Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here…they all belong to Tolkien…well, except for Apryl and Morgainne, they're mine.
A/N: Alright, yeah, I'm waiting for the rocks to start flying. Seven months since my last post, sheesh. Well, let's see who even remembers what this story is about. I don't plan on letting this tale hang for that long again…the only excuse I can give you guys for before was I was starting a new life for myself and that sort of thing takes time. I hope you don't hate me too much.
Chapter 36
TO TAKE HER BACK
Apryl woke with a gasp, her eyes very wide and staring as she looked up into the heavens above. She lay there for a long time, very still, and hardly daring to breathe.
She had dreamt of someone . . . someone she could not recall to mind, for the dream was already fading from her grasp. Lying there for many long minutes, Apryl strived to remember what was already gone from memory. Eventually, her thoughts drifted and sleep once again claimed her.
A soft, warm breeze--one that was rather peculiar for early winter--ruffled her hair and she sighed softly. In her sleep, amongst whatever journey her heart saw fit, Apryl murmured softly a name and the wind took it and carried it South.
* * * * *
"A voice, you say?"
Frodo nodded. "Yes, Gandalf, on the wind. It sounded like--" The hobbit stopped.
The wizard peered down at the perplexed hobbit, his gaze sharp and piercing. "Yes?" he urged.
Frodo hesitated. "Gandalf," he managed finally. "Is it possible for one to come back from the dead? What I mean is," he continued hurriedly, seeing Gandalf's brows rise in alarm. "What I mean is . . . well, I had this dream. I--I don't know how to describe it, but I dreamt that Apryl was alive."
"Apryl?" Gandalf said sharply. "Apryl?"
"I--I mean . . . ah," Frodo gulped, taken aback by the vehemence in the old man's voice. Gandalf's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Atira," he hissed. "Her name--it is Atira." He looked down at the hobbit and immediately his eyes softened, the anger vanished. "You dreamt of her, you say? When?"
It took a moment for Frodo to collect himself but when he did, his voice was confident, if a bit soft. "Not so long ago. I must have fallen asleep on our rest. It was then I dreamt of her."
Gandalf looked off into the distance, his eyes shadowed, and he was quiet for a time. Finally, he spoke: "What did she say?"
Frodo frowned in concentration. "She said, that everything had gone wrong, nothing was as it should be. Also, her and Merry and Pip were following us."
Gandalf stopped and turned, looking to the north. Aragorn, several yards behind, saw this and asked: "Is everything alright, Gandalf? Would you like that I send one of the Elves out?"
Gandalf shook his head. "No, Aragorn, it is nothing." He turned and resumed his measured pace. Frodo was watching him curiously. After a time, he said finally:
"But it was only a dream." His voice came weakly and was not at all confident this time. "Wasn't it?"
The wizard did not immediately reply and when he did, he answered as only great wizards do--with a question of his own. "This voice you heard on the wind, Frodo, whose was it?"
The hobbit's eyes lowered, as if he had done something wrong and had been caught in the act. "Apryl's," he said softly.
"She's been sent back," the wizard whispered, but he would say no more.
The Fellowship came to rest early that evening, as Gandalf had become distracted by some unknown thing that he refused to speak about and of which Frodo would say nothing. No one was overly concerned about this as most were just glad for the break, their earlier one having been clipped so short by the moody wizard.
Each and every one of them moved off to their own little corners of the clearing, all save Aragorn and Sam who took it upon themselves to fix the evening meal. Gandalf had permitted a small fire, enough so that they could have a warm meal and only so long as Aragorn made certain that it gave off no smoke. As Sam and the Ranger began meal preparations, the rest of the Fellowship moved off to be by themselves as they so chose.
Gandalf seated himself upon a rock, his face was dark as he smoked upon his pipe and stared off at nothing at all. Boromir found himself a nice log where he seated himself and began to clean his gear. Gimli sat at the edge of the clearing, dubbing himself watch as he sharpened his already sharp battle-ax. Frodo, feeling very alone after his talk with Gandalf, wandered over to Sam and Aragorn and offered to help with the meal. The Elves sat together at the far edge of the clearing, exactly opposite and as far away as they could get of the Dwarf.
Morgainne sat against a tree trunk, her back to all save Glorfindel and Legolas. She watched them for a time, trying to keep her mind off things. Her heart was heavy and the sorrow and grief that had plagued her since Rivendell was starting to make her physically ill. She needed to get her mind on something else--something that had naught to do with her best friend's death.
