"The worst distance between two people is misunderstanding."
― Neetesh Dixit
ooOoo
Luckily for her, Honeycrisp was too shy to declare himself, and so their friendship continued. He visited her often during the last week she remained in Rivendell, taking her out riding, sneaking her pies, and even bringing her to the tailor's rooms to pet newborn kittens.
Merrill was glad for his company. She'd seen almost nothing of Radhrion since they'd last spoken, and had begun to believe he was avoiding her. He and Elrond, both, had even stopped attending meals in the common dining hall.
When she had finally worked up the nerve to ask Nestadis where they were, she'd claimed both were busy with preparations, but Merrill didn't believe her. They had always planned to leave at the end of December or the beginning of January, and had been amassing what items and foodstuffs they would need for weeks, now. So what could they possibly be working on that would require so much attention?
Merrill, starting to develop a complex, had even stopped by the table occupied by the Fellowship at breakfast three days before they were due to leave, hoping to make some inroads with the people she would soon be stuck with, but was met with stony expressions.
Boromir's eyes grew flinty, Aragorn focused intently upon his meal, chewing with deliberate force and gazing, abstractedly, into the middle ground, and the Hobbits, picking up on the party line, were polite, but disinterested in furthering their acquaintance.
Legolas remained mostly pleasant, though distracted. He continued to instruct her in archery, though he informed her she had attained an impressive level of proficiency with the bow and hardly required his aid. He probably meant just what he said, but Merrill, feeling the pariah, took it to mean he was too polite to tell her he wanted nothing to do with her and began avoiding him.
All in all, Merrill spent the last few days she had in Rivendell skulking around corners and ducking into doorways to avoid those with whom she would shortly be trekking across the country.
On the day before they were due to depart, Merrill was busy in the House of Healing, otherwise known as her refuge. If she was covered to the wrist in someone else's blood, she found her mind didn't wander, and her heart didn't hurt.
Nestadis welcomed her upon her return by barking out a dozen orders which sent her scurrying, but she had been glad to be back in a place that still made sense to her.
But her sanctuary lost some of its attraction when she turned to call the next patient and was met with the sober silver eyes of the Lord of Rivendell, himself.
"Good day, Merrill."
Her fists clenched, but she nodded curtly and strode past him, busying herself with a supply sheet and shrouding herself in the 'too busy to be disturbed' attitude she'd perfected at her first job as a student librarian in high school.
"May we speak, Merrill?"
Merrill slashed an item off the list. "It's a free country."
Elrond took a hesitant step closer, his voice low. "I know you are upset with me, and I came here to apologize, and to explain, if you will allow me to do so. Might we speak somewhere more private?"
"Sorry. Nestadis needs this done before I leave, and then I have to, you know, organize my sock drawer and alphabetize my tunics by color and cloth, so, you see, it's kind of a busy time for me just now." She picked up another sheet and called, "Tarn, Son of Tyrn?"
An elderly human hobbled over to her and she led him by the elbow to a bed. But just as he sat, Nestadis gripped her arm and towed her into her study.
"You may speak here," she announced over Merrill's protestations. "Please take your time." The door closed behind her with an audible 'click', leaving Elrond and Merrill to stare awkwardly at one another.
"I apologize for not having spoken to you sooner," Elrond offered, linking his hands before him. "Whenever I have looked for you, you were nowhere to be found."
Merrill took a seat behind Nestadis' desk and said to the floor, "Did it ever occur to you that that might have been done purposefully? I mean, you all made it crystal freaking clear that you thought I was a freak, or dangerous, or whatever, so why would I seek you out?"
"Merrill, please look at me," he asked.
She met his eyes with bad grace.
"I thank you. We do not believe you to be abnormal or dangerous. In fact, we have been occupied with planning, devising ways in which you might best be kept safe. That is why you have not seen much of myself or Radhrion of late. No matter how much we thought, though, it was clear that you would have to leave. Saruman has most definitely felt your presence, and to stay any longer would mean your death. Understand, please, that I do not wish you to go." He smiled warmly at her, eyes gentle. "If I could, I would offer you a permanent place in my home, but I'm afraid it is no longer safe, and we will not stay here long after you have left us."
