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Chapter 3

The Road to Rivendell
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The Rangers had deemed it safe enough to leave Nell and Yvonne to the last few short minutes of their meal—first seeing fit to direct them to the restroom (an outhouse out back), for which Nell was immensely grateful. Nell watched them leave, glad to see Boren stop to speak to Havarr on his way out.

Both girls agreed to visit the restroom before leaving, and managed to find their way out back without incident, taking turns in the small, unpleasant stall. Nell tried not to think about it too hard, making quick use of it.

As soon as they stepped out of the front door of the Prancing Pony, Nell saw Boren standing across the street from the inn, a young boy holding the reins of two horses while he checked over their tack. Two more horses—one a darker brown than the other—were tethered to a hitching post and waited calmly, the Rangers' gear already tied down at the backs of their saddles.

Boren spotted the girls as they approached, and grunted in greeting before stepping back from the horses. "These two are yours. Both were sold to the stables after the men who owned them died, one of a wasting disease and the other when he met the wrong end of a blade. They should be trustworthy steeds. Lorthon should arrive soon; he's finding spare bedrolls and hardier traveling clothes for the two of you. The road is hard and long, and you'll need more than the clothes on your backs if you want to arrive whole and hale at the end of it."

Yvonne stepped up to one of the horses: a pale palomino that seemed to have an almost graceful air. "You're beautiful, aren't you?" she murmured, patting the horse's neck as it turned its head to brush at her sleeve with its lips.

Nell walked toward the horse that Yvonne had bypassed, keeping a short distance back as Boren adjusted its saddle. It was a dark, dusty grey, with mane and tail to match, reminding her of a stormy evening. She thought him quite a nice-looking horse, despite not knowing much about horses. She wondered if he had a name, and what it might be—and if he really was a he. (She hadn't bothered to check.)

She supposed that he probably wouldn't mind her calling him whatever she wanted—she couldn't imagine that horses were too particular about such things.

Less than a minute later, Lorthon joined them, bearing satchels filled with what she imagined was their new clothing, and two bedrolls.

"I had to guess at the sizes, so your clothing may not fit exactly," Lorthon said. "I obtained riding breeches, sturdy boots, and two tunics each, as well as riding cloaks and . . ." He hesitated, looking embarrassed if the color on his cheeks was anything to go by. "Undergarments. All are used, but clean and in good conditions. There is also a bedroll for each of you. Do you know how to attach saddlebags and a bedroll to a horse's tack?" He gave them a doubtful look, and Nell felt a bit ashamed at her lack of knowledge. But she had always been good at getting by in unfamiliar environments, so she tried not to appear too daunted. Both girls shook their heads. "Very well," Lorthon continued. "We'll show you how it's done, then we must be on our way."

He handed off the girls' garments, then proceeded to load up their horses with their new equipment, and Nell stood clear, observing his every move so as to be prepared for the next time. She needed to start learning as much as possible about this world; she hated seeming a fool.

When he had fastened the final strap and given it a tug to be sure that it was adequately secured, Nell turned her focus to the clothing in her arms. "Um . . ." she said, her voice feeling a bit weaker than she had hoped. "Where do we . . . ?" She gestured to the pile of fabric, giving a Lorthon an inquisitive but slightly embarrassed look.

"The tack room in the stables should suffice," he said. "We should ride out soon; we will want to find a secure spot to camp before dark."

"We'll hurry," Yvonne said, and set off. Nell accompanied her inside the stable, which smelled of horses and hay, and they found the correct door almost right away; it was right next to the entrance, and the only door in the whole stable that was a full door, not a half stall door. They both peered inside. It was wasn't very large, but there was room enough for both of them to fit inside with some area to move around fairly comfortably. But it was dirty, to be expected, and Nell cringed at the thought of undressing in such a place. And part of her thoughts were still caught on the fact that they would be sleeping outdoors. She had never been camping in her life, and her time in this world so far had been so preoccupied with other things that she had failed to anticipate that possibility. She was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and even more out of place.