She looked to her two Elf companions for this distraction but saw almost immediately that this was hopeless. Glorfindel had his chin on drawn-up knees and stared off into space, his mind millions of miles away. Legolas was tossing a rock from hand to hand then, dropping it, he stared at it in fascination. With a sigh of disgust, Morgainne got to her feet and made her way to Gandalf, who was seated upon a rock.
"Mithrandir," Morgainne hissed quietly, as not to draw attention to herself from any other save the wizard. He glanced at her, and then his gaze fell back away to the north. "Mithrandir, I, uh . . ." she hesitated and looked around until her gaze fell on their meager fire and the small halfling that was trying to coax some life into it. "Our wood supply is low . . . might I go and find some more?" It was weak but perhaps Gandalf would understand . . .
The wizard eyed Morgainne thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. "Stay close," was all he said, before returning his attention to thoughts that were beyond the she-Elf. With a grateful nod, Morgainne disappeared within the surrounding wood.
* * * * *
Peregrin Took collapsed in exhaustion upon a small rocky hill. He stared after his cousin as he continued on, his gray eyes glinting with Hobbit stubbornness. "I'm tired," he said finally, as Merry did not seem to notice he was now alone.
The elder Hobbit paused and turned, regarding Pippin silently for a moment before following suit and succumbing to his own weariness. Such treks were not made for Hobbits and Merry was beginning to realize this. The beginnings of any roundness that had begun to show since his late tweens had already begun to diminish since setting out from the Shire. He gazed down at his shrinking belly mournfully and thought of what he would have given for a nice hot Hobbit-sized meal at Brandy Hall.
"How much farther, do you suppose?" Pippin asked.
Merry shook his head, fighting for enough breath to speak. Once it finally came, he gasped out weakly, "I thought . . . we would have caught them . . . by now . . ."
Pippin was silent a moment, then he pulled off his pack. "Let's rest a while," he said and glanced at Merry. "You look like you need to."
"Me?" Merry said, indignant. "You're the one who called this halt."
"Yes, well . . ." Pippin began, then seeing the look on Merry's face: "Oh, Cousin, I am as tired as you are. We've hardly stopped since they took her and a lot of good we will do Frodo if we stumble into their camp dead-tired."
Merry sighed and nodded. "You are right, of course. I was only hoping to find Gandalf and straighten this mess out in time to stop it. They shouldn't have taken her."
Pippin's face darkened. "I know." He busied himself with rummaging around in his pack. He pulled out the last of the food he had pinched from Elrond's House and munched on it with little appetite.
He hoped they would find the Fellowship soon. He was very worried about Cousin Frodo and rather upset with him that he had went off without a word in the first place. Pippin would have to speak to Frodo about that.
"It is almost night," Merry said. "Maybe we shouldn't rest for very long."
Pippin sighed and looked severely at his cousin. "I am tired, Merry. I don't want to walk anymore. At least not for a while. Can't you just sit still for once?"
Merry chuckled. "You sound like me, Pip."
Pippin shook his head. "I know. Dreadful."
Merry got slowly to his feet. "Come on."
"Mer-ry," Peregrin snapped, frustrated. "Sit down."
"No, Pip, you get up. It's time to find Frodo."
"Do you want to carry me?" Pippin demanded. "For that's the only way you will get me to come. I just can't, Cousin, I can't. I've never been so tired in my life."
Merry frowned down at his little cousin, slightly surprised at his admitting that he could not do something. Rare was the case when Pippin would ever admit such, having it set into his stubborn little head that he could do anything, that he could best anyone any time. But Merry was not to be deterred. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he and Pippin were meant to be at their cousin's side right now and it was a horrible mistake that they weren't there already.
"Pippin, please," Merry pleaded. "Cousin Frodo needs us. What if they are just beyond that rise?" he asked, pointing, and Pippin's gaze followed the gesture. Sudden doubt sprang to his eyes and he bit his lower lip. "What if we stop and wait and by doing such lose them? Come on, Pip, we will only go a little longer and then we will rest. I promise."
Pippin heaved an enormous sigh and clamored wearily to his feet. With difficulty, he shouldered his pack. "Merry, you are a foul Hobbit, you know that," he said and stomped angrily away.
Merry followed slowly after.
* * * * *
Morgainne breathed a sigh of relief when the others were both beyond sight and sound. She continued on deeper into the forest, finding no reason to pause or turn back but only wanting to get a way for a time where she could think alone and with no distractions. She could hardly stand being with the group another minute, as with each person she looked upon she was reminded of something she disliked or could not face.
