Now she was absolutely certain that wizards DID get old in the brain! They
were at yet another crossroad of paths, which Gandalf claimed he could not
remember. Again, there was not much to do but to wait. She had kept her
distance with the rest of them throughout the last three days, thinking
about the things that were gnawing at her. She had to clear up her mind,
and fast. Every member of the fellowship had approached her one by one, and
had tried to discover cautiously what the matter was. Irulan had just
smiled and said that she was not fond of enclosed spaces. They all seemed
unsatisfied with that reply, but left it at that.
When she realized that this rest might actually take longer than intended, she decided to go to sleep. It was always a good idea to try to get sleep at the first chance that presented itself, since one could never know when the next opportunity would come along.
She stretched out on the cold floor for a long time; unable to sleep after all, but finally, just when she meant to give up, a restless slumber overcame her.
............................................
Irulan was standing once again in the alley. Three other women were standing with her, forming a triangle around her. She felt the dream overlapping reality and the borders between them slowly melting away as her sleep deepened. The woman right in front her had fiery red hair with startling green eyes. She looked in her fourties and was wearing the common garment of a local housewife and a dirty apron on top of that. Irulan thought about her name and it swam back to her slowly: Hetaire. She was standing almost in a regal stance, which looked a bit odd in her current attire.
"Why have you come before us?" she said, and her clear voice ringed in the deserted alley. It was a warm spring day, but Irulan could feel the heat building up slowly in the air. She had been looking forward to this meeting and she was still a little bit shaken and stupefied by the idea of finally having come across Darma Druids. To be honest, she had lost hope quite a while ago - not of their existence, but of her chance of finding them. She had been continuing with her quest and asking around for them simply because she did not know what else to do. And at last, they had found her. And even more surprisingly, they had accepted her wish to be one!
"To become one of your own" she said and her voice sounded neutral, devoid of emotion. That was good, for she would not want the excitement in her voice to seep through. It was only a simple ritual to make her acceptance official. The Druids knew all the answers to their questions and far more about her already.
The woman with white hair, standing on her right, old and yet rigid -'Ingmar' she remembered suddenly- spoke and her voice was cold steel. "What are you willing to offer?"
"I have given up my kingdom and my past."
The woman on her left, short brown hair and pretty features -Irulan tried to remember her name as well, but failed- spoke up this time: "Why should we accept you?"
"It is my destiny. As it is yours" she said.
"Will you stand in the circle and be a sister to us?" asked Hetaire.
"It is my will" said Irulan.
They stepped forward then and holding out their hands, each sliced her wrists. Irulan mimicked them. Then they held hands, making sure that the cuts overlapped. Irulan stepped in and joined hands as well.
After a short moment, the circle broke and Irulan stepped back a few steps.
"We shall teach you the Way" said the woman with the short hair. Again she thought about her name, but once again, it evaded her.
Irulan exhaled in relief. She was ready. She had been so ready all her life! She had not felt this happy and satisfied for a very, very long time now. In this dirty, forgotten back alley, she had become a Darma Druid and the dream of a lifetime was fulfilled.
The woman with the brown hair and Ingmar stepped aside while Hetaire stood facing her. "Now?" asked Irulan, astonished. 'They sure see no reason to waste any time' she thought.
Ingmar smiled "We have chores to do girl, we can not take breaks from them whenever we wish". 'Oh..true' she thought, and felt a little stupid. All three of these women were married and had crowded families to take care of. It would take her several months to get used to that idea, as a matter of fact.
"Are you ready?" asked Hetaire.
"I am" said Irulan, although she had no idea what she should be ready for. Yet she took a few more steps back and assumed a defensive combat stance she had learned from Chemarit. She raised her arms and took her position.
"No, you are not" said Hetaire with a smile. She stood relaxed, her head cocked to the side, her eyes glazed, as if she was looking through her.
Irulan did not move. 'I am not as naive as these women think!' she thought bitterly. 'They will see soon enough. Boy, will they be surprised!' An eerie silence settled in for a moment and she could hear birds in the nearby trees twittering, hammers clanging on metal in the distance.....even the soft neighing of horses and the squeaking of wheels.
"Here I come, sister" said Hetaire. Yet she did not move. A moment later Irulan was on the floor, lying on her back, Hetaire's foot on her chest pinning her down. It took her a few moments to understand what actually happened and yet she was SURE that she did not see the other woman move. Irulan looked up at her with utter confusion on her face, unable to blink. Her brain was trying to go back to the moment, to remember what just happened, but all she could come up with was Hetaire standing with her head cocked and then herself, pinned down unceremoniously. Everything in between was missing.
"This, my dear sister, is SHIFTING" said Hetaire and smiled softly, the smile never reaching her cold green eyes.
..............................................
