Chapter 4 It's a Start

AN: Sorry about the long wait everyone, college is just around the corner and it's been a hassle to get ready. Here is the next installment of my story. As always I hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings

Here's some help for viewers on my writing style:

Italics are Almárëa's thoughts

"Italics with quotations are dream/ethereal/other worldly beings' dialogue"

"Conscious . . . ?" Almárëa asked quite shocked. Was he implying they had met in other circumstances? A dream perhaps? That would be highly unlikely as she only has had one recurring dream over the past two years.

She did not need to ponder the implications much longer as he spoke again.

"Yes, 'conscious'. The last I recall, you were floating unconscious near the wharf with all manner of sea life on your skin and strange clothing." He told her matter-of-factly, an eyebrow raised in question to the condition of her arrival.

Almárëa shivered, the thought of little organisms taking a ride on her body and clothing was a little unsettling.

"Usually," The lord began as he stood, rolling the long scroll as he went, "Travelers arrive in vessels, and from here - Mithlond - they do not arrive, they leave." He stared at her once more after placing the scroll on a desk already piled high with countless others.

"I do not know of my coming my lord, I . . ." She thought to the events that led up to her awakening in the Grey Havens; the shadow beasts, the voice, the giant hole that sucked her away from home. "I don't completely understand what is happening. . ."

Círdan walked closer to where she was standing, inspecting her being from head to toe. "It is not unusual for beings to arrive in the Havens — it's just very . . . rare." His dark green eyes pierced hers — searching for answers she did not have.

"What beings . . ? If I may ask." She questioned him, curious even in her — what she believed was — perilous situation.

He glanced behind her, before turning towards a balcony to stare calculating across the open water.

Almárëa twisted her neck to look behind herself without moving or shifting her feet. The armored elves were gone and the door was partially closed. She could have sworn the guards had been there during their whole conversation; however, it looks like the sneaky bastards were gone.

She turned back to Círdan, and became surprised when she discovered him watching her intently.

"Only the Ishtari, with exceptional circumstances, have ever arrived here on their quest for the Valor." He said calmly, but his eyes watched her's for any sign of recognition.

"Are they like me? Were they not born here, but somewhere else?" Questions started to bubble in her head at the thought of others like her.

The Lord shook his head, his eyes twinkled with mirth as his smile creased the corners of his mouth, "No, quite different you are from them." He walked over to a collection of books on ornate bookcases and picked one off a high shelf before turning back to her. "They are older men, quite weathered with time and wisdom. Only five arrived, no more, no less. All at the same time with a quest in mind." He set the book on a desk and started to flip through the pages, "Never has a young elleth such as yourself arrived here, they only leave for the Undying Lands — as the Common folk call them."

She was confused. So they were not like her after all. Her heart deflated, all the hope that had surged through it a second before, gone. She was about to desperately question the lord when he once more interrupted her thoughts.

"Nor do the lores of old tell of the arrival of a sixth person." He glanced up at her, "Your arrival was quite unexpected. I did not recognize your clothing. An incident like this has never occurred here in Mithlond." He frowned, his forehead creasing with lines and his eyes downcast. "I'm afraid I do not posses the knowledge of why or how for you. Your questions are waisted on a shipwright and master of the port." He looked up at her, his eyes shining with shame at his lack of aid.

Almárëa felt a sigh of defeat leave her body. Her deep cerulean eyes reflected his shame for her own lack of knowledge of her arrival. It was humiliating to be unaware of how she came to be in this world and in the presence of such hospitable and kind folk as the 'elves' of the Grey Havens.

The Lord left her with one hope, "I will continue to scour my collection to find any advice that I can in giving you, but do not hope too much, elleth," he had bid her farewell shortly thereafter.

She groaned as she descended the stairs, she would have to impose upon Baineth once more until the lord had sufficiently probed his vast collection of scrolls and books. She wondered if the older elleth would mind the girl staying for a few days — it might take the lord even longer.

