Hola!
Here is part eight; sorry it's taken a few months to get out (a few she
says!). University has been a tad bit busy lately, lol. I shall warn you
all in advance, this part is quite confusing, but I promise all will be
answered in due time.
Also, thank you so much for all of you who have been sending me reviews,
they totally make my day :D
*** *** "I heard a deal that I didn't rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain and - and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort. And I believe them too, whatever Ted may say. Elves, sir! I would dearly love to see them. Couldn't you take me to see Elves, sir, when you go?" - Samwise Gamgee of the Shire. [The fellowship of the Ring]
***
High above the grassy plains of Caras Galadhon a lone rider sat upon her mount, a striking, single figure blanketed by the morning mist of the rolling mountains to her east. Far below her were the white cliffs of the distant forests that enclosed the elvish realm from the outsider's fearful, knowing gaze. But at these wonders Pènne's piecing, cold eyes were not trained, but at a group of boulders to her right, partly hidden by thick bush.
Anyone who was not looking for these marvels would have walked right past the sacred spot, but to this woman and many of her kin; these natural wonders were an important, past down element of their heritage, one that would never be forgotten. And on this day, a day like none other seen in Lothlórien, the Boulders of Eleniando were to play a special part. Even to her, a foreigner in these parts, the legend of Eleniando stirred emotions in her that she felt for none other.
With one last, grave glance, Pènne stared down at the elvish city below her, her thoughts filled with what was happening down there at this very moment, at the significant event that was taking place, and her role in it. For she knew, down there in that glorious, silver city one woman could be hovering on the brink of death, and that it was up to her to make sure that the marvel was played out at it should be.
Shaking her head, the raven-haired elf gracefully jumped down from her horse and, leading the bay by his bridle, started to approach the sacred space at a respectful, measured pace. As she got closer, the unusual shape of the creation came into view and for the first time Pènne relaxed, even allowing a ghost of a smile to tug at her lips. There where five of them, as there had been at the beginning, and when the woman came to a stop in the centre of the unusual circle, she followed custom by falling to her knees, bowing her head respectfully as the heavy, revered air filled her lungs.
Finally, she gave a soft sigh and got to her feet, turning around briskly as she busied herself with the task that had brought her to this place to begin with. From the saddle of her horse the cerulean-eyed elf gathered the necessary ingredients for her duty and with one swift smack on the horse's rump, sent the startled animal out of the sacred circle of stones. It came to a stop a small distance away, seemingly content to lower his head to the grass below him and munch.
Her dark hair falling down her back in one long braid, Pènne silently stepped around the boulders, gathering the dried grass that she would need to complete the ritual she had been sent out to partake. When a huge pile had been gathered in the centre of the stones, she placed the ingredients she had brought from Caras Galadhon on top, scattering out the pouches of herbs around the bottom.
When she was finished she was breathing deeply as she took a step back to admire her work. Finally, in the last part of the ritual, she lit the mound with a single flick of her wrist, sending a blazing flint on top of the pile. As the fragrant breeze filtered up into the air Pènne let herself fall gracefully to sit cross-legged on the grass, her back straight and her slanted eyes closed lightly. Taking a few deep, slow breaths the elf let the aromas fill her nostrils and pervade her senses as she felt herself become light in body as well as mind.
And with a sense of complete peacefulness the elvish warrior let herself be taken away from this place of timeless enchantment, ready and able to complete the task ahead of her, knowing that her people would be waiting there, in that other place, to aid her if need be.
And as her mind flew. .. searching, searching... she could feel the mental tugging of her protégé on the back of her mind, a constant reminder of her duty of the past few months and all that depended on her success. The tugging was increasing; growing alarmed and tinted with a burning, ripping pain. Unconsciously, the elf Pènne grimaced in sympathy for her outlandish charge and the burden that was being placed on her body.
And with that thought, the elf frowned in concentration as her mind burst through the very foundations of the universe, soaring towards her destination with grim purpose. With every inch of her being, Pènne willed up all that she had been told of this bizarre, faraway place she was racing to in a desperate, last ditch effort to help not only her charge, but also her friend.
And when she found it; this distant, alien place, she branched out her mind as far as she could reach, searching for the one she had been sent out by her kin to retrieve. And when she felt him, his mind heavy with sleep and thoughts of another, Pènne found that she was deeply pleased with what she saw. He was everything she had imagined him to be.
Reaching out with her shimmering, silver fingers, the elf far from her home opened her arms to the sleeping man, and when his yielding body did not disapprove, she began to gather him to her.
****
His body stiffening in sleep, Jack O'Neill's eyes flew open.
Gasping for breath, he jerked straight up in bed, his sheets pooling unnoticed around his waist, his bare chest heaving with the effort to suck in the air for some reason he desperately thought he needed. His hands flat on the bed at his sides, the man stared out into the moonlit room with unblinking, unseeing eyes. Abruptly, his breathing steadied, and the room fell once again into silence. Yet still the man sat there, up in bed, gazing out at nothing with glazed eyes.
And then, suddenly, Jack's eyes started to droop heavily and he took one great sigh of regret before falling backwards, his head cushioned on his pillow. As his lashes brushed his cheek he unconsciously rolled over on his side, throwing out one arm to lay on the side of his bed that was these days forever cold and empty. He stiffened even as he was clutched by the unknown and pulled ruthlessly back into sleep.
Deep in his mind Jack knew that this wasn't right, that something was terribly wrong, but as the blessed darkness was pulled over his eyes, he found that he really didn't care. Far from his present thoughts was the fact that he knew his young friends downstairs asleep in his den were going to eventually wake up and wonder what the problem was when Jack didn't appear for breakfast in the morning.
But now, he felt his mind being dragged away from his bedroom and he failed to put up a resistance to this mistreatment of his body. Instead, he welcomed the darkness, the uncertainly of his future, and wondered in some misplaced, ironic thought, if this would bring him any closer to her.
It was on that thought that a hard, pulsing hand clamped over his mind and all he knew was darkness.
***
"Come on, you silly man, open your eyes."
In some distant part of his mind, the soft, husky voice registered but was not understood. Jack wallowed in the comfort of unconsciousness but refused to open his eyes. But even if his mind protested, his body started to swim to the surface and he could feel his arms and legs shuffling and jerking over smooth, silky bed sheets.