Irulan's eyes popped open. She shivered softly. The answer to her problems seemed to be hunting her in dreams as well, now. She listened and realized that everyone was more or less still in the same position. Gandalf was softy talking to Frodo. She could hear Merry and Pippin whining over something. She sat up and realized that the men were still sitting together, Aragorn smoking and talking with Boromir. Legolas was standing next to them, looking at her, and when their eyes met, he walked up and crouched next to her.
"You were dreaming" he said, but it sounded more like a question.
"Yes" said Irulan with a hoarse voice. She was still not quite used to this nice and kind Legolas. He made her even more uneasy than the other one, mainly because she could not understand what was changing his moods and actions towards her so drastically in the first place. Under these circumstances, next thing you know, she might ask about the weather and end up with an infuriated Legolas again.
"Was it a bad dream?"
Irulan thought about it for a moment. "No. A just one" she replied slowly.
He was still looking at her intently, as if trying to figure out something, when Gandalf spoke up and claimed that he finally knew which way to take. Irulan felt relieved, she could not stand Legolas looking at her like that. And just when she was glad she was rid of one man, behold, here comes Boromir! 'Maybe I should have stayed in disguise' she thought bitterly.
"Irulan" he said softly, grabbing her shoulder and trying to meet her eyes, "are you feeling better?"
"Yes Boromir" she said and all of a sudden felt angry with herself for letting all these men hover around her like this. She did not need help or this kind of interest, damn it! How the hell did it come to this in the first place? One day everyone was keeping their distance and before she knew it, the next day all that was gone, and by the looks of it, gone for good! She looked away, afraid that the anger in her would seep through her eyes, and said coldly "I was alright to begin with. What is the matter with you all?" Boromir was taken aback by her question and moved back a little. "Nothing. I was just......"
"Worried, yes, I know" snapped Irulan unable to do otherwise, "but I don't recall you being this worried for the Black Knight" she said. Boromir literally recoiled and looked away to the others who were already moving ahead. Legolas seemed to be trailing slowly behind, casting them unreadable glances every now and then.
"I am sorry. I know you are fully capable of taking care of yourself" he stammered.
Irulan sighed and looked up at him. "No, I am sorry" she said with a soft but determined voice and as if she meant to be overheard, added with a louder voice "for I have obviously given you reason to think so. It will not happen again." Then she walked off, passing by Legolas without so much as looking at his direction.
The elf and the man stared at each other and then followed her, keeping a safe distance between them.
***
'How can anything built from stone look so striking and mighty?' she thought with her mouth hanging open, looking up at the columns that looked like they reached into the very dark heavens.
"Close your mouth Irulan" said Gimli next to her.
"I am trying but failing" she said, still looking up. "How on earth did you do that?"
Gimli seemed to be bloating with pride. "Hah! Impressed huh?"
"That is an understatement, Master Gimli" she said with awe. "But the thing that I don't understand is...." she hesitated and smiled mischievously, then looking him up and down, added "why would you need such high ceilings in the first place?"
Aragorn snickered behind her and she heard Boromir's laugh. She turned around and winked at them. Legolas, too, had a very satisfied grin on his face.
Gimli's face grew sour instantly. She loved him even more when his face fell like that! He mumbled to himself and strode ahead.
Moments later they were passing by a chamber to their right and he lurched in. Naturally they all followed him.... and stumbled upon his cousin's sarcophagus. Irulan felt horrible. It was the first time she saw Gimli in such pain and it pained her own heart just seeing him so. But she kept back and stood by the door, refusing to come closer to him. She looked away from him to shake off the sorrow that insisted on settling on her and her eyes scanned around the room. It was an enclosed space with a single window. A cold light was seeping through it and falling on the sarcophagus of stone in the middle of the room. Skeletons and armory was scattered throughout the room.
Gandalf was reading from a book he had found next to the tomb. Irulan shivered with the words and their implied meanings. The orcs had invaded this majestic city of the dwarves. They seemed to have killed everyone, and that must have been both a long process (for dwarves would not give up a fight easily), and a terrible one, for she suspected that the number of loss was catastrophic. 'Middle Earth is falling apart. Slowly, yes, but irreversibly. For an orc population to reach the strength and courage to do something like this..this is much graver than I thought' she thought. Worse; news spread slowly in Middle Earth. She could not know if this massacre was repeating itself somewhere else right this moment. It could be anywhere.. In Rohan.. in Mirkwood... In.. her home?
She was startled out of that idea by a very loud clatter and her heart jumped at the effect that noise had in the silence of Moria. Pippin seemed to have dropped something into a well that was standing at the corner of the room, but it sure was more than a piece of stone! The clattering went on and on for several moments and then... Stillness.. They all held their breaths and waited. For what, Irulan had no idea. After more than three days crawling around in these mines and not having come upon anyone, she did not really share Gandalf's paranoia, and very much suspected that the orcs had deserted this place a long time ago.
And that's exactly when the sound of drums began. Distant first, but very unmistakable and getting closer and louder. She winced inwardly. "Next time, trust Gandalf more than your own damn useless instincts" she thought.