But one thing at a time.

Behind them, in an opposite stall, a horse snorted, startling her.

"Want to take turns?" Yvonne asked. "One of us guards the door while the other changes?"

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea . . . Do you want to change first?"

"Sure." Yvonne gave Nell a weak smile and stepped into the room, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her.

Nell stood in front of it, feeling increasingly awkward as the minutes passed. The only people in sight were the two Rangers, but she nonetheless felt paranoid that some other man would come around the corner and give her trouble. She hoped that no one would have need to enter the tack room before Yvonne was finished, for it would be up to Nell to stop him, and she would rather avoid such conflict.

She was tempted to knock on the door and ask Yvonne if she was nearly finished, but she resisted and remained patient, trying not to dwell on the worries swarming her brain.

At last, the door opened at her back, and she scooted aside to let Yvonne out. She beheld her companion's new wardrobe—a brown tunic and breeches, boots that extended above her knees, and a dark-grey cloak, her hair in a tidy French braid—and was quite impressed. All at once, she was excited to change into her own.

The girls switched places, and once shut inside the dank little room, Nell set her pile of clothes on a shelf with minimal grime, quashed her disgust to the best of her ability, and began to undress. It felt bizarre and unnatural to be doing so in a place such as this, but she tried not to think about it—in particular, about how any stranger could come by at any time, in spite of Yvonne's presence on the other side of the door. Nell liked to think that the Rangers would not allow any harm to come to her dignity, but who knew if they would notice before it was too late?

Best to get dressed again as quickly as possible and avoid any potential ugliness.

She folded her old clothes, save for both pieces of underwear, and placed them beside the others. She supposed that no one would notice if she wore her own undergarments. She may regret the underwear soon, for cleanliness reasons, but at the moment, comfort and security were more important. Putting aside a binding that she guessed was intended for her chest, she reached for what she supposed was the first item to put on—a sturdy tank-top-looking shirt—and slipped it on. Next, on went a loose pair of medieval-type boxers, over which she slid on a pair of dark-brown breeches, followed by a grey tunic, which came nearly to her knees. There was too much material to tuck in, so she let it hang. The boots looked like they had seen much action, and the brown leather was soft but tough. After lacing them up, she grabbed the dark, forest-green cloak. She slung it around her shoulders and clasped it at the neck, and with that, she felt as if she had become a different person. She had heard that dressing up in costume was something that helped an actor connect with his role more easily, but this was her first time experiencing such a thing. It was true. She imagined that she might now be a bit less daunted by this world.

She grabbed her old clothes and shoes, and the binding that she hadn't used, and opened the door.

Yvonne straightened up from where she was leaning against the rough wood of the stable wall, and grinned at Nell. "The upside is that we're now the most realistic cosplayers ever," she said quietly. She glanced toward the door. "Are you ready to get going? I've got a feeling we're not going to stop riding until we're both ready to drop tonight. Tomorrow is going to be even worse, since we'll be sore."

"Great," Nell replied with just a slightly bitter, sarcastic edge. She didn't want to think about how hard it would be before she had to. And, having never done anything like this before, she wasn't looking forward to finding out what her limits might be. "Don't really have a choice, do I?" She hoped that she didn't sound like too much of a jerk, but that damned anxiety was starting to turn into irritated stress rather than fear. "Let's go." With her armload of old clothes, she marched back to the Rangers and their waiting horses.

The men looked their way as they approached, and Nell saw a glimmer of approval—and surprise?—on their faces as they took in their new appearances.

"Road-ready now, I wager," said Boren, quickly turning his attention to the saddle of his own mount.

