Author's note: So incredibly sorry it took so long to update this, but I have been busy all weekend. Also, a lovely sidenote, the original chapter was nine pages long. That is, until I accidently threw it away. Don't know how, but the original is lost to me forever, so I had to retype this up the way I remembered it. Again, my apologies. Now, let's get on with this chapter before I accidently destroy it somehow.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ont he battlements, again Meneldor perched waiting. Now donned in my ugly wool dress, I shouldered the bag Mithrandir had given me to hold the palantiri in, and a small supply of food.
I sighed. I didn't want to do this. Not right now, at any rate. I was tired, and I had problems concerning Eomer that had to be dealt with.
Nevertheless, I clambored up on the great eagle, and gave a wave goodbye to Mithrandir.
"All you need to do is tell Meneldor where you wish to go. He understands our language, but cannot speak it himself." Mithrandir informed me. Nodding, I reluctantly spurred the eagle up to the sky.
When Minas Tirith was on the horizon, it dawned on me that I had no clue where to go. I asked Meneldor to land somewhere for a few minutes. The eagle complied, and alighted in a tree.
Not quite what I had in mind, but I wasn't about to tell Meneldor to find a safer place. I leaned against the trunk, and held on of the palantiri in both hands, concentrating on the first location.
Trees. All around me. Where, where, where? I pestered my mind. A soft hissing sound began to grow in my mind, but it had a rythmn. It would start slow, get louder, and then grow silent again, and then start all over again, each time getting louder.
Gradually, I began to hear syllables in with each gust. I focused on them, and eventually heard a repetetive, Rhosgobel. Rhosgobel. Rhosgobel.
I withdrew my mind from the palantir, and the sound stopped. I took a few tired breaths, and felt my subconscious plunge back into the palantir.
The last location. Murky blue-brown enveloped me. Sun filtered through the water toward me, and sand stretched all around. The location of the palantir in Osgiliath merely came to me. The location of the Rhosgobel palantir was whispered to me.
However, the palantir of Moraelin bit its information into me. It felt as though sharp teeth of knowledge clamped onto my mind, and the pain, though brief, was excruciating.
I nearly dropped the palantir, but checked myself. I now had a mild headache, but at least I knew where I was going. Rising to my feet on the branch, I went back to Meneldor, and asked him if he knew of the two locations.
He said nothing, but somehow I knew his answer was yes. Grinning, I climbed on his back, and shut my eyes as we ascended back to the sky.
All day and all night we flew. My fingers grew numb from the wind, but I refused to pity myself. God knows I've done enough of that in the past few months.
Instead, I tried to organize my feeling for Eomer.
As I stated before, I liked him. He was everything a woman might look for in a man; kind, brave, strong, smart, handsome. I thought about times we had had with each other. How one time when he visited me in the House of Healing, we talked for hours, until Ioreth shooed him out. How he had found me in Osgiliath. How he had comforted me when Galawe left for the Grey Havens.
He respected me, and I him. He cared about me, and I him. He loved me. And I? Did I love him? I drew up an image in my mind of him. Of his dark, intense eyes, his amiable face, and the way he held himself proudly.
I did love him. I smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. Then a horrible thought struck me:
Was he supposed to fall in love with someone else? I wracked my mind, trying to recall a name, but nothing came. It didn't quench my worry, if anything, it made me feel even worse.
He had to marry someone else. By all principles, he should have a queen and an heir. Had Tolkien given him someone? I prayed the matter would have slipped the man's mind, but I knew it probably hadn't.
After all, this is coming from a man who has included the geneology of Samwise in appendix C.
I decided to rest my mind of the matter, and think of other things.
.
The early afternoon of the next day, I felt Meneldor dip down, and head for the ground. I exhaled a sigh of relief, and when he landed, I jumped off hurriedly.
After munching on some of the food in my pack, I looked around. We were at the edge of a forest, and a stream was running towards the forest. Gingerly, I entered the forest. All was silent, save the stream's trickling waters. I walked further in, trying to feel the pull of the palantir.
It took awhile, but finally, I felt the gentle current, and followed it. It lead me to a small clearing, and in the middle resided a giant tree.
Its trunk was enormous, and it stretched up to the sky. But its naked branches clutched for leaves that would never grow again; the tree was dead. A long black stripe raced from near the top to the first split of limbs. Lightning, no doubt.
A feeling of remorse filled me, but I drew nearer to it, trying to find the source of the tugging.
There, at the base of the dead tree, glinted a dark smooth surface. I knelt, and traced me fingers over it. Here it was.
