by Atlantis Forester
Short summary: Jorielle Syrien never fit in with ordinary folk. Her books, writing and imagination were her world, and the few friends she had were 'outcasts' of society as well. Little did she know that the pendant given to her on her birthday would make her discover an ancient magic and give way to the biggest adventure in a lifetime in Middle-Earth with her best friend and her worst enemy. There, they will all learn that the only thing harder than being heroes is losing the ones you love.
A.N. THIS IS A NEW CHAPTER TWO!!! Also, no one will be able to reproach my Elvish. I've been studying it for almost two years, straight out of the book, and have made sure that nothing here is made up! Including the tenses and grammar! The only fault is that I have, at times, mixed up Sindarin with Quenya because of the limited vocabulary, and I occasionally have a little word-switch. But I'm sure you'll forgive me!
For the exact translations, you can e-mail me.
Chapter Two: Eldar
The extensive libraries of Rivendell were filled with rare and precious tomes. Shelves upon shelves and rows upon rows of volumes stretched out, the next even more fascinating than the former. Hands strayed to the tempting, hard-pressed to choose one among so many. There were histories, deeds and tragic tales of long-past heroes, merely faded memories now except in the minds of creatures such as elves, wizards, and wise men.
Frodo trailed his hand over the jaded cover of a thick book. Elvish script flowed gracefully along the pages, telling long narratives of an era long-gone. 'Sam,' said Frodo, 'Do you think that Lord Elrond has books about… about the Ring?'
Sam's curly head had disappeared behind a tome nearly as large as himself, and he was settled in an armchair. All one could see was a pair of indistinguishable hobbit-feet poking out between cushions and book. 'Mister Frodo? Did you ask somewhat?' The voice was very muffled.
Frodo's hand could not quite cover his smile. 'Blimey, Sam, what in the Shire are you reading?'
A pair of shining brown eyes peered from the side of the enormous volume. 'It's about Elves,' he explained eagerly. 'There's not much a poor hobbit like myself can read here, most of it being written in Their script, but there are some things. By the bye, Mister Frodo, how are you feeling?'
Frodo absently raised his hand to his shoulder and rubbed the nearly healed wound. He shivered. 'I'm fine, Sam' he reassured his friend.
Worry lined Sam's forehead, but he questioned no further on Frodo's wound. 'Anyway, Mister Frodo, you were asking something of me?'
Frodo smiled. 'It's nothing, Sam. Go back to reading. You should take the opportunity to learn as much as you can while you're here in Rivendell. After all, you've always wanted to see Elves, haven't you?'
Sam's eyes were bright. 'Oh, yes, they're wonderful. The Elves, that is. I'm ever so glad we were able to come here, Mister Frodo.'
Frodo's eyes were slightly shadowed. 'Yes. Go on, Sam. I'm sure you'd rather read than chatter aimlessly with me,' he ushered Sam, despite the latter's protests. When Sam was again engrossed in his reading, Frodo's hand lifted itself automatically to pat the ring against his chest.
Jori groped around herself in the gloom, searching desperately for her glasses. If they were broken, she would be in a great deal of trouble. Finally, her hand hit the familiar shape. She sighed in relief as she checked for any damage. Slipping them on, she noticed one long scratch on the side and that the frames were slightly bent, but she would have to bear with it.
The moment of mounting panic appeased, Jori was able to concentrate on other dilemmas. She felt oddly light-headed and ached all over, as if she'd lost more than a pint of blood and had been dropped--far from gently--as well as roughly tossed around. Blinking blearily, Jori suddenly took notice of her surroundings. And suddenly did not feel tired. She was in an entirely unfamiliar area. Not only that, but she was in a wooded unfamiliar area. Bloody hell! I'm in a forest! The thought rang in her mind over and over like the regular peals of a churchbell.
With a Herculean effort, Jori scrambled to her feet in an ungainly manner, shouldering her pack--miraculously, it was still with her--and instantly tripped over an inert figure. Stumbling, Jori dropped to her knees beside it. The messy brown curls identified the figure as Ally. Alarmed, Jori turned her friend over and noticed a large bruise spreading near Ally's temple. 'Ally!'
Ally stirred, murmuring, 'Jori? Is that you? What happened? Ow…'
Jori helped Ally sit up. 'Truth to tell, I haven't a notion where we are. Last thing I remember…'
'You were pounding Brooks,' Ally said suddenly. 'I was trying to hold you back, then there was this light…'
'I don't know what happened from there,' said Jori. 'But I think Cheryl might be here, too. I've got a feeling.'