Nell stuffed her armload into her saddlebag and tightened the leather straps holding it closed. Then, she turned to the dreaded task that followed: mounting the horse. She noticed Yvonne leading her animal a couple of yards away and using an upturned bucket as a stool. It was a good idea, but Nell did not feel comfortable directing her horse anywhere from the ground. The stirrup seemed high, but she supposed that she would have to make an attempt. Knowing that being afraid or nervous around a horse didn't help with interactions, she tried to remain as calm as possible, summoning as much confidence as she could, in spite of her lack of knowledge and experience. She grabbed hold of the saddle and raised her right foot to the stirrup. She could reach it, but she wasn't sure if she had enough leverage to haul herself off of the ground. She hesitated. And then she realize how silly she must look to the Rangers, who were surely watching her—though she really hoped against it. She tried to pull herself up, and with that, realized how weak her upper-body strength was. She dropped back to the ground, feeling humiliated and discouraged, but before the feelings had much time to root themselves inside of her, she sensed a presence at her shoulder. She looked back—and up—to find Lorthon standing there.

"If you would allow me?" he asked, then bent down and laced his fingers together, creating a sort of step with his hands. Nell's eyes widened, feeling at once surprised and touched, yet awkward. But she dared not refuse his kind gesture, especially when it would prevent further embarrassing attempts of her own.

She gripped the saddle once more, and carefully placed her boot in his palms. He lifted her so easily, she felt as if she might fly straight over the other side of the horse, but she landed safely in the saddle, and placed her feet in the stirrups, which seemed to be set at a good length.

"Thank you," she said, and he nodded up at her with a slight twinkle in his eyes and a smile touching his lips.

"You haven't much experience with horses, I see?" he inquired.

She smiled wryly in return. "Not really."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine." She gave a slight nod at his kind encouragement, hoping that he was right.

Yvonne maneuvered her horse closer to Nell's as Lorthon mounted up, Boren already in his own saddle. Once Lorthon was settled, Boren gave their group a last look over, then nodded in apparent satisfaction. "Let us ride out and meet the night somewhere far afield."

With that said, he moved his horse into a steady walk through the muddy streets of Bree. Yvonne gave Nell a bracing smile, and, with a nod, indicated that she should go first. Nell nudged her horse forward to catch up with Boren. She was glad that she wasn't last in line, but she felt a certain responsibility to ride well, so as not to hold up Yvonne and Lorthon. She was relieved that her horse seemed to know that he was supposed to follow the leader. She hardly felt like she was controlling him. She heard the others fall into line behind her, and gradually her nerves calmed further.

A moment later, Yvonne called out, "What are the names of our horses, by the way?"

"I know not," Lorthon replied, from farther back. "The hostler did not say. I doubt they would object to new ones, however."

Nell decided that coming up with a name for her horse would be a good way to pass the time, and she set her mind to it.

Once they had ridden past the gates of Bree, the slow walk Boren had been maintaining increased in pace to a bumpy trot. It was uncomfortable and difficult to get used to, and the longer it went on, the more Nell dreaded the future of the journey. Several times, she took the stress off of her backside by lifting herself from the saddle with the help of the stirrups for several seconds at a time. But she began to feel it in her legs very quickly, so she relied on the method less, instead bracing herself to the best of her ability. She almost constantly reminded herself not to think about the length of the journey ahead.

They passed a few men on carts and on foot as they drew away from town, as well as a gaggle of women who were walking back from the nearby forest with baskets full of berries and mushrooms. The men they passed almost all gave the Rangers distrustful looks, though a few looked at Yvonne and Nell with a different glint in their eyes, and the younger women giggled as they passed the two Rangers. One even stopped to offer their entire small group a few berries from her basket. The treat from the generous girl was very welcome, and Nell reached down and received her portion with a cupped palm, careful not to drop a single one. They were quite juice, and surprisingly, they helped to curb her steadily growing thirst, rather than intensifying it.

After they had made it a couple of miles away from Bree, they stopped seeing other people altogether, and Lorthon cantered past Yvonne and Nell to ride alongside Boren for a moment. The two began to hold a quiet conversation. Nell watched them intently, trying to discern their low words, but only caught one or two over the sound of the horses' hooves. Due to her preoccupation, she was a little startled when Yvonne suddenly joined her. Nell looked at her expectantly, but before Yvonne could say anything, Lorthon turned in his saddle to address them. "I will ride ahead to scout the area. Keep close to Boren, and follow his lead. I don't expect to find any dangers so close to Bree, but these are dark times we live in."