It was with that thought Jack began to realise that all was not as it seemed, for he distinctly remembered placing cotton sheets on his bed only two days ago, not satin ones. He hadn't used satin in a long time.
His eyes fluttering open with the first torrent of alarm, Jack found himself staring up at a huge domed ceiling of the most startling silver he had ever seen. Huge arches crossed and united above his head, all intertwined with what he could only identify as silver-coated leaves. Turning his head slightly so that his cheek brushed the velvety pillow beneath him, he stared out mammoth arched windows at misty, frost tinted trees.
Blinking madly to clear his eyes, Jack forced himself to slowly sit up, still staring around himself in stunned alarm. For the first time, he looked down, and found himself still clad only in the black boxer shorts he had worn to bed. But this was definitely not the bed he remembered going to sleep in. It was large, airy and deliciously warm.
Not knowing where he was, or what was going on, Jack looked quickly around for anything that could pose as a weapon, but came up short. There didn't seem to be anything in this room that wasn't a necessity. For the second time seemingly in a matter of minutes, he thought of Daniel and Cassandra, asleep on his couches at home. They had been up late the previous night and when he had come back from the bathroom in one of their intervals, Jack had found them both dead to the world and hadn't had the heart to move them. Like him, they had been emotionally drained and desperately needed the sleep.
If anything, Sam's disappearance eight months before had proven to bind the young woman even further with the four men she affectionately called her uncles. Even though Cassie was heading off to University soon, she still spent as much time at the SGC as she was allowed. If General Hammond saw her roaming the corridors where she usually wouldn't be allowed access to, he certainly didn't say anything to her. He knew better than anyone that Sam Carter was remembered best in the many mazes of the SGC, and Cassandra wasn't the only one who went there for comfort.
But now, Jack knew that Cassie and Daniel were the only ones who could even begin to help him in this new situation. Whatever aliens - and Jack didn't even bother thinking about anything else - had snatched him up to this bizarre place had obviously worked extremely fast if they hadn't woken the two sleeping beauties downstairs. He just hoped that if he wasn't back before morning, Daniel would make tracks to the SGC and sound the alarm. Otherwise, he was on his own.
Looking around again, taking in every detail in the chamber that he could from his vantage point, he wondered absently who it was that *had* taken him and where they were.
His question was seemingly answered when he heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening carefully to his right. Snapping his head around to face the sound and his visitor, Jack's body tensed as adrenaline started to pump madly through his veins. But what he saw caused his eyebrows to take flight on his forehead like a pair of startled birds.
It was a woman. A very tall, strangely dressed woman, but one all the same. She moved through the doorway with unmistakable liquid grace, her strong, shapely legs evident through the olive leggings that she wore. Over them, she wore robes of a darker shade, almost black. But it was at her face that Jack stared, unable to tear his gaze away as he silently tracked her as she walked across the room, completely ignoring him.
She had to most unusual face he had ever seen, even throughout all his travels through the 'gate. And when she came to a stop by the substantial writing desk that he hadn't paid much attention to till now, Jack found himself swallowing roughly as she placed the small woven basket she had been carrying onto its surface and turned in his direction.
Her hair fell like black gold down her back, woven at the sides close to her skull in tiny braids to seemingly keep it out of her eyes. It also succeeded in emphasising the dramatic slant of her pale eyes and cheekbones. Jack allowed his eyes to follow the slope of her face up through her braided hair to the very tips of her pointed ears.
All in all, it was a wonderful combination; one that Jack was very hesitant about admiring for much longer in case the owner of the extraordinary features began to grow annoyed. But when he finally met her eyes, strength to strength, Jack found them cold and passionless, as if something had reached in there and snuffed out the light.
Pènne blinked suddenly, and Jack was rewarded with a look of avid curiosity fill them as she stared back at him, taking his measure in a way that he knew he could hide nothing.
"You are Jack O'Neill, are you not?" she asked him abruptly, her voice low and husky, but in a way that told him she already knew the answer. But when he only nodded, not trusting his voice yet, she only gave one satisfied nod of her own and turned back towards the desk and the basket, apparently finished with him.
Frowning at his evident dismissal, but sensing in some strange, misplaced way that he was in no danger, Jack rolled over to the other side of the bed, away from the woman, and planted his feet firmly on the soft ground beneath him. Not looking over his shoulder to see what her reaction was to his sudden behavior, he silently padded across to the window, clad only in his boxers, determined to find out more about the place he was in, if this woman refused to enlighten him.
But he couldn't withhold the amazed whistle that escaped his lips as he leaned over the railing and gazed down the endless miles of trees beneath them. He stared above and around him, astonished, at the flawlessly designed systems of dwellings build high into the branches of the trees.
Turning hastily, he pinned his cautious gaze on the dark haired woman, who was still standing there by the desk, watching him in return. "Where the hell am I?" he demanded, fed up with her silence. "And how the heck did I get here?"
Unexpectedly Pènne smiled softly, as if she found the whole situation rather humorous. "Where do you want to be, young one?" she asked in return, not yet ready to answer the questions he so desired. "And where do you think you are?"
Jack snorted rudely, placing his hands on his hips. "Cut the crap, lady. Answer my questions."
Flicking her eyebrows up in answer, Pènne instead trained her gaze on the bed Jack had just vacated only a few moments before. All at once, her expression grew pinched and she grimaced as if suddenly remembering something important. Heaving a great sigh, she reached down to lightly brush her fingers over the soft covering.
"You are here because you have been called for, and because you are needed." She looked up then, her eyes sorrowful. "And as for your other question, you are not really here, at all. You needn't fear about how you will return to your world, because, in a way, you never really left it."
Jack's eyebrows met as he tried to figure out the meaning of what she had said. "You mean I'm actually dreaming?" he queried, that being the only conclusion he could come up with. But when she rewarded him with another slight smile, he knew his guess had been on the mark.
"Who are you?" he asked, curious about the person who had gone to such trouble to bring him here. She obviously meant him no harm, and Jack was interested about her and her people, if they possessed the abilities she clearly did. They would make excellent allies.
