Okay, now this first chapter is mostly about Cali, and yet during it you don't actually get to know anything about her unless you are *very* quick. This part of the story goes really fast, because most of it is a flashback and she doesn't really remember the whole ordeal. If you see words and/or names that you don't know, don't worry, Cali will explain them later. Just think of it as if you are a person from Middle-earth. She'll have to tell you things herself if you're ever going to find out. And no, she is not an elf. She wouldn't really look anything like one at all. -sigh- By the way, shaqurael are small, thin metal disks with three blades. The name means "throwing star." Just thought you might like to know! I hope you'll like this, but it is a little complex at first. Oh well, enjoy!
***
"This was the manner of existence in those days, that all was consumed within the endless Void and all breath and beat of heart was not yet conceived…"
Images flickered between vision and the Void. The air was wet with fear and strung with tension, so thick it seemed to hinder all movement. Yet they ran – they flew, and darkness pursued. The horses were tiring, their hooves showering sparks unto the unforgiving stone, every sound magnified with their horrified yearn for silence. But the others needn't have run.
"In the beginning, the great spirits called the Ainur were bidden by Eru, the One, to create great music, and out of the music came a vision like a globed light in the Void…"
The darkness pursued only her – and the land was strange to her eyes. The waters roared their deadly course so near, but in mist and blackness none could tell where the river cliff became.
"All voice was the thought of One and all matter of great confusion…"
Screams like venomous ice and eternal night pierced her taunted consciousness, evil wings upon the air blinding her senses and bleeding the eve of its last light. And suddenly, the earth was no longer before her. Stone, slick with mud and spray from the churning falls, left all of her to its pitiless mercy. The turn was too urgent, and the horse too worn.
"Into this world they brought many things of beauty, but also there was strife: one of the mightiest among them rebelled, and there was war."
All control was lost as they slid to their final doom. Her name was called, but she could not hear for the wicked pound of blood against her skin, and the roar of death below. All the world was thrown upside-down as the weight of her horse turned over her, and the nothingness of inverted sky opened up before her eyes. The overwhelming sense of falling left her with no words but a gasp, an utterance of pure awe.
"And there was evil…"
Cold enveloped her body and rushed against the blockade of her warmth. No breath would stir in her lungs – all feeling tore her in two with unknown pain that should have come by now, and yet peace lingered with fear. She was growing numb, and soon felt nothing at all, but knew… And her vision flickered once more.
"And there was death…"
Swathed in soundless falling she awaited the splash, the acknowledgment of the world returned to her in all of its wrath. But there was none. There was only broken memory. And in that forgotten passage into forgotten time there dwelt the word that had been called to her as she fell, the word that seemed the key to her awakening. Toward her formless savior she strove through darkness and evil dreams, death picking the locks of her mind as it grew in hunger for her soul.
"But there was Hope."
"Caliasar!" the word tolled in the distance, unheard when it was uttered. It was the line cast for her to hold as her being flew to death, the rope thrown to stop her fall. What memories of this strange day? The thought seemed foreign to her, and yet more of her than arm or foot or hand. What words do I speak? What wicked memory… The weight became unbearable with a sudden rush of cold, and shocked once more into life from her suspended dream she let pain overwhelm her thoughts in return that she wouldn't scream. Her eyes, changeable as water, wind, and sky, flew open as she gasped to life, and found herself dying. Pale light glistened over the shimmer of a silken veil. Thrashing toward the sallow radiance she surfaced from the water's grave.
Caliasar watched the world spin around her as she burst her lungs with the hungry drinking of air. She foundered again in the crystal pool as she tried to stand, and it took a moment until her vision began to clear when at last smooth stone caressed her feet. She was in a gentle river that had widened into a shallow pool where an outthrust of the bank had gathered a dam. Glancing upriver rather painfully she saw, to her dismay, that it was broad but far too shallow for her to have drifted down it. The pool that she stood in was no more than three feet in depth, and yet compared to the rest of the river it seemed like an ocean. Her eyes turned about, but sickness overcame her and she retched, though her stomach had nothing to give. Quickly deciding that water was not her friend at the moment, she clambered to shore as swiftly as she dared, and threw herself down on the earth.