Glorfindel and Frodo were the hardest for her to look upon, for she knew how much Apryl had loved, in one lifetime or another, both of them and any thoughts of her lost friend sent a wave of bitterness through her heart. She would kill Sauron for what he had done to her. The fact that he was a Maiar and beyond such things as death did little to dissuade Morgainne's ambition. She would see him suffer.
Others, such as the Dwarf and Man, held very little interest for Morgainne, other than to bring forth the truth of how her land was divided by racial fears and disdain. She was mildly curious about the other Man, the Ranger, for he was kind with words though not so much in appearance. But he also reminded her of Apryl . . . Of the night she had feasted with the Elves and tasted wine for the first time. Morgainne had remained in the shadows, watching her friend eat and make merry with a people she had talked so often about. Apryl's dream had come to be real and Morgainne could not have been happier for her.
In Gandalf's face, she could see the hurt of Apryl's death when he thought no one was watching. It was something she understood, for she felt it in her soul. The wizard had lost one very dear to him . . . for the Maia child had been sent back to the West from whence she had come. Someday, perhaps Morgainne would follow her people and return there and find her friend . . . but it was a land she did not relish going to. Her home was Middle-earth.
Morgainne reached out and laid a delicate hand upon an old, gnarled tree. She closed her eyes and breathed softly, listening. How could she ever leave this place? This land that she cherished so, loved even more after experiencing the world from whence Apryl came--No, Morgainne corrected herself, from the land she had been sent to. Apryl was not of that time any more than Morgainne was.
So very odd, she thought, opening her eyes and continuing on deeper into the forest. For her not to remember herself . . . for me not to know her true self. Apryl was her best friend, how could it be that she didn't know the true Apryl? This Atira, which all the residents of Rivendell seemed to love so much?
Perhaps at one time she might have come to know Atira, but that time was no more as her weak mortal body had passed away and her soul had flown home. I don't know if I can do it, Apryl, she thought mournfully. I miss you so much . . . but my home is not in the West.
Deep in thought and her mood darkening by the minute, Morgainne did not once look back nor did her footfalls falter. Her graceful strides took her ever farther from the Fellowship.
* * * * *
The two small Hobbits hadn't gone very far when Pippin stopped suddenly and made as if he was listening intently to something.
"What is it?" Merry asked, coming up to join his cousin.
Pippin did not at first respond. He listened, his head tilted slightly to one side. Finally: "I thought I heard something."
"Like what?"
Pippin considered this. "I don't know," he admitted finally, then shrugged. "It was probably nothing."
Pippin moved on and after a slight hesitation Merry followed. They continued on in silence for several more paces when the younger Hobbit once again stopped.
"There it is again," he hissed. "Do you hear it?"
Merry listened. All about him he heard birds chirruping and an owl, somewhere in the distance, hooted. A fox caused grass to rustle, and a squirrel chattered indignantly in the branches above. But aside from the noises of any forest, Merry heard nothing out of the ordinary. "What is it that you hear, Pip?" he asked finally.
Pippin frowned. "It sounds like--" he hesitated. "Almost like footfalls." His ears twitched slightly. "Someone's coming this way!" he hissed and grabbed his cousin by the arm. "Come on!" The two of them scurried for the cover of a bush. Kneeling in the dirt, Merry peered all around, still straining to hear what his cousin heard but having no success at it.
"There," Pippin whispered, pointed where he heard the noise, and at that moment both Hobbits watched as a tall figure broke away from the shadows of several trees. It was a female Elf, very tall and slender, with long black hair and large emerald-green eyes. She came forward cautiously, as if she had heard the Hobbit's whispers but wasn't all that certain what to make of them.
"What is an Elf doing here?" Pippin mouthed, frowning darkly. He had had enough Elves to last him a lifetime and was in no mood to run into any more.
Merry wasn't looking at his cousin, though, for he had the odd feeling that he knew this Elf. That is silly of course, Merry chided himself. All Elves look alike . . . But, still, he had the nagging suspicion that he had seen her before--
Merry's eyes widened. Of course! At Rivendell! She is one of Lord Elrond's Elves. He must have changed his mind and sent someone to retrieve us. Merry moved back deeper into the shadows of the bush, pulling his confused cousin with him.
"Lord Elrond," Merry mouthed and pointed.
Pippin crinkled up his nose and frowned in confusion.
