...and so begins Chapter 2 of My Name is Elanor: Get me out of here!
I hope you enjoyed Chapter 1; Elanor and I are in it for the long haul!
After a short time, the rough grass pressed uncomfortably on Elanor's knees, and she stood up. One hand rested on her mouth and she could feel tears stinging at the back of her eyes.
"No, it can't be, it's fine, it's fine," she muttered, spinning around to survey the land behind her. It was equally desolate, and utterly unrecognisable.
Her heart was beginning to hammer, as she kicked the backpack aside and scrambled to her left. Her feet caught on tussocks and she fell forward, arms windmilling uncontrollably. The impact of the fall caused the gathering tears to spill onto her cheeks in frustration.
"It was just there," she sobbed, panic rising and knees stinging as she dragged herself upwards.
In a frenzy, she staggered back the other way, desperate to catch a glimpse of the campsite, Georgia, or anything remotely familiar.
"Oh gosh," she gasped, covering her face. "Oh gosh."
She did not know how long she wandered madly, before falling facedown upon the grass and allowing the sobs to come in earnest.
The sun had reached its zenith by the time Elanor managed to sit up. She rubbed her tearstained and itchy face with the heel of her hand and attempted to still her quivering breaths.
Desperately hoping that the campsite would have reappeared, she scanned the horizon blearily.
No such luck.
Muttering a curse under her breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears and stood up shakily. She had clearly lost her way - it was the only explanation. Somehow, in the course of that fifteen minutes on the hillside, she had strayed from the path.
Nodding to reassure herself, she reached down the front of her dress to where her phone was concealed in her bra. The festival campsite had no reception, but perhaps on the hill she would be able to call her parents or Tim.
Zero bars. Great.
Undaunted, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. It was ok; she could do this.
Georgia's backpack lay forlornly on the grass, and Elanor scooped it up. Surveying the staff and knife belt with distaste, she added them to her load and surveyed her surroundings.
The land was dotted with hills and great rocky outcroppings. Some distance away she could see a small copse of trees,and a range of mountains stood at a great distance to her right; an uncomfortable reminder that they had most undoubtedly not been present that morning.
"It's ok," she muttered. "Ugh, Georgia. Now, where to go?"
Direction was a dilemma. The sun was overhead, and she had never had Georgia's knack for using it as a point of reference. She was comforted by the knowledge that it would set eventually, and she would discover west.
Provided she was not utterly disoriented - which was a distinct possibility, she forced herself to admit - the campsite should be directly down the slope in front, and up the following hill. She would take that way, which took her slightly towards those accusing mountains.
Her nose ran frustratingly as she trod carefully down the hill, trying to keep her footing amongst the rough tussocks. The next slope was somewhat steeper, and she was panting as she navigated a scattering of boulders near the crest.
Chewing her lip, she glanced around hopefully as she gained her vantage point. The campsite remained as elusive as ever. Panic began to uncoil itself in her chest. The valley was completely unfamiliar, an expanse of sweeping grass that swept before her for many kilometres.
She was hopelessly, frighteningly lost.
Dusk was beginning to fall as Elanor stumbled forward. The brisk night air echoed with her desperate sobs as she scuffed through dirt and grass. She had lost her sense of direction many hours ago, as the tears blurred her eyes and animal terror clouded any sense of reason.
The night was far too cold for an Australian summer, and the grass shockingly brown after the inordinate amount of tropical rain they had received the previous week.
Eventually her legs gave out as both feet protested fiercely, like she had run 10km in a pair of heels. Somewhere in her frenzied flight she had discarded both Georgia's staff and knife belt, but couldn't muster any concern for her sister's treasures.
Despite the frigid air, the back of her dress was damp with sweat, and she began to shiver as she fell awkwardly down, one knee tucked up beneath her. She had long since run out of tears, but her shoulders shook uncontrollably as she threw the backpack to the ground.
Unzipping it with numb fingers, she pulled out the coarse blanket she had packed so thoughtlessly and wrapped it around her slim shoulders. She was alone, utterly defenceless, and with frighteningly few resources. Plus, her phone battery was getting low, and she was still without any hint of reception.
Waking her phone, her eyes softened as she studied the image on the lock screen; a handsome, dark-haired man with his arms wrapped around a slender woman. She was half facing the camera, her expression captured as she laughed at a forgotten joke. Tim had taken that photo when they were at the Queensland Performing Arts Centre, seeing Wicked. She loved him in that shirt, the clear blue matching his twinkling eyes.
Pressing the lock button to preserve the battery, Elanor shifted in the blanket. A fresh batch of tears welled up and began their fleeting journey across her scratched cheeks, before melting into the fibres of her dress.