When Boromir and Aragorn ran to the entrance, already arrows had begun to fly. They barred the door and moved back, taking the front row. She unhooked her staff and stood beside them.
"Irulan, move to the back" said Aragorn without looking at her. She looked up at him in surprise "What?"
"Move back woman!" he snapped and taken by surprise, she took a step back.
"What are you..?" she was about to say when Boromir interrupted "Yes yes.. Now please..move..BACK!"
Her mouth hung open, but not wishing to argue with two adrenaline-loaded mules, she walked back and stood next to Legolas.
"Irulan please move back" said Legolas to her utter demise. "Legolas, now listen.!" she tried but he, too, had no intention of arguing with her. He did not even look at her, his bow drawn, his looks fixed on the door when he snapped "Irulan, STAY BEHIND ME!"
She took a deep breath and almost stamped back to where Gandalf was staying. "These men!" she thought bitterly but did not find the chance to make any other acidic comments on the issue, for Gandalf's most determined voice boomed beside her "Irulan, get further back, girl!"
"Gandalf!" she began and barely kept herself from turning red with anger now, but Gandalf literally grabbed her arm and very ungracefully shoved her back.
"I CAN NOT BELIEVE THIS!" she thought. 'Darma Druid, indeed! Now they all want to protect me..ME!' She wanted to react, to bash their heads right now, but the assault on the door stopped her thoughts and washed them all away. She had barely time to look back, realizing the hobbits had formed a line behind her, all standing with frightened expressions on their faces and their swords in their hands. "Lady Irulan" began Sam, but Irulan was prepared this time "Don't you dare even THINK about it!" she hissed. And thankfully he shut his mouth.
Legolas had begun to shoot his arrows and the door was falling apart already. She held her staff horizontally in front of her and without even thinking -for it had become an instinctive action for her by now- twisted her ankle thrice in the familiar directions. The short piece of metal that looked like a straight club instantly clicked softly, extended, and two leaf-shaped, dull, narrow silver blades snapped out of both ends. She moved her wrist once again very slightly in another fashion and the staff -which very much looked like one now- clicked and extended even a bit further.
And that's when the door gave in. The orcs swarmed in like an ugly flood. Irulan had barely time to exhale slowly, and instantly let calmness wash over her. She had practiced this so often over the years, calmness had become almost like blinking to her - something so easy and done without any further consideration.
The orcs clashed on the fellowship like an ugly, stinking tide. Legolas had scarcely time to let go of the bow, take out his double blades and continue the hacking when his anxiety for her overcame him and he looked back to see if she was alright. And something very strange happened.
Irulan was standing before the hobbits with a black staff that ended with silver blades -where that had come from, he could not imagine- with a relaxed and almost uncaring look on her face. She seemed to be lost in thoughts, her eyes slightly glazed and looking somewhere far off, and for a very short instant he felt panic rise in him, thinking something had happened and that she was not herself at the moment. It did not last long though, for one moment she was standing like that, and the next moment, she was still standing and her position seemed to be almost the same, but pieces of orcs were flying away from her. Legolas felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and only that feeling told him what it was that he had just witnessed.
Irulan waited patiently. Her body was a pool of radiant water, smooth and cold. Not a single stir, not the tiniest wave. she was calmness itself. She would not risk another failure and she would not take another chance. She knew what to do. When the orcs moved in close enough, she was waiting for them.
Irulan shifted.
And the world stopped. She could see the continuing movement, drastically slowed as it was, and everything was much clearer. She could see every bead of sweat, every smear of dark orcish blood, every strand of hair. All voices disappeared suddenly, for there was no voice here, but only a distant, low buzz that she could not focus on. She thought nothing and felt nothing, for neither feeling nor thought existed in the voyage through time. The concepts of "orc", "blade", "fight", "cut", "blood" left her, and she felt her body act on it's own, cutting down the oncoming wave with an utter precision in two seconds, her right arm swinging out the staff, her wrist making another tiny movement, the staff clicking and extending on the right end while drawing a perfect curve from right to left in one swift movement, going through bone and flesh, through leather and cloth smoothly. When she had drawn it through the last orc on the very left, the orc on the right end who had been hit first by the blade had not yet even begun to fall apart. She drew back her staff and waited another moment for the effects of her blow to take place. As the telltale red line appeared on the first orc's chest from one end to the other and began to widen up slowly, she shifted again.
The world thundered back at her from every direction. The noise and confusion rushed in and filled her ears and eyes mercilessly. She did not even look when the orcs closest to her fell apart in heaps or exploded in an array of limbs, for she was fixed on the second line. This was the most vulnerable moment in the process: the moment when you reverted to real time and when you had to be very alert for the swiftly incoming foe. And fast they were, because they had not yet realized the death of the ones right before them and literally stumbled upon them before Irulan shifted again.