At the bottom step, she stopped. Glancing ahead she spied the lovely garden path and the beautiful flora. This time she would definitely take her time and enjoy the walk, she'd be in the port city for quite a while.

Almárëa was occupied with helping Baineth with washing the past week's clothing in a large basin when the summons arrived.

She had been granted a place to stay with the kind elleth after her first meeting with Lord Círdan on the condition she would aid Baineth with regular chores. She learned the schedule quickly after the first day of waiting for the lord to pry any knowledge he could from the extensive library in his study.

Almárëa still awoke from the exact same dream from before her arrival. Nothing had changed except her physical setting.

The days were calm and peaceful, it was after the first day that Galdor returned to the residence she shared with Baineth that they became more spirited. He was accepting and kind, although still suspicious of the girl. She didn't blame him; she'd be suspicious too. Almárëa learned that Baineth had been ignoring Galdor's advances to be in a courtship together; how that effected her relationship with the ellon was beyond her reckoning. He did speak to her in simple phrases now at least, instead of the angry stare and whispered conversation he had first enacted upon her awakening.

It had been three days before she was summoned back to the Lord's study. Galdor had been the bearer of the summons. At first, Almárëa had thought it was a ploy to get Baineth alone so he may try his tactics again, but the stern, and yet oddly concerned look on his face left her with a different feeling than playful suspicion.

She had left her friend and Galdor in the meeting room of Baineth's part of the complex megalith that was the Grey Havens living quarters to travel down the same path in the garden she had taken once before. The daylight was fading as the sun set across the waves on the horizon. The garden was shaded and dark, golden lights shone from outdoor corridors and open windows. She moved through the garden with haste, eager to know if there was any hope to returning back home or any advice in seeking aid to do so.

She encountered guards again at the same point on the stairs as before, and as a fortnight ago, she was escorted quietly up the stairs to the study and left with the Lord of the Havens.

Círdan did not look at her as she entered the room and the guards left. A few minutes passed — the sun had finally been replaced by the moon and stars, before he turned towards her. His face was sullen, his eyes tired and his body held up precariously. She imagined he had been up late into the nights of the past three days doing all he could. He looked terrible, with little sleep and in dire need to be at peace, but he still commanded attention with his stance and sharp eyes.

"I apologize, but this could not wait until tomorrow. I have kept you long as it is." He stated with a sigh and a hard glance at the disarray of his study.

Almárëa's heart skittered frantically. Could it be that he had finally figured out what happened?

"My Lord, thank you s—" She began with tears shinning in her eyes. However, the shipwright gave her a grim expression and cut her off with the raise of his hand.

"No, do not thank me for I have nothing to offer you." He looked at her with shame, his face betrayed his elven parentage as the light from the candles aged him ten-fold with his shame and defeat. He had turned up nothing. Nothing at all from the great vast library in the Havens nor from his own study.

"But what am I supposed to do? What am I doing here?" She questioned him quietly as she held back the tears and squelched the dread in her stomach.

He sighed and sat in a chair, "I have no answers my young elleth. I am merely a shipwright and an elf, I am not one of the greater elves nor am I an Ishtari with celestial knowledge. I cannot help you, and I shall not keep you here any longer." He stood again and pulled a giant scroll from a pile, causing it to collapse into the mess already littering the study. Círdan tsk'd in anger at the event, but left it as is for more important matters were at hand. "Tolo (Come)." He waved her towards a desk that was surprisingly empty of any scrolls or parchment. He unrolled the scroll to reveal an enormous map of a region of the world unknown to Almárëa.

Of course you wouldn't know, you don't even know where you are . . .

She shook her head to clear her inner monologue to focus on the map before her.