He then urged his horse into a gallop, quickly leaving the small party behind. Despite the rough ride that such a gait would certainly be for Nell, she couldn't help but wish to follow Lorthon's lead, in order to hasten their travels. Boren started forward again, and Nell and Yvonne followed—at their normal pace.

A few moments later, Yvonne turned to Nell. "How are you doing? I didn't have a chance to ask earlier, but have you ever done anything like this before? It's weird to think that I know you better than I know anyone else here, but I don't actually know you that well at all."

"Yeah," I know what you mean," Nell replied with a sheepish half-smile, then continued, keeping her voice low to prevent Boren from overhearing. "And no, I've never been on a horse in my life—if that's what you meant. How about you? You seemed a little more experienced than me back there."

"I've taken riding lessons on and off for a while," Yvonne said, also keeping her voice down. "I'm not an expert by any means, but I know the basics." Yvonne sighed. "I always wished my parents had been more supportive of me riding when I was younger. I got to go to a riding camp for half the summer one year, but didn't get the chance for more lessons until I was done at college and had a decent job. I've always loved horses." Then, she grinned. "I'm actually looking forward to a solid week or so of doing nothing but riding, even though I know I'm going to be pretty miserable as soon as we stop for the day . . . and probably even more so in the morning once my muscles have had a chance to stiffen. But no, I wasn't just talking about riding, but all of this. The . . . roughing it. Camping and stuff. I hike every weekend, but those are just day hikes. I've never actually been camping, or slept out under the stars, or any of that."

Nell listened with a small amount of jealousy. None of her foster homes had ever been run by wealthy people or the types to think that riding horses was a valuable skill set, but they could have at least provided their kids with some kind of outdoors experience. The extent of Nell's knowledge was walks down to whatever park was close by, or playing in the yard, with or without fallen leaves or snow as the seasons dictated. She cringed a bit at Yvonne's mention of camping. "Neither have I . . . But it sounds like you're almost getting free bonus riding lessons," she joked. "Only, combined with a crash course in wilderness survival. I'm not looking forward to that part . . ."

"Ha, me neither," Yvonne replied. "Part of this still doesn't feel real—just a few hours ago, I was about to head back to my apartment and take a bath before watching some shows. Now, I'm not even sure if I'm going to be able to shower again for the foreseeable future." Yet another thing that Nell didn't want to think about: how dirty she would feel after even a day out here.

Neither of them said anything for a few moments before Yvonne continued. "Complaining probably won't help us much. I'm sure we'll get used to whatever comes our way." Then, shifting gears, she asked, "Have you thought about what you want to name your horse?"

Nell took a steadying breath and focused on Yvonne's question. "Kind of. But I'm not sure I want to go with something simple, like Dusk or Storm, or be more creative. There's no rush."

"I haven't been able to come up with anything," Yvonne admitted with a groan. "I keep wanting to look up ideas for names, but . . . well, no internet."

They rode in silence for a while, the miles of road and long grass and rolling hills going by slowly. Nell's mind wandered, as if her brain was adjusting to the repetitive rhythm of her horse's gait. Boredom took over, and she tried to keep herself occupied by trying to scrape together what else she might know about this world. It wasn't much. Her thoughts settled on the Elves. She wasn't sure if Legolas would be at Rivendell—or if they would even see him at all—but she really hoped so. Not only would it be incredible to see someone whom she knew from a story standing before her in person, but she wanted to see what a real Legolas would be like.

Eventually, the sun began to sink lower in the sky, and the shadows lengthened. Nell had been trying not to squirm in her saddle, but had given in a while ago, occasionally readjusting to place the majority of her weight on the temporarily least-sore part of her backside. She dreaded how she would feel in the morning, but she had a feeling that she wouldn't have much trouble getting sleep, even in the outdoors, after the ride thus far.

