Disclaimer: With the exception of Esther and Justin, all of the characters in this story belong to their respective authors and not to me. I'm not making money off of any of this.
Author's Note: Here is Chapter 3! This is where it gets a little scarier, so brace yourselves. Let me know what you think!
-- Arwen Tinuviel
Chapter 3
Our pace was quick, and the Elven horses seemed to fly over the ground before us without even touching it. I wondered how long I'd slept before we set off in the pre-dawn that very morning. The sun was blazing brightly now, glittering on the crystal-clear waters of the Anduin, but the air was cool. It must have been early autumn, if I remembered correctly: if we were to reach Rivendell at the time of the Council of Elrond, which I assumed we were, then at this moment it would have to be sometime in early or mid-October. October 24th was the date Gandalf gave Frodo when he finally woke up, after being healed by Lord Elrond himself. I worked out the storyline in my head; I was guessing that Arwen was just taking Frodo across the Ford of Bruinen, leading him away from the Ringwraiths.
No, wait, I remembered, It wasn't Arwen in the books. It was Glorfindel who met the Hobbits and Aragorn outside of Rivendell. Then I wondered which story was really true. . .
As quick as the Elven steeds were, they couldn't run forever. We eventually stopped to let them rest and took some food and drink for ourselves. That was when I had my first taste of Lembas. Malfanaion and another dark-haired Elf passed small pieces of the sweet whey bread to everyone in our company, and they all filled their water flasks from the river. Legolas stood on the stony bank of the river, gazing south toward the Old Ford. It was still a far way away, but we would reach it by nightfall, he said. We would cross the ford at dawn, heading west towards the Misty Mountains. We would have to take the Red Horn Pass to reach Rivendell. That part worried me a bit, but I knew that Elves would probably have an easier time making their way over Caradhras, seeing as they could walk on snow. But still, I had a creepy dead girl after me – who knew what damage she could do if we got lost in the mountains?
I took a bite of Lembas; it was sweet, but not sugary. It was like nothing I'd ever tasted before; they were a bit like honeyed rice-cakes, but not sticky or hard to chew. It didn't take much to make us feel replenished either, but of course I wasn't surprised. I finished my ration, then walked over to stand next to Legolas. He glanced down at me thoughtfully.
"What are you thinking, Esther?" he asked softly.
"Nothing," I replied, but of course it wasn't true. His eyes searched mine curiously; he wouldn't demand that I tell him the truth, but he could see that I was hiding something.
"I'm afraid," I said finally, "I don't understand what's happening here."
"Neither do I. But you need not worry, child: Lord Elrond will know how to help you."
"How much longer before we reach Rivendell? After we cross the Ford, I mean."
"If all goes well, after we cross the Ford our journey will be seven days."
I felt a cold shudder run through me. Seven days. . . That couldn't be good. . .
"What are you thinking, Esther?" he asked again, sensing my fear.
"I . . . I just wish I knew how to make it stop."
He nodded sympathetically; he could see that I was much more terrified of Samara than I was letting on. I felt reasonably sure that she wouldn't be able to reach me while I was still in the company of the Elves, but after that. . . What would happen afterwards? I didn't want to think about it.
So, I left Legolas and headed off into the woods lining the river. I tried to be discreet about it: I didn't want to say anything to any of them, but I really, really had to go to the bathroom. It's not a hindrance one usually considers in these fantasy worlds, but I guess there's no helping it in real life. I hated being alone for any length of time, but I went as deep into the woods as I could stand, and relieved myself quickly. I sighed. There was a small stream by my feet that flowed in from the Anduin, so I knelt down and rinsed my hands in the water. I stayed there for a while, letting the cool water slip through my fingers. Feeling peaceful and refreshed, I stood up again. And there she was.
The tangled mass of black hair hung in front of her face as she bent her head downward, reaching down almost to her knees. Her dirty white gown hung in fragile tatters, clinging to her small frame the way Spanish moss clings to the branches of a Bald Cyprus tree. Even though I couldn't see her face, I could feel her gaze on me, and I felt my body go rigid. My breath caught in my throat when I tried to scream; I was choked by the effort. So, this is what this feels like, I noted wryly, I'm paralyzed with horror.
Then I heard a low rumble in the air. The atmosphere thickened; she was coming closer. I can't explain it: she didn't move at all, and neither did I, but I felt her coming closer, drawing me to her against my will. I could see nothing but the thick, matted hair, just barely shielding me from her features. My heart rattled furiously against my ribcage; it was getting more and more difficult to breath. The low rumble was slowly building to a deafening roar; the ground shook underneath me, and I found that I could no longer feel my own body. Then she lifted her head, only slightly, and just behind the heavy veil I saw the gleam of two dark, empty eyes, alive with malice.
I heard my own scream, muffled and far-away sounding, just before I slipped into darkness. Strange images flashed in front of me: an enormous round eye, a horse's eye; a long, wooden ladder that came crashing to the ground; a small chair inside an otherwise empty room; a great tree lit up like a fire by the setting sun streaming through behind it; and a small, flickering ring of white light that shone down from far above in the black sky. I felt helpless with terror, unable to stop the visions from coming and unable to wake from the horrible dream Samara had somehow caught me in.
But then a soft, clear voice entered my consciousness. The images faded away as the voice grew louder.
"Lasto beth nîn," it said quietly, "Talo dan nan galad." I felt myself back in my body again; the nightmare was over. As consciousness returned to me, I realized I was tightly clutching the folds of some soft, heavy cloth. Strong arms held me; there was only a faint trace of the evil still clinging to the atmosphere. I opened my eyes. Legolas helped me to my feet as soon as he saw that I was awake again. I was a bit unsteady at first, and I clung to him, grasping the folds of his cloak in my fingers. He held me by the arms, helping me find my feet again. I sighed deeply; it felt so good to breathe real air again. I leaned heavily against him, still a little afraid to move.
"Esther!" That was Justin, running over to me as I shook with the last remnants of my terror.
"Esther," he said, his eyes wide with concern, "Are you okay?"
I turned to face him; far behind him I saw Samara, slinking back into the darkness of the woods and disappearing again.
"I saw it," I said, my voice small and trembling.
"She's gone, Esther," said Legolas, tilting my face upwards so he could see my face, "She would have killed you, but something happened. Something stopped her."
"She tried to kill me?" I asked shakily.
"Esther," asked Justin, "Did she look you in the eye?"
"Yes," I said, "Just for an instant. I saw her eyes."
"I don't understand. That's how she does it. You should be dead."
I looked up at Legolas; his soft eyes held an odd, uncertain expression.
"We must hurry," he said finally, "She has marked you now." He took my left arm and pushed back the sleeve: there was a red bruise in the shape of small hand encircling my arm just above the wrist.
"There will no stopping her until we reach Imladris," he said, "Come with me, quickly." He turned then, leading me back to the river to continue our journey. I prayed silently that we would reach Rivendell before the seven days had passed . . .
**The Elvish bit translates as "hear my voice, come back to the light."