She drew another arc towards the left with her staff and then swung it gracefully in her hand, before bringing it back from left to right to severe the cuts on the creatures before her, hanging in an unseen void, frozen in a mad dance. She did not think of them as orcs now. She did not think at all. It was like running - her arms and legs, her lungs and head moved in perfect unison, reacting to the earth beneath her feet, to the little holes and boulders on the road, to the beat of her heart, to the winding of the path without any trace of thought.
Irulan shifted back and ignoring once more the flying carcass, prepared herself for the third attack. But the third attack was not coming. The orcs on the third wave, barely having seen the first row fall in the most unusual fashion, had stopped in time and were not moving at all. Actually, nobody seemed to be moving. An odd panic took her and her brain tried to determine whether she had shifted again by mistake (which was ridiculous, of course, but nevertheless) or not. No, she was here, in real time, but everything was frozen nevertheless.
She looked around, holding her breath and realized that orc and man, elf and hobbit, dwarf and wizard had stopped fighting and were looking back at her with a curious expression on their faces. Irulan had never shifted and killed in public before and she had often tried to imagine what the reaction to it would be. She was expecting a mixture of awe and confusion, actually. But when she looked around the room now, she saw one common feeling and she knew how her face looked when she had looked up to Hetaire that first time in the old alley - it was nothing else but pure fear. They stared at each other for what seemed centuries and Irulan began to experience the ever growing need to drop the staff and race out the room.
When the cave troll broke in a few moments later and smashed the frozen silence, she almost felt like hugging it with tears of gratitude running down her face. For he brought back the battle. She instantly jumped towards him, her hand that was holding the staff turning without thought, her staff clicking and slightly retracting on the right end, and feeling no need to shift again, managed to deliver a long but shallow cut along his torso. His arm flew towards her, but she jumped up and making a turn in air, landed back on her feet, a few feet further away.
She did not get the chance to tackle the cave troll too much, for all of a sudden Gimli fell and seemed vulnerable in the middle of too many orcs and she shifted, appearing right in front of him to cut the orcish arm that held the blade. Then Gandalf was approached from the back and seemed too busy with the front, so she ran for him. Then it was Aragorn, who was delayed by fighting off two orcs at the same time while he was trying to reach Frodo. So she was there, relieving him of that. And on it went. Until she stood there, blood dripping from her face, sliding from her staff and no one left to fight. Her head was throbbing softly and she felt the heavy pressure that crept in after shifts. 'Okay Irulan, relax..You are alright.You did not overuse it.You are just fine..Breathe' she thought, still a bit disoriented from the fact that everything had ended as abruptly as it had begun.
The cave troll was the last to stand, but soon fell with a last arrow shot by the elf. And everyone ran up to Frodo. But it appears that she was not the only one with secrets. Frodo had a mithril shirt underneath and was luckily spared from the fatal blow he had received form the troll. She could not help herself hugging Frodo softly and then quickly withdrew, not wanting to appear too sentimental.
They rushed out of the room, running along the dark hall of columns and the expected began to happen, for orcs and goblins were closing in on them. And yet the party kept running, refusing to give in. She couldn't see a damn thing, because she was at the end of the group and Gandalf was running ahead with the only light source, and one could not see anything beyond the little circle his staff cast around the company. The hall seemed to be vast, and she had no idea how anyone could have a sense of direction in here.
Legolas was by her side, gracefully sprinting along. He did not seem out of breath at all, and worse, he had no dirt or blood stains on him whatsoever. He looked exactly like he looked before he entered Moria. 'I have to remember asking him how to do that' she thought. "Irulan" he said softly and perfectly calm, "Are you tired? How are you feeling?" Oh...the shifting. She had forgotten that he had witnessed that, moments ago. "Actually I think I am not going to make it Legolas" she shot back, just to be sarcastic. She was tired of saying "I'm alright" all the time. He instantly turned to her, his face a mask of worry, "Don't say such things! Here, let me carry you.." And he moved towards her as if he meant to pick her up.
"Back off, you elf!" she said and could not help laughing even in this grave situation. "I'd rather die than allow myself to be carried by an elf, losing the last bit of pride that I have". Legolas smiled softly, "Actually it is the other way around. It is an honor to be carried by the Prince of Mirkwood" he said with a cool and regal tone. This whole conversation was so out of place and completely absurd! But the mind and the heart did funny things in moments like this.
"Who wants to end up in the arms of an elf, when you get the chance to be slaughtered by a mob of wild orcs" she said matter-of-factly when they stopped, for they had reached a point when they were completely surrounded by them as far as she could see in the darkness. Instinctively they formed a circle, facing the enemy. Legolas smiled down on her again and placing an arrow on his bow, added "Then I shall join you, Irulan" with a voice that spoke of sadness, regret and anger.
She drew her sword. The final hour had come. She would die in a mine. Ironically, in the one that she had loved to read about as a child. "To think I would end up here!" she thought, "With Legolas and Gandalf!" She almost felt like laughing out loud. 'Oh Chemarit would really kick my ass if he saw this. He would say "You can not even protect a darn ring Irulan! How embarrassing is that!" '.