Merrill was curious despite herself. "What do you mean?"
Elrond indicated the chair opposite her. "May I sit?"
When Merrill agreed, he sat, setting his elbow on the arm to rest his head in his palm. "My people's time in Middle Earth draws to a close. We cannot long survive the evil coming out of Mordor, so we shall sail west, to Elvenhome, to Valinor, where we shall dwell for the rest of time."
Merrill dimly recollected something about this. "I remember… Yes. You want Arwen to leave, but she refuses."
"How do you know of this?"
"Oh, it's a weird, other-world thing. I know a little about what happens here."
Elrond leaned forward, silver eyes as sharp as a knife on her face. "Please explain."
So she did. Merrill told him about the books and the movies, though she found it difficult to describe the latter, and how she knew them, himself included, from her perusal of the aforementioned objects.
However, he raised his hand to stop her when she began to tell him the details. "No, Merrill. You musn't tell anyone about this foreknowledge of yours; you must swear it."
Merrill was taken aback by the ferocity of his tone. "You're the only one I've said anything to. I'm not completely stupid, you know. I've seen Doctor Who, I get it."
Elrond covered his eyes with his hands. "I did not expect to learn something else which would put your life at further risk when I came to speak with you today," he said, his voice tired. "If you were to be captured…" He let the sentence hang between them like a corpse; a rotting, bloated, stinking corpse just recently dredged up from the sewers—neither wished to acknowledge it, but could do nothing else.
He didn't need to finish his sentence, not really. Merrill knew what he meant. Her knowledge, though foggy in some places, could change the whole course of the story if she were to fall into the wrong hands. If Saruman or, gods forbid, Sauron captured her, they would know everything. Frodo and Sam would be captured, tortured, then brutally killed, and the ring would be back where it wished to be: on its' masters hand. She was dangerous, and she finally agreed with him: she needed to get out of Rivendell immediately.
"I'm only staying with them as far as Lothlorien, then I'm out. I won't be captured between here and there, and isn't Galadriel's domain one of the safest places on Middle Earth?" She asked, trying for optimism. "Once I make it there, she'll tell me how to get home and then I won't even be in this world, anymore, so I won't be able to screw anything up."
Elrond lifted his face from his hands and asked curiously, "You wish to leave, then?"
Merrill rolled a feather quill between her palms while she considered her reply; it wasn't as simple as it seemed, after all. Yes, she wanted to go home, yes, she wanted to stay in Rivendell, yes, she wanted to go to Lothlorien. But she did not wish to travel with the Fellowship any longer, nor did she wish to brave the wilds with Elrond's guards. It was the sort of dilemma therapists had been invented for, but, unfortunately for her, they did not exist in Middle Earth.
"I don't want to leave, but I do. I want to go home, but I'm terrified of leaving Rivendell… and I don't know if Radhrion wants me to go with them, anymore. Basically, I don't know anything." Merrill knocked her head against the desk a few times, then peered out from the mess of her hair at Elrond. "Does that answer your question?"
"It does, my dear." Elrond stood gracefully, his sapphire robes sighing as he leant over her chair to kiss her forehead, his black hair mingling briefly with her own. "I shall miss you, Merrill. You filled my home with your exuberance, your spirit, and your youth, and breathed fresh life into us all. Guren glassui īsedh." (1)
"You know I have no idea what you just said," she sniffled.
"I do," he replied, smirking as he backed towards the door. "But even I must enjoy myself, sometimes."
Merrill's head snapped up, eyes alight with half-hearted accusation. "I knew it! You guys have been talking about me the entire time! Now I wish I'd taken you up on your offer to teach me Elvish."
Elrond smiled enigmatically over his shoulder. "When I am upset, I spend much time in the chestnut grove to the West of here. The trees there are hospitable even in Winter, the breeze is fresh and warm, and the ground is soft with moss. I have long found it to be the perfect place for constructive contemplation and peaceful resolution."
"Ummm," Merrill said, drawing out the sound. "Did I miss something? Or are you stroking out?"
He stepped out through the door and called as it shut, "Go, now. You never know who you might meet in the moonlight."
ooOoo
If you follow the vague and mysterious advice of an enigmatic elf lord, you won't have to give a mouse a cookie, but you will have to meet with an estranged friend and maturely navigate the murky waters of misunderstanding, which is often the more onerous task between the two.
