Chapter Four
She had hoped that when she opened her eyes she would be in her bed at home; she'd even take a bed in a hospital right now, but she knew just by the smell of the air that that was unlikely. She took a deep breath of the heady scent of the woods before she opened her eyes and found Rumil still stood where he last was by the door.
'Medic and prison warden.' She thought wryly. She did not blame him though; she figured it was obvious she had every intention of getting the hell out of this place.
She had stayed awake for as long as she could refusing to engage with Rumil no matter how many times he tried to offer up the quill and parchment, but in the end she had no choice but to go to sleep. Now awake she could still not tell whether it was morning or night time.
She pulled herself up so that she was sat up and reached for the paper that rested on the side table next to her. Rumil offered up the quill and ink.
This is not real.
It is real for me.
She was not expecting that.
You are a figment of my concussed imagination.
He smiled and then wrote,
That is not very polite.
She smiled despite herself. And then without wanting to or expecting it she began to cry.
Her hand began to shake so he took the quill from her.
Please do not cry. You are safe here.
Amy read the words but did not make to reply. She was not a 'crier,' she did not openly cry in front of anyone yet the shock of the past week had shredded all nerves and resolve.
Rumil continued to write.
Galadriel believes in you. You have been sent to us for a reason.
She started at this and snatched the quill startling the elf.
And what about me?! Do not I get a say? I had a life, a happy li
She stopped. Rumil noticed the change in her, the anger had dissipated and was replaced by something else. It was as if she had had a realisation of some sorts. He felt compelled to comfort her but felt that her privacy in the last twenty four hours had already been erroneously damaged so decided to push the parchment forward as a gesture of listening.
Amy stood unsteadily rejecting the hand the elf offered. She wandered over to the edge of the talen she stood upon and stared out into the distance. She was alone, utterly alone, but she realised that she had been as such for longer than she had realised.
She turned back to the elf and wrote on the parchment.
I am going mad.
Rumil smiled and took the parchment and quill from her placing it on the table and wrote.
Perhaps you need to suspend all logical thinking for a while and just accept the situation. You are safe here.
Safe, Amy did not feel very safe. All her bravado seemed to have disappeared in an instant and all she felt now was lost.
'Thank you.' She signed.
Rumil raised an eyebrow but he caught the meaning.
Thank you for being kind.She wrote finally.
He smiled widely.
All elves are kind.
Amy was not quite so sure. She had thought about it for a long while and had grown to understand why Galadriel had done what she had done, but something in Amy knew she would never forgive the elven queen for invading her silence. She was not surprised at the less than kind 'elf witch' name she had earned from some.
May I check the wound on your head?
Rumil held the paper up to her to catch her attention once more.
Amy nodded and lent forward slightly allowing him to gently unwind the bandage that was round her head. His fingers were gentle as he pressed the wound lightly. It began about two inches above her left ear and run in an almost straight line forwards stopping just short of her eyebrow. He frowned at how her hair around the area had just been hacked away.
Amy watched his face as it changed from concentration to confusion then concern. He reached for the quill once more and wrote quickly.
Who did these stitches, they have used a material I am unfamiliar with?
The doctors from my world. Is something wrong?
No not wrong, it is just not what I would have done.
He walked over to a small table that had an ornately carved box on it that he opened. He rummaged around for a while before finally finding the pot he was seeking.
He held it up to Amy for her to smell and she breathed in the scent of freshly cut grass.
What is it?
It is a healing salve, it should ease some of the discomfort and speed up the healing process.
He applied it over the wound, then pulled her hair from above over it so that all that could be seen was the inch of it that run across her forehead.
Come, if you are feeling up to it you should meet the Fellowship.
Aren't a prisoner here?
Rumil made no response other than to smile once more.
'Sure why not, meet the Fellowship of the Ring.' She thought dryly at his response. Rumil dutifully fetched her shoes for her anticipating that she would not want to walk around the forest in bare feet. He smiled at their bright colour. They were unusual to his eyes and the canvas material was strange to his touch.
They are called trainers. They are comfortable.
Rumil read her words and smiled. Everything about her dress was strange to his eyes and he could not help but study her as she laced up her shoes. Her hair was long and hung messily down her back in dirty blond waves.