She swallowed softly. 'I hope I'll die first' she thought suddenly, "I don't want to see any of the others going down". But her wish was not to be granted.
When she realized that this rest might actually take longer than intended, she decided to go to sleep. It was always a good idea to try to get sleep at the first chance that presented itself, since one could never know when the next opportunity would come along.
She stretched out on the cold floor for a long time; unable to sleep after all, but finally, just when she meant to give up, a restless slumber overcame her.
............................................
Irulan was standing once again in the alley. Three other women were standing with her, forming a triangle around her. She felt the dream overlapping reality and the borders between them slowly melting away as her sleep deepened. The woman right in front her had fiery red hair with startling green eyes. She looked in her fourties and was wearing the common garment of a local housewife and a dirty apron on top of that. Irulan thought about her name and it swam back to her slowly: Hetaire. She was standing almost in a regal stance, which looked a bit odd in her current attire.
"Why have you come before us?" she said, and her clear voice ringed in the deserted alley. It was a warm spring day, but Irulan could feel the heat building up slowly in the air. She had been looking forward to this meeting and she was still a little bit shaken and stupefied by the idea of finally having come across Darma Druids. To be honest, she had lost hope quite a while ago - not of their existence, but of her chance of finding them. She had been continuing with her quest and asking around for them simply because she did not know what else to do. And at last, they had found her. And even more surprisingly, they had accepted her wish to be one!
"To become one of your own" she said and her voice sounded neutral, devoid of emotion. That was good, for she would not want the excitement in her voice to seep through. It was only a simple ritual to make her acceptance official. The Druids knew all the answers to their questions and far more about her already.
The woman with white hair, standing on her right, old and yet rigid -'Ingmar' she remembered suddenly- spoke and her voice was cold steel. "What are you willing to offer?"
"I have given up my kingdom and my past."
The woman on her left, short brown hair and pretty features -Irulan tried to remember her name as well, but failed- spoke up this time: "Why should we accept you?"
"It is my destiny. As it is yours" she said.
"Will you stand in the circle and be a sister to us?" asked Hetaire.
"It is my will" said Irulan.
They stepped forward then and holding out their hands, each sliced her wrists. Irulan mimicked them. Then they held hands, making sure that the cuts overlapped. Irulan stepped in and joined hands as well.
After a short moment, the circle broke and Irulan stepped back a few steps.
"We shall teach you the Way" said the woman with the short hair. Again she thought about her name, but once again, it evaded her.
Irulan exhaled in relief. She was ready. She had been so ready all her life! She had not felt this happy and satisfied for a very, very long time now. In this dirty, forgotten back alley, she had become a Darma Druid and the dream of a lifetime was fulfilled.
The woman with the brown hair and Ingmar stepped aside while Hetaire stood facing her. "Now?" asked Irulan, astonished. 'They sure see no reason to waste any time' she thought.
Ingmar smiled "We have chores to do girl, we can not take breaks from them whenever we wish". 'Oh..true' she thought, and felt a little stupid. All three of these women were married and had crowded families to take care of. It would take her several months to get used to that idea, as a matter of fact.
"Are you ready?" asked Hetaire.
"I am" said Irulan, although she had no idea what she should be ready for. Yet she took a few more steps back and assumed a defensive combat stance she had learned from Chemarit. She raised her arms and took her position.
"No, you are not" said Hetaire with a smile. She stood relaxed, her head cocked to the side, her eyes glazed, as if she was looking through her.
Irulan did not move. 'I am not as naive as these women think!' she thought bitterly. 'They will see soon enough. Boy, will they be surprised!' An eerie silence settled in for a moment and she could hear birds in the nearby trees twittering, hammers clanging on metal in the distance.....even the soft neighing of horses and the squeaking of wheels.
"Here I come, sister" said Hetaire. Yet she did not move. A moment later Irulan was on the floor, lying on her back, Hetaire's foot on her chest pinning her down. It took her a few moments to understand what actually happened and yet she was SURE that she did not see the other woman move. Irulan looked up at her with utter confusion on her face, unable to blink. Her brain was trying to go back to the moment, to remember what just happened, but all she could come up with was Hetaire standing with her head cocked and then herself, pinned down unceremoniously. Everything in between was missing.
"This, my dear sister, is SHIFTING" said Hetaire and smiled softly, the smile never reaching her cold green eyes.
..............................................
Irulan's eyes popped open. She shivered softly. The answer to her problems seemed to be hunting her in dreams as well, now. She listened and realized that everyone was more or less still in the same position. Gandalf was softy talking to Frodo. She could hear Merry and Pippin whining over something. She sat up and realized that the men were still sitting together, Aragorn smoking and talking with Boromir. Legolas was standing next to them, looking at her, and when their eyes met, he walked up and crouched next to her.
