Hello there,
So I have decided to combine the previous chapters 3 and 4 into only one simply because they go well together and I did not see the point of splitting them in two different parts. So here is the updated version of them.
I hope you enjoy this read.
Chapter 3
I open my eyes a little startled as I feel a hand gently but firmly shake me awake. I groggily rub my eyes, sweeping the sleepiness away, half wishing I could stay asleep. I turn my head slowly to face the person who has just woken me. The first thing I register is dark wavy hair; then a pair of blue eyes comes into view. And everything is suddenly abundantly clear. I groan and turn my head back on side, closing my eyes again.
"It's all real then." I mumble exasperated. I do not have to look at Aragorn to know that he is smiling at me sadly. "I was hoping all of this was just a dream. A very vivid one."
"I am sorry it is not so." I smile at him, silently conveying that none of this is his fault. He should not feel sorry about any of this, especially not for me. I don't want his pity. What happened to me is unfortunate, and so far unexplainable, but I will not sit around and mop all day. I cried enough yesterday as I wallowed in my own sorrows. Not today. Today, I take back control of my life.
I lift my head up a little. My forearm is laying on the ground as I push myself in a somewhat seated position. Instantly, I groan quite loudly. Everything aches. My back is so sore, I don't know if I can ever get myself to stand up fully. Sitting is already so hard. My head is also spinning a little. I must have made a face because Aragorn is chuckling next to me. I send a little glare his way.
"It's not funny." I rub my lowing back, trying to sooth the pain.
"You get used to it after a few days in the wild."
I don't say anything back, because I don't ever want to have to leave the comfort of a house ever again. It is official; I hate camping. There are bugs everywhere and in my opinion, the ground is not comfortable enough to sleep on. I hope, where we are going, that there are finer sleeping arrangements than what I have experienced last night.
"Where are we going again?" I ask as I brush my fingers through my short hair, trying to smooth the tangles out of it.
"Rivendell, an elven city. It is located at the edge of a narrow gorge of this very river. However, it is well hidden in the moorlands and foothills of the mountains. It cannot easily be approached by strangers. One can get lost many times if not used to the terrain."
"So, how are we gonna get there without getting lost?"
"I know the way." He says simply as he gets up and walks a few steps away.
I eye him curiously and slightly confused. I can think of many ways to describe Aragorn, mysterious being one of the many qualifications that come to mind. Be that as it may, aside from his incredible height, he looks like any man I could have encountered in my everyday life. His appearance is rather roguishly normal. But quite frankly, I have no idea what an Elf is supposed to look like. He did say they were tall creatures. Maybe the only difference between a man and an elf is their height. Despite that, he did refer to them as they, not we. Still, I have to ask.
"You're not an elf, right?" I ask hesitantly as I stare at his back. I know my question is silly when I hear him chuckle.
"No. I am not. Believe me when I say, you will know elves when you see them, little one. I was raised in Rivendell as a child though. It is homely and elf-friends are more than welcome to stay there, for as long as they wish. You have no reason to worry."
"I'm not. Worrying that is."
Aragorn looks over his shoulder with a look that clearly says he doesn't believe me. I send yet another little glare his way before he turns his attention back to whatever he has been doing facing the woods. I can see his head shaking from left to right, and I am grateful for this, for the way he is with me. He doesn't treat me like a lost and fragile child. He doesn't stop himself from teasing me and I know it is all in good humour. With him, I feel normal, dare I say even equal despite our age difference. For a moment, I can almost pretend I didn't travel to another world altogether. I am just Maeve; and he is Aragorn. No last name or complicated background. He makes me forget all my worries. And I am grateful to him, for more than saving my life yesterday. Just by being himself, he makes everything a little easier.
A second later, he walks back to me, my clothes in hands. We had left them hanging on a tree branch to dry last night. "They are not entirely dry. You can keep the clothes you are wearing at the moment. They will be more comfortable for you to walk in."
I nod in silent agreement. The clothes he lent me the day before are surprisingly comfortable for such plain things. The tunic is ridiculously long, reaching way below my knees and I constantly need to pull up the sleeves in order not to drown in it. I also need to roll up the ends of the leggings at least five times to see my tiny feet peaking out. The waist is, of course, overly large, but it's nothing a belt can't fix. All in all, it is plain to see that the clothes don't belong to me, but to someone twice my size.
