Disclaimer: The world of Middle-earth, as many of you no doubt know, is a creation by Tolkien for his readers. I claim none of his characters, nor his world, nor any part of any idea behind any of his creation. I merely wish to meet his characters, walk his world and explore every part of every idea behind his creation. I claim nothing for my own.
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Ch. 8
THE LADY ATIRA
It was many hours that Gandalf kept the girl, talking with her, explaining things that, at first, baffled her beyond anything. Apryl learned many things, though half of which she did not believe at first, nor would she for a long while. She spoke little or not at all, for Apryl realized she sat before Gandalf the Grey, a wizard of great import, and he intimidated her greatly. And yet, despite this, she wanted to laugh aloud when he told her that she--she!--was an Istari. An Istari! Like Gandalf and--and Radagast, was it?--and Saruman and . . . and Sauron. For some reason that name alone caused her to shiver.
But this was all insane--of course, if going to Middle-earth wasn't insane, she didn't know what was. But surely Gandalf was mistaken. Why would he want her? Surely, it was nothing but a mistake.
Gandalf could see the doubt in her eyes as easily as he could see the sun descending in the west. He had told her everything and, though he had always known the difficulty of this task, had always hoped she might remember; might believe and accept.
She hadn't, though, and he couldn't very well be surprised. Nor could he blame her. In the end, he accepted what he knew he must. Time was the only easing balm he could expect.
There was one matter though, that he could not allow Time to mend. He felt the hard lump that could only be that accursed book within his robes. But not tonight, he decided. He watched the sun creep down the sky.
He looked over at the girl, who watched him curiously but, also, he noted sadly, warily.
He stood, remembering the time and said, "Come, let us sup with the Master of this House."
At the reminder of food--not to mention at the prospect of who might be attending the dinner table--Apryl jumped eagerly to her feet.
There were no hobbits at the dinner table. Only elf lords and men, and several dwarves it seemed. Apryl couldn't hide her disappointment when she entered the hall, but struggled to mask it as elven, human, and dwarven eyes fell upon her. Her face flushed crimson.
"Welcome, Lady," Elrond said graciously and her eyes fell upon him. He stood at the head of the table, tall and proud. He glanced at Gandalf and Apryl saw the wizard give a slight nod. The half-elf's gaze once again fell upon Apryl and he smiled. "Welcome, Lady Atira."
A murmur went through the elves, though the humans and dwarves seemed not to notice anything out of the ordinary. Indeed, one of the dwarves, younger than his fellows with a glistening almond-colored beard, seemed to be the only ones to note the elves odd behavior. He made no comment on it. Many of them, however, did note Apryl's odd clothing. With the days confusing events, she had not changed from her jeans or jacket. Still, she walked about barefooted, though she had adorned her socks before speaking with Gandalf (the wooden floor was often cool to the touch, especially as winter approached).
Lord Elrond gestured to the long table. "My guests," he said to Gandalf and Apryl, "please, join us."
An elven servant stepped forward to take Gandalf's hat, staff, and silver scarf; he handed them over graciously. The elf turned to Apryl expectantly. She eyed him, then glanced at Gandalf.
"Your coat, my dear," he said through the corner of his beard, never looking at her or otherwise hinting at her dilemma. She gave the jacket over reluctantly--it was her security--but she didn't want to protest for fear she might insult Lord Elrond and his kindness. Besides, a jacket at the dinner table is most improper, though, Apryl had to admit she'd done it often enough.
Gandalf lead Apryl to an empty seat to Elrond's left. The Earthling was not so dense as to not see the honor bestowed upon her. Before sitting, she dipped her head respectfully (she had seen two others use that gesture kindly and thought it appropriate). Elrond smiled kindly and glanced at Gandalf. Both were well pleased.
"I still do not understand Lord Elrond's reasoning," Pippin said hoarsely. "He shouldn't condemn you all just because of me." He shifted slightly but grimaced nonetheless. Everywhere, his flesh burned.
"Oh, Pip, stop fretting." Merry said in exasperation. "We've been over this a hundred times. The only reason you haven't been satisfied with them beforehand is because you think we're upset with you." He glanced at Frodo who stood on a balcony under the stars. "We're not."
"Well I am, if you're not," Pippin said, struggling to sit up. He wanted to see Frodo but he couldn't because of the angle he found himself. He bit back several gasps of pain.
Merry wanted to shove his cousin back down, but he didn't want to touch him. He had seen the burns and he could just imagine the pain. "If you don't knock that off I'll really make it hurt," he threatened, seeing Pippin's face twist into a grimace.
"I wonder what Lord Glorfindel did with that wine he kindly lent me not so long ago," the hobbit wondered wistfully, gasping and stretching to the side in hopes of seeing Frodo. His cousin was cast into shadow.
"I see they didn't let you go either," Sam said pointedly, walking into the room, followed by Bilbo. All three hobbits glanced up, including Frodo.