Pausing for a moment, I began to dig. I dug all around the sphere until I was able to free it from the earth that encase most of it.
I leaned against the tree as I wiped the dirt off of it. A movement in the distance caught my attention, and I stood up straight, looking hard for an explanation.
"Who's there?" I called weakly.
"You have no right to ask that question of me while you are in my wood." replied a voice so nearby I jumped, and searched wildly for the speaker.
"I am Eleanor." I announced, "Now will you please tell me who you are?"
A figure stepped from behind a tree ouside of the clearing, and advanced towards me.
He was dressed in all browns, and had a short beard of silver hair with dark brown hairs striving to be seen. He had long grey brown hair, and a wrinkled face, reminding me of tree bark. In one hand he held a long thin staff carved of burl wood. He was slightly bent, as if years of walking and bearing heavy burdens and problems had beaten him down.
"I," he began, in a thin, bu rich sounding voice, "am Radagast the Brown. What brings an unattended young woman among these trees? Do you search for death?"
His bright eyes rested on my hands, and then he exhaled slowly, "No... You are she, then. The Orthalion; Gatherer of the Palantiri. Yes, I wondered when I might be seeing you again."
"Again?" I demanded, taken aback. A small smile cracked on his leathery face, and he nodded, drawing closer. Involuntarily, I found myself backing away.
"Yes, Eleanor. I saw you the first day you entered this world. I made sure you lived to see more days."
"Whoa," I began, "back up, please, I'm confused."
"It is not every day one can fall from the sky and not be wounded in the least." Radagast supplied.
Dawning whacked me in the head, "It was you, then? You saved my life?"
The wizard nodded, and gestured to the palantir, "And now you have but one more to find. Go now; do not waste time with the jabberings of an old man. I have done my part, and my conscience is at peace."
I looked down at the palantir, and then back at Radagast.
"Thank you," I said, "I am indebted to you."
"No," Radagast protested, "save your breath, now leave Rhosgobel, and find the last of the seven."
It was my turn to nod, and, feeling uneasy about the whole thing, I hurried back to Meneldor.
.
Moraelin had me worried. The way I had learned where the palantir was questionably painful. Meneldor had flown alongside the Hithaeglir, and now we were far north. The wind was colder, and the clouds were a steely grey.
It was early evening when Meneldor finally perched on a small thick tree on the side of a large expanse of silvery blue water.
Hesitantly, I climbed down, and looked at the lake.
It had a definate evil look to it. The ground surrounding it was a combination of sand and sharp grey rocks, and the middle of the lake looked fathomlessly deep.
And I had to find the palantir. Oh lovely. Shivering, I removed my dress and shoes, so I was only wearing my underdress, and then I waded into the water.
Oh God, was it cold! The icy water lapped around my ankles, and I felt goosebumps cover my skin. I forced myself to wade deeper, until the water was to my knees. The cold wind now bit harder than before, and I paused, sensing something.
It was an evil presence. I wasn't sure what, but I knew it was bad. I began to feel as if I was being drawn toward the devilry, and fear gripped my heart.
It was forcing me to walk, I tried to resist, but then it grew only stronger. Another gust of wind slapped my face, and cleared my mind for a moment.
I wasn't being pulled toward evil, it was the tug of the palantir. Feeling like an idiot, I followed it. The presence still hung over me, though, and I noticed that even when the air was still, the lake rippled from movement.
By now, I was so far into the lake, I was swimming. The coldness slowed me down, and I began to fear hypothermia.
However, I knew the palantir was near, and with a sigh, I realized I would have to submerge myself in the water to reach it.
Taking a deep, reluctant breath, I dove under the surface, and felt around with both hands desperately.
Twice I returned for air, but on the third try, my hand brushed over something smooth, round, but warm.
The ground around the object shuddered, and snapped my hand away. I nearly inhaled a lungful of water, but stopped myself. My other hand grazed over a spherical cool smooth object, and I seized it, hurrying back to the surface.
Gasping for air, I held up the palantir, and then wondered what I had initially touched. I felt something slip over my foot. Spazzing, I swam frantically back to the shore.
I did the mistake of look back. A multitude of thick grey tentacles were lashing towards me, and my panic increased my speed.
I thrashed out of the water, yanked up my dress and bag, and leapt onto to Meneldor. The eagle also seemed frightened, and soared up into the sky.
Tentacles snaked up to reach us, but we were too high. Amid the limbs, I saw a massive head with two luminous unblinking eyes perhaps only a bit larger than a palantir...
.