Aragorn folds my humid clothes into his bag. I am about to protest and say I can carry them when I realise I have nothing to put them in. And, from the little I've learned about him over the last hours, there is one thing I know for sure: He is a gentleman of sort. I'm ninety-five percent certain he would not let me carry my things on my own, especially not after what happened the day before. When he is done packing my stuff in his bag I mumble a small 'thank you'. The look he gives me shows me I was right in my assumption. He would never let me carry a bag on my own, not after I almost drowned not twelve hours ago.
It takes me an eternity to get up and stand on my own two feet. Every single muscle in my body is aching and burning. I have obviously over exerted myself trying to survive against the raging current of the river I now know to be called Loudwater. If you ask me, it should be called Deathtrap or Swallowing Pit of Hell.
Once I have thoroughly stretched myself and Aragorn has extinguished the fire and packed the remaining of his belongings, we set out on our journey through the woods. It doesn't take me long to realise that Aragorn could be leading me anywhere and I wouldn't know any better. I am profoundly lost and my sole anchor to this world is this shadowy wanderer.
For a while we remain silent and I enjoy it immensely. I know I will be asked many questions once we arrive at our destination and I am dreading this moment. I probably won't have a moment to myself. I will be a novelty that everyone will want to get a good look at. I will be pulled one side then the next. I won't have a moment of respite and my past will be flaunted to the world, along with any dirty laundry I may have. I won't have a private life any longer and I will forever be the girl out of this world. I will be a freak until I find a way home. I look in front of me and I am met with Aragorn's back. He still hasn't said a word since we left the riverbank this morning. I soon learned that he is not the probing type. He doesn't ask me questions to satisfy his own curiosity, although I know he must have many.
This leaves me enough time to analyse my surroundings. I try to map out where we are going and where we have been but it is a lost cause. Without any indication as to what the geography looks like in this Middle Earth, I can't make any assumption as to where I actually am. It doesn't help that he keeps walking in zigzag; one second walking up a slope surrounded by trees heading north and the next walking on a flat dirt trail heading east.
Quickly, I turn my attention from the environment to the man before me. Everything about him suggests he is ready for long journeys. He has many layers of clothes that can protect him from pretty much any type of weather. It appears to be all made of dark wool or leather; all well-worn which reinforce the notion that he is a seasoned traveler. The cloak he lent me the night before is now rolled up and carried upon his back, next to his small bag.
As he walks, I notice all the weapons he is carrying and for a moment, I imagine him facing a troll, all eight to ten feet of them. I don't know if he is any good with all this weaponry since I have never actually seen him fight, but his very essence screams danger. Aside, who would carry all those sharp and deadly objects if they couldn't use them properly? At the very least, if I wanted to pretend like I knew what I was doing, I would pick a sword I could actually lift. And I can only guess that the sword Aragorn has tied to his side reaches close to my height, which happens to be a little less than five feet. The blade is narrow and evidently well maintained. Why carry a sharp sword if it isn't to cut something in half?
Strapped to his back, there is a small simple wooden bow that I saw him leave with yesterday. It is probably the tool he used to kill those rabbits. Upon closer look, I see little arrows poking out of his bag. I marvel at the idea that something so small can be so deadly. Only if fired by someone who knows how to use it, of course.
To top it all off, I think I can see a knife poking out of his left boot. This man is nothing if not prepared. All in all, he is a dark, dangerous and mysterious man who just so happens to be leading me into the woods. As long as he doesn't start sprouting big hears and teeth as he roars 'the better to eat you with, my dear', I think I'm good. I have a feeling that, at this point, I would follow him anywhere.
- xXx -
My lungs are on fire and my throat is dry, despite all the water I have been drinking. I am literally dragging my feet on the ground, trying to continue my advance through the woods. I'm spent. I'm not usually one to complain and ask for a breather, but today, in this moment, I am in need of a break. We have been travelling for more than an hour at a much slower pace than would have been normal for Aragorn, had he not hindered with me. I have been doing my best to follow his long strides but my short legs are unable to keep up for much longer. It probably doesn't help that I almost died the day before. All my limbs are screaming at me out of exertion.
"Can we stop for a minute?" I breathe out as I stumble on a tree root that is protruding from the ground, almost crashing down face first. In my peripheral vision, I see him reaching for me and in an instant his hand is around my arm, holding me up as my legs give out. "Thank you." I mumble, looking at my feet. No matter how far ahead he is, he always seems to be near enough to catch me before I fall.
