Disclaimer is the same as in chapter one.
Author's note at the end.
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Ten: A Shortcut to Memories
"Sally, we need to go."
The gentle insistence of the words burrowed deep into her sleep and tried to drag her to the surface but Sally felt too good. She didn't want to go. She felt perfect contentment in every inch of her body, the way she laid, the softness of the bed beneath her and the warmth of the blankets over her. She wouldn't trade this feeling for all the mocha lattes in the world. "No, Piper, please," she moaned sleepily, "just five more minutes."
Frodo stifled a chuckle at her request. For all that she has done for him five minutes was a relatively humble thing to want. He found no reason not to grant it to her.
Little by little, her senses began to strip away the layers of sleep. She could hear footsteps outside her door and through closed eyes she could sense the morning sunlight from her window. No matter how comfortable the bed, it was not her own. She turned slowly to face her visitor. She blinked at him with heavy eyes. "Is there something odd about this room?" she asked with muted amusement, "because every time I shut my eyes, when I open them again, there you are."
Frodo gave her a smile that almost reached his eyes. "There's nothing strange, I assure you," he said as he sat on the edge of her bed. "These past couple of days have been hard on you. You've just been very tired."
Sally pulled herself up to a sitting position. She watched him with rested eyes and began to wonder if she had taken more than her share of sleep. Frodo hid his weariness with great difficulty. "What about you?"
His smile began to fade. He did not like to talk about himself. "I'm not like you, Sally," he said quietly. "It's been a long time since I had untroubled sleep."
Sally did not pursue the comment. She knew where it would go. She could almost feel its weight around her neck, pulling her down. "I don't know if I would describe my sleep as untroubled," she sighed. She leaned back against her pillows and looked out the window. The air itself looked icy. Soon she would leave the inn and be in the cold. She remembered snow against her face, not Chicago snow. Mountain snow. She frowned at the thought. "There is something…not right with me."
A look of concern crossed his face. "Sally?"
She closed her eyes tightly as she felt the coming of angry, frustrated tears. "You told me that I wasn't losing my mind but I don't know what's wrong with me," she said. She took a deep but shaking breath and looked to him. A question had haunted her since the train, since his reassurances, his promises. Why would he have made them if he didn't truly believe them? "You know, don't you?" she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You know what's happening to me?"
Frodo's eyes widened with fear. She had trapped him and he fought the long developed instinct to attempt escape. "Yes," he replied.
A tear fell silently down her cheek. "Tell me, please," she pleaded with quiet desperation. "I have to know."
Frodo shook his head and looked away from everything. "I can't," he said. He was ashamed. He had hidden something from her and it hurt him deeply that he couldn't give it freely.
"Why?" Sally demanded, straining her voice with emotion. "Why can't you?"
He looked back at her now. His expression was nearly unfathomable. She almost did not recognize him for the warmth had all but disappeared from his eyes. The words that came were cold and hard. "Because if you are to come with me, it must be of your own free will," he said in a tone that chilled her. "I tried to leave you before in Chicago. If you have doubts now, I will leave you in Andalsnes."
Her face was wet with tears that had fallen unchecked. Her body shook. Her hands trembled like leaves caught in a breeze. Intense emotions gripped her like nothing she had ever known. Fear, despair, longing. She fought to reach the one small part of her that remained rational. From there she pulled her words. "Why does that hurt so much?" she asked in choking sobs. "Why can I not bear the thought of leaving your side? What is this force that cleaves me to you?"
Frodo regretted immediately the words he chose and the voice he used. He didn't want to hurt her. He only wanted to keep her safe but the idea had awakened too much of Sam in her. He saw him in the way her mouth turned and her eyes pleaded but mostly by how the pure emotion washed over her unabated by shame or modesty. Sam never tried to hide his feelings and now Sally could not hold them back. If she knew where it all came from, why she felt the way she did… Even he could not predict how she would react. He reached out to her in sympathy and apology. He took her hand and pulled her to him. "I can't tell you, Sally," he said, hugging her close. "I can't."
Sally's fingers clutched his coat and she buried her face in her hands. She found comfort in the embrace but she could not quiet the voice growing inside her, warning her that he would leave her behind. She felt a great love for him, a love she would sacrifice everything for. A sacred duty she still could not understand. "Will I ever know?" she asked, her quiet words muffled against his chest.