The stars were twinkling as the last light faded, taunting her from high above. Somewhere, God only knew where, her family was looking for her; probably terrified, wondering what had happened to her.
And Tim?
He would be waiting at Southbank, checking his phone and scanning the masses of faces.
She had planned to wear her green dress, which clung to her slim waist and dipped low at the back. Tim liked that dress.
But he wouldn't know what had happened; she had never bailed on him before, nor failed to contact him if she was late. She was always available, always willing to give him a lift or go for a coffee or a spontaneous trip to Vapiano's for an indulgent late-night Italian dinner.
Sniffing, Elanor pulled her knees up to her chest. She wanted her parents, or Tim; heck, she would even welcome Georgia at this present moment, despite how angry she had been that morning.
Rolling onto one side, she closed her eyes. The tears continued to leak out from under her lids, as she lay there, full of despair.
Goodness, I just want to go home.
Elanor's first impression when she woke was of damp cold, swiftly followed by gnawing hunger and an intense pressure on her bladder.
Opening one puffy eye, she was met by a damp stalk of grass close to her face. It was coated in dew; as was, she soon discovered, her blanket.
Whimpering involuntarily as she uncurled herself, Elanor discovered a multitude of aches and pains. Whilst she had become accustomed to sleeping on the ground whilst camping, she had always slept upon a pallet of thick blankets and straw. The hard, dry earth pressed uncomfortably on her shoulder and had left her hand almost numb. Both her legs were a mass of knotted muscles from the many kilometres she had stumbled across.
Sitting up, she disentangled herself from the blanket. Fortunately, the moisture had not soaked through to her dress beneath, but her teeth chattered in the chilly air nonetheless.
A thick mist clung to the earth, but as Elanor watched a slight breeze began to stir the wispy tendrils, affording her a better view of her resting place.
The landscape was scarcely any different to the previous day, though she had wandered away from the mountains somewhat. She could make out the distant foothills, and in front of her a shallow gully cut through the earth.
Pushing herself up on her arms, she struggled to a standing position and took a deep breath.
She was in a lot of trouble, that was for sure.
"One thing at a time," she muttered, though taken aback at the sound of her own voice.
And her most immediate concern was her pressing need for a bathroom. The festival had, at least, provided a well-dug pit toilet and paper, but it did not take her foggy brain long to realise that she would not even have that luxury.
Reluctantly, she placed the blanket atop the small backpack, and glanced about her for a suitable spot. The gully appeared the most promising. Sighing, she climbed stiffly down it's side and hoisted her skirts up. Fortunately managing to avoid soiling her clothes - the tip of one boot was not quite so fortunate - Elanor relieved herself before returning to her meagre stockpile.
It was still chilly, so she wrapped the blanket back around her torso like a large and bulky shawl, and surveyed the things from the backpack.
Her phone was lingering at 33%, which filled her stomach with damp dread. Furthermore, she possessed nothing more than a torch, two sets of underwear - for which she was somewhat grateful - and three books which were, in her mind, less than useless. She paused, contemplating whether to discard them, and began to leaf through the first few pages of The Lord of the Rings.
An inscription in neat cursive caught her eye:
Dearest Georgie,
Happy thirteenth birthday! I thought it was time you stopped pestering the librarian as much, and I bought you your very own. Hoping it'll keep you out of my hair for at least a few days!
Much love,
Ellie
She had almost forgotten that the battered trilogy had been a gift that she had given herself over four years ago. Both the Ravenscroft girls had been introduced to Tolkien at an early age, but Elanor had passed beyond its pages without being particularly affected. Georgia, by contrast, had enveloped herself in the world of Middle Earth.
A sense of guilt about losing Georgia's staff and knife nudged Elanor's numb sensibilities, and she shrugged as she replaced the books. There would be hell to pay for the missing weapons, but if Georgia's books were discarded as well, Elanor was not sure she would survive her next encounter with her sister.
Zipping the backpack up, Elanor rose gruellingly. Her heart hung heavy in her chest as she took another treasured peek at Tim's laughing face before powering the phone completely off. Then, with a shuddering breath, she tucked it under her bra, and hobbled forward.
Thanks for reading Chapter 2! I'm so excited to see what you think of the story so far. :) Mary Sue's are a pet peeve of mine, so I'm really trying to keep Elanor from becoming one.
I thought I might ask you all a question to answer for me in the reviews... so...
How would you react if you were transported to Middle Earth?
Please leave reviews, and Chapters 3 and 4 will be up soon!
Love,
Finwe x