The wind sliced through my thin wet underdress, and seemed to freeze my joints. When Meneldor felt we were far enough away from the lake, he landed long enough so I could put on my dress, and secure the palantir in my sack.
The journey back to Minas Tirith took two days, and I thought more than I have ever thought before.
I concluded that if Eomer's destined wife ever appeared, I would disappear somewhere and let them live their pre-arranged life. My heart would probably break, but at least I wouldn't be interfering with fate.
It was afternoon when I caught sight of Minas Tirith. It looked better than ever, with its white walls and towers gleaming in the sunlight. Everything seemed so perfect, and I couldn't wait to be back again in the citadel with the others.
But that's when I saw it.
.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
.
Laureline: Lindir..Hmm, I don't remember him...Was he the Christ-like figure, or am I thinking of some other random Elf? Lol, I don't believe there are night-clubs in Middle Earth, but you never know with those Gondorians...
Lady Phoenix Slytherin: Yey. Sorry this chapter took so long.
Empress Guinevere Sparrow: Or does Eomer marry Lothiriel? It has the makings of a lame soap opera...
chibi-mairi: Hit herself in the head with a ski she was wearing... I'm intrigued.
Lady LeBeau: Alrighty, you left me a lot of reviews, so I'll start at the beginning to answer them. I hope the answer to why she survived the fall satisfied you. If not...Hmmm. I was under the impression the wraiths seemed to be everywhere. There's nine of them, and they all are sneaky-like. About the wench-thing. Yeah, I don't like it either, but it is insulting, so I hope I got the point across. Yey. My Elves-Are-Plants theory is appreciated! Goosey-goosey Gandy. Gandy is just too much fun to say. Submerged in the River of Bruinen? Sounds like an interesting story to tell the grandkids. Goblin attacks seem to be a requirment for every plotline. Think about it... Labyrinth, Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit, Princess and the Goblin. We like Elves in the movies because a certain one just looked so hot it was hard to ignore or be annoyed by him. Celeborn's always odd! Alright, but Gandalf did a color transformation to Mithrandir. Hopefully those MAry-Sue vibes will be the only ones you get, but I make no guaruntees.
AAAclub: You're not going to throw fruit at me? Yey. Don't worry, I can't write romance, so I try to avoid it whenever possible. This fic won't turn into a love story. No fear of that happening. Ever. As to the question of whether she was going to fall in love with him, hopefully it was answered, and if it wasn'y, I suggest you reread this chapter.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ont he battlements, again Meneldor perched waiting. Now donned in my ugly wool dress, I shouldered the bag Mithrandir had given me to hold the palantiri in, and a small supply of food.
I sighed. I didn't want to do this. Not right now, at any rate. I was tired, and I had problems concerning Eomer that had to be dealt with.
Nevertheless, I clambored up on the great eagle, and gave a wave goodbye to Mithrandir.
"All you need to do is tell Meneldor where you wish to go. He understands our language, but cannot speak it himself." Mithrandir informed me. Nodding, I reluctantly spurred the eagle up to the sky.
When Minas Tirith was on the horizon, it dawned on me that I had no clue where to go. I asked Meneldor to land somewhere for a few minutes. The eagle complied, and alighted in a tree.
Not quite what I had in mind, but I wasn't about to tell Meneldor to find a safer place. I leaned against the trunk, and held on of the palantiri in both hands, concentrating on the first location.
Trees. All around me. Where, where, where? I pestered my mind. A soft hissing sound began to grow in my mind, but it had a rythmn. It would start slow, get louder, and then grow silent again, and then start all over again, each time getting louder.
Gradually, I began to hear syllables in with each gust. I focused on them, and eventually heard a repetetive, Rhosgobel. Rhosgobel. Rhosgobel.
I withdrew my mind from the palantir, and the sound stopped. I took a few tired breaths, and felt my subconscious plunge back into the palantir.
The last location. Murky blue-brown enveloped me. Sun filtered through the water toward me, and sand stretched all around. The location of the palantir in Osgiliath merely came to me. The location of the Rhosgobel palantir was whispered to me.
However, the palantir of Moraelin bit its information into me. It felt as though sharp teeth of knowledge clamped onto my mind, and the pain, though brief, was excruciating.
I nearly dropped the palantir, but checked myself. I now had a mild headache, but at least I knew where I was going. Rising to my feet on the branch, I went back to Meneldor, and asked him if he knew of the two locations.
He said nothing, but somehow I knew his answer was yes. Grinning, I climbed on his back, and shut my eyes as we ascended back to the sky.