"You were dreaming" he said, but it sounded more like a question.
"Yes" said Irulan with a hoarse voice. She was still not quite used to this nice and kind Legolas. He made her even more uneasy than the other one, mainly because she could not understand what was changing his moods and actions towards her so drastically in the first place. Under these circumstances, next thing you know, she might ask about the weather and end up with an infuriated Legolas again.
"Was it a bad dream?"
Irulan thought about it for a moment. "No. A just one" she replied slowly.
He was still looking at her intently, as if trying to figure out something, when Gandalf spoke up and claimed that he finally knew which way to take. Irulan felt relieved, she could not stand Legolas looking at her like that. And just when she was glad she was rid of one man, behold, here comes Boromir! 'Maybe I should have stayed in disguise' she thought bitterly.
"Irulan" he said softly, grabbing her shoulder and trying to meet her eyes, "are you feeling better?"
"Yes Boromir" she said and all of a sudden felt angry with herself for letting all these men hover around her like this. She did not need help or this kind of interest, damn it! How the hell did it come to this in the first place? One day everyone was keeping their distance and before she knew it, the next day all that was gone, and by the looks of it, gone for good! She looked away, afraid that the anger in her would seep through her eyes, and said coldly "I was alright to begin with. What is the matter with you all?" Boromir was taken aback by her question and moved back a little. "Nothing. I was just......"
"Worried, yes, I know" snapped Irulan unable to do otherwise, "but I don't recall you being this worried for the Black Knight" she said. Boromir literally recoiled and looked away to the others who were already moving ahead. Legolas seemed to be trailing slowly behind, casting them unreadable glances every now and then.
"I am sorry. I know you are fully capable of taking care of yourself" he stammered.
Irulan sighed and looked up at him. "No, I am sorry" she said with a soft but determined voice and as if she meant to be overheard, added with a louder voice "for I have obviously given you reason to think so. It will not happen again." Then she walked off, passing by Legolas without so much as looking at his direction.
The elf and the man stared at each other and then followed her, keeping a safe distance between them.
***
'How can anything built from stone look so striking and mighty?' she thought with her mouth hanging open, looking up at the columns that looked like they reached into the very dark heavens.
"Close your mouth Irulan" said Gimli next to her.
"I am trying but failing" she said, still looking up. "How on earth did you do that?"
Gimli seemed to be bloating with pride. "Hah! Impressed huh?"
"That is an understatement, Master Gimli" she said with awe. "But the thing that I don't understand is...." she hesitated and smiled mischievously, then looking him up and down, added "why would you need such high ceilings in the first place?"
Aragorn snickered behind her and she heard Boromir's laugh. She turned around and winked at them. Legolas, too, had a very satisfied grin on his face.
Gimli's face grew sour instantly. She loved him even more when his face fell like that! He mumbled to himself and strode ahead.
Moments later they were passing by a chamber to their right and he lurched in. Naturally they all followed him.... and stumbled upon his cousin's sarcophagus. Irulan felt horrible. It was the first time she saw Gimli in such pain and it pained her own heart just seeing him so. But she kept back and stood by the door, refusing to come closer to him. She looked away from him to shake off the sorrow that insisted on settling on her and her eyes scanned around the room. It was an enclosed space with a single window. A cold light was seeping through it and falling on the sarcophagus of stone in the middle of the room. Skeletons and armory was scattered throughout the room.
Gandalf was reading from a book he had found next to the tomb. Irulan shivered with the words and their implied meanings. The orcs had invaded this majestic city of the dwarves. They seemed to have killed everyone, and that must have been both a long process (for dwarves would not give up a fight easily), and a terrible one, for she suspected that the number of loss was catastrophic. 'Middle Earth is falling apart. Slowly, yes, but irreversibly. For an orc population to reach the strength and courage to do something like this..this is much graver than I thought' she thought. Worse; news spread slowly in Middle Earth. She could not know if this massacre was repeating itself somewhere else right this moment. It could be anywhere.. In Rohan.. in Mirkwood... In.. her home?
She was startled out of that idea by a very loud clatter and her heart jumped at the effect that noise had in the silence of Moria. Pippin seemed to have dropped something into a well that was standing at the corner of the room, but it sure was more than a piece of stone! The clattering went on and on for several moments and then... Stillness.. They all held their breaths and waited. For what, Irulan had no idea. After more than three days crawling around in these mines and not having come upon anyone, she did not really share Gandalf's paranoia, and very much suspected that the orcs had deserted this place a long time ago.
And that's exactly when the sound of drums began. Distant first, but very unmistakable and getting closer and louder. She winced inwardly. "Next time, trust Gandalf more than your own damn useless instincts" she thought.
When Boromir and Aragorn ran to the entrance, already arrows had begun to fly. They barred the door and moved back, taking the front row. She unhooked her staff and stood beside them.
"Irulan, move to the back" said Aragorn without looking at her. She looked up at him in surprise "What?"
