach. Two months? She would have to stay here, as an elf, for two months? Did time move the same back home? Her mother would be heartbroken; two months without knowing what had happened to your only child would wound any parent, but for Laura Mabray, it would be nothing less than torture. She was an active, take-charge sort of person; if something needed doing, she did it. If something needed fixed, she researched and then fixed it. If her only daughter went missing, she would approach it just the same; driving herself into the ground until she achieved the desired result. But even her determined mother wouldn't be able to pull her from another reality.
Radhrion bumped his knee against hers. His eyes were warm, sympathetic, and steady. Who needed words? Radhrion would help her through this. He wouldn't leave her alone. Quite suddenly, Merrill was seized with the desire to hug her strange, sarcastic elf friend until his eyes popped. She had stumbled upon him in one of the most frightening moments of her short life, and he had immediately, and without ceremony, taken her under his wing. There's no way I would have survived without him. If he had walked just that little bit slower, or faster, I would have been stranded in the woods for anyone, or anything, to find. Merrill's mind instantly conjured images of orcs and trolls from the movies, and she shuddered.
"Thank you," Merrill said, instead, patting the hand on her shoulder affectionately. "But," she turned her attention back to Elrond, who observed them with interest, "what would I do in the meantime? Is there anything I could do to, I don't know, pitch in? Be useful? I don't know what goes in to caring for so large a home in these times, but I'm decent at cleaning in my world. I can cook, a little, if the conditions are right, though, on second thought, that might be problematic as we don't kill our own animals my world, and I don't think I could bring myself to do it, here… I took horseback riding lessons as a kid, so I know how to muck out stalls, groom, and saddle pretty well." The two elves watched her with some amusement. She barely restrained herself from glowering; she wasn't some adorable puppy they had adopted from the pound, after all, and she would make sure they knew it. "I don't want to inconvenience you."
"My dear, you would be my guest. You would not be an inconvenience, I assure you. However," he paused, examining the firm set of her mouth, "if you would prefer to keep busy, I am certain a place can be found for you. Is that acceptable?"
Merrill nodded. "Yes, and I accept.. errr, my Lord."
"Splendid. For now, though, I encourage you take some rest and refreshment before our evening meal. I will have Erestor escort you to your chambers. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask. And," he stood gracefully and she followed suit. "Welcome to Rivendell."
Merrill inclined her head, as seemed fitting. "Thank you, Lord Elrond."
She looked at her still seated friend, a question on her face, but he just flapped his hands at her. "Go on, êl tithen. I will come to collect you for supper."
When she hesitated, Radhrion straightened from his practiced pose of disinterested ease and said quietly, "I promise, little bird. Now go rest. That's an order."
She made a face to demonstrate just what she thought of his order before reluctantly allowing Erestor to lead her from the room.
Just as the door was closing, Merrill heard Elrond murmur, "He faltharya, hîr vuin." (3)
A heavy sigh and then: "Iston, mellon nin. Iston. (4)
The door closed and Merrill swallowed her curiosity. Two months. She watched Erestor's back as he led her down the corridor. Two months until I can get back home. As long as I stay busy, I should be fine. I can't focus on what's happening back home; I can't do anything about that, now. All I can do is work towards solving this on my end. She would need mountains of work, she knew, to keep from falling into an anxious spiral of despair. I hope they've got a whole lotta dishes, she thought glumly.
A/N:
Hey, again, lovely readers! Apparently, I can't stick to an update schedule. Which is good, because - hello - another chapter is published! But bad because, well, I only have about 4,000 words already written after this. So this absolutely MUST be the last chapter I publish for the next week! *scolds self sternly*
I hope you enjoyed it, because I had a blast writing it. Oh, Elrond! (I love the guy, in case that wasn't obvious). He has the most tragic backstory EVER but still manages to be a kind and gentle soul. Props to him.
Review, like, follow, smoke-signal, rain dance, perform a blood sacrifice and possess my teddy bear, or however it is you prefer to communicate! I love to chat about ME and welcome constructive criticism.
Best wishes ~
(1) You are welcome here. (F).
(2) You are well met. (I).
(3) She resembles her, my Lord. (F).
(4) I know, my friend. I know.