As if she knew the way his mind was working, the woman gave a lovely little laugh and turned around, giving him her back as she again went back to the desk, this time to fish around in the basket resting there. When she was seemingly finished, she came to stand before him, her fist bunched at her side, filled with whatever she had retrieved from the basket.
As they were of the same height, she looked straight into his eyes, her own a brilliant blue and strong as steal. As she opened her mouth to speak, she reached across and picked up his right hand, placing whatever she had been holding in his palm, closing his fingers tightly over it with her own.
"My name is Pènne of Rivendell, young one. My lineage is to Eleniando and to my lady, Arwen Undómiel. You stand now in the city of Lothlórien, in the realm of Celeborn and his lady, Galadriel." Suddenly, she gripped his hands tightly, giving them a small shake. "Remember these names, Jack O'Neill, for one day you will have great use for them. This city cares for your own, and is a place where all your kin are welcome."
Then she took a step back and a soft, grim smile appeared on her lips. "You must go now, to where you are needed. Remember what I have said, and one day all will be well." Pènne held up her hand, palm facing him, and nodded her head slowly, her eyes flittering closed as she spoke, her voice sounding very far away.
"Farewell, human. May we meet again."
****
When he next opened his eyes he knew instantly that it had happened again. His body freezing, Jack peered around the new chamber he was now standing in. It looked quite similar to the first one, yet this was much bigger and more closed in. Looking around, he could see that a small part of the room had been split off from the rest by a think curtain of cream cloth, which was now swaying gently in the breeze.
Sighing loudly, Jack just stood there, wondering what he was going to do now. He was seriously beginning to think this Pènne lady had gotten the wrong person. He didn't know anyone on this planet. Hell! He didn't know what planet he was even on! It was all good knowing the name of the city he was in, but the name of the planet would have been nice to.
Jack murmured the names Pènne had told him to remember, "Lothlórien.Rivendell...Celeborn and Galadriel", wondering all the while why this was so important and what it all had to do with him. Thinking back, he remembered very clearly Pènne saying that he was needed here, but for what purpose he was completely clueless.
For the first time, Jack remembered Pènne placing something in his palm, and he quickly brought his hand up, opening his fingers slowly as he peered into his own hand, a frown appearing on his face as he realised what he was looking at. It was a pouch. A small, brown, hand woven pouch with a gold drawstring around the neck. At the same time, he suddenly noticed his arm, which, unlike before, was now covered in the soft, dark green material.
Looking down at himself, Jack was stunned to find his black boxers gone and replaced with a long sleeved kind of robe. It was high necked, fell down to his ankles and was done up at his chest with a line of hocked buttons. Underneath, Jack was relieved to find he was also clad in a pair of loose, olive leggings. Not his normal attire, certainly, but on a whole, not bad.
Jack had just decided that this entire experience was becoming completely bizarre when he heard it. He stilled instantly, his ears pricking for the sound he was adamant he heard, when he heard it again; the very soft moan of a woman.
Jerking his head around silently, Jack stared at the cream cloth that separated the two sections of the chamber. Unless he was mistaken, the sound was coming from just beyond that fabric. Not liking the situation one bit, Jack knew he had no other choice but to investigate. Pènne had taken him here for a reason, and if he was of a mind to trust the strange looking woman, which if he was honest with himself, he was, he knew she would want him to go have a look.
Absently tucking the brown pouch into the folds of his new robes, Jack silently padded across the floor of the chamber, wondering what he was going to find on the other side. But when he got there, gently pushing aside the cloth, he got the surprise of his life when he found what he was looking for.
The second part of the chamber was entirely taken up by a large bed, which had obviously been pushed up against the wall with the windows so that the person in it could look out into the trees. Like the bed he had found himself in, it was covered from one end to the other in pearly silver sheets. But this one also had a light cream duvet, which had obviously been pushed down the end of the bed by the person in it.
And it was that person who had instantly caught Jack O'Neill's attention. For asleep under the sheets of the bed was the shape of a woman; her legs slightly tucked up to her chest as she slept. Jack felt his heart start to beat madly in his chest even before his legs began to take him around the side of the bed not pushed up against the window, where the woman's blonde head was folded up in the crook of her bare arm.
His body had grown completely numb by the time he came to a stop at the side of the bed, staring down at the sleeping face of the woman whose eyelids were fluttering slightly as she obviously fought unconsciousness. For the rest of his life, Jack would remember this moment as clearly as it had happened yesterday. The way his legs had given out from under him, all thoughts of Pènne and Lothlórien forgotten as he fell to his knees, not feeling the pain of doing so.
It was the sound of crying that had snapped him back to any sense of normalcy, as when he brought his hands up to touch his face, he found it wet with tears. But he didn't care, he just reached out and placed a finger on the sleeping woman's face, the touch as soft as a feather as if he expected her to disappear at any second.
But she did not. She stayed there and so did the wet smudge of his tears on her cheek. And when her eyes started to flutter more intently, and finally open blue to his overwhelmed gaze, Jack felt his heart almost stop in his chest as she stared at him, her eyes sleepy and not quite focused. She rolled over onto her back, the blanket pushed down past her breasts to reveal her body clad in a silky white gown.
Even as he stared at her, unable to speak, Jack felt the first tell tale signs of alarm building up in him as he finally tore his gaze away from her sleepy face and quickly look down her body at her stomach. Even under the covers, there was no mistaking the flat plains of her body that shouldn't be there.
More urgent now, Jack reached out and cupped her face in his hands, turning it not so gently in his direction. He saw her eyes open wide with the treatment and finally lock onto his face, her eyes bright and alert. She jerked out of his hands the second she caught sight of his face, which Jack later told himself wasn't surprising. He watched, stunned, as she scooted across the other side of the bed and sat there, against the wall, staring at him with her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Then suddenly, a look of complete fear filled her eyes as she glanced down at herself, her hands flying to her belly and she gave a cry of dismay to find it flat. Her face jerked up again and she stared at him in complete disbelief for a couple of second before she whispered so quietly that he almost missed it, "Jack?"
And with that, Jack felt himself cave in, as for the first time in over eight months he heard his name come from the lips of the one woman he had waited years to first hear it from. "Oh god." He heard himself say in response as her face suddenly crumpled, her hands gripping the material at her stomach tightly.