The smell and the feel of it was heavenly. Stretching argumentative muscles she could not help but let a smile creep over her lips as she gazed up at the dark canopy. It shimmered with the wind, pinpricks of starlight and moonlight dancing between the singing leaves. But with the weight of death her predicament fell suddenly to her mind once more. As happy as she was to simply be alive and on solid ground, there still remained the matter that she had fallen off of a cliff into a ragging river – a ragging river that had cut into the land like a jagged knife and lead only to a waterfall that, to her memory, churned over fatal rock. And yet she had awoke to find herself in a gentle, almost pleasant pool of water formed by a river that couldn't do much more than carry a few leaves, the odd twig – maybe even a small stick (if there had been some rain, which there had). At least that was what she thought had happened. Could it have been a dream?
"…and the kingdom of Valinor was made in the Undying Lands of Aman…"
Pursing her lips, Caliasar could not think of a time that she had wanted to throw a rock at that blasted voice in her head more than now. Random whisperings of the earth bled into her mentality like bitter well-being, though at the time it felt more like sweet poison, and that was disconcerting. At any rate, she knew she wasn't anywhere near where she was supposed to be, even if that idea did seem a bit better than it should have.
Making the naive mistake of closing her eyes, the woman's vision was swiftly assaulted with images of water churning over stone, and her own blood tainting the flume along with that of her horse. Gasping Caliasar struggled to focus as the nausea of falling slowly subsided once more. She clutched at her side were a great rent should have been and an evil ache still lingered, but her fingers found none. Nor did she find the new bruises that should have been her prize, though older complaints of the like reminded her dully of their presence. Sighing in her distress, she heaved herself up and looked around again, more slowly this time.
A glimmer of memory that was only a sense of remembrance and no true picture flooded her veins. As she let her eyes sweep over the forest about her, she was certain of both that she was indeed in another strange land, and that this had happened to her before. The trees about were of a breed unknown to her eyes, and as she lighted her hand upon their smooth skin she was overwhelmed with their incoherent song. These voices were not in the least like those of her beloved home. The air, and the earth, and the stones at her feet sang also, but their voices were of a language that she could not recognize. Letting the mortal constraint of her flesh sink away, she bent her consciousness both far and wide. Listening she saw the river join its larger course, and beyond that there lay many things, all seeming confused by some shadow of fear. The winds told her feelings of nothing but toil and dying hope, and a fell mist that she dared not challenge. Sighing her reluctance to return to her pains Caliasar let herself be crammed once more into the body of a woman.
She would find no rest in any place while the twisted and broken fragments of her memory still fought perception. The river led somewhere, though where she might never know if she didn't take more care. At least, if she followed it, she would not get herself lost, and not walk in too many circles. At that, a larger river meant more chance of a town, or at least the rumor of civilization. She didn't appear to have much of a choice. Slipping her boots off she let her aching feet take comfort from the damp soil, and absently chaffed the ancient leather to keep it from hardening – one boot held under her elbow while she bloodied her fingers and a small stone with the other. All the while she searched in vain for any sign of a road, a path, even a clearing in the foliage, the trickling of water at her side seeming like cruel laughter. Normally her love for water was great enough to draw her into it, but, today at least, it seemed ever less inviting.
***
The night was young, and it was many hours before she found the larger river and took up her new course. The area about became steadily rockier, like the land from which she had come, and Caliasar began to doubt that she had indeed traveled into any separate plane, though she new it was naught but folly. This world did not even speak her language, and this fear that she had flown to was not the fear that she had left behind. And when her horizon was smote with a boldly arched bridge, she knew that she was correct. No man or beast would build such a thing in the wilds of Einainor, from whence she had come.
And yet, a bridge! Why build a bridge if not for a road? The thought seemed both promising and yet so very anxious. Scaling the bank she breathed the freer air with a sigh and cast her eyes over the sodden earth, still drying after a rain that had washed away much soil not so long ago. But there, it was a suspicious track. The feet of a man had passed this way, and with him three small children. One led a pony, and all were laden with heavy steps. Unless they carried much indeed, the pony bore a rider. It seemed odd to her evermore so as she continued to play with the thought in her mind. But a man and his children would make as good a meeting as any other, if not better. Of course, she would most likely get no food from them, but at least a man leading a brood of young ones about would be more likely to tell her where she was, and where she could go. She could always hunt if need drove her to it.