'Let's look,' suggested Ally.
'Are you sure you feel well enough to walk?'
'I'll be alright. I've just got this mega bump on my forehead… Oh, for Pete's sake, Jori!'
Jori frowned. 'What?'
'You look terrible!'
'Well, thanks,' came the sour response.
'You're welcome.'
'Ally, now is not the time to exchange quips. We have to find Cheryl. Provided that she is here.'
They were interrupted by a terrified whimper coming from behind a large tree.
'God isn't kind enough to me,' muttered Ally.
'Brooks?' called out Jori, turning around the trunk of the tree. 'Is that you?'
They came across a very dishevelled Cheryl. Sporting rather nasty scratches and bruises as well as smudged makeup, the blonde was not a pretty sight. She was huddled against the ancient, gnarled roots of the tree, sobbing and on the verge of hysteria. On the whole, Jori and Ally started to feel a little sorry for her.
Each abruptly noticed their state. Ally was the cleanest in a bright yellow v-necked jumper and white shorts. Her condition was slightly muddy. Cheryl was draped in a tiny black skirt and her usual style of clothes. She entirely lacked modesty of any sort, and had the worst injuries--most, naturally, being inflicted by Jori herself. Jori, on the other hand, was the filthiest in a cable-knit green jumper and worn jeans splattered with brown (the coffee and mud combined) and a long, shallow and jagged cut going down her dirty cheek.
Fortunately for the girls, everyone had their things with them.
Jori cleared her throat. 'Er, right. Firstly, do any of you have an inkling of where we are?'
Both girls looked away, Ally unhappily, and Cheryl in a sullen manner. Jori bit her lip. 'I suppose… I suppose we should keep walking till we find a stream, or somewhat of the like. It's all we can do, for now.'
They were lucky. Not too far was a clear, pebbled river. Splashing their faces and drinking the cold water lifted their spirits a little. 'How about we have a wash?' offered Ally. 'Each to their turn.'
Jori nodded. 'You go first, Ally.'
Ally eyed Jori. 'Uh, I think you should go first. You look the worst. Cheryl will go next. She's almost as bad as you.' Cheryl glared at both girls noxiously. Ally returned the favour with a far more fearsome face.
Shrugging, Jori began to pull off her clothes as her companions pulled away to give her privacy. Using a special herbal soap--Professor Rimes had distributed these earlier to all her students; the wilderness needed to stay clean--she scrubbed herself. It was a quick process. Jori wanted to get out of the water as swiftly as she could; the icy cold of the liquid was numbing her flesh. After drying herself off, she pulled out fresh garments from her bulging pack. As she searched for socks, her hand hit the slender box which contained the Lord of the Rings Ally and Matthew had given her.
Grinning at herself, she pulled on her things, slipped her footgear on, and joined Ally as Cheryl took her turn.
Ally sighed, hugging her knees. 'So.'
Jori finished braiding her moist ebony locks and rubbed her eyes wearily. 'Ally, while I was bathing, I noticed something strange about this place.'
She frowned. 'What is it?'
'The constellations. They're completely different!'
Startled, Ally looked up. 'Why… you're absolutely right!'
As Jori tended to her cut, she said, 'That's not the only thing. I feel… I feel like we're not anywhere near home. It's like… it's like we're in another world.'
Ally closed her eyes, tired. 'You never know, Jori. I don't have a good feeling about this. I never believed in the supernatural, before, but there's something definitely fantastic about this. I mean… we were just in a bus about to leave for an excursion, then… we're here.'
Shortly after, Cheryl returned, looking far more like her old self in a new set of--warmer!--clothing. The haughty and petty expression had returned, even though the fear, apprehension and dourness had not. Ally let go of a loud snort and left for her own round. There was a chilling silence until the brunette returned, sleek hair rolled into a twist and outfitted in a dark yellow wool jumper and jeans.
It was already night, by then. Jori sighed. 'This'll have to do for now. We will have to see what can be done when it's light, tomorrow.' The girls pulled out squishy sleeping bags--they had no tent--from their bags and snuggled themselves at the uncomfortable roots of a great oak tree.