Frodo leaned his chin on the top of her head and sighed heavily. Without conscious thought he had begun to rock her, holding her much like a father comforting a frightened child, much like he had once been held. "Yes," he told her in a whisper. "I promise you that."
Sally pulled herself up straight to face him. Her tears had begun to dry. She answered a voice that said the time for tears must end, a calling to steel herself for the road ahead. This was not the voice of warning she heard so strongly before. It was her own. "Then I will go with you," she said in quiet earnest. "I will go with you still and I will go of my own free will."
* * *
Merrick sat on a bench in Central Park looking at the day's newspaper with worry. A gentle breeze swayed the branches of the smooth barked trees behind him. They seemed to bend around him, reaching this way and that, to get a sense of the world from what they felt in the wind.
"A thing of beauty, was she not?" a decidedly feminine voice spoke from behind him. She referred to the photograph which Merrick looked at so intently. It was of a fashion model who had died in an airport in Norway.
"I suppose," he replied without looking away. The face enchanted him. She seemed almost supernaturally beautiful. "She is pretty…or was."
The voice clicked its tongue in a regretful tone. "A shame for the elves to lose one so fair," she said.
Merrick frowned suddenly at the oddness of the statement. "Excuse me?" he asked attempting to turn around.
He found he could not move. Something hard and unyielding kept him in his place.
"Do not turn around, little one," the voice warned. "You will not know what you see. My kind does not take to using cheap glamour."
Merrick swallowed hard, hoping to keep his fear down. The words spoken made little sense. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
The voice came close to him, next to his ear. "You worry about your friend who has gone far away," she said. "We know who is after them."
He felt a panic growing in the pit of his stomach. His heart pounded hard against his chest. "Who are you?" he asked in a harsh whisper.
A new voice, softer and wiser than the first, answered him. "Ancient, forgotten,' she said. She spoke clearly but seemed far away, above and behind him. "You did not even know us when you walked on smaller legs."
"Time is growing short, little one," the first voice spoke again. "Your friend's enemy will soon find you but do not be afraid."
"Bring him to us," the second voice told him. She carried a weight of great authority, not just over him in his captive state but also over others all unknown to him in the unseen world behind him. "We have waited long for the Awakening to reveal ourselves to him. Our vengeance was old when the world was young."
"Awakening?" Merrick asked, finding his voice. "What do you mean?" He twisted in his seat turning his head around to look behind him. He didn't realize they had released him.
He saw nothing behind him, only the trees. The first voice spoke again seemingly from all around him. She almost laughed at him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't read in your dreams?"
Merrick snapped his attention down to the newspaper still in his lap. The letters swam on the page, swirling in a soup of confusion.
Suddenly he sat up in his bed wide awake. His hotel room was dark and he could hear the sounds of city traffic through his open window.
It had all been a dream. A weird, strange, freaky dream.
Merrick looked over at his clock. The neon green digital numbers were the only light in the room. 6:15 a.m. He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now.
He pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to his door. As he opened it, the light from the hallway blinded him. Through squinted, bleary eyes he saw a newspaper lying by his feet. He reached down and picked it up.
Standing in the doorway, he began to tremble in shock as he looked at the front page. There, staring back at him, with all her tragic beauty was the photo of the fashion model who had died in Norway. He had known of her death already. He had learned of it in his dream.
Merrick looked around him as if he expected someone would appear and explain it all. But he was alone. Alone and frightened. He had chosen to be alone but now he regretted it.
He missed Piper.
* * *
Sally followed Frodo along the well worn trail in the woods at the base of Mount Trollveggen. Without him telling her, she knew that their journey on modern transportation had come to an end. Where they were going could not be reached by rail or car or airplane. Their destination was of the past and so their travel would be as well.
At least this time Sally came prepared with more practical shoes. She had pulled her shoulder length curls into a ponytail and wore a long brown coat to keep out the chill of the north air. She had packed her bag with as many provisions as she could carry. She had tried to bring more but Frodo told her that they had enough. He smiled as he said it, reminding her that she didn't need to carry more than her share.
But she carried something else which had escaped his notice, something she acquired from the innkeeper. She kept it out of sight, hidden beneath her coat on her back. Its form dented her flesh from the weight of her backpack. She would not speak of it but each step reminded her of its presence.