And then Caliasar smacked her forehead in anguish as she felt for her bow and found none. "Of course, you half-wit!" she yelled at herself in desperation. Of course! No bow, no pack, no knife, not even the sword! She pondered a moment at the last thought of her list and could not decide if that, at least, was for the better or the worse. All that she had was her staff and a single shaqurael that she had tucked into a fold in her clothing, and not if hunger drove her insane would she hunt with either, if it was even possible. Of course! All of them were lashed to her saddle save the sword, and she had not yet become use to the thought of carrying it. She shivered then, and sighed. So she had wandered through the lines of time – how perfectly wonderful. And now she would starve.
Yes, now her life was in the hands of this small band of travelers as they made their toiling way – to where? It didn't matter much to her mind as she lingered on the idea of being without her bow. That was a sorry turn indeed! Clenching her teeth she pulled on her boots (now supple once more) and took off at a brisk walk, not wishing to miss any sign of any living thing. The night was wearing on, and the moon fell low upon the horizon. Darkness soon took hold. Morning was not far.
***
Not far indeed, she later thought, as the miles crept under her feet. The small company had left the road once across the bridge, as soon as they had been able, which seemed very strange. They had taken no path, but plunged strait into the wilderness as if they bore a fear of being pursued. It had not taken Caliasar long to decide not to follow their new path. She found more chance in meeting someone on the road than in following the little band of travelers. Besides, seeing the country round about, she was almost certain that they would be forced to return to the road. Not to mention that she would probably become lost while trying to find them if it rained, which the now dreary sky above very much threatened.
But at last pale light began to throw shadows to the backs of carven stones and gnarled trees. The company before her must have had more time against the road than she had thought. Glancing off into the distance she watched the mists curve in their slow dance about the earth, and with them made a rhythm of her breathing and the steady beating of her heart. The world was cold and lonely, and she had never felt more wretched. The ruins of great towers frowned at her in the ominous light, all the world seeming dead. Yet the promise of day, even this pale, sunless day, seemed enough a reason to hope, if only to keep herself from despair. But by now even she was growing very weary.
And even as she thought these things the music of her own fine instrument was joined by the melodies of another. At first the sound was far too soft to be noted around her plaguing worries, but soon she blinked with surprise as the ringing sound of bells came to her ears. The sound was fair, and her feet ceased to move more swiftly than she had ever thought was possible. But with a shake of her head she came back to her mind and quickly leapt into the bramble that lined the ancient road. There she found a small thicket of trees from which she could watch the fate of her follower. The sound of hoof beats strengthened with a swiftness that could only come from great haste.
It seemed a moment bred of all eternity, though it was but a few minute's wait. Doubt and hope filled her and then were drawn away by anticipation, then returned. The sound was not evil, nor dark in any way, but her vision was not so used to this place that she could look upon the traveler from afar and see his heart, not until her senses became used to the affliction of this foreboding confusion. What words did one say to a person of this world? And what response would any word of hers receive?
And then from the corner of her obscure sight she saw a light glowing radiant, and felt power moving towards her astride the steady beat of some otherworldly beast. A lord of this earth was approaching, though his kind she could not tell. And the dim light of the morn met her with the comprehension of her advantages. What fortune was in this meeting! Far more than in any lowly man and his brood. Such a figure of great knowledge and power was he that approached – from him she could gain what understanding she might need to hold this world within her sight, for clarity of her misted mind was sought as much as fleshly aid. She drew herself to her fullest height, learning calmness from the silent rock about, and cast the cloak of her truth abroad the vale, forgetting the worries of her heart as all of her presence was thrown forth.
