Disclaimer: in my next life, I'm going to own it. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I haven't died yet.
Author's Note: When I take over the world, there will be no more school, and the Earth will be renamed Arda, and everyone will call me Lady Doom.
I just thought you should know.
Chapter Ten:
I leapt off my bed and ran, barefoot and in my white satin (Elrond might be sexist, but he has good taste) nightdress (apparently, women in this era couldn't even use sleep to escape the monstrosities), to my door and threw it open, intent on finding Elrond.
And stopped dead, my eyes widening in fear and shock.
I can't win for losing.
Actually, I can't remember winning at all.
Silently, I watched as (opaque, for the record) spirits glided through the halls of Imladris, their expressions so sad and wistful that it made my heart ache. The sorrow, the yearning want of what once had been, and the deep ache of loss was almost palpable in the air.
In short, it was an emo's paradise.
"I'm giving you a draught that places you into a spirit plane." I sighed as I remembered Elrond's words from this morning.
Tentatively stepping into the hall, I blinked as I saw an elf sitting and reading on a hallway bench.
That wasn't what gave me pause.
It was the fact that the elf was clearly alive, yet SHE was transparent.
Cautiously, I walked over to her (the fact that she didn't look up giving me a big red, blinking clue with huge flags) and tentatively touched her shoulder.
Or tried to.
My hand passed through her, though she shivered and glanced up warily at the contact, as if she could sense the touch rather than feel it.
"They can neither see nor hear you," said a voice across from me. I glanced up to see an elf standing there, his armor that of the first age (shut up, I know I'm a geek for knowing this).
He'd probably died in the Last Alliance.
"I've tried for two ages. There is no way to contact them." He looked at me, his wide, intelligent blue eyes studying and curious. "You do not belong in the Netherrealm . You still are anchored in the mortal world," he said, a question in his voice.
"I am yet mortal, and cannot remain here. I entered this plane by the drought my Lord Elrond gave me, and will likely return when it wears off," I replied softly. Something about the solemnity of this plane made me uncomfortable speaking in a normal tone.
It made you want to speak dramatically and wisely, like Lady Galadriel or something.
"Even so, you are not as the other mortals are. There is something strange about you, an aura of unshakable disillusionment unusual for one so young," he said, his face as emotionless as his bottomless eyes.
I frowned, briefly disconcerted by someone reading me so easily. No one saw anything about me that I did not want them to see.
I quickly shook it off.
"It is because I have no pants," I said solemnly.
Meh. It was as good an excuse as any.
His lips twitched.
HA! I got dead boy to laugh.
"All these spirits, are they elves," I asked, gesturing around us.
He walked over to me, his every movement possessing more grace than a prima ballerina. "No, some are were mortal men that died in the Great Battle, others have died in Imladris when their wounds were too great to heal."
"I thought that elves passed to the Undying lands when they died," I asked.
"Most do, but some choose to stay, wishing to protect their remaining kin. When their families leave these shores, they will follow."
"And the mortal men," I said warily.
His eyes saddened. "They were sinners in life, and cannot join their families in the afterlife. They are doomed men. They will remain here unto the ending of the world."
For some reason that made me incredibly sad. "And they have no chance of redeeming themselves," I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"They had their entire lives. They will remain here until the Iluvatar sees fit to free them."
"And what of those good men who died fighting for good," I asked, disheartened at the thought of such irresponsible gods holding so much power.
"They are few in number that remain here, that were once good men. When their souls passed from the mortal world, the Iluvatar offered them the chance to defend their families in death. Now, they ride out and defend the living from those spirits that would do them harm."
That gave me pause. "Are there many that would do us harm," I asked warily, not really wanting to know the answer.
"Men do not become good upon death. If anything, the bad become worse and the good become better. They can do anything with impunity."
"And these are the only men who can protect mortals," I asked, frowning.
"Yes. The battle has waged for millennia beyond count, and will continue until the ending of the world. Yet these men defend the living willingly because they keep their families safe and…" he paused, looked hard at me, then kept going, keeping our eyes locked together, "and because there are the very rare few who are able to see them when they reveal themselves."
What was with that look? That look wasn't a look that would bode well for me.
I didn't like that look.
"What's with that look," I asked warily, though really, really, REALLY didn't want to find out the answer.
He leaned forward and I realized he was getting pumped up for his dramatic 'doom and despair' speech'.