"Sam!" Frodo said, delighted. He smiled (the first, since Elrond had told the hobbits not to attend the evening meal. "Trust me on this, Frodo," was all the half-elf had said) and beckoned his friend to stand with him outside. Sam hurried forward, though he did tell Pippin he was glad to see him well.
"Hullo, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, joining his master as Bilbo pulled up a chair next to Merry. "How was your bath? Did it help?"
Frodo smiled at his friend's concern. "Yes, Sam, it helped." The smile faded away though and he tilted his head to look up into the sky. It was a beautiful night and Frodo was glad he was home.
"Have you seen her?" he asked softly.
Sam looked at his master, noting the odd note in his voice. "Once, though only when she slept." He thought for a moment, then added, "She was very small, Mr. Frodo. Is she truly so important."
He never took his gaze from the heavens. "I don't know, Sam. Maybe."
The evening was the best she had ever known. Her cheeks were flushed in pleasure and nervousness and her heart fluttered rapidly. To her delight, she found Glorfindel seated to her left. She smiled at him, for he was a most welcome sight--it seeming he was one of few familiar faces. She drank her first glass of wine that night and it made her cheeks flush pleasantly and her eyes sparkle and shimmer, as the stars would do when reflected within the ocean's great depths. The food was plentiful; though she was uncertain weather any passed her lips. She doubted it, for her nervousness was great. She talked little, but listened quite readily, indeed, eagerly. A man that sat across from her spoke often and told many great tales that, had it been any other time, she would have listened quite readily. But too much "adventure" went on around her for her to pay much heed to any one thing for any great amount of time. He did seem familiar to her though and she wondered at this, for she didn't recollect a man like him in any of Tolkien's work. He was a handsome man, very tall for a human and lean like an elf, though his shoulder's broadness told that he was human. His hair was dark and his eyes a rich brown. No, she was certain she did not know this man. Her attention soon left him, though, to marvel at an elven ear or a dwarven voice, and the man quite hurriedly left her thoughts, not to return for some time.
It was a splendid night, one of which she wished she could have been a part of for all eternity. So content and overwhelmed was she that she clean forgot about the hobbits. Indeed, had someone asked her, the only answer anyone was like to receive was, "Hobbits? What's a hobbit?" Well, perhaps not but her mind was so boggled at the time that it was hard to think straight. But no one asked her and she thought not once of any of them.
She stared around her dreamily, not even remembering to feel embarrassed at the attention some showed her. It was only the elves that took much of an interest in her and when they did, they were so polite and kind that she couldn't have felt uncomfortable had she wanted to. (Which she wouldn't have.) The humans would glance her way every once in a while--mainly for her odd clothing--but for the most part, they paid her not much mind. One did though. In fact, he paid her so much mind to trouble himself to get up and come around the table and kneel before her.
"I've heard much about you, Lady," he told her and he kissed her gently upon the hand. "I am honored to finally meet you. I am Aragorn."
Apryl, suddenly feeling light-headed, mumbled something incoherent (what she said she could never recall afterwards). He smiled at her and returned to his seat.
Elrond seemed displeased but Apryl didn't notice, her being too preoccupied with clearing the fog from her head. She glared at her empty wineglass accusingly.
The dwarves found it odd that a human child would be allowed to sup at the table of such a lord as Elrond. Most discarded the trivial article of her clothing immediately (their females were known for wearing pants) and her shoe-less feet were no concern of theirs (humans had odd practices) but why in the name of the gods would an elf such as Elrond allow a child to eat with them? Most came to the conclusion that she was important to the elves; others passed it off as another of the fickle elves' fancies. Who could ever tell with elves? She found many watching her with more curiosity, though, than hostility. They treated her with kindness and were inturn impressed and quite pleased by the respect she showed them. They had always viewed humans as lacking in manners.
It was late. The servants had long since ceased bringing out food and drink (indeed, many were sleeping soundly) and Gandalf was lounging in his chair with a pipe clamped between his teeth. He blew smoke-rings and listened to grand tales told by a man seated next to him. If Apryl had been paying attention she would have noted that it was the same human she had wondered over earlier. She wasn't though. She was nearly asleep in her own chair, though she willed against it with all her strength. No one had been talking to her for a while and sleep had found her and was now beginning to sing sweet songs to her. She was trying to ignore them. Others were succumbing to its sweet lullabies, though. An elder dwarf was snoring several seats down. A young blond elf blinked dreamily into his wineglass and a human was trying vainly to calm the hiccups that had assailed him and at the same keep from sliding out of his seat.
Lord Elrond looked upon his guests and smiled. Pleased with the picture painted before him and, noting with quiet fondness the young Lady beside him try to stifle a yawn, he rose to his full height. Those who were not snoring into their meals quieted and glanced over at the lord. "I see we grow weary. Indeed, it is late.