"Here, sit." He motions to a boulder a little off the trail. He only lets go of my arm when I am safely situated on the rock. I close my eyes, slowly breathing through my nostril as I rest a little. Aragorn hands me his water gourd for me to drink. I take it in my shaking hands, grateful yet slightly guilty that I keep being such a nuisance to him. He doesn't say it, nor does he show that I bother him in any way, but I just feel like I am slowing him down. Without me, he probably would be more than halfway to where it is we are going. He wouldn't have to share his water with me. He wouldn't have to look over his shoulder every once in a while to see if I wasn't sprawled out on the ground.
I rub my left thigh which is cramping a little, as if I need another reason to go any slower. I groan, a little embarrassed but mostly annoyed at myself and my traitorous body. I have always been able to push through the pain and outdo myself. I am athletic, that's what athletes do. We push ourselves physically until it seems we can't go on anymore, yet we push through the pain and through the exhaustion and we perform some more against all odds. Now at the moment, I don't feel like an athlete; I'm more like an asthmatic fat kid who tried to run a marathon, or escape a zombie apocalypse.
"We do not need to hurry. We have all day, little one." Aragorn is standing next to me as he hands me an apple from a nearby tree. I gingerly take it and swallow back a retort. I want to tell him I am not normally so weak; that I may be young but I usually do not whine so much. But his eyes tell me I don't need to explain myself. He isn't rushing me and we truly have all day if need be. I quickly avert my eyes and look at the apple in my hands.
Yesterday, I would never have eaten an apple right out of a tree without washing it first at least twice. The idea of eating chemicals and pesticides repulses me. If those products are effective in killing insects, I can only imagine what they can do to my insides. Indigestion is not something I am overly fond of. But here, it is evident that no death-induced products were used. This is no orchard designed to create the most artificially perfect apples. This is unadulterated nature at its best. This, everything around me is what organic is supposed to be like. Even the air I am breathing is not hampered by pollution. Maybe the cities in Middle Earth are as clouded by smog as on Earth. For some reason, I doubt it. Everything here seems so pure. Nature is not tampered with, and it is refreshing.
I take a bite out of the apple and I feel instantly much better. I sigh in contentment, strangely at peace in this unknown place. Things seem extremely different from what I am used to, and I have a feeling I am just seeing the tip of the iceberg. How much different could our worlds be? A lot I presume, starting with its various inhabitants.
"Can you tell me more about the elves?" I turn my head up to stare at Aragorn who seems as serene as I feel at the moment, having no immediate worry.
"What do you wish to know?" One corner of his lips is creasing up.
"Everything." I exclaim. "If I am to be a guest in their home, I better know what is acceptable for me to do and the big no-nos' when it comes to etiquette."
"The big no-nos'?" He chuckles, clearly amused by my speech.
"Maybe I don't speak as sophisticatedly as you do, but don't pretend you don't understand me."
"Should I just nod and smile as I sham you into believing I understand your words?"
"Ha ha! Hilarious."
"Well, I aim to be." He says with a certain finality to it before biting into his own apple. "In all seriousness though, I don't see anything you could do that would disrespect the elves of Rivendell. You need not concern yourself with etiquettes for the moment. Lord Elrond will welcome and help you, no matter what you do or say."
"Really? Should I bow or curtsy or something?"
"You will not be in the presence of royalty, so there is no need for such theatrics, little one." He is scratching the back of his neck, his eyes never leaving his apple as he stares at it intently.
"But, my host is a lord. You just said so yourself."
"Yes, a very humble lord. Normally, we simply bow a little our head in acknowledgment to him, respecting him for who he is, not his titles; exactly as we would any other elf." He turns to me slightly as he bows his head a little, a hand on his chest, showing me the proper way to greet an elf. "But truly, you don't need to. Men don't do this sort of greeting."
"But you do."
He absently nods, his eyes glazed with nostalgia. "My mother brought me to Rivendell when I was but two years of age. I was raised by elves, mainly Lord Elrond. I may not be an elf but my entire upbringing has been centered on their customs."
I eye him curiously, but I don't say anything. He has granted me the privilege to divulge information from my life on my own terms. I will do the same for him. Until then, I will try to rein in my curiosity and let him be. I swiftly turn the conversation back on track.
"Which reminds me; what distinguishes an elf from a man? I mean, you said they were tall, but so are you." He smiles.