Evening came, and just before she wondered for the umpteenth time when Lorthon was coming back, she heard galloping hoofbeats approaching in the distance. She strained to peer around Boren, and caught sight of a rider on the road a ways ahead of them. The figure shouted out a greeting.

"Hail, Boren! Hail, Nell and Yvonne! I return with good news." Lorthon cantered toward them. He and his horse were both sweaty, but he was smiling as he slowed to a trot and then a walk to speak with them. "I scouted for miles around, and saw no sign of danger, human or otherwise. I also have found a sheltered copse of trees with a spring along the eastern edge. 'Tis only a mile's ride from here."

"Very good," Boren replied. "We shall settle there for the night."

Nell's relief at the sound of that was immense. She was more than ready to collapse onto the ground, with or without a bedroll.

The day's final mile seemed longer than it was, and Nell would have asked to gallop it, had she been confident that she wouldn't fall out of the saddle—and that it wouldn't inflict more pain on her backside. When they at last reached their destination, she managed to ease her horse to a halt beside Yvonne's, and successfully dismounted without aid from either of the Rangers. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she wavered slightly, but regained her composure, then gave her horse a thank-you stroke on the neck.

The little copse of trees felt like a tiny valley, the low hills on either side hiding their small party from the road. She felt about as safe as she could in such a place. The sound of trickling water reached her, and she realized just how thirsty she had become. After a few seconds of searching, she caught sight of the smallest stream that she had ever laid eyes on. It barely qualified. The water ran over dark stones, and moss grew sporadically along the edges of the flow. The sight made her smile inwardly. She had always wanted to visit the English countryside and ancient forests with little groves of trees, brooks, and mossy rocks, and this seemed as close as anything. All things considered, it wouldn't be such an unpleasant place to camp after all.

She noticed the men tending to their horses, then Yvonne leading hers toward the water, and suddenly felt lost once again. The others knew that she had no experience with horses, and they seemed to be okay with it, but she still hated to have inadequate knowledge and be the odd one out.

She heard Lorthon speaking to Yvonne while their horses drank and helped themselves to the sparse grass under the trees. "There are supplies to care for your horse in one of your saddlebags. Do you need help?"

"I don't think so," Yvonne replied, with perhaps a touch of uncertainty.

"Very well. Once you are done, gather wood for the fire. Boren and I will prepare our meal."

Yvonne brought her horse back over, closer to Nell's, and started digging tools out of her saddlebag, also pulling out an apple, which her horse ate gratefully. Nell watched as she removed the horse's tack and starting to groom her, then interrupted, a bit embarrassed. "Um . . . Sorry, but . . . do you think you could . . . tell me what I'm supposed to do . . . ?" She gestured to her own horse.

Yvonne blinked at her, as if having just come back to reality. She seemed tired. "Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I'm about dead on my feet. It's got to be six or seven in the morning for me, and I haven't slept at all. Here, the tools are a bit different than what we had at home, but I think the general idea is about the same." She waved Nell closer. "The brush is pretty self explanatory; you use it to remove the dust, dirt, and dried sweat from the horse's coat. Ideally, you should brush your horse before tacking it up and when you're done riding. If you put a saddle on a dirty horse, it can cause sores, which isn't fun for your horse or for you, since you might get bucked off if the horse is in pain. While you're brushing, you should look out for cuts and scratches, especially on the horse's legs. Horses are pretty much walking disasters and get hurt all the time, in the weirdest of ways." She showed Nell how to brush the horse, using both a circular motion and smooth strokes afterward to flick off the dirt. Then she bent down and leaned slightly into the horse, picking up her hoof and supporting it in one hand, and holding the pick in the other.

"You've also got to clean out the bottom of the hooves," she said. "Make sure you're standing to the side of your horse when you do this; never stand somewhere they can easily kick you. These horses seem pretty well trained, probably because they've spent their entire lives working, so I doubt yours will give you any trouble. Just lean into the horse slightly, run your hand down its leg so it knows what you're doing, then pick the hoof up like this. In the center of the bottom of the hoof is a softer part called the frog. What you want to do is scrape all around that, and make sure there aren't any stones or pebbles stuck in the hoof, and that there aren't any obvious injuries."

