Disclaimer: You know what? I owe a lot to a lot of people. I owe Caitlin much editing (and life) advice. I owe Scott the confidence from some of the best reviews I've ever received. I owe Wistful Gypsy a loving thanks to a sister in Christ. I owe Yanlica inspiration from very faithful reviewing. I owe Mija five years of a best friend. Sister. I owe Micki lots of advice, accountability, and support. I owe my parents encouragement, brilliance, perseverance, and my stubborn attitude. I owe everyone I forgot a big apology.

I owe Jesus Christ my salvation.

And of course, I owe Tolkien a big "Yoda-yoda-yoda" for coming up with Middle-Earth and all of its intricacies.

PS: Ashley gets muse-credit for this chapter! Roy-hoo! *Avs… sob…but Chris Drury still rock, HELLOOO can we say three-on-one killer shot?*



A/N: Bla bla bla. I'm cutting down to three stories, maybe only two, because its just too hard to be faithful and write constantly for all four of them. If only there were thirty or so hours in a day…

This chapter is short because I wanted to post and I have no time. Prom is tonight! Yay!

5

Ryan woke to the feeling of a light kiss on the lips. He managed a smile as he shifted groggily up onto one elbow. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked in elvish.

Narin sat softly on the edge of the bed. "Two days, my Lord-"

"You know, I wish you wouldn't call me that. You can call me 'dear', or 'sweetie', or 'idiot', or whatever you want to call me, but not 'my Lord'. I hate that," he said grumpily. The he rubbed his eyes, slid his feet onto the floor, and his head cleared. He reached a hand out to his wife. "Oh, love, don't listen to me! I didn't mean any of that. I'm just sleepy, that's all. I'm feeling better, though!"

Narin smiled simply. "All that I hope for is your health's return. And, Ryan, I must thank you again. You were always so willing to return with me to the customs and ways of the elves." She let him hug her gently.

Ryan had gradually fallen into acting like an elf over the past nine years, through Narin's insistence. He walked like an elf, spoke elvish instinctively, and could generally blend in with the other residents here in Rivendell. He enjoyed the structure and peace of daily life, but in the back of his mind lingered doubts and regrets. If only, he would think more than once a day, if only I had stayed with Sarah.

He longed for his sister with an ache that wouldn't go away. Her ability to read his mind, her smart common sense, her sharp wit, everything about her seemed like a part of him that had gone missing. The worst part was, he hadn't realized how much of him she made up, until she was gone.

That's what he had thought it was at first- just a day that he was missing Sarah more than usual. But after a week, the ache hadn't gone away- it had grown. Then it spread to his limbs, and turned into a burning. Ryan fell to a fever three days later, then chills, then two days of coma- like sleep.

Narin had been by his side the entire time, she told him. And most importantly, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Nothing.

Ryan attributed it to his sickness, but wasn't it about time for Gandalf, then Frodo and the other hobbits, to show up? Narin only told him no- it was at least another month. She made sure he stayed in bed, and only bed.

"I had so many dreams, Narindrel. While I was asleep, I mean," Ryan tried to stand, but she pushed him back, her hands cold on his bare, pale chest. It was obvious he'd been sick for weeks.

"No, no, no. You must stay in bed. You may tell me about your dreams while I make you tea. I'll use the leaf you like, all right?"

Ryan gave up and threw an arm over his eyes, stretching out across the covers. He heard Narin walk across the room, so he told her.

"I dreamed all sorts of things- about America, about the Shire, about Sarah. But you know what the strangest thing was? I saw Amanda over and over and over again. She's our older sister. So strange, because I haven't given a second thought to Amanda in weeks, maybe months. Knowing she's safe, back in my time, I guess I simply filed her away under 'Fond Memories'. Isn't that strange?"

"Mmmm, yes," Narin said consolingly. She wasn't really listening.

Narin concentrated more on what she was doing- heated water, several mint-ish leaves, and a drop of honey in a silver cup. She mixed it carefully, making sure it was just the way Ryan liked it. Then Narin turned casually, eyeing her husband. He still took her breath away- not only handsome in form and smile, but also kind and innocent. She was doing it all for him.

Pulling out a tiny pouch from a leafed belt around her waist, Narin quickly leaned over the steaming cup. She slid the pouch open and shook a pinch of silvery-white powder into the tea. It dissolved in a quick hiss.

"-then I saw a huge figure, taking up all of my vision. It was archaic, simple, without defined features, though I could tell it was a human form. But it had no hands! Arms, just not hands."

"Strange, Ryan. Yes," she said, not really listening. "Now drink your tea."

Ryan held out a hand, and took it thankfully.

~ I'm itching to explain all the symbolism- a GREAT BIG PLOT TWIST IS COMING SOOOOOON! Review, okay? Thanks!