All day and all night we flew. My fingers grew numb from the wind, but I refused to pity myself. God knows I've done enough of that in the past few months.
Instead, I tried to organize my feeling for Eomer.
As I stated before, I liked him. He was everything a woman might look for in a man; kind, brave, strong, smart, handsome. I thought about times we had had with each other. How one time when he visited me in the House of Healing, we talked for hours, until Ioreth shooed him out. How he had found me in Osgiliath. How he had comforted me when Galawe left for the Grey Havens.
He respected me, and I him. He cared about me, and I him. He loved me. And I? Did I love him? I drew up an image in my mind of him. Of his dark, intense eyes, his amiable face, and the way he held himself proudly.
I did love him. I smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. Then a horrible thought struck me:
Was he supposed to fall in love with someone else? I wracked my mind, trying to recall a name, but nothing came. It didn't quench my worry, if anything, it made me feel even worse.
He had to marry someone else. By all principles, he should have a queen and an heir. Had Tolkien given him someone? I prayed the matter would have slipped the man's mind, but I knew it probably hadn't.
After all, this is coming from a man who has included the geneology of Samwise in appendix C.
I decided to rest my mind of the matter, and think of other things.
.
The early afternoon of the next day, I felt Meneldor dip down, and head for the ground. I exhaled a sigh of relief, and when he landed, I jumped off hurriedly.
After munching on some of the food in my pack, I looked around. We were at the edge of a forest, and a stream was running towards the forest. Gingerly, I entered the forest. All was silent, save the stream's trickling waters. I walked further in, trying to feel the pull of the palantir.
It took awhile, but finally, I felt the gentle current, and followed it. It lead me to a small clearing, and in the middle resided a giant tree.
Its trunk was enormous, and it stretched up to the sky. But its naked branches clutched for leaves that would never grow again; the tree was dead. A long black stripe raced from near the top to the first split of limbs. Lightning, no doubt.
A feeling of remorse filled me, but I drew nearer to it, trying to find the source of the tugging.
There, at the base of the dead tree, glinted a dark smooth surface. I knelt, and traced me fingers over it. Here it was.
Pausing for a moment, I began to dig. I dug all around the sphere until I was able to free it from the earth that encase most of it.
I leaned against the tree as I wiped the dirt off of it. A movement in the distance caught my attention, and I stood up straight, looking hard for an explanation.
"Who's there?" I called weakly.
"You have no right to ask that question of me while you are in my wood." replied a voice so nearby I jumped, and searched wildly for the speaker.
"I am Eleanor." I announced, "Now will you please tell me who you are?"
A figure stepped from behind a tree ouside of the clearing, and advanced towards me.
He was dressed in all browns, and had a short beard of silver hair with dark brown hairs striving to be seen. He had long grey brown hair, and a wrinkled face, reminding me of tree bark. In one hand he held a long thin staff carved of burl wood. He was slightly bent, as if years of walking and bearing heavy burdens and problems had beaten him down.
"I," he began, in a thin, bu rich sounding voice, "am Radagast the Brown. What brings an unattended young woman among these trees? Do you search for death?"
His bright eyes rested on my hands, and then he exhaled slowly, "No... You are she, then. The Orthalion; Gatherer of the Palantiri. Yes, I wondered when I might be seeing you again."
"Again?" I demanded, taken aback. A small smile cracked on his leathery face, and he nodded, drawing closer. Involuntarily, I found myself backing away.
"Yes, Eleanor. I saw you the first day you entered this world. I made sure you lived to see more days."
"Whoa," I began, "back up, please, I'm confused."
"It is not every day one can fall from the sky and not be wounded in the least." Radagast supplied.
Dawning whacked me in the head, "It was you, then? You saved my life?"
The wizard nodded, and gestured to the palantir, "And now you have but one more to find. Go now; do not waste time with the jabberings of an old man. I have done my part, and my conscience is at peace."
I looked down at the palantir, and then back at Radagast.
"Thank you," I said, "I am indebted to you."
"No," Radagast protested, "save your breath, now leave Rhosgobel, and find the last of the seven."
It was my turn to nod, and, feeling uneasy about the whole thing, I hurried back to Meneldor.
.
Moraelin had me worried. The way I had learned where the palantir was questionably painful. Meneldor had flown alongside the Hithaeglir, and now we were far north. The wind was colder, and the clouds were a steely grey.
It was early evening when Meneldor finally perched on a small thick tree on the side of a large expanse of silvery blue water.
Hesitantly, I climbed down, and looked at the lake.