Caliasar was not truly beautiful in all of her outward appearance, but to this one who thought he knew the creatures of his world so well, she was unknown and mysterious, and beautiful in no way that he would ever see again. For there was no creature in any world but Destrahstia as those of her mother's kin, whose face was their gift to her in birth. Nor was there any replication of the mighty Trithaleians of whom her father came, whose changeable gray eyes had been intensified by her own wisdom and power. To all of those who had never seen the Nalain, even she seemed an image of mistempered beauty made wild by life's teachings that were so etched upon her eyes with a soulful vastness that none could withstand. It was her only weapon, and her only tool by which to survive. There were advantages to being of the elder races and the young. The land about quickly received her ancient presence as their own, and with that, she was made a part of this world. To what end would it take her?
Suddenly came a white horse, gleaming in the shadows, swift of lengthy stride. His harness flickered as if set with gems like living stars. The rider's cloak streamed about him, and his hood was thrown back, golden hair flying with his pace. It seemed to her that a white light was shinning through the form and raiment of the rider, as if through a thin veil. Sighing to retain her peace, Caliasar stepped forward from the gloom.
The great horse was reined in as he passed, and the rider's eyes looked to the thicket where she stood. Awe lit his face, and wonder at what sight he must have seen. Stepping again to be free of the wood's depth she let her feet fall to the might and grace of her natural stride. Seeing him now left her no will for pretending to be some lost damsel in any manner, should even the thought have come to her mind. Surly it would do her more harm than any other thing. And yet she alone, with neither glamour nor spell, seemed to rivet his gaze. And it was then that she realized how truly strange she must have looked to him.
His ears were of a point, but not much of one. He was fair, but no bright lord like those of her mother's kind. He was tall, too tall to be of the Elendrith (if even they could match his fairness with their ancient, so visible endurance), but not so tall as her grandsire, nor any man of the Nahalain. He was powerful, but not so powerful as many that she had seen walking the earth of her own lands. And there was urgency on his mind, now halted to ponder at her existence. There seemed a cynical gleam in his eyes, but she was yet far from him by much more than the measure of distance.
A stream of words in a remarkably beautiful and strange tongue fell from his lips, but seeing that they had no effect on her, he then spoke in another language – which oddly enough she could understand. "Hail, my lady, from what house do you call?" His voice was like a melody far more striking than the bells of his steed's harness, once he had found the words to speak.
Smiling within, Caliasar let her hands drift over the knotted limbs of withered trees, and watched the confusion of questions that swirled behind his porcelain face with soft amusement. He must have made himself believe that she was of his own kind. Coming to his horse's side with no hindrance nor further notion form either man or beast, she glanced up at him with all of a desolate sigh in her eyes, though in them, it seemed, thrived all of the universe.
"I doubt that you would know of it, my lord."
He blinked down at her with a bemused lift of his brow. "I am certain that I would, my lady." His eyes seemed to plore her every feature, trying to reassure himself that she was not so strange a thing as she seemed.
Glancing away down the road with a wicked curl in her lips Caliasar tried to strike down the urge to further confuse this creature, and yet, she had to answer him somehow. "I call from many houses, lord," she returned her gaze to him, smiling softly as she could. "Of my mother's side I come from the house of Nimwardinain, a great kingdom of the Nahalain. There I am the daughter of a princess. Of my father's side I come from the house of Threrein, the last king of the Trithaleians, for they took no land as their own. There I am the daughter of a noble warrior. But that is far behind me, as both races are forever gone from my earth. And I hale from the land Destrahstia, lord. It is by far a world away." At that she could not help but laugh, as quietly as she could force.
He looked almost stupefied as he searched his mind for the names that she had given. "I know of no such lands – perhaps you come of a strange language? These houses bear no other names?"
She shook her head slightly. "In no language that you would know, I fear. I am not of this earth. See, and understand my words, great lord!" With that she touched his hand with her own. He stared at her, amazed, and she continued, "I am called Nemonlyna, but with the death of my past I have become Caliasar. Call me this, if you should give me a name."
"Truly –" he began, but then gained control of his thoughts once more. She smiled, knowing that he would deny the feeling of that touch of her hand for a very long time. Such a creature should be able to tell by her aura alone that she did not belong there, and yet this kind seemed always so willing to battle such ideas and make her of their understanding.