"Move back woman!" he snapped and taken by surprise, she took a step back.
"What are you..?" she was about to say when Boromir interrupted "Yes yes.. Now please..move..BACK!"
Her mouth hung open, but not wishing to argue with two adrenaline-loaded mules, she walked back and stood next to Legolas.
"Irulan please move back" said Legolas to her utter demise. "Legolas, now listen.!" she tried but he, too, had no intention of arguing with her. He did not even look at her, his bow drawn, his looks fixed on the door when he snapped "Irulan, STAY BEHIND ME!"
She took a deep breath and almost stamped back to where Gandalf was staying. "These men!" she thought bitterly but did not find the chance to make any other acidic comments on the issue, for Gandalf's most determined voice boomed beside her "Irulan, get further back, girl!"
"Gandalf!" she began and barely kept herself from turning red with anger now, but Gandalf literally grabbed her arm and very ungracefully shoved her back.
"I CAN NOT BELIEVE THIS!" she thought. 'Darma Druid, indeed! Now they all want to protect me..ME!' She wanted to react, to bash their heads right now, but the assault on the door stopped her thoughts and washed them all away. She had barely time to look back, realizing the hobbits had formed a line behind her, all standing with frightened expressions on their faces and their swords in their hands. "Lady Irulan" began Sam, but Irulan was prepared this time "Don't you dare even THINK about it!" she hissed. And thankfully he shut his mouth.
Legolas had begun to shoot his arrows and the door was falling apart already. She held her staff horizontally in front of her and without even thinking -for it had become an instinctive action for her by now- twisted her ankle thrice in the familiar directions. The short piece of metal that looked like a straight club instantly clicked softly, extended, and two leaf-shaped, dull, narrow silver blades snapped out of both ends. She moved her wrist once again very slightly in another fashion and the staff -which very much looked like one now- clicked and extended even a bit further.
And that's when the door gave in. The orcs swarmed in like an ugly flood. Irulan had barely time to exhale slowly, and instantly let calmness wash over her. She had practiced this so often over the years, calmness had become almost like blinking to her - something so easy and done without any further consideration.
The orcs clashed on the fellowship like an ugly, stinking tide. Legolas had scarcely time to let go of the bow, take out his double blades and continue the hacking when his anxiety for her overcame him and he looked back to see if she was alright. And something very strange happened.
Irulan was standing before the hobbits with a black staff that ended with silver blades -where that had come from, he could not imagine- with a relaxed and almost uncaring look on her face. She seemed to be lost in thoughts, her eyes slightly glazed and looking somewhere far off, and for a very short instant he felt panic rise in him, thinking something had happened and that she was not herself at the moment. It did not last long though, for one moment she was standing like that, and the next moment, she was still standing and her position seemed to be almost the same, but pieces of orcs were flying away from her. Legolas felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and only that feeling told him what it was that he had just witnessed.
Irulan waited patiently. Her body was a pool of radiant water, smooth and cold. Not a single stir, not the tiniest wave. she was calmness itself. She would not risk another failure and she would not take another chance. She knew what to do. When the orcs moved in close enough, she was waiting for them.
Irulan shifted.
And the world stopped. She could see the continuing movement, drastically slowed as it was, and everything was much clearer. She could see every bead of sweat, every smear of dark orcish blood, every strand of hair. All voices disappeared suddenly, for there was no voice here, but only a distant, low buzz that she could not focus on. She thought nothing and felt nothing, for neither feeling nor thought existed in the voyage through time. The concepts of "orc", "blade", "fight", "cut", "blood" left her, and she felt her body act on it's own, cutting down the oncoming wave with an utter precision in two seconds, her right arm swinging out the staff, her wrist making another tiny movement, the staff clicking and extending on the right end while drawing a perfect curve from right to left in one swift movement, going through bone and flesh, through leather and cloth smoothly. When she had drawn it through the last orc on the very left, the orc on the right end who had been hit first by the blade had not yet even begun to fall apart. She drew back her staff and waited another moment for the effects of her blow to take place. As the telltale red line appeared on the first orc's chest from one end to the other and began to widen up slowly, she shifted again.
The world thundered back at her from every direction. The noise and confusion rushed in and filled her ears and eyes mercilessly. She did not even look when the orcs closest to her fell apart in heaps or exploded in an array of limbs, for she was fixed on the second line. This was the most vulnerable moment in the process: the moment when you reverted to real time and when you had to be very alert for the swiftly incoming foe. And fast they were, because they had not yet realized the death of the ones right before them and literally stumbled upon them before Irulan shifted again.
She drew another arc towards the left with her staff and then swung it gracefully in her hand, before bringing it back from left to right to severe the cuts on the creatures before her, hanging in an unseen void, frozen in a mad dance. She did not think of them as orcs now. She did not think at all. It was like running - her arms and legs, her lungs and head moved in perfect unison, reacting to the earth beneath her feet, to the little holes and boulders on the road, to the beat of her heart, to the winding of the path without any trace of thought.
