Hello, wonderful readers, Ferumbras will finally have some help, but Gwendolin gets more and more confused… but then, wouldn't you?
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Namarië!
Gwendolin woke up to a light touch to her arm, and prayed her nightmare had been just a nightmare. As usual, her prayers were not heeded, and when she opened her eyes a bunch of strangers where around her and the unexpected companions of the previous night. She and the guy had fallen asleep huddled together in each one's embrace, and the dead black haired woman in their midst, held closely by the blonde one, who looked positively as one who had not closed her eyes for a moment during the night. The light touch belonged to a woman of a strange beauty, piercing eyes, dark auburn hair and… pointy ears?
"Please let me help you, you must be stiff from sleeping so crooked."
The girl nodded, not knowing what to speak, but then took the waking hobbit's arm and helped him to stand up.
"He has some problem, he is almost unable to walk and to speak, can you help him?"
The woman took the little one in her arms at once, calling someone in a strange melodic language; in no moment at all a rock star in stage garments took him and headed for a horse, jumping on it easily and starting off at once. Only then Gwendolin took a real look around her, to the people who arrived in the morning and the women who where there last night, and who killed the cretin nincompoop of an oaf that chased her.
They all had pointy ears.
And the repellent idiot moron lay dead as stone on the forest floor.
As dead as the pale woman with pointy ears.
Jesus Christ, there was a dead monster and a dead person there, and the dead person could have been herself if the pointy eared women hadn't intervened.
And now one of them was dead.
Gwendolin felt sick.
Guilty.
Her fault, it was her fault.
She could almost hear Sister Whoopi's lecturing her how it was wrong to lead monsters to where other people were, as they could be killed and it would be her fault.
Her fault, it was all her fault.
It was not a side effect of the roast beef sandwich, even if the pointy eared persons wore weird rock star customs, even if her nightmare didn't end, or had the plane crashed really bad and she was dead and all around her was her afterlife?
What kind of afterlife had monsters chasing one down to panic? Had she been so sinful she went to hell?
But hell wouldn't have courageous people who fought monsters to save a stranger.
And in afterlife there should not be death, as they all were supposed to be already dead, should it?
It was not afterlife, it was not hell. But it was not home either.
She sent a sidelong glance to the huge form that some pointy eared guys where tumbling to its side to retrieve the dead woman's knives.
"Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore…"
Still numb by the recent events and hard realization, she didn't protest when one of the pointies led her to a horse and helped her up behind a woman who held the reins and smiled reassuringly to her. Nor did she see when the silver haired woman was forcibly moved from the dead one's side and both carried to ride to wherever they were taking them. Gwendolin held the woman in front of her a little tighter when the horse begun to move.
"Definitely, Toto, not Kansas anymore..."
ooo000ooo
Ferumbras woke from his slumber feeling more comfortable than he had in weeks; actually, since Elrond's house he didn't know what real sheets on a real bed were, and not being bounced like luggage by a running elf was a relief.
Thinking about a running elf brought him the painful memory of last night's fight, or what he deemed to be last night. The troll, the girl, the fight, Nellas… Nellas!
A muffled cry brought an unknown elf immediately to his side, a dump cloth wiping his forehead, a soft voice soothing him.
"Are you feeling better, Master Halfling?"
He closed his eyes again, saddened by all he remembered from the night before; with an additional effort he was able to mumble.
"Ared…?"
"Lady Aredhel is nearby; she is… very sad, but her body is not hurt."
The elf let the cloth in a bowl on the side bed table and asked.
"If you are thirsty and want some water, please blink twice; if not, blink once."
The hobbit blinked twice, and a teaspoon of water was held to his lips several times, until he blinked hard once.
"My name is Halsir and I'm in charge of the infirmary along with Culdawen." The elf leant closer to Ferumbras and spoke as if telling him a secret. "If you don't see me around, look for a golden-haired one with a ridiculous green and orange gown that doesn't match with anything you can imagine; if not, a yellow one that makes her look very sick; but don't tell her I said anything of this to you, else she will dye my horse green, again, and you would definitely not like what it looks like."
Ferumbras was able to smile to the elf's antics, glad that someone around was not feeling as miserable as he felt.
"Are you hungry? I've been told halflings eat the whole day long if they can."
The hobbit thought about blinking twice, but instead tried to nod.
"You are able to move your head somewhat? Good! I'll give you some broth for it. Wait right here, don't go anywhere without me!"
As he chuckled inside at the crazy elf, he saw him stand up and leave the room; while he waited, Ferumbras begun to try his limbs for movement, and found out he was better than he supposed. His neck was not as stiff as it had been, his breathing was easier, and his arms were difficult to move, but not numb as his fingers; his legs, though, decided to make part of another world, and he could not feel them.
Soon Halsir was back with a bowl of thin soup, and helped to prop him up with several pillows; that was when Ferumbras noticed his wrists and hands were bandaged and wet, and he was curious about what was going on there. He managed to speak with his broken voice, looking at the bandages intending to make clear what he meant.