"I can't really explain elves and their origin, not in so little time. It is somewhat complex and it will probably only confuse you more than you already are. Elves are, in general, taller than most men. Some are fair while others have darker features, just as men do. Physically, the main apparent difference is their ears."
"They are pointed, aren't they?" I ask, slightly giddy at the idea that there truly are other sentient beings than humans in this world, goblins and trolls included, although those two scare me.
He seems somewhat surprised at my input. "Yes, they are. How do you know, if elves do not exist in your world?"
"They are fictional. In our folklore, there are many different types of creatures that we commonly call elves. They are not real but they all have these very iconic pointy ears."
He shifts his head to the side in silent acknowledgement. "Are they also immortal?"
"Immortal?" My eyes budge at the simple idea of never dying and everlasting life.
"Yes. There are only two ways an elf can die. They can be slain in battle," he lifts his index to indicate number one.
"Yes, well being eviscerated tends to do that to a person." I shutter as I remember a very gruesome movie I saw not so long ago with a friend. I couldn't eat what was left of my popcorn after that scene.
Aragorn chuckles at my dark humour. "They can also die of a broken heart." He lifts his middle finger, displaying the second reason.
"Like a heart attack?"
"Euh, I think not." Obviously he has no idea what a heart attack is. "It is more that they have lost their will to live, because the one they loved is no longer part of this world."
I look at him for a moment, registering what he has said. "Oh my god, that is so romantic! The idea that they would rather die than to live one more moment without the other... it's every girl's dream."
"It is very tragic truly. It is not that they would prefer to die, little one. They simply cannot live apart. When two elves marry, they become one for eternity. Their souls bind together to form only one. If one dies, the other will fade into nonexistence until their inevitable death. As soon as an elf acknowledges their feelings, they are-"
"Doomed?" I quirk an eyebrow. I'm frozen at this piece of information. Said like this, it is rather tragic indeed. How could they do it? Marrying, knowing someday you may meet your impending doom because of the death of someone else. Or worst, to cause this kind pain to the one you love, resulting in him dying.
"How do they do it?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It is not as terrible as it sounds. They may cease to exist in Middle Earth but two elves will meet again in the Undying Lands, along with all other elves who have journeyed to Valinor, either through death or willingly by the sea when they feel their time has come to leave Middle Earth."
"Like heaven?" He eyes me strangely and I know he is as confused as I am at the moment. "It is where my people supposedly go when we die. Assuming we've been good and abided to our God's rules throughout our life. If not, we go to Hell and burn for all eternity and some more."
"Oh."
"But these are just suppositions. We have many religions in my world and none are founded, or proven. This has actually caused many wars throughout history."
He still eyes me strangely, probably thinking my world is completely mental. I think the majority of people back home are pretty stupid too, but it's still home. It's where I belong and it's a world I was so suddenly taken from, for no apparent reason.
"Are you ready to walk for a while, little one?" Aragorn's voice startles me a little as I realise I was in my own thoughts for a moment.
I nod before standing up and waving in front of me, a clear sign that means 'lead the way'. Because let's be real; I have no clue where we are going.
- xXx -
We have now been walking for almost two hours since our last stop, which means we are a little further than halfway to Rivendell, this elven city where I may or may not find an explanation to my newfound situation. I don't know much about where we are going but from the little description Aragorn has given me, it sounds absolutely magnificent: halfway between nature and an urban environment. I stopped asking him so many questions after he told me I would understand once I see it. Apparently, everything elf related is a must see because of their uniqueness and grandeur.
Aragorn has been leading me across the woods with ease. He never stops to wonder if he should change direction. How he knows where to go and when to turn, I don't know. All those trees look the same to me. But then again if he was raised in these parts, and he has been travelling a lot like I assume he has by his looks, he probably knows the area like the back of his hand.
We have been chatting a little, mostly about Earth. I don't know if he is asking as someone who is naturally curious or as someone suspicious who is sizing up a potential opponent. He keeps sending little glances my way that feel strangely like he is analysing me. It is clear that he wonders why I was brought here. The question I know he keeps from asking or voicing out is probably the scariest of all. The why matters, greatly. But more importantly: by whom? Who, in this god forsaken world, or mine, would want me here, at this time? For what purpose? What does it matter if little Maeve Kai marches through some woods heading to Rivendell? Maybe it doesn't. But if it does, whom would it benefit?
I don't want to linger on the why and who too much. All I want is to journey back. Once home, those questions won't matter. All of this will be but a distant memory.