Her breeches were of a dark blue colour and again in a material he knew not what it was. They were tight against her thighs and hips all the way down to her ankles. Her torso was clad in a tight white, short sleeved garment and at this point Rumil forced his eyes up to her face not wanting to intrude upon her.
She had a fair face that was dominated by big grey eyes that when angered raged like stormy seas. Her lips were full and he had noticed that when unsure she would worry her bottom lip with her teeth. When her eyes met his he stopped his musings and offered up her jacket.
She held it in her hands for a moment before putting it on, somehow she had linked running away with this jacket, and now as she held it she realised there was nowhere to run. She slung it on feeling entirely unready for what she was about the experience and she had to shove her hands in her pockets to stop them trembling wildly.
Rumil held out a hand willing her to take it, hoping to put her at ease.
After a moment's hesitation she took it and allowed him to escort her down the many spiralling stairs to the base of the tree. Lest she let her mind race and nerves take over she tried to fill her mind with inane observations. The first being was how the hell anyone with a broken leg was supposed to get up to the healing chambers? She then supposed elves did not suffer much from broken legs. She tried to absorb her surroundings with interest as she guessed she should be awed but instead she was still terrified. Rumil sensed her unease and squeezed the hand he was holding gently and that was when she saw them.
Despite being strangers she recognised them immediately. The four hobbits were sat around rummaging amongst their belongings or eating contently. Gimli lay behind them sheltered by a deep tree root as he slept. Another blonde elf similar to Rumil who she assumed to be Legolas stood perfectly still as he turned his head to the boughs clearly listening to something. Aragorn approached with a lighter haired man following behind him. His scowl suggested to Amy that this was Boromir. So there they were, the Fellowship in Lothlorien recovering from the hurts of their quest so far and their sorrow from losing Gandalf.
Aragorn approached her first and took her hand. He bowed his head in respect and placed his lips the back of her hand. "Welcome. I am sorry for the distress this has caused you." None of this sat comfortably with Aragorn, especially the idea that they were to take her along with them even if it was against her will.
The obvious difficulty for the rest of the quest was immediately apparent. She did not catch much past the welcome in the way of lip reading.
Rumil quickly explained which drew interest from the Fellowship gathering them closer. All except Gimli of course, who was lost in his dreams.
"Absolutely nothing?! Not even Gimli's snoring?" Pippin asked incredulously.
"Yes nothing." Rumil explained with a smile. "It is going to make communication between you very difficult. You cannot very well write everything down, which is what I have been doing up until now."
"This idea of Galadriel's just gets better and better!" Boromir growled. Ignoring Rumil's warning look he continued. "Not only do we have to take a woman along with us but now we find that she cannot hear a thing. A great aid she will be in battle."
Amy did not need to hear Boromir to know what he was saying. It was written all over his face, and in all honesty she agreed with him.
Aragorn positioned himself in front of her blocking Boromir from her sight. "Can. you. read. my. lips?"
Back on earth she may have sniggered as she sometimes did when someone begun extending every word so that it distorted the original. But now did not seem like the right time to indulge herself, especially since she was now standing in front of the Fellowship of the Ring. She nodded.
"Can. You. Speak?"
Amy felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. Her breathing changed imperceptibly to the humans and hobbits present but the two elves heard the distress. Her hands fisted and un-fisted tightly.
Legolas stepped forward and took both of her hands in his. It was obvious to him that she uncomfortable with the question so sought to change the subject; he looked deep into her eyes and held up her hands. The sudden proximity and how tactile he was threw her off guard for a moment. "You use these." It was not a question and his words were not exaggerated. She understood him.
She took her hands from his and answered in the way she knew how. "Yes I use these." She signed.
He smiled gently, now fully engaged in her, no longer distracted by the laments in the boughs. "Then we must learn."
Aragorn nodded seemingly happy with this, although looking at the confused faces of the hobbits and the snarling face of Boromir he made a decision. "Legolas, can you learn this language of signs. I fear that our aptitude for this may not be as good as yours. Perhaps if it is simple enough you can teach it to the rest of us."
The elf nodded, he turned back to Amy. "Will you teach me?"
What choice did she have? Everything was now out of her control. Growing up deaf had always meant that some aspect of her life was in the control of others and that she never had complete agency but this was different. Did they really expect her to go with them? And if she was unwilling, what then. She had joked to herself that Rumil was her healer and jailer but perhaps the Fellowship would prove to really be her imprisonment.