Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to Tolkien… I don't earn any money from this!

Beta- reader: Dorothy Noland (((hugs)))

Proof-reader: Mike Kelley *** kisses***

Cheerleaders: Terri and Kit and Jon ~~~snargles~~~

Authors Note: Thank you for the reviews guys, and thank you for being so lenient with a first time fan fiction writer. It really thrills me to hear such nice and encouraging words about my English skills. I was very apprehensive about writing in English at first, but eventually the temptation became too much for me, and I just had to try it. I guess you can say that I thrive on challenges!

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Chapter 2

Once she heard someone say, that the last thing to leave a dying being is the hearing. It must have been when Peter died. She had been sitting by his bed for days, in a hushed voice talking to him, hoping that somewhere under the still surface of his face he would still be able to hear her. The nurses and doctors had passed by in a steady stream during her waking days and nights nodding knowingly and telling her that she did well. One of the younger nurses had told her, "Keep talking to him. There is a small chance that he may hear you or at least recognise the tone of your voice." Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, the young nurse had added, "Even if he doesn't understand what you're saying, the sound of your voice will still calm him."

Wonder if it was her time to pass on now? She heard a voice talking to her, but she could not recognise any words, make no meaning out of what was being said. Nevertheless, someone was talking to her. Whispering words in her ear… words of comfort… words to calm her. A soft and gentle voice caressed in a low humming that went directly into her heart although the words held no meaning to her. She felt a warm breath against her ear and it was soothing, stroking her... Yes! Someone was definitely stroking her forehead with a warm and dry hand. Slowly she felt the hair from her face being pulled back, a hand resting on her forehead for a moment before it moved on to rest on her cheek.

Slowly her body began to make its presence known. She tried to shift a bit to ease the throbbing pain in her back, but she was unable to move, her muscles did not obey her command. She tried again, this time with more force, but all that accomplished was to send a spur of what felt like iced knives through her spine. The nausea came flushing back, and with it the urge to empty her stomach of any contents it may still hold. At that moment, the voice came back close to her ear. With a soft whisper, it breathed "Lanta kaima lirimaer." Accompanied by those words, she fell into blissful oblivion. (Translation: Sleep my lovely one.)

***

When she opened her eyes that morning, she knew that this day would be different, nothing like any other day so far in her life.

Reluctant to get out of bed, she tried to remember the evening before. She had vague memories of lying outside in the rain, on the ground, memories of being cold and afraid. She had been sick. She still could feel the aftertaste of her illness in her mouth. She had eaten her dinner, the rain that had started to pour down. Why had she been crawling in the grass? She had taken some pills for her headache. She had been drinking wine. "Darn!" She ought to know better than to mix alcohol with her medication. What had she been thinking? While scolding herself for her stupidity, she slowly climbed out of the bed. Her body stiff and a bit sore, but without the usual immobilising morning pain. I need to brush my teeth.

She quickly went through the usual morning procedure, put on a kettle of water for the tea and opened a window to let the day inside. The air was crisp and clear, like crystal. The wind was cool against her skin, the sky itself transparent yet spreading a spectrum of colours that painted the surroundings in pastoral shades. She felt tempted to reach out a hand and touch the landscape that softly spread and rolled beyond her view, its presence almost tangible. Stunned, she stood by the open window inhaling the freshness left by last night's rain. After just a few moments she withdrew, afraid that the feeling would make her succumb.

What was it she was going to succumb too? What was so different about today? The answer surprised her, without a second thought, she had an almost unbearable feeling of being alive. Never before had she felt so alive. She tried to shake the feeling and turned away. At that moment she realised that time itself somehow was unsynchronised. Although she only had been away from the stove and at the window for a few moments, the water in the kettle had almost vaporised completely.

Without hesitation, she decided to take a walk. The fact that she had not eaten or taken her morning medications made no difference. It was as if she was drawn outside, lured by a promise of freedom and rejuvenation. Directed by her feet's desire, she followed the gravelled path that winded up behind her cottage towards the distant hills.

***

When she had walked for what felt like an hour, she cursed herself for not having put on her arm watch. She turned around and could no longer see the red little cottage or the main road. But somehow she understood that she was not done walking yet. Time became unimportant as once again she felt the surge of life flooding through her veins… her life and the life force of everything that surrounded her. There was no room for astonishment or regret, just for acceptance and for her to keep on walking. Light-footed and timeless, eternal and unexplainable. No sense of mystic intervention or power of suggestion occurred to her. She just accepted and stayed on the path.

Time went by, seconds, minutes and hours. She was completely and utterly lost, trailing on a pathway she never before had walked. Many thoughts entered her mind just to vanish as quickly as they came. At that precise moment, she came upon the crossroad and stopped. Intensely aware of that if she walked on, she would enter another world. The insight was inexplicable. There was nothing unusual about this place, but still… something deep within her was aware of a sensation, a perception that on any other day she would have dismissed as absurd, but not this day. She hesitated only for a moment before continuing her walk with determination.

The path took a turn, and opened up to a clearing that held a promise of rest. She sighed quietly as she looked around. There was a bench, and upon it sat a man watching her with kind and alert eyes. She immediately recognised him. It was the man from her dreams.

Chapter 3 --