Sally looked up ahead of her. The trail they walked had become thinner, less traveled. How much further before it would not exist at all? "Where are we going?" she asked breaking their companionable silence.
Frodo looked back at her and almost laughed. He had expected that question at the start of their walk. "To the edge of the world," he answered.
Sally stumbled. She caught her footing and managed to recover before falling. She watched him and saw that his amused smile persisted. Despite his demeanor she knew he meant what he said. "Is it far?" she asked, trying to disguise her surprise.
"Not as far as you would think," he replied.
"Are you in a hurry, Master Frodo?" a voice called from ahead of them.
Sally saw the glint of sunlight reflecting off of the surface of something golden. A man approached them, seeming to come from the trees themselves. He walked without disturbing his surroundings. His footfalls made no sound and the branches of the trees yielded to his presence of their own accord. He had a face of eternal youth and timeless beauty and to look at him was to look at the sun itself. He was an elf, a real one, not hidden beneath a mask of glamour.
Sally suddenly felt lightheaded. She reached out to steady herself and Frodo caught her arm.
"Easy Sally, he's a friend," he said reassuringly.
"My apologies," the golden elf said to her with sympathy in a voice that sang like music. "I did not mean to startle you."
She had seen this light before, intense and brilliant. The memory of the previous night rushed back into her mind with dizzying force. "I know you," she whispered unsteadily. "But I thought that was just a dream."
The world spun around her and she pitched forward, slipping from Frodo's grasp. The elf caught her in comforting arms, holding her with the tenderness of one who knew her well. "I have that effect on many," he said with a touch of regret. "It would not have worked on you if I had known you were traveling together.'
Sally's eyelids fluttered for a moment but she managed to keep them open. The elf looked down at her with curious concern. Frodo appeared behind him peering over his shoulder. His brow had furrowed with worry. He had not expected the certainty of the elf's presence to disorient her so. The dreamlike trance inflicted upon her from the night before faded with resistance. He wished he could have eased her, maybe found some way to prepare her but telling her what had happened in the night would only have confused her. Dream had become reality and reality resembled fantasy more and more. The human mind did not take these transitions lightly.
"Sally, this is Legolas," he told her, hoping to anchor her thoughts to the moment.
She looked up to the elf who held her and opened her mouth to speak. At first no sound came but her mind had begun to clear. Her memories began to fall into place. There had been a storm. The elf had appeared in a flash of light and then she had fallen asleep. She remembered now. She moved her lips again and this time formed words. "From the Fellowship," she breathed.
Legolas smiled gently. "You honor me," he said, helping her get to her feet. "I have come to escort you to the Gates of Moria. Can you ride?"
Sally followed his indication to a clearing beyond the trail ahead. Three horses waited for them to continue their journey. She nodded faintly. "I can manage."
Legolas proved to Sally to be a most charming traveling companion. She imagined that any other time he could appear aloof, perhaps even superior. But his responsibility for her fugue state, however innocent, seemed to open him up to her. They rode side by side discussing the mystery he had built around himself. His avoidance of humanity reminded her of Frodo. She looked back to find him trailing behind them by several paces. Did his avoidance persist even now?
"Do you not like people?" she asked, returning her thoughts to the elf.
"I like people very much, Sally," he said warmly, "but living in their world comes with a price."
Sally frowned. "What is that?"
Legolas turned to look at her. He hid his thoughts behind an expressionless face. "Corruption," he answered.
Sally felt a sudden chill pass through her. His words seemed hauntingly familiar. "Enaiowen said something like that," she told him in a small voice. "She called it a darkness."
"That's a good description." The elf nodded and looked away, not to the path but to something farther. "When Sauron forged the One Ring he placed the essence of himself within it. As a being of evil, the Ring became such as well. All who possessed it, were corrupted by it to some degree. They could wield it, but the Ring was never theirs. Sauron was its true master," he said. He had pulled himself back to the past to bring her this tale. The memory of those times saddened him. The world had stood on the brink of despair. "Until Frodo," he continued with a sudden hint of hope. "Faced with its own destruction, the Rind expelled Sauron's essence and accepted Frodo as its Lord."
The smile that began to form on Legolas' lips died. His hope had faded. "But Sauron's evil was not destroyed," he said solemnly. "It bled into the world, tainting it, becoming a part of it."
Sally froze. "Everything?" she breathed.