"Keep up, little one. There is nice resting place a couple of paces ahead."
"How old are you anyway, old man?" I ask him, slightly annoyed that he keeps calling me little one. I know he is much older than me, and a lot taller than I am, but why does he feel the need to reinforce that at every turn?
"How old do you think I am?" He smirks, seeming not at all offended by my question.
"Well, you look as old as my dad. So... fortyish or something?"
He chuckles, clearly amused by my reasoning. He pushes away the greenery that is blocking our course. He allows me to pass without having to wrestling my way through the branches. As I walk past him, I hear him say rather cryptically. "Or something."
"What does that even mean?" I laugh at his evasiveness. And here I thought women were the ones susceptible to age. He smiles and continues on walking. All I can do is stand on my own two feet as I gape at him. "You are seriously not going to tell me?" I screech rather loudly.
Suddenly, Aragorn sweeps around and literally tackles me to the ground. I yelp in protest but he ushers me quickly. I narrow my eyes at him, a second away from demanding what his problem is when I hear a loud growl that is clearly not emitted by the man on top of me. My eyes bulge as I realise Aragorn may have saved my life once more. He rolls slightly on the side as he motions for me to stay low. I nod and peek up a little to see the creature we are hiding from.
It is enormous, massive and covered in a black fur. It growls and breathes loudly as it stands on its back legs. Its yellow eyes are glaring intently at where we are lying. It knows where we are, that much is evident. Will it see us as a threat, I hope not. We are literally sprawled on the ground on our stomach. You can't get any more inoffensive. That thing could kill me in an instant if it wanted to. Adrenaline is rushing through me; chemicals that are telling me I could bolt and make a run for it. But I'm not stupid despite what my body is telling me. I could never outrun it, not with it being four times my size.
Then my head turn to my left when I hear noises coming from farther away. I stare back at the beast in front of us only to see that its attention is momentarily taken away from Aragorn and I. That is when I realise that this thing is not alone. Its eyes are once more back on us for a moment. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it lands on all its legs and runs away. I groan in relief and lay my head on my forearm when it is clear we are safe. Thanks to Aragorn, who had amazing reflexes and nice survival instincts, I will live to see another day. Again.
"What was that?" I whisper, not taking any chances in case it decides to come back and turn us into an amazing sandwich.
"It was a bear. A mother with her cubs." Aragorn says as he sits back on his heels, readjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulders.
"That was a bear?" He nods slightly. "It was gigantic, that's what it was. Why is everything so out of proportion here?" I clearly referred to his high stature as well as what they call a bear in these parts.
"She was normal size, little one. You sound surprised. Do you not have bears where you are from?"
"Yes, we do but they are in captivity for the most part, and much smaller."
"Captivity?" I glance at Aragorn and I see he has that same look on his face he had when I spoke of grocery stores. It's as if he doesn't understand why captivity and bear could be in the same sentence.
"Yes. Wild animals are put in a zoo, where they are on display for people to see. We pay to see them because otherwise, we wouldn't."
"Why? You just need to go outside and look for a little while and chances are you will encounter one."
I sigh, exhausted by both the events that just took place and the simple fact that I have to explain everything as if I were talking to a five year old. I know it's not his fault and that I am probably worst with my pestering questions about elves. If he cannot comprehend the simplest idea like a zoo, then there are certainly many concepts here that will just evade my own understanding of things. I just wish our worlds weren't so different. "Not where I'm from. We don't have bears roaming around freely in the cities."
"I understand that cities are guarded and safe, but what about when you leave your cities."
"We don't have much wilderness where I'm from. Well, that's a lie but they are very remote and most of us tend to live in cities where the chances of getting mauled by an animal are slim to none." It's hard to explain a world he has never seen. And I realise he is right when he says everything about this world will make so much more sense when a map is available to us.
"Everybody lives in cities?"
"Well, no, not everybody but most everybody. Personally, I never left the city. I never had a reason to."
That seems to put an end to all his questions. Aragorn, no matter what his age truly is, clearly has seen much of the world he lives in whereas I don't know anything other than the ten blocks perimeter to my house. This is the longest I have ever been away from home. It is also the scariest moment of my life. Everything is different here. I don't know how I will manage to survive long enough to get back home. Then again, Aragorn seems to have it all sorted, my safety included.
He hands me his water flask with a shrug and I can't help myself but snort. "I thought there was a nice resting spot just ahead."