"You must leave as soon as possible to hold council with the White Wizard or the Lady of the Forest. Either may be able to help you. Which and how, I am not certain. If you are able to hold council with both, that would be more preferable in your case. You need all the knowledge and advice you can receive." He pointed at an inlet on the map. "This is where we are — Mithlond, you must travel east. Take this route," He traced a long, slender finger on the map, skittering across several rivers to a mountain range. "Through the Tower Hills, across the Far and White Downs and to the edge of the Shire. Here you must deviate from the roads as they are no longer safe. Raiders, greedy men and sly folk take advantage of those on the roads even this far into the Shire." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and added, "Women folk are vulnerable and targeted — even those skilled in combat are attacked."

She did not wish to encounter any trouble on her journey, wherever her destination may be, and made a mental note to make sure to take at least a knife to protect herself if she did run into unsavory folk.

Círdan continued to outline a safe route for her to follow, "You will need to find a way to cross the Sarn Ford on the Brandywine." He paused to think for a few seconds before continuing, "Some are nice enough to give travelers passage across free of charge. It's all up to luck with that. Next you must stay off the Green Way road and continue to cut across the countryside through the South Downs until you reach the Bruinen River— in common tongue — Loudwater." He pointed to one of two rivers and followed it upward, "You will need to acquire a way of passage or simply follow the river upward and pass at the ford. That decision is up to you entirely." He stopped his finger on a large civilization marker labeled 'Imlardis', "Rivendell is your destination."

Almárëa straightened her stance and her back to give her brain a second to process the information given to her. She closed her eyes to memorize the instructions and to paint a map in her mind. She glanced at the map again, trying to accurately gauge the distance and her needs.

She had not realized the Lord had left her side until he spoke from the other side of the room.

"You will need to speak to Lord Elrond immediately upon arrival in Rivendell," He was searching through a pile of parchment, shifting piles that eventually fell to the floor and scattered about his feet. From what she glimpsed, some were correspondence to others in a bizarre language and some were ship construction diagrams.

"What am I to tell him?" She inquired of the occupied ellon, "And how do I prove I'm telling the truth?" She walked to stand closer to him as he continued to search.

"I've already written a correspondence to Lord Elrond for you, all you need to do is hand him this," he handed her a scroll that was sealed with melted blue wax pressed with three ships sailing towards a horizon.

She glanced at the lord, confused. "Will it tell him my purpose for being there?" She held the scroll in her small hands delicately.

"It shall, as well your need for shelter and guidance until the White Wizard or the Lady of Lorien can be contacted in your stead." He stated, finally calming down. "I'm afraid this may be our last time seeing each other until it is your time to leave this land for those across the sea." His eyes were solemn, "May you live long, sweet elleth, and bring the same peace you feel here with you." He smiled a sad smile before bowing his head in dismissal.

"Thank you for your aid and hospitality, Lord Círdan." She, in turn, bowed her head in respect with a smile.

As she turned to the door with the scroll in hand, Lord Círdan uttered a just barely audible phrase in his native tongue, "Novear a galu ( Farewell and good luck)."

Almárëa pretended to not hear him as she walked through the door and started down the stairs once more. She figured the words were not merely for her, but for his own peace of mind. Once more, at the bottom step, she looked out at the garden path and the fauna in the darkness of night. This might be her last time viewing such a beautiful sight. She might die on her way to finding answers, or, on a brighter note, find peace somewhere in this strange world.

The blonde started down the garden path in the dark, silently thankful for all the lit outdoor corridors. She hesitated once she reached the entrance to the corridor that led to Baineth's residence. Would her friend of three days — such an extremely short time in the lifespan of elves, allow her to leave on her own? Even if she begged?

She may be concerned for your well-being, but she would not deny you something so important, do not be ridiculous. . .

She took a steadying breath, pushed down on the door handle and walked into the common area of Baineth's portion of the complex. Almárëa smiled at Baineth, as well as Galdor — who unsurprisingly had not left yet. The couple appeared to have been in deep discussion in their native tongue; faces close together with serious expressions creasing their elegant faces. They immediately separated from each other and ceased all conversation. Baineth, however, did not hide the worried expression on her face.