He met her eyes. His implications could not be denied. "Everything and everyone."
She shifted uneasily on her mount. The movement reminded her of the object she carried at her back. She did not need to be told that a darkness dwelled within her. She looked back to find Frodo. A part of his mystery had been illuminated. He had opened the proverbial Pandora's box and released great evil into the world. The burden of the Ring had increased tenfold in her eyes. As in the myth itself, hope still remained.
Frodo had stopped. He looked past her through the trees with an expression of undeniable dread. Sally followed his gaze and saw in the distance a small, rustic cottage.
"What is that doing here?" he asked.
Legolas stopped his mount and looked back to his old friend. "He knew you would have to come this way," he said in explanation.
Frodo stiffened. Sally had never seen him like this. "I don't want to see him," he said shaking his head.
"He has been waiting for you for a long time," Legolas said. "He knows you mean to do this." He looked in sympathy to Frodo. The sight of the wooden structure caused him great discomfort. Not the structure but who dwelled within it.
"He doubts me," Frodo said sadly. He looked down as if taking the sight of it away would take its presence away. "I've been nothing but a disappointment to him." Finally he dismounted. "I don't want to do this, Legolas."
TBC
Author's note: I apologize for the delay in posting. Life is persistent in its plans to get in the way of me being on time. It persists still. For those who don't receive email notification of updates, I will try to have Chapter 11 up in a week. Please keep looking for it. I promise it will be worth the wait.
Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews. Please don't call yourselves stupid if you can't figure out who someone is supposed to be. Maybe I just wanted you to be surprised when you found out for real.( I have a friend who reads this and I've told her most of the surprises I've got in store for you but I really wish I hadn't. She would probably enjoy it better if she found out when you do. Also, if you have any complaints, major or minor, please email them to me. Any suggestions to make this story better are always highly appreciated, as long as it's constructive.
For those of you wondering who lives in the cabin you won't have to wonder for long…
Chapter Eleven: "In the House of Gandalf the White" – Many sad and wonderful things happen in this chapter. We find out why Frodo doesn't want to see him among many other astounding revelations. Piper and Grigor have a parting of ways. And something else happens that I know you guys have been waiting for….the 'Awakening'.
Author's note at the end.
"Hostile Takeover"—Chapter Ten: A Shortcut to Memories
"Sally, we need to go."
The gentle insistence of the words burrowed deep into her sleep and tried to drag her to the surface but Sally felt too good. She didn't want to go. She felt perfect contentment in every inch of her body, the way she laid, the softness of the bed beneath her and the warmth of the blankets over her. She wouldn't trade this feeling for all the mocha lattes in the world. "No, Piper, please," she moaned sleepily, "just five more minutes."
Frodo stifled a chuckle at her request. For all that she has done for him five minutes was a relatively humble thing to want. He found no reason not to grant it to her.
Little by little, her senses began to strip away the layers of sleep. She could hear footsteps outside her door and through closed eyes she could sense the morning sunlight from her window. No matter how comfortable the bed, it was not her own. She turned slowly to face her visitor. She blinked at him with heavy eyes. "Is there something odd about this room?" she asked with muted amusement, "because every time I shut my eyes, when I open them again, there you are."
Frodo gave her a smile that almost reached his eyes. "There's nothing strange, I assure you," he said as he sat on the edge of her bed. "These past couple of days have been hard on you. You've just been very tired."
Sally pulled herself up to a sitting position. She watched him with rested eyes and began to wonder if she had taken more than her share of sleep. Frodo hid his weariness with great difficulty. "What about you?"
His smile began to fade. He did not like to talk about himself. "I'm not like you, Sally," he said quietly. "It's been a long time since I had untroubled sleep."
Sally did not pursue the comment. She knew where it would go. She could almost feel its weight around her neck, pulling her down. "I don't know if I would describe my sleep as untroubled," she sighed. She leaned back against her pillows and looked out the window. The air itself looked icy. Soon she would leave the inn and be in the cold. She remembered snow against her face, not Chicago snow. Mountain snow. She frowned at the thought. "There is something…not right with me."
A look of concern crossed his face. "Sally?"
She closed her eyes tightly as she felt the coming of angry, frustrated tears. "You told me that I wasn't losing my mind but I don't know what's wrong with me," she said. She took a deep but shaking breath and looked to him. A question had haunted her since the train, since his reassurances, his promises. Why would he have made them if he didn't truly believe them? "You know, don't you?" she asked. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You know what's happening to me?"