He chuckles. "Well, since we are already sitting."
- xXx -
"Are we there yet?" I realise I am whining, but this whole journey has been extremely hard on me. I am just about ready to drop dead on the ground and sleep for an eternity. There is not a single muscle in my body that is not aching to the point of agony. Yet I persist in moving forward, because things seem to be a little greener where we are going. Or so Aragorn tells me. I am also continuously encouraged by my guide – whom, by the way, has been a real champ about this whole situation; with me being practically a dead weight.
I have learned in the last few hours that Aragorn is a true believer in the idea of leaving no man behind. He has agreed to stop every time I have requested a rest; he has shared his canteen of water with me, keeping only the bare minimum for himself; on one occasion, he has even carried me up a steep cliff when it was abundantly clear that I was never going to make it up on my own. Yes, the old man gave me a piggyback ride up a ravine without breaking a sweat. How embarrassing. I found myself on his back, my arms around his shoulders as I held on for dear life. Needless to say, I could have been flaying my arms around trying to fly away and I would not have budged one bit. Aragorn had a firm grip of my legs; he was not dropping me anytime soon.
The whole way up, I was continuously apologizing on behalf of my weak little body that had put us in this position. He was, after all graciously giving me a lift up the cliff of death. But in order to make the climb safely, Aragorn had to hand me over his bag and some of his arsenal. I couldn't possibly grab onto him when between the two of us there was a quiver filled with arrows that could potentially poke my eyes out if I tilted my head forward a bit too much; which is how I found myself on his back, with his possessions on mine.
Aragorn being Aragorn, continuously reassured me the whole way up that I had just been on the brink of death, and that I should not let my incapacity of putting a foot before the other bother me so much. Then, in a single moment he managed to erase my smile of gratitude when he added "unless this predicament is not temporary and you have always had a nick for testing gravity".
My clever response was: "you seem to forget, old man, that I am currently the one with a bow and arrows strapped to my back".
He simply laughed with a cheeky grin plastered on his face. "I would tremble with fear, little one, if only you knew how to use them."
I glared at the back of his head as I slightly tightened my arms around his shoulders, bringing them slowly toward his neck. "I could always choke you."
"And I could simply drop you." He glanced back over his right shoulder to look at me and I saw his eyes glimmering with mirth.
This was our whole relationship in a nutshell. None of the threats we made had any truth to them, and we both knew it. I would never come close to strangling him just as I am sure he would never dump my ass down a chasm. If anything, our bickering made everything so much more bearable. He was keeping me from wallowing too much on the severity of my situation. He was, yet again, protecting me from anything that could distress or harm me, myself and my thoughts included. And in that moment, I accepted it. I didn't want to think about any of it. I pushed my current situation into the back row of my mind until it would be impossible for me to ignore anymore. I appreciated the escape from reality that Aragorn was so freely offering me. He seemed to know what I needed before I even knew myself. There was no point in worrying... yet.
In a moment of spontaneous vulnerability, I squeezed him around his shoulders, an action immensely different from my little show earlier. This wasn't a warning that I could choke the life out of him if I ever got the urge to. Far from it. And he knew it; I could feel it when his stance faltered a little. As I hugged him, he simply patted my left forearm with his right hand, his own silent way of telling me not to worry. He then continued his ascent as if nothing happened, until we reached the top minutes later.
He gently set me down on the plateau and let me get my bearing before taking his bag and bow back. He chugged a good mouthful of water, nodded at me to make sure I was ready, then turned left and continued on walking.
That was about an hour ago. I am now sitting against a bed of rocks inside a crevasse and I have been pestering Aragorn with my repetitive question ever since. His answer has always been "nearly". I am beginning to question his definition of that word because I am at a breaking point. But as I sit my back to the rocky wall, canteen in hand, I ask him one more time for good measure.
"Are we there yet?"
Aragorn smirks and points his finger toward a sharp turn in the rocks that turns into a passageway in a wall of stone. "Just over this rise, there is a promontory that overlooks the valley." He then turns to me and grins in such a way, I know he is as anguished to reach the city as I am. "We are nearly there."
"So you've been saying." I grumble as I push myself up. I hand him his canteen back that he rapidly puts away before making his way up.