Nell paid close attention, trying to take in everything that Yvonne was saying, despite the incredibly long day having drained a good deal of her mental and physical stamina. She hadn't really thought about it until Yvonne had mentioned what time it would be for them in their own world, but maybe that was part of why she was so tired.

Yvonne then showed her the spot that she meant on her horse's hoof, then offered to let her do the next one. Nell did so reluctantly, extremely careful to not hurt the horse. It took her longer than it had taken Yvonne.

"You should also brush out the mane and tail occasionally," Yvonne said, "but that's more of an aesthetic thing than a health thing. It's easier with a comb. And that's really it for basic care. Oh; you always want to check the underside of your saddle pad and saddle before putting it back on, just in case there's a burr or something that might irritate the horse stuck to it, and if you think your horse is limping or is acting strangely, it's always better to stop and check it over than keep going. I have no idea why 'healthy as a horse' is a saying; horses are actually one of the more expensive animals when it comes to vet bills. I've been thinking about getting one in a few years and did a lot of research on the expenses. Here, let's go over to your horse and I'll show you how the hobbles work and how to take off your tack. I've only used hobbles a few times, and that was back at the riding camp I did when I was younger, but they're pretty self explanatory. I've literally never used a feed bag, which I think is what the other thing in there is, so we'll have to watch what the rangers do for that."

When all was said and done, and the rest of the horses were enjoying a supper of grass after the tiring ride, Nell finally faced what she had been dreading for the last few hours: relieving herself in the underbrush for a second time. The first time, she had been incredibly embarrassed to request to stop riding for such a thing, though the men hadn't seemed put out. That made the whole experience only slightly more bearable, and she had hoped that it would very quickly get easier.

Now, she made her way as far from their little camp as possibly, while still in the cover of trees and sparse undergrowth. And the second time proved to be almost as miserable as the first. She almost wished that she were wearing a dress.

With that unpleasant task done, she washed her hands in the brisk stream—immensely grateful to have water this time—and decided that something to eat was well overdue.

However, as she returned to the camp, she noticed that Yvonne was picking her way through the small copse of trees—gathering firewood. Nell had been so caught up in tending to her horse that she had forgotten that the two of them had been assigned firewood duty. The thought of more work almost made her head spin, but she could eat and rest soon.

She joined Yvonne and set to work picking up every stick, twig, and piece of bark that she could find. Some sticks seemed too long for a fire, but she and Yvonne took them anyway, in case the Rangers wanted to break them into decent lengths.

When they returned with their haul, Lorthon had a metal pot filled with water from the stream balanced on a nearly flat rock, and was cutting strips of dried meat. Boren was crouched a little ways away by the stream, washing some tubers and greens that he must have found. Lorthon put his task on hold and set to work building a small fire, while Nell passed him sticks and twigs. It took little time to get it going, thanks to the Ranger's expertise. Once the flames could thrive and grow on their own, Lorthon returned to his task of preparing their dinner. He put the pot of water over the fire, and dropped the dried meat into the pot.

Yvonne, meanwhile, had wandered off toward the stream. She returned a short while later with her waterskin and took a seat on a fallen tree not far from the fire.

"The first day is always the hardest," Lorthon said, directing his words to Yvonne.

"Don't listen to him," Boren said as he came over, handing the clean tubers and greens to Lorthon, then fishing a small satchel out of his saddle bag. He added a few pinches of whatever was inside to the pot of water. "It's the second day that's the worst. But by the third day, you start getting used to it."

Wonderful, Nell thought with dread.

The concoction started to smell amazing. Nell's stomach growled—not for the first time—and she folded her arms more tightly over it, as if that would quell the noise. She wasn't accustomed to eating elaborate home-cooked meals, but at the moment, this simple campfire food was more appealing than even the best frozen dinner that she normally enjoyed at home. She tried to focus on the aroma rather than the daunting prospect of the following day's ride.