Frodo's eyes widened with fear. She had trapped him and he fought the long developed instinct to attempt escape. "Yes," he replied.
A tear fell silently down her cheek. "Tell me, please," she pleaded with quiet desperation. "I have to know."
Frodo shook his head and looked away from everything. "I can't," he said. He was ashamed. He had hidden something from her and it hurt him deeply that he couldn't give it freely.
"Why?" Sally demanded, straining her voice with emotion. "Why can't you?"
He looked back at her now. His expression was nearly unfathomable. She almost did not recognize him for the warmth had all but disappeared from his eyes. The words that came were cold and hard. "Because if you are to come with me, it must be of your own free will," he said in a tone that chilled her. "I tried to leave you before in Chicago. If you have doubts now, I will leave you in Andalsnes."
Her face was wet with tears that had fallen unchecked. Her body shook. Her hands trembled like leaves caught in a breeze. Intense emotions gripped her like nothing she had ever known. Fear, despair, longing. She fought to reach the one small part of her that remained rational. From there she pulled her words. "Why does that hurt so much?" she asked in choking sobs. "Why can I not bear the thought of leaving your side? What is this force that cleaves me to you?"
Frodo regretted immediately the words he chose and the voice he used. He didn't want to hurt her. He only wanted to keep her safe but the idea had awakened too much of Sam in her. He saw him in the way her mouth turned and her eyes pleaded but mostly by how the pure emotion washed over her unabated by shame or modesty. Sam never tried to hide his feelings and now Sally could not hold them back. If she knew where it all came from, why she felt the way she did… Even he could not predict how she would react. He reached out to her in sympathy and apology. He took her hand and pulled her to him. "I can't tell you, Sally," he said, hugging her close. "I can't."
Sally's fingers clutched his coat and she buried her face in her hands. She found comfort in the embrace but she could not quiet the voice growing inside her, warning her that he would leave her behind. She felt a great love for him, a love she would sacrifice everything for. A sacred duty she still could not understand. "Will I ever know?" she asked, her quiet words muffled against his chest.
Frodo leaned his chin on the top of her head and sighed heavily. Without conscious thought he had begun to rock her, holding her much like a father comforting a frightened child, much like he had once been held. "Yes," he told her in a whisper. "I promise you that."
Sally pulled herself up straight to face him. Her tears had begun to dry. She answered a voice that said the time for tears must end, a calling to steel herself for the road ahead. This was not the voice of warning she heard so strongly before. It was her own. "Then I will go with you," she said in quiet earnest. "I will go with you still and I will go of my own free will."
* * *
Merrick sat on a bench in Central Park looking at the day's newspaper with worry. A gentle breeze swayed the branches of the smooth barked trees behind him. They seemed to bend around him, reaching this way and that, to get a sense of the world from what they felt in the wind.
"A thing of beauty, was she not?" a decidedly feminine voice spoke from behind him. She referred to the photograph which Merrick looked at so intently. It was of a fashion model who had died in an airport in Norway.
"I suppose," he replied without looking away. The face enchanted him. She seemed almost supernaturally beautiful. "She is pretty…or was."
The voice clicked its tongue in a regretful tone. "A shame for the elves to lose one so fair," she said.
Merrick frowned suddenly at the oddness of the statement. "Excuse me?" he asked attempting to turn around.
He found he could not move. Something hard and unyielding kept him in his place.
"Do not turn around, little one," the voice warned. "You will not know what you see. My kind does not take to using cheap glamour."
Merrick swallowed hard, hoping to keep his fear down. The words spoken made little sense. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
The voice came close to him, next to his ear. "You worry about your friend who has gone far away," she said. "We know who is after them."
He felt a panic growing in the pit of his stomach. His heart pounded hard against his chest. "Who are you?" he asked in a harsh whisper.
A new voice, softer and wiser than the first, answered him. "Ancient, forgotten,' she said. She spoke clearly but seemed far away, above and behind him. "You did not even know us when you walked on smaller legs."
"Time is growing short, little one," the first voice spoke again. "Your friend's enemy will soon find you but do not be afraid."
"Bring him to us," the second voice told him. She carried a weight of great authority, not just over him in his captive state but also over others all unknown to him in the unseen world behind him. "We have waited long for the Awakening to reveal ourselves to him. Our vengeance was old when the world was young."