The terrain is dangerous; rocks are dislodging themselves from the escarpment as I step on them, almost toppling over as I lose my balance. Yet again, Aragorn is there to save the day. He keeps a firm hand on my left arm, both preventing me from slitting my head open on a sharp edge of stone and dragging me up when I cannot seem to lift my legs high enough to reach the next level in our climb. All in all, this is nowhere near as difficult as when Aragorn carried me up the steep cliff, and we soon reach the top. My legs however, are a hair away from giving up on me.
I crouch a little, hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. Aragorn is walking away from me, toward the mouth of the mountain. I turn my head to the side, following him with my eyes as he steps further away from me. He is engulfed in light and soon I see only his silhouette. I groan, straighten myself and start wobbling towards the breach in the wall. My right hand is on the facade next to me, supporting the weight my legs are no longer able to bear. I almost bump into Aragorn having not noticed he had stopped walking. He turns around and I see a huge smile adorning his face.
"What?" I raise an eyebrow.
He makes a circular sweeping motion with his arm, inviting me to look around him. "Welcome to Rivendell, little one."
As I let my eyes wander behind him, I see it.
There are no words magnificent enough to describe what my eyes are seeing. I am not even sure my brain is working right because what my retinas are registering cannot possibly be real. At the same time, I am not imaginative enough to be able to conjure such a thing on my own.
The view is so different from what I am used to see. I am looking over at a city so fundamentally different from my home. There are no skyscrapers that breach through the smog hovering the city. There are no cars honking at an old man with his walker nearby a rattling train filled with hurried business men in suits. There are no cemented paths at the bottom of concrete corded towers. This is peaceful, natural. None of this is dull and the color grey is practically absent.
Everything down here seems filled with life. The city swirls its way through the vast wilderness, existing alongside it, not in its place. The city and its surroundings make one, an image as strange to me as it is beautiful. The buildings spring out of the trees and is cornered by a waterfall that makes its bed in a river surrounding the city. It is bathing in the rays of sunlight. I dare say, I have never seen anything so majestic before in my short life.
I must have been gawking for a long time because I hear Aragorn chuckling next to me. "Impressive, is it not?"
"That's a word for it." I snort, my eyes still glued to the scenery in front of me.
"Come, we are nearly there. Truly, this time."
"We have to do more walking?"
"We make our way downhill now. You simply need to let your legs carry you to the warm cozy bed that awaits you."
At the mention of a bed, my body seems to have a little burst in energy. "Lead the way, old man."
Aragorn turns right and starts making his way downhill. I let my eyes wander to the elven city one more time before I start stumbling after my guide. The path we are following is carved on the mountain side and is leading us slowly to Rivendell. There are isolated trees growing through the rocky terrain and rapidly, as we make our way down, the wood grows denser. Elves sure do love their trees. The rumbling of the water spilling down from the mountain top is getting louder and louder as we walk closer to the city.
Soon, we emerge from the trees right next to a large waterfall that is almost raining on us. We follow the path and ahead of us there is a bridge crossing the water unto a circular platform. In that moment, when I realise how close I actually am to the city, I panic. All thoughts of the future come crashing down on me, freezing me on my spot.
What will happen to me? Once I step onto that platform – which is clearly the entryway to Rivendell – there is no absolute guaranty that I will be welcomed there, no matter how adamant Aragorn is of that fact. I could be dismissed as easily as I was thrown into this world. Worse, those elves could use me as a science experiment. Yet, somehow, I doubt that Aragorn would let any of that happen. I don't know why I am so certain of this, nor am I stupid enough to trust just any stranger so easily; but the fact of the matter is, I do. I trust him completely. I would lay down my fate in his arms and trust that I would come out unscathed. He gives off this vibe that clearly says he could be your worst enemy and he could kill you in an instant if need be. But to me, he chose to be a friend, my only friend truly in this world. Yet, I cannot bring myself to take another step further toward this unknown city.
"Maeve?" I focus my gaze on his blue eyes. Aragorn is kneeling before me, bringing him approximately to my level. He stares into my own eyes, his worry clear on his face. I feel his eyes searching my very soul for an answer to his quiet question. I quickly lower my gaze.
"What will happen to me?" I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. Yet, he hears me perfectly.
"Little one, look at me." He doesn't continue until my gaze meets his through watery eyes. "I promise you this, I will help you get home, if it is the last thing I do."
My lips tremble a little. And he simply smiles. He doesn't tell me that I shouldn't cry. Heck he doesn't even judge me. He just smiles. I raise my arms and literally fling myself into his arms, taking him by surprise. It is the second time today I have hugged him. I don't know if it is alright for me to hug a grown men in this world, but I guess it is since he is not pushing me away or reprimanding me. He simply hugs me back gently, an arm around me and a hand behind my head. My eyes are closed and this little hug is enough to help me gather the little remnant of courage I have left.