He had just sat on the edge of the bed when she flew at him, across the bed and into his arms, her slim body fitting into his chest easily. His own arms came around her in a vice grip that he knew had to be hurting her but he couldn't let her go. He just buried his nose in her hair, which in some part of his mind he noticed was a lot longer than he remembered, and breathed in the smell of her, one that he had been missing hungrily for the past long months.
In some part of his mind, Jack wondered if this was even real, if he was actually here, holding her like this. But then he pushed that thought aside, for he really didn't care to know the answer. He only tightened his grip around her waist and squeezed his eyes closed. She was chanting something to herself, he could hear the muffled sound against his robes, but he couldn't understand the words.
Pushing back, he gripped Sam by her bare forearms and stared into her fear filled face. Finally, her eyes looked up and locked with his and he felt her body begin to shake.
She looked around herself suddenly, at the bed they were sitting on, at the rest of the room, and a deep frown appeared on her face, one of complete confusion. Her eyes were flitting madly to each corner of the room, and Jack could see from her expression that she didn't recognize the room at all.
"Sam?" he asked then, his tone urgent. Her eyes snapped back to his and she was shaking her head slowly in disbelief. He felt her hands crawl up his chest to grip a handful of his robes desperately.
"No, no, no!" she suddenly cried, wrenching her body out of his arms to spin around, placing her palms flat on the wall. She had just started to pound on the wall when he reached over and grabbed her hands in his much stronger ones and pulled them back, gathering them into his chest.
"Arwen," she whispered, "Galadriel, where are you?"
"Sam!" Jack cried loudly, trying to snap her out of it. But it was only when he finally slapped her quickly on her cheek that she immediately stilled, her breath still coming in shallow pants. She stared at him as if she couldn't believe her eyes.
"I shouldn't be here, Jack!" she cried, shaking her head. "I shouldn't be here, not now! And neither should you!" Reaching up, she covered her mouth with her hand as if she was about to be sick. Her face had gone a deathly white and her eyes were huge with panic.
Not knowing what the hell was going on, Jack reached out and grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair, forcing her head around to look at him. Knowing that they weren't going to understand anything unless he could get out of Sam what she knew, he found her eyes and held them, speaking to her in a low, even tone that he knew she had to remember from before she disappeared. Jack had so many questions he wanted to ask her he didn't know where to start.
"Sam," he said calmly, "Sam, listen to me." The tone of voice obviously worked because she turned back to him, her eyes filled with startled surprise. "Do you know where we are?"
She didn't answer right away, only lowered her head and began to shake it from side to side. "Yes, I know," she whispered. "But I don't understand what happened. How are you here?" she asked, her voice laced with bewilderment. "This shouldn't be happening."
"Why?" Jack inquired, but she didn't seem to hear him. She was staring down at the bed they were sitting on, her eyes blank. Slowly, she reached out and fingered the cloth, as if she was making sure it was real. "I was here, Jack. Just a few moments ago, lying in this bed. I don't really remember; I must have lost consciousness or something, but what happened? Where did everyone go?"
Again, Sam reached down to lay her hand on her belly, fingers grasping around the flat plains. And it was at that moment, looking down at her pale, slim fingers that Jack O'Neill finally understood.
Thinking back, he heard Pènne's word's play through his mind clearly as she was standing there next to the bed, whispering them again into his ear. He remembered what she had said, what she had wanted him to do. Closing his eyes for a second, Jack also realised what she had in fact, also tried to hint in not so many words. For he knew now that he would soon return to his bed back in Colorado Springs, and that Sam would stay here, wherever they were, in this strange, silver place in the trees. There was no way he could stop it.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the blonde woman sitting on the bed opposite him, clad in the while robed gown stitched with golden leaves. Unlike him, who was unfamiliar with his new style of clothes, Sam was holding herself like a person used to them close to her skin, and Jack knew she had worn them before.
"You were having the baby, weren't you?" he whispered, his voice calm but his mind exploding with the thought of it. But as she just looked at him, her eyes sad, Jack knew she was suddenly remembering what she had lost, what she had left behind. Silently, she just nodded her head, her fists unconsciously bunching at her stomach.
"Yes," she answered, her voice faint.
Jack nodded, feeling everything fall into place. Whatever people were responsible for him being here, whether that be Pènne or not, he understood Sam knew them, and knew them well. Looking at her now, her suddenly slim body tense in his arms with the fear of loosing her baby, Jack saw how good she looked and knew that she had been well taking care of. These people were obviously her friends, and cared for her deeply.
Gathering her in closer, he stared over her shoulder to the room outside the cloth, and wondered what was happening there, in that other place where Sam had been taken from, and when would it stop? When would he be taken back to Colorado, where Daniel and Cassie hopefully still slept downstairs in his den. Tightening his arms, he squeezed his eyes closed, wishing the last eight months away, yet wondering what had happened to Sam since then, how she had ended up in this place with people like Pènne.
For he knew them now, knew what they were capable of and their motives for doing so. This was a gift; he was willing to bet his life on it. A gift from a group of people he knew nothing about, but who cared for Sam when he could not. There was nothing they could do about it now, nothing he could do to go warn Daniel that wherever he was he was safe, and that for now, the SGC should not be contacted.
The only thing he wondered now was when it would end, when would he open his eyes and find this had all disappeared? And what would he do then, knowing that Sam was here; thankfully alive and well, but in a place that he could not reach?
But for now, he just refused to let her go, knowing deep in the coldest corner of his being that their separation after this would probably be for good, and that he would never see her or the baby again.
****
To be continued..
****
NB: [A translation of the word, "Eleniando" from the Boulders of Eleniando].