"Awakening?" Merrick asked, finding his voice. "What do you mean?" He twisted in his seat turning his head around to look behind him. He didn't realize they had released him.
He saw nothing behind him, only the trees. The first voice spoke again seemingly from all around him. She almost laughed at him. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't read in your dreams?"
Merrick snapped his attention down to the newspaper still in his lap. The letters swam on the page, swirling in a soup of confusion.
Suddenly he sat up in his bed wide awake. His hotel room was dark and he could hear the sounds of city traffic through his open window.
It had all been a dream. A weird, strange, freaky dream.
Merrick looked over at his clock. The neon green digital numbers were the only light in the room. 6:15 a.m. He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now.
He pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to his door. As he opened it, the light from the hallway blinded him. Through squinted, bleary eyes he saw a newspaper lying by his feet. He reached down and picked it up.
Standing in the doorway, he began to tremble in shock as he looked at the front page. There, staring back at him, with all her tragic beauty was the photo of the fashion model who had died in Norway. He had known of her death already. He had learned of it in his dream.
Merrick looked around him as if he expected someone would appear and explain it all. But he was alone. Alone and frightened. He had chosen to be alone but now he regretted it.
He missed Piper.
* * *
Sally followed Frodo along the well worn trail in the woods at the base of Mount Trollveggen. Without him telling her, she knew that their journey on modern transportation had come to an end. Where they were going could not be reached by rail or car or airplane. Their destination was of the past and so their travel would be as well.
At least this time Sally came prepared with more practical shoes. She had pulled her shoulder length curls into a ponytail and wore a long brown coat to keep out the chill of the north air. She had packed her bag with as many provisions as she could carry. She had tried to bring more but Frodo told her that they had enough. He smiled as he said it, reminding her that she didn't need to carry more than her share.
But she carried something else which had escaped his notice, something she acquired from the innkeeper. She kept it out of sight, hidden beneath her coat on her back. Its form dented her flesh from the weight of her backpack. She would not speak of it but each step reminded her of its presence.
Sally looked up ahead of her. The trail they walked had become thinner, less traveled. How much further before it would not exist at all? "Where are we going?" she asked breaking their companionable silence.
Frodo looked back at her and almost laughed. He had expected that question at the start of their walk. "To the edge of the world," he answered.
Sally stumbled. She caught her footing and managed to recover before falling. She watched him and saw that his amused smile persisted. Despite his demeanor she knew he meant what he said. "Is it far?" she asked, trying to disguise her surprise.
"Not as far as you would think," he replied.
"Are you in a hurry, Master Frodo?" a voice called from ahead of them.
Sally saw the glint of sunlight reflecting off of the surface of something golden. A man approached them, seeming to come from the trees themselves. He walked without disturbing his surroundings. His footfalls made no sound and the branches of the trees yielded to his presence of their own accord. He had a face of eternal youth and timeless beauty and to look at him was to look at the sun itself. He was an elf, a real one, not hidden beneath a mask of glamour.
Sally suddenly felt lightheaded. She reached out to steady herself and Frodo caught her arm.
"Easy Sally, he's a friend," he said reassuringly.
"My apologies," the golden elf said to her with sympathy in a voice that sang like music. "I did not mean to startle you."
She had seen this light before, intense and brilliant. The memory of the previous night rushed back into her mind with dizzying force. "I know you," she whispered unsteadily. "But I thought that was just a dream."
The world spun around her and she pitched forward, slipping from Frodo's grasp. The elf caught her in comforting arms, holding her with the tenderness of one who knew her well. "I have that effect on many," he said with a touch of regret. "It would not have worked on you if I had known you were traveling together.'
Sally's eyelids fluttered for a moment but she managed to keep them open. The elf looked down at her with curious concern. Frodo appeared behind him peering over his shoulder. His brow had furrowed with worry. He had not expected the certainty of the elf's presence to disorient her so. The dreamlike trance inflicted upon her from the night before faded with resistance. He wished he could have eased her, maybe found some way to prepare her but telling her what had happened in the night would only have confused her. Dream had become reality and reality resembled fantasy more and more. The human mind did not take these transitions lightly.
"Sally, this is Legolas," he told her, hoping to anchor her thoughts to the moment.