Ever curious, a trait which had lead her into trouble on more than one occasion, Merrill took Elrond's cryptic advice and made her way to the chestnut grove, only stopping off at her room to change out of her apprentice healer's green robes and into a maroon tunic and brown breeches.
She faced the mirror and examined herself. The ends of her previously shoulder length, black, curly hair now touched her lower back, a development she determined to rectify as soon as she could convince someone to trim it for her, and she'd grown so tall that she had to stoop to peer into her vanity. When she had arrived in Middle Earth, she had been 5'7". Now, Merrill was pushing 6'3".
These changes, drastic though they appeared, still weren't as jarring as what had happened to her previously perfectly average face; just looking into a mirror these days left Merrill feeling as though she were staring at a stranger.
She wouldn't call herself pretty, per se, just… exotic. The cast of her eyes had shifted ever so slightly, making them appear larger, her face, itself, had lengthened in proportion to her growth spurt, and her cheekbones, which she had only vaguely knew existed back home, had emerged, bringing with them a foreign slant to her features that Merrill believed would be better suited to Swedish super models or actors playing aliens in sci-fi films.
Merrill had also gained some weight. She was heavier than many of the elves she had come across (excepting almost all of the guard, Legolas, and Glorfindel), as far as she could tell. This did not upset her, though; she appreciated the distinction, the reminder, that, despite her current appearance, she was most definitely NOT an elf. It was good to remember, every now and again; living with other elves, and with others who thought of her as an elf, tended to make her forget that she was still human underneath. And that frightened her, because if she could forget that, what else could be lost?
Merrill wrapped a gray wool cloak around her shoulders and set off towards the chestnut grove, her thoughts maudlin, her demeanor grave.
Who was she, now? What was she? Nestadis claimed she could raise the dead, and had done so, though it nearly cost her her own life. So what did that make her? Was she a witch or something? And why hadn't anyone wanted to talk to her about it?
Elrond claimed no one was frightened of her, but Merrill couldn't help it; she felt like some sort of leper. The Fellowship, some of whom had seemed quite willing to accept her when she'd first met them, for the most part, now treated her with disdain. And Radhrion… well, she hadn't seen him in days, since he'd told her to speak with Nestadis, in fact.
Merrill crossed over one of the many footbridges in Rivendell and stopped in the middle of a great grove of Chestnuts. The moon rode atop a mass of snow-white clouds, and the starry sky could be seen through the skeletal branches; the winter air was so fresh and clear that, if she had wanted to, Merrill could have numbered the stars until sunrise.
The forest floor had the usual covering of dead leaves and other detritus, but great, billowy mounds of reddish moss spread right up to the tree roots, providing something like a natural cushion.
Merrill sat atop one such mound and scooted back until her spine fit the curve of the trunk behind her, and gazed up at the stars, dropping into the silence as a pebble might drop into a well.
Elrond had been right; it was warmer, somehow, amidst the chestnuts. Merrill allowed herself to relax…
"Merrill?"
She didn't bother opening her eyes; a part of her had known who Elrond had sent her to meet, for it couldn't have been anyone else, really.
"Hey," she replied quietly, unwilling to break the peace she'd found.
A warm weight settled beside her, and the smell of pine trees floated to her nose.
"Do you have everything packed for tomorrow?"
Merrill opened her eyes and stared up into the sky. "The year I turned seven, my dad took me camping. I don't remember much of it," she said, smiling wistfully at her hands, "or much of him, to be honest, but I do remember the stars. To my seven year old self, they were the first ones I'd ever seen. I'd grown up in the city, you see, and the lights in the sky I thought were stars were almost anything but. We stayed up way past my bedtime that night, we ate s'mores, and I fell asleep on him as he told me their stories." Merrill pulled her knees close to her chest and rested her chin on them. "I woke in the middle of the night and couldn't find him anywhere. I panicked. I thought he'd been eaten by bears or bigfoot. I tried to find him, but I was too scared to leave our campsite; I worried he might come back while I was gone. So I stayed. I waited for him to come back until the sky had just begun to turn gray."