I sniff a little, brace my hands on his shoulder and slowly pull away from him. I wipe away my tears, take a deep and open my eyes, finally ready to face reality. His smile widens as he stands up, towering over me. He slowly backs away from me and makes sure I am following him before turning around on his heels.
A few steps later, we are in front of the bridge. I see two other paths leading away from it through the woods; probably other ways in and out of the city. I hear boots connecting with a rocky ground and look to my right to see Aragorn crossing the bridge. I hurry after him toward this rather simple overpass that has absolutely no railing. I look down as I reach the edge and gulp as I realise how far down the agitated river is.
"You will not fall off if only you can walk straight in the middle." I look up to glare at Aragorn who is standing on the other side of the bridge only to stop short when I see he is not the only one waiting for me.
There, right next to Aragorn, is a creature I know does not belong to the race of men. He is as imposing as Aragorn is, only slightly shorter. He emanates grace even though I have yet to see him move. He appears to be glowing, as if a sun is radiating from inside of him and beams of sunlight are slowly pouring out of him trough his skin. I am transfixed, glued to my spot as I admire him.
"Little one," Aragorn's call brings me out of my reverie. I look to him, silently asking him if I am dreaming. The right corner of his lips pulls up as he motions for me to cross the bridge. I glance to his left to the still unmoving figure. I know what he is. I have known the instant I laid eyes on him. I now understand what Aragorn meant before in the woods: Trust me. You will know an elf when you see one. No shit! There is nothing human or remotely mortal about this perfect being.
I cross my arms around my torso, trying to keep my heart from escaping through my thoracic cage. I feel completely unworthy of being in his presence. Somehow, I slowly make my way across the bridge, bringing me closer to the elf. I feel his gaze burning into me as his eyes follow me. I can't help myself, and look back up to him. I don't know if I should keep my eyes lowered or if I should refrain myself from staring too hard, but I have never seen something as magical as him before. This place, this Rivendell, is nothing compared to the majestic essence of what I presume all elves possess.
He has yet to move anything other than his eyes, which I see clearly now. They reflect knowledge and an awareness I can't quite understand. They shine as if stars were imbedded into them, each a remembrance of the ages of men he must have lived through. In spite of his youthful appearance, I know he is old; probably older than I can imagine someone to be. After all, as Aragorn said, elves are immortal. Immortal and obviously outrageously beautiful. How unfair.
I finally reach the other side of the bridge, and am now standing right next to Aragorn. The elf takes a step forward and it is as if he is floating. Everything about him screams surreal, from his floor length robe to his ears peeking out from his long glistering hair crowned by silver jewels. I feel a hand on my shoulder and distractedly look over to Aragorn.
"Allow me to introduce to you Lord Elrond, ruler of Rivendell." The elf extends an arm to his chest and lowers slightly his head before straightening up. He is greeting me as any elf would, just as Aragorn showed me before.
"Welcome to Rivendell, young one." For an instant, I can't believe this ancient perfect being is actually talking to me. I am rooted on my spot, my brain turned to jell-o.
I don't know how to respond. Everything I could ever do would pale in comparison to him. So I mumble the first thing that pops in my head. "Hi."
Of course, that was a stupid thing to say. I should have curtsied, no matter what Aragorn said earlier because there is no way this Lord Elrond was created to walk on the same level as we mere mortals, more specifically me. I should have said something more elegant. Yet, he smiles at me, not only with his mouth, but with his eyes also. For a fleeting moment, I forget all the troubles I have been through recently. All my worries vanish. I feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be alright.
"Come. You have journeyed far. You will rest tonight and in the morning, all your questions shall be answered." He extends an arm towards me and the other to the stairs leading straight into his city. I am having a hard time believing this elf is willingly inviting me into his grandiose home without questioning me. I could be a mass murderer for all he knows. But then again, Aragorn brought me here. From what he has told me, he was raised in this city. Lord Elrond must trust Aragorn's judgement on some level. And since Aragorn doesn't see me as a potential danger, then I guess this Lord Elrond is ready to extend the same courtesy.
This elven ruler is waiting for me to move, his arms still stretch outwards. I stare at him for a moment longer before taking a shy step toward the marbled stairs.