[Elen, Eleni, Elenion]: Quenyan words for 'Star' (Elenion is the
collective plural). [Ando]: Quenyan word for 'Gate' [Eleniando]: Add Eleni and Ando together to get `Stargate'. [Straight
Quenya]
[All speculation of the Boulders of Eleniando and Pènne's involvement will further be explained at a later time. You will just have to be patient! ( Also, I'll just add so that I don't get in any trouble, anything to do with the Boulders of Eleniando are entirely fictional, made up from my own little mind, and are not taken from any of Tolkien's works. All, that is, expect the name, which I made up from the Quenyan language of the High- Elves from Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings"]
*** *** "I heard a deal that I didn't rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain and - and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort. And I believe them too, whatever Ted may say. Elves, sir! I would dearly love to see them. Couldn't you take me to see Elves, sir, when you go?" - Samwise Gamgee of the Shire. [The fellowship of the Ring]
***
High above the grassy plains of Caras Galadhon a lone rider sat upon her mount, a striking, single figure blanketed by the morning mist of the rolling mountains to her east. Far below her were the white cliffs of the distant forests that enclosed the elvish realm from the outsider's fearful, knowing gaze. But at these wonders Pènne's piecing, cold eyes were not trained, but at a group of boulders to her right, partly hidden by thick bush.
Anyone who was not looking for these marvels would have walked right past the sacred spot, but to this woman and many of her kin; these natural wonders were an important, past down element of their heritage, one that would never be forgotten. And on this day, a day like none other seen in Lothlórien, the Boulders of Eleniando were to play a special part. Even to her, a foreigner in these parts, the legend of Eleniando stirred emotions in her that she felt for none other.
With one last, grave glance, Pènne stared down at the elvish city below her, her thoughts filled with what was happening down there at this very moment, at the significant event that was taking place, and her role in it. For she knew, down there in that glorious, silver city one woman could be hovering on the brink of death, and that it was up to her to make sure that the marvel was played out at it should be.
Shaking her head, the raven-haired elf gracefully jumped down from her horse and, leading the bay by his bridle, started to approach the sacred space at a respectful, measured pace. As she got closer, the unusual shape of the creation came into view and for the first time Pènne relaxed, even allowing a ghost of a smile to tug at her lips. There where five of them, as there had been at the beginning, and when the woman came to a stop in the centre of the unusual circle, she followed custom by falling to her knees, bowing her head respectfully as the heavy, revered air filled her lungs.
Finally, she gave a soft sigh and got to her feet, turning around briskly as she busied herself with the task that had brought her to this place to begin with. From the saddle of her horse the cerulean-eyed elf gathered the necessary ingredients for her duty and with one swift smack on the horse's rump, sent the startled animal out of the sacred circle of stones. It came to a stop a small distance away, seemingly content to lower his head to the grass below him and munch.
Her dark hair falling down her back in one long braid, Pènne silently stepped around the boulders, gathering the dried grass that she would need to complete the ritual she had been sent out to partake. When a huge pile had been gathered in the centre of the stones, she placed the ingredients she had brought from Caras Galadhon on top, scattering out the pouches of herbs around the bottom.
When she was finished she was breathing deeply as she took a step back to admire her work. Finally, in the last part of the ritual, she lit the mound with a single flick of her wrist, sending a blazing flint on top of the pile. As the fragrant breeze filtered up into the air Pènne let herself fall gracefully to sit cross-legged on the grass, her back straight and her slanted eyes closed lightly. Taking a few deep, slow breaths the elf let the aromas fill her nostrils and pervade her senses as she felt herself become light in body as well as mind.
And with a sense of complete peacefulness the elvish warrior let herself be taken away from this place of timeless enchantment, ready and able to complete the task ahead of her, knowing that her people would be waiting there, in that other place, to aid her if need be.
And as her mind flew. .. searching, searching... she could feel the mental tugging of her protégé on the back of her mind, a constant reminder of her duty of the past few months and all that depended on her success. The tugging was increasing; growing alarmed and tinted with a burning, ripping pain. Unconsciously, the elf Pènne grimaced in sympathy for her outlandish charge and the burden that was being placed on her body.
And with that thought, the elf frowned in concentration as her mind burst through the very foundations of the universe, soaring towards her destination with grim purpose. With every inch of her being, Pènne willed up all that she had been told of this bizarre, faraway place she was racing to in a desperate, last ditch effort to help not only her charge, but also her friend.
And when she found it; this distant, alien place, she branched out her mind as far as she could reach, searching for the one she had been sent out by her kin to retrieve. And when she felt him, his mind heavy with sleep and thoughts of another, Pènne found that she was deeply pleased with what she saw. He was everything she had imagined him to be.
Reaching out with her shimmering, silver fingers, the elf far from her home opened her arms to the sleeping man, and when his yielding body did not disapprove, she began to gather him to her.
****
His body stiffening in sleep, Jack O'Neill's eyes flew open.
Gasping for breath, he jerked straight up in bed, his sheets pooling unnoticed around his waist, his bare chest heaving with the effort to suck in the air for some reason he desperately thought he needed. His hands flat on the bed at his sides, the man stared out into the moonlit room with unblinking, unseeing eyes. Abruptly, his breathing steadied, and the room fell once again into silence. Yet still the man sat there, up in bed, gazing out at nothing with glazed eyes.
And then, suddenly, Jack's eyes started to droop heavily and he took one great sigh of regret before falling backwards, his head cushioned on his pillow. As his lashes brushed his cheek he unconsciously rolled over on his side, throwing out one arm to lay on the side of his bed that was these days forever cold and empty. He stiffened even as he was clutched by the unknown and pulled ruthlessly back into sleep.
Deep in his mind Jack knew that this wasn't right, that something was terribly wrong, but as the blessed darkness was pulled over his eyes, he found that he really didn't care. Far from his present thoughts was the fact that he knew his young friends downstairs asleep in his den were going to eventually wake up and wonder what the problem was when Jack didn't appear for breakfast in the morning.
But now, he felt his mind being dragged away from his bedroom and he failed to put up a resistance to this mistreatment of his body. Instead, he welcomed the darkness, the uncertainly of his future, and wondered in some misplaced, ironic thought, if this would bring him any closer to her.
It was on that thought that a hard, pulsing hand clamped over his mind and all he knew was darkness.
***
"Come on, you silly man, open your eyes."
In some distant part of his mind, the soft, husky voice registered but was not understood. Jack wallowed in the comfort of unconsciousness but refused to open his eyes. But even if his mind protested, his body started to swim to the surface and he could feel his arms and legs shuffling and jerking over smooth, silky bed sheets.