"Did he come back?"
Merrill nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah."
When no further questions were forthcoming, she sighed and finally met Radhrion's worried, cloud-grey eyes. "Yes, I'm packed. You don't have to worry."
Radhrion fiddled with the ring on his finger, spinning it round, and round, and round; the gold reflecting the night sky above. "Why did you tell me this?" he questioned gently.
She shrugged, but didn't meet his eyes. "That day, I ran off even though my dad told me not to. I wanted to see the river, and I was bored waiting for him to finish unpacking. I remember how angry he was when he found me, and I remember thinking when I couldn't find him that night that he might have left because I'd upset him." Merrill stroked the soft moss beside her absently.
"Ahh," Radhrion exhaled, the sound blending in with the night air as understanding dawned. He tucked her head onto his shoulder and wrapped an arm around her. "And was that the case?"
Merrill shook her head, and if her voice sounded stuffy, Radhrion was polite enough not to mention it. "No. He said he'd just gone to the bathroom."
Radhrion pulled her closer. "What is his name?"
"Elijah Mabray. He was a surgeon."
"And what of his family? Your grandparents, I mean," he amended when she gave him a quizzical look.
"My grandparents? I thought I told you about them. Grandpa Park and Grandma Bee?"
She felt him shake his head, his cheek mussing her hair. "No, I meant your father's parents. Did you know them?"
"Not at all. My dad was an orphan," Merrill explained shortly, flicking a piece of dirt off her breeches.
"Oh… well, what more can you tell me of your father?"
Merrill pulled away to look at him suspiciously. "You writing a book, or what?"
Radhrion fiddled with his ring again. "Well, the manner in which you speak of him seems to me to suggest he might possibly have passed away."
Merrill shredded a dead leaf between her fingers, her jaw tight, her eyes dull. "Nope. Just left one day. No reason, no note or letter that my mother told me about, nothing."
"You have my sympathies."
She scoffed, "I don't need them. It was a long time ago." Merrill got to her feet and brushed her breeches of for something to do.
The forest lit up noticeably as the clouds drew back from the moon's face; moonbeams draped themselves like pale silk along the branches and flowed like molten silver atop the earth.
When the moonlight dimmed and the silence had stretched out too long, she faced him and asked carefully, "So… Are we good? You know, with me singing Orcs back to life and whatnot?"
He grinned, his teeth white in the growing dark. "As long as you promise not to bring any of those I kill back to life, then we are more than good, my dear."
The weight she'd carried for the past week lifted and she could breathe freely once more. She offered her hand and he accepted, pulling himself up and ruffling her hair affectionately.
"Shall we return? We depart quite early, tomorrow."
Merrill linked her arm through his and pulled, the beginnings of mischief fluttering around her lips. "There's something I want to do first…"
A/N:
1. My heart is glad to know you.
BOOM! Here's another chapter for you lovelies, just because you're all so sweet and supportive. :) I actually just managed to write for the first time in MONTHS! AND Nightingale will have been out for 5 months in 2 days! Hooray!
Anyway, I put you all on notice: next chapter the party in Rivendell is over, and the Fellowship is officially on its way. I hope you like it.
Leelee202 - DUDE. You're not wrong... :) Good call.
AmberRose - Thanks for the review! And we'll be out of Rivendell by the end of the next chapter, and fully travelling by chapter 30!
Kaikitty165 - I just wrote a scene you're gonna LOVE if you love their interactions... :) You'll probably see it in two more chapters. Hope you continue to enjoy!
SarahELupin - Lol, it totally does. And Merrill is not the most... mature in her handling of the situation, for sure. Thanks for the review!
LostGirlSoul - Thanks for the enthusiastic review! Love it! The elves, in my book, are, as Tolkien implies, simply MORE than humans in every way. So it makes sense to me that they would have difficulty regulating their emotions. Plus, it explains the kinslayings to some degree, as well. :)
LeePaceFan - First of all, ME TOO (meaning I am also a Lee Pace fan; what a cutie!). Secondly, thanks for the review! Thirdly, I see your 'sparkles' and raise you a few 'twinkles'. ;)
And, as always, best wishes ~