Merry rolled his eyes. "She's from Rivendell," Merry hissed in his ear.
Morgainne jerked slightly at the noise but it was such a small movement that neither one of the Hobbits noticed. She glanced out of the corner of her eye toward a large bush then continued on as if she had heard nothing. She passed beyond its view then ducked behind a rather large tree.
Several minutes passed, then a small figure crawled out from beneath the bush, followed by another. They looked around warily, then straightened and brushed of their clothes. Morgainne watched this curiously, not at all certain what to make of it.
Hobbits? she mused. What are Hobbits doing way out here in the middle of nowhere?
"That was close," said Pippin, breathing a sigh of relief. "What do you suppose she wanted?"
"Us, I would imagine," Merry said. "I remember seeing her around Rivendell."
Pippin screwed up his face, thinking. "Oh, aye, I remember. She was the one that came to me the days following Apryl's death-"
"Hoy!" Merry cried, his eyes alighting with full recognition. Pippin peered at his cousin curiously. "Aye, the one that tried to soothe you. Pip, that was Morgainne, Apryl's best friend."
Pippin's eyes widened. "The one that accompanied the Fellowship!"
Morgainne snapped her fingers, the two curly-haired, round faces before her fading from the present to the past and back again. "Meriadoc and Peregrin," she breathed.
She stepped from the shadows of the trees, standing before the two halflings and they both gasped and turned toward her. Morgainne watched them silently for a moment, curiously, her face darkening by the moment as she tried to piece together why on Middle-earth these two were here.
Finally, she spoke:
"You are Frodo's cousins," and it was not a question.
Pippin nodded dumbly, for her face suddenly came back to him from those nightmarish nights after Apryl's death and the beautiful she-elf had been like an angel sent to banish the shadows.
"Yes," Merry said softly, suddenly feeling much like a naughty lad caught pinching pastries from the kitchen.
"You've traipsed the wild," she continued, "following the Fellowship. . . ." and here she paused and raised a brow. "At Lord Elrond's request?"
Merry peered over at his cousin rather sheepish-like. Pippin looked down at his feet.
The Elf's frown deepened and she crossed delicate arms over slender chest. "He does not know you are gone?"
"He knows," Pippin mumbled. "He just . . . ah, isn't too fond of the idea."
"Why have you come?"
Merry looked up them, finding the she-Elf's voice not so hard. "Pippin is healed," he said and the Took nodded.
"My burns," he said, scratching the back of his hand unconsciously. "Apryl healed them."
Morgainne's almond-shaped eyes widened a fraction of an inch. "What are you saying?" she demanded.
Pippin broke out into a wide grin. "She's alive," he said. "She isn't dead at all," and here he giggled, "Nor a human anymore . . . She's a Hobbit!"
Morgainne could only stare at him.
"It is true, Lady Morgainne," Merry insisted. "Apryl's alive and that is how we come to be here now."
Pippin nodded. "She was most insistent that we come. It was a horrible mistake, besides, our dear Frodo leaving us behind like that. We are not going to let him go off all alone, not with only Big Folk to protect him—uh, er, beg pardon, no offense intended," he added hastily.
"She's alive?" Morgainne breathed and quiet tears of disbelief and joy were shed.
* * * * *
"Do you think this is such a good idea?" Pippin asked, fairly running to keep up with the long-legged she-Elf. "Won't Gandalf be upset? After all, it was him that bade Elrond to keep Apryl from the Fellowship in the first place."
"She is my friend," Morgainne said simply. "I won't abandon her."
Pippin seemed satisfied with this and contented himself with concentrating on keeping pace with the Elf. At least, such lasted for several moments before he inquired:
"Will we find them before Rivendell, do you suppose?"
"If we keep the pace swift," she said curtly. Then, her eyes found his and her face softened. "I will carry you should you tire, young Peregrin."
Pippin looked indignant. "I'm not tired. And I needn't be carried by a lady."
Morgainne laughed. "I am stronger than I look, halfling. But should the need arise you would throw away pride for Apryl, would you not?"
The hobbits eyes widened slightly, then he nodded. "Yes."
Morgainne nodded, satisfied. "Then, yes, Peregrin, we will find them before Rivendell." Several moments passed before she added: "Elladan and Elrohir will not give her up easily."
Pippin nodded but said lightly, "It is not us I worry about. Merry is the one who has to tell Gandalf what we're up to. I'd rather face two sword-wielding Elves any day to Gandalf when he's in a foul mood."
*****