"Hands…?"
The elf gave him teaspoon after teaspoon of soup as he gladly answered.
"Oh, this is your medicine, or at least some of it. The palms and wrists have lots of running blood, so the blood can capture the medicine as it runs by; we mix some things that make it easier to get through the skin, but only the medicine goes in, not the blood out. You would have some patches of medicine on your feet weren't you a halfling, but your soles are tougher than leather, so we placed them at the back of your knees. Culdawen wanted to place some patches on your throat, but I thought it would be better if we left the head free and the counter-venom to get to your brains only as it is diluted in your blood, as the brains have no muscles."
Ferumbras was almost dizzy from the amount of information and speed it was being delivered to him, and thought that elf was quite the opposite of what he ever heard about elves. Maybe he was just prejudiced, and not all elves were concealed and discrete. Or maybe the elf was just crazy.
Some more teaspoons of broth and his shrunk stomach was full, and the hobbit weaved his head 'no'.
"Good; keep trying to move your muscles, they'll need to learn how to move again. We will help you with this in some days, but for now just your own moving will be enough. Don't overdo, though."
"Girl…?"
"Oh, that human girl is your friend, too? Aredhel said she prompted out of the blue with a troll at her heels. I'll fetch her to see you if the king is over with her."
Halsir spoke over his shoulder while heading to the doorway.
"Beware of the ridiculously clad lady!"
ooo000ooo
The king was not over with Gwendolin yet. She had been sent to him right after they reached the stone carved palace, but she was so confused her mumbled answers made not much sense, and he released her to take some food and rest before he summoned her again. Now she was standing before the wood carved throne and the green leaves crowned king.
"I expect you to be more coherent now that you are rested, human."
She nodded, not feeling coherent at all, and wanting to ignore that he called her 'human' as he did in the morning, like if being human was not the rule.
"You said you want to go back home; where is it? Why are you not there? What were you doing in my realm?"
"I live in San Diego, California, but I was about to move to England; the plane I was in crashed, then that monster chased me and I fled; I don't know why or how I came to your realm, in my head it was all United Kingdom here about; I was running in the forest and just stumbled into those two women and the little guy; I had no intention."
"You attracted a troll into my realm. It is a crime to bring evil into my lands."
"I had no intention! I never saw a beast like that, there are no trolls or whatever you call it where I live! I don't know how I came to you forest, ok? All I want is to go to London!"
She gazed around to see if someone else had more sense than that one who was called Thrandwill or some stuff like that among the New Age band guys. Gwendolin decided they were not rock stars, albeit their long hair; their clothes reminded her more of Lorena MacKennith and the like.
"Does anybody here know how to go to Heathrow airport?"
If there were any fly, it would have been heard. Nope.
"Where is this United Kingdom you talk about, human? Who is its ruler?"
"Where? In Europe, of course!" How could that jerk possibly don't know where UK was? She was getting over the edge. "By the way, you know my name is Gwendolin, could you please stop calling me human like if it were a differentiation? Or what do you think you are, an elf?"
Thranduil tilted his head, amused for the first time in a long while.
"Of course I'm an elf. What else could all of us here be? Halflings?"
Gwendolin looked around to the New Age band guys again; besides the pointed ears, long hair, strange clothes, tall bearing and overall eerie aura, and the fact that they had rescued her from a forest where a troll had chased her, and that had been killed by a couple of equally pointed eared women using throwing knives and a spear… well, taking everything in account, plus the throne room they where in, it could not be considered very likely to belong to humans. As difficult as it was to grasp the meaning of it all, she had not only to acknowledge she was not in England, but also that those people were not human.
"Elves. Not in England."
She mumbled under her breath, clenching and unclenching her hands, starting to panic again and tried desperately to reason out of it, running a hand over her forehead to wipe away a cold sweat that was forming and to take the fringe of her hair out of the way.
"Come on, there are no elves in England, nor in California, nor in any place I know of; nor trolls, by the way; nor the halflings you mentioned. Now, everybody stop acting like you were in a David Yates, Peter Jackson or Andrew Adamson movie; if this is the test the studio intended for me, they've got it all wrong, I applied only to costume design, not to act in any way, no even as extra. I acknowledge the make-up staff and special effects crew are really great, but I'm out."
The elven king exchanged glances with his son and beckoned him closer, wrinkling his nose somewhat.
"This talk reminds me of that acquainted of yours in the dwarves' mountain, doesn't it?"
Legolas nodded and answered in similar low voice.
"You mean our ally, Queen Ellen Dwarvenheart of Erebor?"
"Yes, the turncoat."
What his father said, plus something about her stance, her clothes and strange speech made something click in Legolas' brain.
"Captain Tauriel reported they were found not far from the spot from where the spiders used to come, before that outlandish wizard cast a spell from the outside. The girl might be out of the same world."