It had a definate evil look to it. The ground surrounding it was a combination of sand and sharp grey rocks, and the middle of the lake looked fathomlessly deep.
And I had to find the palantir. Oh lovely. Shivering, I removed my dress and shoes, so I was only wearing my underdress, and then I waded into the water.
Oh God, was it cold! The icy water lapped around my ankles, and I felt goosebumps cover my skin. I forced myself to wade deeper, until the water was to my knees. The cold wind now bit harder than before, and I paused, sensing something.
It was an evil presence. I wasn't sure what, but I knew it was bad. I began to feel as if I was being drawn toward the devilry, and fear gripped my heart.
It was forcing me to walk, I tried to resist, but then it grew only stronger. Another gust of wind slapped my face, and cleared my mind for a moment.
I wasn't being pulled toward evil, it was the tug of the palantir. Feeling like an idiot, I followed it. The presence still hung over me, though, and I noticed that even when the air was still, the lake rippled from movement.
By now, I was so far into the lake, I was swimming. The coldness slowed me down, and I began to fear hypothermia.
However, I knew the palantir was near, and with a sigh, I realized I would have to submerge myself in the water to reach it.
Taking a deep, reluctant breath, I dove under the surface, and felt around with both hands desperately.
Twice I returned for air, but on the third try, my hand brushed over something smooth, round, but warm.
The ground around the object shuddered, and snapped my hand away. I nearly inhaled a lungful of water, but stopped myself. My other hand grazed over a spherical cool smooth object, and I seized it, hurrying back to the surface.
Gasping for air, I held up the palantir, and then wondered what I had initially touched. I felt something slip over my foot. Spazzing, I swam frantically back to the shore.
I did the mistake of look back. A multitude of thick grey tentacles were lashing towards me, and my panic increased my speed.
I thrashed out of the water, yanked up my dress and bag, and leapt onto to Meneldor. The eagle also seemed frightened, and soared up into the sky.
Tentacles snaked up to reach us, but we were too high. Amid the limbs, I saw a massive head with two luminous unblinking eyes perhaps only a bit larger than a palantir...
.
The wind sliced through my thin wet underdress, and seemed to freeze my joints. When Meneldor felt we were far enough away from the lake, he landed long enough so I could put on my dress, and secure the palantir in my sack.
The journey back to Minas Tirith took two days, and I thought more than I have ever thought before.
I concluded that if Eomer's destined wife ever appeared, I would disappear somewhere and let them live their pre-arranged life. My heart would probably break, but at least I wouldn't be interfering with fate.
It was afternoon when I caught sight of Minas Tirith. It looked better than ever, with its white walls and towers gleaming in the sunlight. Everything seemed so perfect, and I couldn't wait to be back again in the citadel with the others.
But that's when I saw it.
.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
.
Laureline: Lindir..Hmm, I don't remember him...Was he the Christ-like figure, or am I thinking of some other random Elf? Lol, I don't believe there are night-clubs in Middle Earth, but you never know with those Gondorians...
Lady Phoenix Slytherin: Yey. Sorry this chapter took so long.
Empress Guinevere Sparrow: Or does Eomer marry Lothiriel? It has the makings of a lame soap opera...
chibi-mairi: Hit herself in the head with a ski she was wearing... I'm intrigued.
Lady LeBeau: Alrighty, you left me a lot of reviews, so I'll start at the beginning to answer them. I hope the answer to why she survived the fall satisfied you. If not...Hmmm. I was under the impression the wraiths seemed to be everywhere. There's nine of them, and they all are sneaky-like. About the wench-thing. Yeah, I don't like it either, but it is insulting, so I hope I got the point across. Yey. My Elves-Are-Plants theory is appreciated! Goosey-goosey Gandy. Gandy is just too much fun to say. Submerged in the River of Bruinen? Sounds like an interesting story to tell the grandkids. Goblin attacks seem to be a requirment for every plotline. Think about it... Labyrinth, Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit, Princess and the Goblin. We like Elves in the movies because a certain one just looked so hot it was hard to ignore or be annoyed by him. Celeborn's always odd! Alright, but Gandalf did a color transformation to Mithrandir. Hopefully those MAry-Sue vibes will be the only ones you get, but I make no guaruntees.
AAAclub: You're not going to throw fruit at me? Yey. Don't worry, I can't write romance, so I try to avoid it whenever possible. This fic won't turn into a love story. No fear of that happening. Ever. As to the question of whether she was going to fall in love with him, hopefully it was answered, and if it wasn'y, I suggest you reread this chapter.