"Those few of the living that cross into the realm of the dead are forever bound to us. You will never be free of us. You are bound to this realm forevermore, and we to you."
"But I don't wanna to be the kid from The Sixth Sense," I wailed, my loud cry ringing in the silent halls.
The ghosts who had been floating along so morosely glanced up. One particularly old and grandmotherly woman glared and shushed us.
This threw him momentarily, because he blinked and straightened with a puzzled look on his face. "I know not what you speak of, but I assure you that it is not as bad as you seem to think it is. From now on, you may call on one of us if need be, for we can both her and see you, and have been granted permission by the Valar to advise those few who enter here."
I blinked.
"Riiiiiiiight," I said warily. "How do I get out of here?" I had no wish to stay in this place any longer. The sorrow and pain seemed to be seeping into my very bones.
Not a pleasant feeling.
He silently gestured back the way we'd come. "Return from whence you came and, when you are in a place that no one is able to see you, simply think of what it feels like to be alive, and your soul shall return to your body."
Tentatively, I started on my way back to the room. Though I desperately wanted to be back in the living world before I went crazy from a loss and pain that wasn't even my own, I wasn't really sure I could return by just wishing for it.
"Rose," he called after me as I was about to enter my room. How did he know my name anyway? "You may enter this realm now whenever you wish. All you must do is recall this feeling you have right now, and you will return."
I wasn't entirely sure I wanted that knowledge, so I merely nodded, saying nothing.
He bowed and I inclined my head in farewell.
I walked through the open door to my room, closing it as soon as I was inside.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it felt like to be alive.
If you've never NOT been alive, it's hard to understand the heaviness of your body, the slow, steady pounding of your heat beating its steady rhythm, or the calming rise and fall of your own chest.
But, if you ever DO cease to be alive for a short amount of time, you'll realize exactly how comforting it is to feel your body again.
I opened my eyes and blinked as sunlight blinded me.
I must have been in the Netherrealm longer than I thought if dawn had come already.
And suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, my sorrow and pain snapped into fury.
I threw on a dress and stormed down the halls (which looked FAR more welcoming) and down to the Great Hall.
There he was, the little pisser, sitting on the dais.
I stormed up to the dais, barely noticing that both elves, dwarves, and humans moved out of my way hastily.
"Yo', Elrond," I snapped, planting my hands on the table in front of him. "Forget to mention a little some'n some'n about the potion? Oh, like that I now have to buy a shirt with 'I see dead people' on it?"
His eyebrow twitched up. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"You don't have any idea what I'm talking about," I repeated sarcastically. Then I noticed the truth in his eyes and my anger deflated. "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about," I sighed. "Great, now I can see dead people and I have no one to blame."
No emotion showed in Elrond's face, but something about his eyes gave me pause.
He was LAUGHING at me the little pisser!
I glared at him. "Fine, be that way. But I want you to know that you are now on my list."
And with that less than witty retort, I spun and walked away. "Kind as summer my ass," I muttered as I stormed, not paying attention to where I was going.
Since I wasn't paying attention to my walking, I tripped on my dress and fell face first on the ground. Cursing, I started to push myself up, then froze as something caught my eye.
Something blue, worn from use, and made of denim.
I didn't even bother to get to my feet, just scrambling on hands and knees (difficult in a dress, but I did it) to the basket where my beloved jeans were buried at the bottom.
Not giving a fig for any of the other clothes in the basket, I ripped my jeans from the bottom, closing my eyes as I cradled them to my chest.
"Jeans. I love you, jeans," I sighed.
Shut up, you'd have done it too.
"My Lady," said a tentative voice behind me, "what are you doing with the scraps?"
My eye twitched.
"My Lady," the voice asked again.
I sprang to my feet and sprinted down the hall.
"YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME NOW, COPPAS," I shrieked triumphantly as I sprinted down the hall with my prize.
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Now that I could walk ten feet without landing on my face (I'm never wearing a skirt again), time seemed to pass much faster.
Granted, sword practice still seemed to creep along like molasses in December, but everything else flew by.
Aragorn even let me hold my swords…before taking them away again when he found out I'd asked Alatariel to train me.
Big baby.
Alatariel was awesome though.
Meaning she actually let me USE my swords, rather than looking at them as they flew out of my hands.
Unfortunately, she eventually deemed me good enough to spar.
With members of the fellowship.
Meaning Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf, and Boromir.
Needless to say, I got my ass handed to me on a platter every time.