"Humpf."
It was not the kingliest sound he could make, but it matched his mood. To meddle with someone from that place was not one of his priorities, and only brought him unpleasant memories of being cheated in his own home. He turned to the stranger again.
"You will be led to where you were found. From there you can go back to your place. No compensation will be required from you for having brought a troll to our land, as long as you keep away from here."
Gwendolin eyed him with eyes as big as saucers; not only the likelihood of being charged for having being chased by a troll sounded absurd, as being left in the nothing she had been found by those people was absurd.
"Hey, buddy, king, whatever, come on, I may not be the smartest bug in the anthill, but dropping me in the middle of the forest where a disgusting, dullard of a troll chased me to is not the fancy vacation I have in mind; not that I was about to spend any kind of vacation hereabouts, but no, I won't go back to the place that dumb oaf fell. What if there are more of them? No, I won't go back there, no way!"
She crossed her arms in front of her and steadied her feet on the ground. Things were absurd enough without her throwing herself into any kind of adventure like wandering alone in an unknown forest.
"You talk like if you had an option."
"No, I don't have, but dropping me in the forest is not an option!"
If humans were more subtle, Thranduil would enjoy teasing the blonde for a while, but she was boring enough for him to be tired already, albeit her legs showing under her far too short dress that almost reached her knees. He let his gaze run through her improper clothing, used that he was to study his pray whenever a female passed before his eyes. The light cotton blue dress has a tall neck, with a Juliet buttoned sleeve that concealed her arms to the wrist, contrasting with the shortness of the skirt. Apart from her slender and pale legs, boring as any human could be. Actually, he was getting bored of so many little things lately, that he was prone to let things be more and more dealt by his son. Weren't the boy too young and reckless, he would almost be willing to let him take more charge of the realm's issues, but no, two-thousand three-hundred and some was too young yet. But, as he was so fond of that not really an elf of Erebor, maybe he could deal with that nuisance too. It would only be fair. He beckoned his son again, with a funny idea in his mind.
"Legolas, considering your acquaintanceship with Erebor's folk, it might be fit to send them this… Gwendolin Browne for them to deal with."
Said Gwendolin looked at the blond elf with wide eyes. Legolas? A real elf named Legolas? Son of a king in a forest? Nah, it was too much a coincidence. She tried and failed to suppress a chuckle, making royal father and son look questioningly at her.
"May we know the reason of your mirth?"
"Legolas? Your name is Legolas?"
The blond one just nodded, raising a brow.
"Ok, next you'll tell me your best friend is Gimli the dwarf, right?"
Thranduil gazed daggers to his son, who stood up for himself.
"It is not that I know him that anyone can call us best friends, father!"
The human looked at their interaction, uncomfortable, and thought it was better to shut up about whatever she saw in those movies. But it was too late, and she tried her best to avoid the conflict she saw rising.
"What do you know about my son's friendships, human?"
She diverted.
"Oh, come on, this human talk again? And, it is not that he knows a dwarf that there is something wrong with it, ok?"
The king was getting distressed by the girl, now. A nuisance, she was.
"If you are so fond of dwarves, then the best solution will surely be to send you to them." The tall silver-haired elf rose from his throne. "Legolas, I have been informed you have plans to ride to Erebor soon. Take her along and deliver her to your… ally."
"Our ally, father. And you should have plans to ride there too, as the invitation for the wedding was sent in your name."
"Humpf."
"You can't deny our eastern borders are safer since they reclaimed the mountain."
"Humpf."
"And that Queen Ellen's intervention with the outsider wizard provided a lessening of our problems with the spiders."
"Humpf."
"And that since the trade agreements King Kíli signed with you, the level of the treasure room has been rising."
"Well..."
"And that Bilbo Baggins gave you a kingly gift in the emeralds of Girion."
The memory of the magnificent set of emeralds in a splendidly designed necklace brought a slight smile to Thranduil's lips.
"And is this the halfling who is going to get married?"
Gwendolin almost jumped at the name she heard. No, too much coincidence to be coincidence at all. But she thought the Ringbearer of the movie trilogy was Bilbo's nephew, not his son; she didn't remember him having a wife.
Legolas nodded at his father.
"Then, take a barrel of whatever you find fit as a wedding gift."
"Whatever?"
"Whatever. What matters is not the content, but the barrel. Make it be a barrel of very high quality, mind you."
The king turned back to the human girl.
"You will be led to Erebor, where dwells someone who might know about the place you came from, if you deem it more comfortable than to be sent back to the place in the forest where you were found."
Gwendolin thought about her options for almost… half a second.
"Anything will be more comfortable than to go back to where that despicable abhorrent dipstick chased me!"
Why you should not skip next chapter: Because there's a lot of things to see; lets take a tour in Erebor and see what it looks like twenty-eight years after the Retaking!
Until then, would you mind to review?