Glorfindel bounded lightly over a fallen log crossing his path and looked back for Legolas. A blurred shape whizzed towards him, and Glorfindel found himself tackled by the other elf. Their peals of laughter ringing in the shade of the forest like twin clamouring bells, the two golden-haired elves rolled around for a while amongst the leaves on the ground before rising and dusting themselves. They raced each other gaily--which, to the ordinary eye, would have looked more like green and brown shadows flitting back and forth among the trees.
Legolas emerged the victor of this contest of speed, and Glorfindel afterwards outdid the former in a test of strength. With light steps, they tread silently on the floor of the forest, called their mounts, and set out to return to Rivendell. As they cantered, the two elves raised their voices in song:
'*A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aeron!'
'*Noro lim, Asfaloth!' cried Glorfindel suddenly to his fleet-footed horse, who leapt ahead and put on a greater speed. '*Túle linte ar dín, Ernil Legolas!'
(A.N. *Noro lim, Asfaloth! --> Ride on, Asfaloth! *Túle linte ar dín, Ernil Legolas! --> Come swift and silent, Prince Legolas!)
Legolas followed suit, murmuring soft words to his mount and urging him forward. Flaxen hair flying about, he questioned Glorfindel, '*Arat Glorfindel, na dagnir coire nev?'
(A.N. *Arat Glorfindel, na dagnir coire nev? --> Noble Glorfindel, is battle stirring near?)
With a negative sign of his head, Glorfindel tapped his ear and said, 'Laste!'
(A.N. *Laste! --> Listen!)
Indeed, as Legolas strained his hearing, he perceived noises--they did not seem far off. The elf dismounted his horse and signalled to his companion to do so as well. '*Túle ndu i rocho. Del nar ar glam.'
(A.N. *Túle ndu i rocho. Del nar ar glam. --> Come down from the horse. Feet are without noise.)
With a nod of assent, Glorfindel reined in Asfaloth and bounded lightly off the stallion's back. '*Golodh.'
(A.N. *Golodh. --> Wise.)
They did not wander very far when they heard strange voices speaking in a harsh, accentuated language unknown to them. '*Hin nar ú-curu waith mí nólë esgallo, Legolas. Hi nath ú-vagori. Hin nar edain!'
(A.N. *Hin nar ú-curu waith mí nólë esgallo, Legolas. Hin nath ú-vagori. Hin nar edain! --> Legolas, these are unskill(ed) people in the lore of hiding. These will not be swordsmen. These are Men[humans]!)
Having noting upon the tyro nature of these strangers, Legolas and Glorfindel relaxed their guard and assumed the natural ease which befalls individuals when it is clear to them that they are masters of the situation. Though still cautious, the elves were not worried, and were more curious than wary. Without much effort to conceal themselves--for it was clear that the clumsy humans would not remark their presence--, they followed the sounds and came upon a small clearing in which three very oddly apparelled and equipped young girls sat in a cacophonous conference.
Not a single word uttered from their mouthes were familiar to either Legolas or Glorfindel--which left them quite in a state of confusion, for both were well-versed in all languages. The two fair elves exchanged bemused frowns and found the new language rather displeasing to the ear for its sharpness. As comprehension was no longer an option, they set upon observing the strange foreigners and marked upon a overly aggressive approach--very scandalising of females--in each them, one in particular (an ill-tempered brunette). The dark-haired one with an unusual style of spectacles seemed the calmer one, and the tow-headed one the source of the trouble.
Suddenly, the dark-haired girl clapped her hand on the vivid brunette's shoulder. '*Him le ur,' she said.
(A.N. *Him le ur. --> Cool thy(thou) heat.)
Legolas could not control his impetuosity and burst forth from the cover of the trees. '*Quenuvalye i lambar Eldareva!'
(A.N. *Quenuvalye i lambar Eldareva! --> Thou canst speak the tongues of the Elves!)
Crying out in surprise, all three girls stumbled back and tumbled over each other in an ungainly manner. The one who had spoken in Elvish was the first to rise from the dirt. When she got her first good look at Legolas, she jumped and pointed at him, shouting something at the top of her lungs.
Glorfindel emerged and stood sternly at Legolas's side. None of the two had understood her. '*Man nar le?'
(A.N. *Man nar le? --> Who art thou?)
She uttered only one, strangled word. '*ELDAR!'
(A.N. *ELDAR! --> ELVES!)
A.N. Please review! I worked hard on this chapter, trying to get through my impossible author's block, so please appreciate my efforts and review! Also, just in case you wanted background information, I studied the Elvish tongues for about two years.