It was with that thought Jack began to realise that all was not as it seemed, for he distinctly remembered placing cotton sheets on his bed only two days ago, not satin ones. He hadn't used satin in a long time.
His eyes fluttering open with the first torrent of alarm, Jack found himself staring up at a huge domed ceiling of the most startling silver he had ever seen. Huge arches crossed and united above his head, all intertwined with what he could only identify as silver-coated leaves. Turning his head slightly so that his cheek brushed the velvety pillow beneath him, he stared out mammoth arched windows at misty, frost tinted trees.
Blinking madly to clear his eyes, Jack forced himself to slowly sit up, still staring around himself in stunned alarm. For the first time, he looked down, and found himself still clad only in the black boxer shorts he had worn to bed. But this was definitely not the bed he remembered going to sleep in. It was large, airy and deliciously warm.
Not knowing where he was, or what was going on, Jack looked quickly around for anything that could pose as a weapon, but came up short. There didn't seem to be anything in this room that wasn't a necessity. For the second time seemingly in a matter of minutes, he thought of Daniel and Cassandra, asleep on his couches at home. They had been up late the previous night and when he had come back from the bathroom in one of their intervals, Jack had found them both dead to the world and hadn't had the heart to move them. Like him, they had been emotionally drained and desperately needed the sleep.
If anything, Sam's disappearance eight months before had proven to bind the young woman even further with the four men she affectionately called her uncles. Even though Cassie was heading off to University soon, she still spent as much time at the SGC as she was allowed. If General Hammond saw her roaming the corridors where she usually wouldn't be allowed access to, he certainly didn't say anything to her. He knew better than anyone that Sam Carter was remembered best in the many mazes of the SGC, and Cassandra wasn't the only one who went there for comfort.
But now, Jack knew that Cassie and Daniel were the only ones who could even begin to help him in this new situation. Whatever aliens - and Jack didn't even bother thinking about anything else - had snatched him up to this bizarre place had obviously worked extremely fast if they hadn't woken the two sleeping beauties downstairs. He just hoped that if he wasn't back before morning, Daniel would make tracks to the SGC and sound the alarm. Otherwise, he was on his own.
Looking around again, taking in every detail in the chamber that he could from his vantage point, he wondered absently who it was that *had* taken him and where they were.
His question was seemingly answered when he heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening carefully to his right. Snapping his head around to face the sound and his visitor, Jack's body tensed as adrenaline started to pump madly through his veins. But what he saw caused his eyebrows to take flight on his forehead like a pair of startled birds.
It was a woman. A very tall, strangely dressed woman, but one all the same. She moved through the doorway with unmistakable liquid grace, her strong, shapely legs evident through the olive leggings that she wore. Over them, she wore robes of a darker shade, almost black. But it was at her face that Jack stared, unable to tear his gaze away as he silently tracked her as she walked across the room, completely ignoring him.
She had to most unusual face he had ever seen, even throughout all his travels through the 'gate. And when she came to a stop by the substantial writing desk that he hadn't paid much attention to till now, Jack found himself swallowing roughly as she placed the small woven basket she had been carrying onto its surface and turned in his direction.
Her hair fell like black gold down her back, woven at the sides close to her skull in tiny braids to seemingly keep it out of her eyes. It also succeeded in emphasising the dramatic slant of her pale eyes and cheekbones. Jack allowed his eyes to follow the slope of her face up through her braided hair to the very tips of her pointed ears.
All in all, it was a wonderful combination; one that Jack was very hesitant about admiring for much longer in case the owner of the extraordinary features began to grow annoyed. But when he finally met her eyes, strength to strength, Jack found them cold and passionless, as if something had reached in there and snuffed out the light.
Pènne blinked suddenly, and Jack was rewarded with a look of avid curiosity fill them as she stared back at him, taking his measure in a way that he knew he could hide nothing.
"You are Jack O'Neill, are you not?" she asked him abruptly, her voice low and husky, but in a way that told him she already knew the answer. But when he only nodded, not trusting his voice yet, she only gave one satisfied nod of her own and turned back towards the desk and the basket, apparently finished with him.
Frowning at his evident dismissal, but sensing in some strange, misplaced way that he was in no danger, Jack rolled over to the other side of the bed, away from the woman, and planted his feet firmly on the soft ground beneath him. Not looking over his shoulder to see what her reaction was to his sudden behavior, he silently padded across to the window, clad only in his boxers, determined to find out more about the place he was in, if this woman refused to enlighten him.
But he couldn't withhold the amazed whistle that escaped his lips as he leaned over the railing and gazed down the endless miles of trees beneath them. He stared above and around him, astonished, at the flawlessly designed systems of dwellings build high into the branches of the trees.
Turning hastily, he pinned his cautious gaze on the dark haired woman, who was still standing there by the desk, watching him in return. "Where the hell am I?" he demanded, fed up with her silence. "And how the heck did I get here?"
Unexpectedly Pènne smiled softly, as if she found the whole situation rather humorous. "Where do you want to be, young one?" she asked in return, not yet ready to answer the questions he so desired. "And where do you think you are?"
Jack snorted rudely, placing his hands on his hips. "Cut the crap, lady. Answer my questions."
Flicking her eyebrows up in answer, Pènne instead trained her gaze on the bed Jack had just vacated only a few moments before. All at once, her expression grew pinched and she grimaced as if suddenly remembering something important. Heaving a great sigh, she reached down to lightly brush her fingers over the soft covering.
"You are here because you have been called for, and because you are needed." She looked up then, her eyes sorrowful. "And as for your other question, you are not really here, at all. You needn't fear about how you will return to your world, because, in a way, you never really left it."
Jack's eyebrows met as he tried to figure out the meaning of what she had said. "You mean I'm actually dreaming?" he queried, that being the only conclusion he could come up with. But when she rewarded him with another slight smile, he knew his guess had been on the mark.
"Who are you?" he asked, curious about the person who had gone to such trouble to bring him here. She obviously meant him no harm, and Jack was interested about her and her people, if they possessed the abilities she clearly did. They would make excellent allies.
As if she knew the way his mind was working, the woman gave a lovely little laugh and turned around, giving him her back as she again went back to the desk, this time to fish around in the basket resting there. When she was seemingly finished, she came to stand before him, her fist bunched at her side, filled with whatever she had retrieved from the basket.