At long last, the soup was ready. Nell watched patiently as Lorthon approached Yvonne with a steaming wooden bowl. She looked a little lost in her mind, and appeared to have not noticed him until he was directly in front of her. She took the soup, thanking him, then said, "I promise, I'll try to pull my own weight more tomorrow. I haven't slept for over a day, so I'm not quite my normal self at the moment."

"Eat, then rest," Boren replied, spooning some of the piping-hot concoction into another bowl. "Tonight, Lorthon and I will keep watch. In the future, the four of us will split the night between us. You must learn the skills necessary to survive if you find yourself on your own in the wilds. We will teach you all we can as we travel to Rivendell."

Nell received her own bowl from Boren and thanked him with a grateful nod. From what he was saying, she gathered that she and Yvonne would be expected to take a shift on watch, possibly even the following night. She hoped that the two of them would be able to do it together, for being the only one awake, in the middle of nowhere, when you were unfamiliar with the area—and the world—was not the most pleasant prospect, especially with only a handful of hours of sleep to go on.

She decided to just enjoy her soup for now and worry about the watch later. It was hearty, hot, and incredibly satisfying, despite its few ingredients and watery consistency, and she started to feel even more drowsy soon after the food hit her stomach.

Lorthon decided to take the first shift. Wrapped in a blanket and with her thin bedroll beneath her, Nell bedded down near the fire, on some soft grass at the base of a tree. The lumpy ground and the crisp night air didn't end up mattering much at all as her fatigued mind and body pulled her quickly down into slumber.

It was cold. Nell shivered in her blanket, somewhat disoriented by the chill and the brightness, as her bedroom was always dark in the morning and never so freezing. As her brain awakened and the rest of her senses returned to her, she realized that she was fully clothed, and was lying on something hard. She frowned, squinting her eyes open, and groaned softly. Her sleep-addled gaze landed on two men beside . . . a campfire.

Everything flooded back, and with the resulting adrenaline, she was instantly fully awake. She covered her face with her blanket for a moment, trying to collect herself, and groaned again—this time from pain rather than the sunlight and the morning chill. Boren had said that today would be worse. She wasn't even standing yet, and she knew that he was right.

She didn't want to move, but the longer she was awake, the more she had to go. She bore the growing discomfort for a few more minutes, then regretfully peeled the blanket off of herself, cringing against the air without the protection of her shield, then grimaced with every subsequent movement as she sat up, got to her feet, and ambled a safe distance away. If this was what camping was like, she was glad that she'd never done it before.

Breakfast consisted of dried meat and bits of bread. The fire burned low in the old embers, but it took the edge off of the nip in the air. Still, all that Nell could think of was how, if she had never gone on that walk back home, she could be sitting in her kitchen right now, having a normal breakfast in the comfort of a warm apartment.

None of them lingered with their meager meal. There was a sense of urgency to continue on their way, and within an hour, they were once again mounting their horses.

The miles lengthened into days. True to their word, the Rangers showed the girls how to build a fire, how to choose the best firewood, how to find some of the more common edible plants and mushrooms, as well as the beginnings of how to track and scout.

Nell found herself getting rather lost in the adventure. She was occasionally overcome by a brief wave of homesickness, but her primary emotion was excitement for their destination. The journey was growing on her as well, and it was when she succeeded in effectively stoking a fire or locating a nice bunch of mushrooms that she felt the most at home in this surreal situation. It was only when the day's riding wore her down or she had a particularly rough night of sleep that she found herself missing her own world the most. But then that would pass, and she would once again be looking ahead, not behind her at a monotonous life that held nothing of any real value to her other than her collection of books. If only she had had just one of them with her that night . . .

On the evening of the ninth day, while they were all seated around the fire that Nell and Yvonne had made, roasting a rabbit that Boren had shot with his bow, Lorthon said, "Tomorrow, we will reach Rivendell."