"I fear I have let this celebration go on too long, but I am certain most my brethren understand my desire for such, if most the rest of my noble guests do not," he smiled kindly at the child. Glorfindel, next to her, smiled and brushed a fallen tear from his cheek. None, save his lord, noticed.
"Come, let us find our soft beds and sleep this night away--of what is left, at least," and with that, the night was ended and lord and guests rose--some being awakened and aided by comrades--and went to their beds, where ever they might be found in the large and beautiful Last Homely House.
Morgainne watched the elves and dwarves and humans depart. But mostly, she watched Apryl, or Atira, as she had once been known. From the shadows she watched and she wanted nothing more than to join Apryl in this world of "fantasy." This is what they had always dreamt about--together, just the two of them. But like the hobbits, Morgainne was forbidden to see her. She understood Elrond's reasoning. It was for Apryl's benefit not to get too overwhelmed with events. The elf was reluctant, anyhow. How was Apryl going to react when she found out her best friend was not who she had always claimed to be. That her best friend, the one person she had shared her deepest and darkest secrets with, had said naught but lies from the very first. Apryl would condemn her.
She would wait until morning to see her friend.
She was in very high spirits. The sleepiness that had haunted her during dinner's end, was now all but gone. Apryl followed Gandalf down the halls, trying to take everything in--but failing miserably. She smiled anyhow.
"I cannot believe this," she said suddenly.
Gandalf peered down at her. "Believe what?"
"All of this!" She spread her arms wide and skipped several paces forward. "Elrond--I mean, Lord Elrond--he named me Atira. Is that who I was?" Still, she wasn't certain whether she accepted all Gandalf had told her. She viewed it as more of a game than anything.
Gandalf frowned but Apryl did not see for the shadows. Often, they hide many things. "That is who you are, child. Atira." He spoke the name fondly. It had been a very long time since that name had passed his lips.
"Did I have a color?" she wondered aloud.
The wizard smiled down at her. "No, my dear."
"Oh," she didn't sound too disappointed. None of this had anything to do with her, besides. This Atira, she was somebody completely different. Not of Earth. Not Apryl. "Why not?"
"I don't think I shall say."
Apryl looked hurt. "Why?"
He smiled. "There are many things yet to talk about, my child. Things which would take a terrible long time. Let us wait for a time. Perhaps for a very long time," he added softly.
Apryl said nothing to this, but her good spirits suddenly dimmed terribly and she hung back, once again following in Gandalf's wake. It seemed they walked a very long while before she once again spoke.
"Gandalf," she tried hesitantly and the wizard turned to look at her, though her face was cast into shadow. Had they walked several yards more a candle would have given them light, and the old man would have noted the struggle within her eyes. Finally: "You seem to know a terrible lot and I am going to assume you know this, too." She hesitated, then took a breath. "I have read things," she began, "about Middle-earth--" she heard him sigh and she cut off immediately.
"I know," he said softly.
They were silent many long moments: Gandalf collecting his thoughts and Apryl trying to figure what she wanted to say. She almost regretted telling him. "I am very fond of them," she said finally, truthfully. "I would not be seperated from them." She saw he was about to say something and, fearing he would protest, she plunged on, without a breath. "I know I've already screwed things up by coming here. What with Pippin and all, and I haven't even seen Frodo since I left home, but I would very much like to meet the others--Sam and Merry, and dear old Bilbo. I won't say anything to them, I swear. Frodo didn't know why you wanted me and I assume the others won't either. I'll tell them nothing, if that's what you like, but I would not be left behind."
"Left?" His voice held a sharp edge. "What are you talking about?"
She slapped a hand over her mouth. She had made a terrible mistake. "I'm sorry," she mumbled from behind it. "I thought you knew."
He looked at her long moments, then:
"You know of the Ring? How?" he demanded. He knew the answer though, knew what she would say.
"I told you," she said meekly. I should have never said anything! Her heart mourned. But he is the only one who may get me this! . . . or condemn me from it.
He pulled something from his robe and Apryl could barely make out the letters. She gasped. "Where did you get this?"
Gandalf growled. "It matters not." He shoved it away. She recognized it. That, at least, was obvious. This book is indeed ill for us.
"Please, Gandalf," she pleaded. "I'll tell no one, but you must let me go with you." Suddenly, she had an idea. "I know things—things that will happen! Let me come and I may be able to prevent some of them."
"No!" Gandalf farely roared. The girl cringed back. He shook his head in great earnest. "No, Atira, say nothing of this to me!"
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"You have changed things already you say. Indeed, with your coming Pippin was gravely wounded, which otherwise would not have been. And yet, this was not recorded in this book of yours? Things have already been altered, it seems." He grew quiet. Then, abruptly, he turned. "Come. I must think on this and you must sleep. Come."
She followed him reluctantly, tears farely coming to her eyes. I should have kept my big mouth shut! She cursed herself bitterly.
*****
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