Not that I'm bitter.
October passed into November, and I found myself celebrating my first Thanksgiving without my family.
You never really realize how important it is to share that day with your family until, suddenly, you realize that you're alone and will likely never see your family again.
Suddenly, you see yourself celebrating many Thanksgiving's alone.
I'm may not be a "let's go frolic in the sunshine with the bunnies" kind of girl, but that would have depressed anyone.
All day, my friends stopped me and asked me what was wrong until I finally locked myself in my room.
And, soon, I was looking at Christmas with no tree, no gifts, no family teasing everyone, and no Christmas dinner.
Since it wasn't any special time in Middle Earth, no one understood why I was suddenly so sad and quite.
Since no one came out and asked me, I guess they chalked it up to pre-quest jitters, or something.
Suddenly, it was Christmas Eve.
I glanced around my room, trying to decide if I'd left anything.
I had enough common sense to pack light, which meant that all that was in my bag were two changes of clothes (unfortunately, one of those changes was the Chase dress, as I so affectionately call it. Elrond refused to have pants made for me, so I had only managed to steal one pair from the tailors), a brush, and other small essentials.
(Author's note: I think this is actually a logical problem that a girl would actually have in Middle Earth, so I wrote the next part. Be aware, however, that, though I don't go into any detail, it might embarrass some people. Knowing this, if you skip down to my next author's note, it gets back to the not-so-embarrassing parts)
Suddenly, something occurred to me, something that made me groan and run my hands through my hair.
I'd managed to put it off for as long as I could, but I couldn't put it off any longer.
Now, I had to deal with the dirtier details of being a girl.
Which meant it was off to Alatariel for advice.
I'd never been regular (something I'd gotten from my mother) and only had four or five periods a year, which was how I'd managed this long without having to bring it up.
Gripping my (admittedly small) maturity in hand, I marched out of my room in search of Alatariel.
"Alatariel, I have to ask you something," I called out as I spotted her in the Great Hall. Her head snapped up and she grinned when she saw me, gesturing me to take a seat beside her and the elves she was talking with. I shook my head and waved her over.
"Is something wrong, mellon (friend)," she asked, concern etched on her face.
I'm pretty sure embarrassment was etched across mine.
"I…um…I have to ask you something in private," I murmured, jerking my head towards the door in a gesture that we should talk outside.
Now clearly intrigued (if the lift of her eyebrow was anything to go by), she nodded and gestured for me to go first.
Once outside in private, she looked at me questioningly. "Man anírach cerin an le? (What can I do for you?)."
She was teaching me elvish, so I actually understood what she was saying.
"I have a personal question to ask you," I said warily. "Okay, I'm not sure how to tactfully broach the subject so I'm just going to have out with it. How do Middle Earth women deal with their menstrual cycles?"
She looked momentarily shocked, then amused.
"This is your first cycle then," she asked, her lip twitching in amusement.
It was stupid, I know, but I was gravely insulted that she thought it was my first.
"No," I snapped defensively, "I just don't know how y'all deal with it."
She inclined her head. "I understand. Follow me, we shall go to the healers and I shall teach you."
In the end, it turned out that elves were far more advanced than human women in this time.
They had the same methods that modern-day women use, so I could handle everything discreetly.
Which means that I wouldn't die of embarrassment while traveling with the entirely male fellowship.
(Author's note: alright, you can come out of hiding now and can continue to make fun of Rose)
I pulled down the flap to the small bag I'd been given before setting it down on the bed.
Sighing, I walked to the balcony and carefully perched upon it, enjoying my last night's view of Rivendell.
We'd be leaving in the morning.
And I might not be coming back.
I heard light feminine laughter below the balcony, though I couldn't see who it was.
"Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach (I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh)," said a warm male voice to the woman.
I realized it was Aragorn.
Which meant he was with Arwen.
I knew I should leave, but I couldn't help it.
I simply rested my head against the pillar I was leaning against, closed my eyes, and listened.
There was silence, then Arwen's soft voice. "Gen melin(I love you)."
After that, the elvish got to complex for me to follow, but I could easily guess what was being said.
They were saying goodbye, possibly, in their minds, for the last time.
Suddenly feeling very alone, I hopped off the railing and slid into bed, my bones achingly tired from sheer exhaustion.
Tomorrow, we leave.
Author's note: sorry for the short chapter. I'll update soon (within a few days) and then the quest will start!