Nell felt her eyes widen. It's not that it felt too soon to be arriving—on the contrary, it felt like they had been traveling longer than they had—but the prospect of finally reaching their destination, when she had felt many times that they may never get anywhere, was a huge relief. But once the relief settled, an unexpected wave of intimidation took hold of her. She was going to meet Elves. She may not have read Tolkien's books, or seen the movies, but she knew enough about the Elves to know how inferior she would feel in their presence. And she would be face-to-face with them in only a day. She tried not to think about how much she wished that she could bathe before they saw her, and comforted herself with the fact that she wouldn't be the only member of their small party who was grubby and road-weary.

The next day dawned bright and clear, and there was an air of expectation over their entire party. Nell and Yvonne weren't the only ones who were looking forward to some more-comfortable accommodations; Boren was practically waxing poetic about the bath he was looking forward to, and Lorthon kept talking about the various dishes that the Elves served.

Thankfully, their pace that day was quick; as they neared Rivendell, even the horses seemed to sense that they would have a comfortable place to stay at the end of it. It was early evening when Lorthon slowed to ride beside Nell and Yvonne and said, "We draw near to our destination. Tonight, we will eat in the comfort of Imladris."

Nell was beyond ready to sleep in a normal bed. And not wake for days. The closer they grew to Rivendell (or, Imladris, as he had just called it?), the more slowly the landscape seemed to pass by. Due to how close they were getting, this day seemed longer than many of the others. Even Nell's hunger pangs seemed more intense. All she could do was dwell on Lorthon's promises of Elven food as her horse carried her ever onward.

She looked down at her horse's mane as his head bobbed steadily. Several names had come to mind since their journey had begun, but none seemed appropriate. She was in a fantasy world; she should give the trusty animal a proper fantasy name. But the right inspiration had yet to strike her. Yvonne had had an easier time of it and dubbed hers Lux. Perhaps once Nell got some decent food, her brain would start to function more normally. She had thought that, with so few distractions, she would have a lot of time to think, but she had found herself spacing out quite frequently, losing track of time. Maybe to help her cope with the discomfort of being in the saddle for so long. She was sure that the men must be used to it, but she wondered how Yvonne was faring. She hadn't heard her complain, and she wasn't about to do so herself.

Her lifeline for the last day had been the Rangers' encouraging words regarding what lay in wait for them at Rivendell. And when the sun began to sink toward the horizon, and Lorthon slowed beside her and Yvonne and told them that they would soon arrive, she almost felt lightheaded with relief, and was tempted to gallop the rest of the way. But they continued their steady pace as dusk fell, and eventually came to a pass into the hills. The girls followed cautiously behind the men as the terrain appeared to grow rather treacherous, made even more daunting by the coming night. It was not their first time riding in the dark, but until now, they had always made camp before the shadows had become too thick. Now, they were so near their goal that the shadows were a minor bother that they were more than willing to cope with. Though Nell was, perhaps, a bit more nervous than the others as they made their way through the increasingly rocky pass. She tried her best to stay relaxed, trusting their guides and her horse, knowing that animals—particularly ones such as these—reacted badly to the stress of their riders.

The steep rock walls on either side hemmed them in, further deepening the night, funneling the small caravan through to the other side. The valley opened up before them.

The sun had set, and the deep blues and purples of the sky fell across the hills before them. The sound of rushing water filled the air. Nell's horse stopped just behind Boren's, and the party drank in the sheer majesty of the valley—and the grand dwelling therein. Nell had seen pictures. She had had expectations. And it was everything that she had hoped for. And more. Waterfalls cascaded down the face of the cliff upon which Rivendell was built, as if the palatial structure itself were a font of life, welcoming them home. The promise of warmth, proper food and drink, a bath and a bed made Nell want to dismount and race down the path to the gates, for she could surely reach them faster than a horse would be forced to traverse the way. But how might that look to the Elves? It was not the way in which she wanted to present herself, adding foolish behavior to a regretful physical appearance. She wondered if she could manage to make an improvement to her hair.

Before she could attempt it, Lorthon spoke. "A lovely sight. More than our weary bones could ask for."

She couldn't agree more.