Irulan shifted back and ignoring once more the flying carcass, prepared herself for the third attack. But the third attack was not coming. The orcs on the third wave, barely having seen the first row fall in the most unusual fashion, had stopped in time and were not moving at all. Actually, nobody seemed to be moving. An odd panic took her and her brain tried to determine whether she had shifted again by mistake (which was ridiculous, of course, but nevertheless) or not. No, she was here, in real time, but everything was frozen nevertheless.
She looked around, holding her breath and realized that orc and man, elf and hobbit, dwarf and wizard had stopped fighting and were looking back at her with a curious expression on their faces. Irulan had never shifted and killed in public before and she had often tried to imagine what the reaction to it would be. She was expecting a mixture of awe and confusion, actually. But when she looked around the room now, she saw one common feeling and she knew how her face looked when she had looked up to Hetaire that first time in the old alley - it was nothing else but pure fear. They stared at each other for what seemed centuries and Irulan began to experience the ever growing need to drop the staff and race out the room.
When the cave troll broke in a few moments later and smashed the frozen silence, she almost felt like hugging it with tears of gratitude running down her face. For he brought back the battle. She instantly jumped towards him, her hand that was holding the staff turning without thought, her staff clicking and slightly retracting on the right end, and feeling no need to shift again, managed to deliver a long but shallow cut along his torso. His arm flew towards her, but she jumped up and making a turn in air, landed back on her feet, a few feet further away.
She did not get the chance to tackle the cave troll too much, for all of a sudden Gimli fell and seemed vulnerable in the middle of too many orcs and she shifted, appearing right in front of him to cut the orcish arm that held the blade. Then Gandalf was approached from the back and seemed too busy with the front, so she ran for him. Then it was Aragorn, who was delayed by fighting off two orcs at the same time while he was trying to reach Frodo. So she was there, relieving him of that. And on it went. Until she stood there, blood dripping from her face, sliding from her staff and no one left to fight. Her head was throbbing softly and she felt the heavy pressure that crept in after shifts. 'Okay Irulan, relax..You are alright.You did not overuse it.You are just fine..Breathe' she thought, still a bit disoriented from the fact that everything had ended as abruptly as it had begun.
The cave troll was the last to stand, but soon fell with a last arrow shot by the elf. And everyone ran up to Frodo. But it appears that she was not the only one with secrets. Frodo had a mithril shirt underneath and was luckily spared from the fatal blow he had received form the troll. She could not help herself hugging Frodo softly and then quickly withdrew, not wanting to appear too sentimental.
They rushed out of the room, running along the dark hall of columns and the expected began to happen, for orcs and goblins were closing in on them. And yet the party kept running, refusing to give in. She couldn't see a damn thing, because she was at the end of the group and Gandalf was running ahead with the only light source, and one could not see anything beyond the little circle his staff cast around the company. The hall seemed to be vast, and she had no idea how anyone could have a sense of direction in here.
Legolas was by her side, gracefully sprinting along. He did not seem out of breath at all, and worse, he had no dirt or blood stains on him whatsoever. He looked exactly like he looked before he entered Moria. 'I have to remember asking him how to do that' she thought. "Irulan" he said softly and perfectly calm, "Are you tired? How are you feeling?" Oh...the shifting. She had forgotten that he had witnessed that, moments ago. "Actually I think I am not going to make it Legolas" she shot back, just to be sarcastic. She was tired of saying "I'm alright" all the time. He instantly turned to her, his face a mask of worry, "Don't say such things! Here, let me carry you.." And he moved towards her as if he meant to pick her up.
"Back off, you elf!" she said and could not help laughing even in this grave situation. "I'd rather die than allow myself to be carried by an elf, losing the last bit of pride that I have". Legolas smiled softly, "Actually it is the other way around. It is an honor to be carried by the Prince of Mirkwood" he said with a cool and regal tone. This whole conversation was so out of place and completely absurd! But the mind and the heart did funny things in moments like this.
"Who wants to end up in the arms of an elf, when you get the chance to be slaughtered by a mob of wild orcs" she said matter-of-factly when they stopped, for they had reached a point when they were completely surrounded by them as far as she could see in the darkness. Instinctively they formed a circle, facing the enemy. Legolas smiled down on her again and placing an arrow on his bow, added "Then I shall join you, Irulan" with a voice that spoke of sadness, regret and anger.
She drew her sword. The final hour had come. She would die in a mine. Ironically, in the one that she had loved to read about as a child. "To think I would end up here!" she thought, "With Legolas and Gandalf!" She almost felt like laughing out loud. 'Oh Chemarit would really kick my ass if he saw this. He would say "You can not even protect a darn ring Irulan! How embarrassing is that!" '.
She swallowed softly. 'I hope I'll die first' she thought suddenly, "I don't want to see any of the others going down". But her wish was not to be granted.