As they were of the same height, she looked straight into his eyes, her own a brilliant blue and strong as steal. As she opened her mouth to speak, she reached across and picked up his right hand, placing whatever she had been holding in his palm, closing his fingers tightly over it with her own.
"My name is Pènne of Rivendell, young one. My lineage is to Eleniando and to my lady, Arwen Undómiel. You stand now in the city of Lothlórien, in the realm of Celeborn and his lady, Galadriel." Suddenly, she gripped his hands tightly, giving them a small shake. "Remember these names, Jack O'Neill, for one day you will have great use for them. This city cares for your own, and is a place where all your kin are welcome."
Then she took a step back and a soft, grim smile appeared on her lips. "You must go now, to where you are needed. Remember what I have said, and one day all will be well." Pènne held up her hand, palm facing him, and nodded her head slowly, her eyes flittering closed as she spoke, her voice sounding very far away.
"Farewell, human. May we meet again."
****
When he next opened his eyes he knew instantly that it had happened again. His body freezing, Jack peered around the new chamber he was now standing in. It looked quite similar to the first one, yet this was much bigger and more closed in. Looking around, he could see that a small part of the room had been split off from the rest by a think curtain of cream cloth, which was now swaying gently in the breeze.
Sighing loudly, Jack just stood there, wondering what he was going to do now. He was seriously beginning to think this Pènne lady had gotten the wrong person. He didn't know anyone on this planet. Hell! He didn't know what planet he was even on! It was all good knowing the name of the city he was in, but the name of the planet would have been nice to.
Jack murmured the names Pènne had told him to remember, "Lothlórien.Rivendell...Celeborn and Galadriel", wondering all the while why this was so important and what it all had to do with him. Thinking back, he remembered very clearly Pènne saying that he was needed here, but for what purpose he was completely clueless.
For the first time, Jack remembered Pènne placing something in his palm, and he quickly brought his hand up, opening his fingers slowly as he peered into his own hand, a frown appearing on his face as he realised what he was looking at. It was a pouch. A small, brown, hand woven pouch with a gold drawstring around the neck. At the same time, he suddenly noticed his arm, which, unlike before, was now covered in the soft, dark green material.
Looking down at himself, Jack was stunned to find his black boxers gone and replaced with a long sleeved kind of robe. It was high necked, fell down to his ankles and was done up at his chest with a line of hocked buttons. Underneath, Jack was relieved to find he was also clad in a pair of loose, olive leggings. Not his normal attire, certainly, but on a whole, not bad.
Jack had just decided that this entire experience was becoming completely bizarre when he heard it. He stilled instantly, his ears pricking for the sound he was adamant he heard, when he heard it again; the very soft moan of a woman.
Jerking his head around silently, Jack stared at the cream cloth that separated the two sections of the chamber. Unless he was mistaken, the sound was coming from just beyond that fabric. Not liking the situation one bit, Jack knew he had no other choice but to investigate. Pènne had taken him here for a reason, and if he was of a mind to trust the strange looking woman, which if he was honest with himself, he was, he knew she would want him to go have a look.
Absently tucking the brown pouch into the folds of his new robes, Jack silently padded across the floor of the chamber, wondering what he was going to find on the other side. But when he got there, gently pushing aside the cloth, he got the surprise of his life when he found what he was looking for.
The second part of the chamber was entirely taken up by a large bed, which had obviously been pushed up against the wall with the windows so that the person in it could look out into the trees. Like the bed he had found himself in, it was covered from one end to the other in pearly silver sheets. But this one also had a light cream duvet, which had obviously been pushed down the end of the bed by the person in it.
And it was that person who had instantly caught Jack O'Neill's attention. For asleep under the sheets of the bed was the shape of a woman; her legs slightly tucked up to her chest as she slept. Jack felt his heart start to beat madly in his chest even before his legs began to take him around the side of the bed not pushed up against the window, where the woman's blonde head was folded up in the crook of her bare arm.
His body had grown completely numb by the time he came to a stop at the side of the bed, staring down at the sleeping face of the woman whose eyelids were fluttering slightly as she obviously fought unconsciousness. For the rest of his life, Jack would remember this moment as clearly as it had happened yesterday. The way his legs had given out from under him, all thoughts of Pènne and Lothlórien forgotten as he fell to his knees, not feeling the pain of doing so.
It was the sound of crying that had snapped him back to any sense of normalcy, as when he brought his hands up to touch his face, he found it wet with tears. But he didn't care, he just reached out and placed a finger on the sleeping woman's face, the touch as soft as a feather as if he expected her to disappear at any second.
But she did not. She stayed there and so did the wet smudge of his tears on her cheek. And when her eyes started to flutter more intently, and finally open blue to his overwhelmed gaze, Jack felt his heart almost stop in his chest as she stared at him, her eyes sleepy and not quite focused. She rolled over onto her back, the blanket pushed down past her breasts to reveal her body clad in a silky white gown.
Even as he stared at her, unable to speak, Jack felt the first tell tale signs of alarm building up in him as he finally tore his gaze away from her sleepy face and quickly look down her body at her stomach. Even under the covers, there was no mistaking the flat plains of her body that shouldn't be there.
More urgent now, Jack reached out and cupped her face in his hands, turning it not so gently in his direction. He saw her eyes open wide with the treatment and finally lock onto his face, her eyes bright and alert. She jerked out of his hands the second she caught sight of his face, which Jack later told himself wasn't surprising. He watched, stunned, as she scooted across the other side of the bed and sat there, against the wall, staring at him with her chest rising and falling rapidly.
Then suddenly, a look of complete fear filled her eyes as she glanced down at herself, her hands flying to her belly and she gave a cry of dismay to find it flat. Her face jerked up again and she stared at him in complete disbelief for a couple of second before she whispered so quietly that he almost missed it, "Jack?"
And with that, Jack felt himself cave in, as for the first time in over eight months he heard his name come from the lips of the one woman he had waited years to first hear it from. "Oh god." He heard himself say in response as her face suddenly crumpled, her hands gripping the material at her stomach tightly.