She looked up to the elf who held her and opened her mouth to speak. At first no sound came but her mind had begun to clear. Her memories began to fall into place. There had been a storm. The elf had appeared in a flash of light and then she had fallen asleep. She remembered now. She moved her lips again and this time formed words. "From the Fellowship," she breathed.
Legolas smiled gently. "You honor me," he said, helping her get to her feet. "I have come to escort you to the Gates of Moria. Can you ride?"
Sally followed his indication to a clearing beyond the trail ahead. Three horses waited for them to continue their journey. She nodded faintly. "I can manage."
Legolas proved to Sally to be a most charming traveling companion. She imagined that any other time he could appear aloof, perhaps even superior. But his responsibility for her fugue state, however innocent, seemed to open him up to her. They rode side by side discussing the mystery he had built around himself. His avoidance of humanity reminded her of Frodo. She looked back to find him trailing behind them by several paces. Did his avoidance persist even now?
"Do you not like people?" she asked, returning her thoughts to the elf.
"I like people very much, Sally," he said warmly, "but living in their world comes with a price."
Sally frowned. "What is that?"
Legolas turned to look at her. He hid his thoughts behind an expressionless face. "Corruption," he answered.
Sally felt a sudden chill pass through her. His words seemed hauntingly familiar. "Enaiowen said something like that," she told him in a small voice. "She called it a darkness."
"That's a good description." The elf nodded and looked away, not to the path but to something farther. "When Sauron forged the One Ring he placed the essence of himself within it. As a being of evil, the Ring became such as well. All who possessed it, were corrupted by it to some degree. They could wield it, but the Ring was never theirs. Sauron was its true master," he said. He had pulled himself back to the past to bring her this tale. The memory of those times saddened him. The world had stood on the brink of despair. "Until Frodo," he continued with a sudden hint of hope. "Faced with its own destruction, the Rind expelled Sauron's essence and accepted Frodo as its Lord."
The smile that began to form on Legolas' lips died. His hope had faded. "But Sauron's evil was not destroyed," he said solemnly. "It bled into the world, tainting it, becoming a part of it."
Sally froze. "Everything?" she breathed.
He met her eyes. His implications could not be denied. "Everything and everyone."
She shifted uneasily on her mount. The movement reminded her of the object she carried at her back. She did not need to be told that a darkness dwelled within her. She looked back to find Frodo. A part of his mystery had been illuminated. He had opened the proverbial Pandora's box and released great evil into the world. The burden of the Ring had increased tenfold in her eyes. As in the myth itself, hope still remained.
Frodo had stopped. He looked past her through the trees with an expression of undeniable dread. Sally followed his gaze and saw in the distance a small, rustic cottage.
"What is that doing here?" he asked.
Legolas stopped his mount and looked back to his old friend. "He knew you would have to come this way," he said in explanation.
Frodo stiffened. Sally had never seen him like this. "I don't want to see him," he said shaking his head.
"He has been waiting for you for a long time," Legolas said. "He knows you mean to do this." He looked in sympathy to Frodo. The sight of the wooden structure caused him great discomfort. Not the structure but who dwelled within it.
"He doubts me," Frodo said sadly. He looked down as if taking the sight of it away would take its presence away. "I've been nothing but a disappointment to him." Finally he dismounted. "I don't want to do this, Legolas."
TBC
Author's note: I apologize for the delay in posting. Life is persistent in its plans to get in the way of me being on time. It persists still. For those who don't receive email notification of updates, I will try to have Chapter 11 up in a week. Please keep looking for it. I promise it will be worth the wait.
Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews. Please don't call yourselves stupid if you can't figure out who someone is supposed to be. Maybe I just wanted you to be surprised when you found out for real.( I have a friend who reads this and I've told her most of the surprises I've got in store for you but I really wish I hadn't. She would probably enjoy it better if she found out when you do. Also, if you have any complaints, major or minor, please email them to me. Any suggestions to make this story better are always highly appreciated, as long as it's constructive.
For those of you wondering who lives in the cabin you won't have to wonder for long…
Chapter Eleven: "In the House of Gandalf the White" – Many sad and wonderful things happen in this chapter. We find out why Frodo doesn't want to see him among many other astounding revelations. Piper and Grigor have a parting of ways. And something else happens that I know you guys have been waiting for….the 'Awakening'.