She came closer to Almárëa, looking deep into her eyes. "Prestad? (Is there trouble?)." Baineth asked as she corralled her friend to take a seat.

"I have to leave." She refused to sit down in one of the high backed chairs. "And very soon, I'm afraid." She glanced at the flames of the fireplace dance in the dark room.

"No, you cannot!" Baineth quietly groused, "You will not leave, not until I believe you are ready to do so." The elleth came closer to Almárëa and gave her a soft glare full of maternal love, "You are still in shock from your awakening, henig (child)."

"Baineth, you do not understand. That is why I must leave." She walked away from the elleth, "The Lord said that the White Wizard or the Lady of the Forest could help me. He asked that I take refuge in Imlardis." She turned to give the elleth a stern look. "I must leave."

"No!" Baineth yelled back. "You will not."

Galdor stood from his chair to confront Baineth. He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "She must go. She needs to know who she is. Answers are hard to find in this world. If the master has given her advice, she must follow it." He glanced over Baineth's head at the youngling, silently pleading her to go on. His voice dropped to a quiet, yet powerful rumble in Elvish as Almárëa started to tip toe away.

Once in the kitchen, heart pounding, she started to rummage for light provisions. She quickly packed a cloth full with bread, cheese, limbas bread and grabbed a butcher's knife — for protection, she told herself. She glanced at the open corridor to the living area, filled with warm fire light and quiet voices. She let out a harsh breath and started for the hallway to the living quarters. There she could pack a spare outfit and a cloak.

When she reached the room she had been staying in, she threw open the armoire and packed a pair of lighter clothing. Almárëa could not, for the life of her, find a cloak within the wooden closet. She tried to steel herself, where in the bloody hell were the cloaks? She racked her memory of the past few days and immediately remembered the small closet before the back way out of Baineth's home.

Quietly she ran down the hallway and through the kitchen to another corridor. Nearly to the door that led through another garden, she turned to her right and pressed a hidden panel to open the closet. Within were five cloaks. Two were decorative and light, the others were plain and heavier. She grabbed a light brown one that had little wear and tear. The blonde glanced back down the corridor she had ran down, hearing Baineth yelling in a high tone at Galdor, her foot steps echoing throughout the maze of rooms.

Her heart started to beat with a quickening pulse as the footsteps grew closer. The girl quickly tied the cloak around herself. She had been wrong, her friend wanted her to stay, be it for her good or not. She turned to the door in front of her. She had to leave and immediately, otherwise the elleth would stop her at all costs.

Her covered feet flew across the dirt path through the garden. She tried with all her might to keep quiet to not draw any attention to herself. She ran past a long building, determined to leave on foot, when a whinny from within made her stop and back track.

Inside were a dozen horses, all asleep — except for one. A chestnut stallion stared back at her with hidden intelligence. She could feel her time for departure waning, but a horse was much faster than her feet alone. She nodded at the horse in recognition of his intelligence before saddling him. He would not cooperate with the reins, and determinedly flicked his head about when she repeatedly attempted to put the reins on.

"Okay, fine, fine. No reins. Okay?" She placed the reins back on their peg on a wall before climbing onto the saddle on his back. "I need to get to the ford in the Shire." She gripped his mane. "Please be a fast horse." With that last comment said, the stallion snorted and took off out of the stables without Almárëa's consent. "Holy shit." Her grip in his mane tightened as he sped out of the last gate to the Grey Havens.

Beyond her, in the dark, were the Tower Hills and the two Downs she needed to cross in order to reach the Shire. She had little time to contemplate anyone else on her journey and hoped the stallion was a sure-footed as he led her on to be.

AN: Hopefully this helped shed light on the situation, the next installment is already half-way written, I shall upload it as soon as I am finished and my editor(beta) has reviewed it and catches any mistakes.

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