"To where do you journey?" he said then.
"I go to any land where this road may carry me," Caliasar almost snorted. Wherever that is…
"You go to the Ford of Bruinen, then, and bear some message to Imladris?" He almost seemed relieved to have found a justification for her presence, though he still seemed troubled, not wishing to linger.
If it would get her to a village, then, why not? As if she truly had a choice. "Yes, I journey hither, though I do not know the way."
"I search for a small company that has passed this way before you, and I am in need of great haste. But I will gladly bear you there if you will it, though the journey may not be so fair as it would, if times were not so dark. You must come with me now, for evil pursues. I am called Glorfindel, Lady – Caliasar."
He botched her name with his accent enough to make her laugh. But then, to a man named Glorfindel, of all things, her name must sound truly strange. As for evil, what else was new? "I do not look for comfort in any journey during these latest days, master Glorfindel. But I thank you greatly."
He held out his hand, rather reluctantly, and she cocked an eyebrow in amusement. He actually thought to carry her on his knee! "Forgive me, lord, but I have had many opportunities to become wary of riding a horse as of late," she said, and with that leapt up and swung herself astride behind his saddle. He glanced back at her as if she had just said that a cow had jumped over the moon. Even the horse seemed surprised, though he was most likely just picking up on his rider's emotions.
"As you wish…" he sounded truly perplexed, but nonetheless moved his horse once more into a trot. Most of all he seemed uncomfortable having her arms around his waist, though of course, she reflected, he had not thought it so wrong for him to carry her around that way. Sighing she let herself sink into the fluid dance of the horse's muscular quarters, taking renewed calm from his rhythmic movement. So far the only sane creature that she had come across as of yet had four legs and a white fur coat.
Before long Caliasar realized that in no way would she fall off of this horse, no matter what should cross their path, and let her arms fall to stroking his fluid fur. She couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for making this Glorfindel so uncomfortable, but looking back on her own predicament she felt less inclined to worry about his sensitivities. Nevertheless, she let a moment pass before she spoke up again.
"To where do we travel, did you say?" she said then and flinched, remembering that she was supposed to know where she was going. "I was told only find the Ford. This land is strange to me," a small lie. She was looking for the end of the road.
"To Imladris, my lady," he said, seeming more collected now, too lost in thought to note her check.
"Imladris…" she rolled the word over her tongue slowly. Such outlandish names!
"To Rivendell."
"Rivendell?" It struck a bit more of a meaning in her head, but only worked to make her more curious. "A city?"
He smiled, but did not look back. "A house."
"A house of what?" Caliasar murmured to herself, but he seemed to have heard anyway.
"The last homely house, the House of Elrond, who is great among both elves and men. I dwell there also, for my part."
Elves? Her eyebrows arched with a surprise that couldn't decide between amusement and amazement. "Men" was okay. But elves? "Then you are also – an… elf?"
"Yes," he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Then I am truly in Valinor – in Aman?" she breathed, remembering the soft murmurings of the earth.
At that he froze completely for a moment, before looking back at her with pure astonishment written clearly on his every feature. "No, my lady. You are in Middle-earth."
***
Recap: Caliasar begins to wake sometime after sliding off of a small cliff while being chased. She had saved herself by knotting a rope around her horse's bridle, cutting the leather, and catching it on a rock. But she let too much slack and, as she fell down a waterfall, was slammed into the rock behind it. As she battles for life and consciousness she must find some Truth to cling to in decision as to where she would end up – dead, alive, or somewhere else. Words describing the beginning of her world and another flicker alternately into her mind as well as images of what had happened. She remembers hearing someone call her Comnarmian name (her real name is Nemonlyna) and clings to it. So why did she end up in Middle-earth? (oh, freaky…)
We set our scene in a small tributary to the river that flows under the Last Bridge. Glorfindel has passed the bridge some days ago, and Aragorn, leading the hobbits, is not far over it. Caliasar follows the river to the bridge during the night and walks the road toward the Ford of Bruinen. She is between the two as Glorfindel returns. He finds her in the early morning, and they will meet his query that evening.
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