He had just sat on the edge of the bed when she flew at him, across the bed and into his arms, her slim body fitting into his chest easily. His own arms came around her in a vice grip that he knew had to be hurting her but he couldn't let her go. He just buried his nose in her hair, which in some part of his mind he noticed was a lot longer than he remembered, and breathed in the smell of her, one that he had been missing hungrily for the past long months.
In some part of his mind, Jack wondered if this was even real, if he was actually here, holding her like this. But then he pushed that thought aside, for he really didn't care to know the answer. He only tightened his grip around her waist and squeezed his eyes closed. She was chanting something to herself, he could hear the muffled sound against his robes, but he couldn't understand the words.
Pushing back, he gripped Sam by her bare forearms and stared into her fear filled face. Finally, her eyes looked up and locked with his and he felt her body begin to shake.
She looked around herself suddenly, at the bed they were sitting on, at the rest of the room, and a deep frown appeared on her face, one of complete confusion. Her eyes were flitting madly to each corner of the room, and Jack could see from her expression that she didn't recognize the room at all.
"Sam?" he asked then, his tone urgent. Her eyes snapped back to his and she was shaking her head slowly in disbelief. He felt her hands crawl up his chest to grip a handful of his robes desperately.
"No, no, no!" she suddenly cried, wrenching her body out of his arms to spin around, placing her palms flat on the wall. She had just started to pound on the wall when he reached over and grabbed her hands in his much stronger ones and pulled them back, gathering them into his chest.
"Arwen," she whispered, "Galadriel, where are you?"
"Sam!" Jack cried loudly, trying to snap her out of it. But it was only when he finally slapped her quickly on her cheek that she immediately stilled, her breath still coming in shallow pants. She stared at him as if she couldn't believe her eyes.
"I shouldn't be here, Jack!" she cried, shaking her head. "I shouldn't be here, not now! And neither should you!" Reaching up, she covered her mouth with her hand as if she was about to be sick. Her face had gone a deathly white and her eyes were huge with panic.
Not knowing what the hell was going on, Jack reached out and grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair, forcing her head around to look at him. Knowing that they weren't going to understand anything unless he could get out of Sam what she knew, he found her eyes and held them, speaking to her in a low, even tone that he knew she had to remember from before she disappeared. Jack had so many questions he wanted to ask her he didn't know where to start.
"Sam," he said calmly, "Sam, listen to me." The tone of voice obviously worked because she turned back to him, her eyes filled with startled surprise. "Do you know where we are?"
She didn't answer right away, only lowered her head and began to shake it from side to side. "Yes, I know," she whispered. "But I don't understand what happened. How are you here?" she asked, her voice laced with bewilderment. "This shouldn't be happening."
"Why?" Jack inquired, but she didn't seem to hear him. She was staring down at the bed they were sitting on, her eyes blank. Slowly, she reached out and fingered the cloth, as if she was making sure it was real. "I was here, Jack. Just a few moments ago, lying in this bed. I don't really remember; I must have lost consciousness or something, but what happened? Where did everyone go?"
Again, Sam reached down to lay her hand on her belly, fingers grasping around the flat plains. And it was at that moment, looking down at her pale, slim fingers that Jack O'Neill finally understood.
Thinking back, he heard Pènne's word's play through his mind clearly as she was standing there next to the bed, whispering them again into his ear. He remembered what she had said, what she had wanted him to do. Closing his eyes for a second, Jack also realised what she had in fact, also tried to hint in not so many words. For he knew now that he would soon return to his bed back in Colorado Springs, and that Sam would stay here, wherever they were, in this strange, silver place in the trees. There was no way he could stop it.
Opening his eyes, he stared at the blonde woman sitting on the bed opposite him, clad in the while robed gown stitched with golden leaves. Unlike him, who was unfamiliar with his new style of clothes, Sam was holding herself like a person used to them close to her skin, and Jack knew she had worn them before.
"You were having the baby, weren't you?" he whispered, his voice calm but his mind exploding with the thought of it. But as she just looked at him, her eyes sad, Jack knew she was suddenly remembering what she had lost, what she had left behind. Silently, she just nodded her head, her fists unconsciously bunching at her stomach.
"Yes," she answered, her voice faint.
Jack nodded, feeling everything fall into place. Whatever people were responsible for him being here, whether that be Pènne or not, he understood Sam knew them, and knew them well. Looking at her now, her suddenly slim body tense in his arms with the fear of loosing her baby, Jack saw how good she looked and knew that she had been well taking care of. These people were obviously her friends, and cared for her deeply.
Gathering her in closer, he stared over her shoulder to the room outside the cloth, and wondered what was happening there, in that other place where Sam had been taken from, and when would it stop? When would he be taken back to Colorado, where Daniel and Cassie hopefully still slept downstairs in his den. Tightening his arms, he squeezed his eyes closed, wishing the last eight months away, yet wondering what had happened to Sam since then, how she had ended up in this place with people like Pènne.
For he knew them now, knew what they were capable of and their motives for doing so. This was a gift; he was willing to bet his life on it. A gift from a group of people he knew nothing about, but who cared for Sam when he could not. There was nothing they could do about it now, nothing he could do to go warn Daniel that wherever he was he was safe, and that for now, the SGC should not be contacted.
The only thing he wondered now was when it would end, when would he open his eyes and find this had all disappeared? And what would he do then, knowing that Sam was here; thankfully alive and well, but in a place that he could not reach?
But for now, he just refused to let her go, knowing deep in the coldest corner of his being that their separation after this would probably be for good, and that he would never see her or the baby again.
****
To be continued..
****
NB: [A translation of the word, "Eleniando" from the Boulders of Eleniando].
[Elen, Eleni, Elenion]: Quenyan words for 'Star' (Elenion is the
collective plural). [Ando]: Quenyan word for 'Gate' [Eleniando]: Add Eleni and Ando together to get `Stargate'. [Straight
Quenya]
[All speculation of the Boulders of Eleniando and Pènne's involvement will further be explained at a later time. You will just have to be patient! ( Also, I'll just add so that I don't get in any trouble, anything to do with the Boulders of Eleniando are entirely fictional, made up from my own little mind, and are not taken from any of Tolkien's works. All, that is, expect the name, which I made up from the Quenyan language of the High- Elves from Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings"]