Author's Note: Okay, I'm retelling a bit from "The Ring" now, it's a bit scary. We're almost up to Rivendell – Oh joy! So, read on and tell me what you think!
Chapter 4
We reached the Old Ford without difficulty, and it was a long time before Samara showed herself to me again. Still, Legolas kept a very close watch over me, scarcely letting me out of his sight. I was grateful for his protection, but I also found it slightly stifling. I've always been able to take care of myself, and I take pride in that. Not even having that option anymore was a painful blow at best. The worst part was I knew that it was all "for my own good," and even though I hated to admit it, I had a feeling that I never would have made it out of Caradhras without that extra watchfulness. That was what scared me the most.
Like I said, Samara didn't bother us again on the road for a while. But she haunted my dreams every night. She showed me all the things she'd done to the others before me: she showed me how she killed them, made me watch them die all over again, every single night. Katie's death was the worst: she was all alone in her house, except for her friend Becca who had come to spend the night. The two were watching TV in Katie's bedroom, exchanging gossip, telling ghost stories – all the things two teenagers were supposed to do at a sleepover. Eventually, the TV went off, and Becca took it upon herself to tell Katie an urban legend that was circling the school lately.
"Have you heard about this video-tape that kills you when you watch it?" she asked, her eyes wide with the gleeful omniscience that accompanies storytelling. Katie's fawn-like face contorted with apprehension as she listened to Becca's unsettling tale of the haunted video-tape: the images were said to look like flashes from someone's nightmare, gruesome and surreal, and at the end there was a woman who turned and looked at the viewer, as if seeing them. And when it was over, the phone rang, and the voice on the other end gave the listener a cryptic message: seven days. The rumor was that, seven days to the minute after someone watched the tape, they would die. There was a short silence after Becca finished her story as Katie gaped at her. And then . . .
"I've seen it," Katie confessed fearfully. Becca's storytelling bravado faded as she listened to Katie's description of what had happened the previous weekend when she and three friends had rented a cabin in the woods. They had tried to record a football game for Josh, Katie's boyfriend, but when they had played the tape back there was . . . something else there. And afterwards the phone had rung. At the time Katie had thought it was someone's idea of a sick joke.
"You're just trying to scare me," said Becca, more to herself than to Katie. She nervously glanced away from the other girl. And then, the phone rang. Katie's eyes darted to the digital clock on her dresser: 10pm, on the dot. The two girls went downstairs together, following the harsh jangling of the ringing phone. It was Becca who first snapped out of the fearful trance to answer it. But of course, it was only Katie's mother. Becca left the room as Katie talked on the phone for a while. But as soon as she hung up, there was a sudden electric glow from the living room. Katie crept into the room nervously; the TV was on, all fuzzy. Katie grabbed the remote and turned it off. The television promptly turned itself on again. Katie darted to the television and yanked the cord out of the wall.
I awoke with a jolt. I was shaking, and my long hair clung to the sweat on my forehead. I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to blot out the visions that had plagued me in my sleep. At least I hadn't seen the whole thing this time. Poor Katie, I thought sorrowfully, She was so scared. She didn't deserve to die that way. . . Every time I shut my eyes it was her face that I saw: her huge, round eyes wide with apprehensive terror and her lower lip trembling. She knew what was going to happen, I realized suddenly, She knew the whole time that Samara would come for her. She just didn't believe it until it was too late. My heart went out to the poor girl; I wished there was something I could do to help her, or her family at least.
I sat up and looked around, trying to remember where we'd last stopped. We were in a small cove, sheltered from the angry cold of Caradhras. It was still very dark. The Elves didn't sleep – they didn't need to – but a few of them were resting against the walls of the mountain while we were stopped. Justin was asleep still. I felt a pang of jealousy as I watched him; no doubt his dreams weren't riddled with the grisly deaths I was subjected to each night. I wanted so badly to just sleep for once, and rest. I hadn't slept soundly for at least a week. And we were still days away from Rivendell. It was taking longer than Legolas had at first anticipated; Justin and I were slowing them down.
I looked towards the mouth of the cove; Legolas was standing guard, watching the gales pitch the snow back and forth across the paths that he knew we would have to cross soon. I got up and walked over to him. I felt the chill in the air the minute I left the warm cocoon of my cloak. (The Elves had found me a spare one to wrap up in.) I rubbed at my arms, trying to warm up a bit. Legolas turned when I reached him.
"Can't you sleep?" he asked quietly.
"No," I replied dully, "Well, I can, but . . ."
"She haunts your dreams now."
"Yes. How do you know so much anyway?"
Legolas grinned amusedly at my comment, but he didn't answer. He turned back to the wind storm outside. His smooth features seemed to glow in the soft light of the moon filtering through the swirls of snow and darkness; his flaxen hair stirred softly in the breezes that crept into the cove. God, he's beautiful, I thought, watching him. I was immediately ashamed of myself for the thought – what was I doing? He was there to protect me, and besides he was about three thousand some-odd years old, wasn't he? It would never work out. We came from two different worlds – it was just impossible. Legolas glanced back at me, immediately seeing my troubled expression.
"What is it, Esther?" he asked gently. God, why did he have to be so understanding?
"Nothing," I lied, "I just . . . I'm so tired."
That part at least was true. My mind went back to the day when Samara had found me in the woods, when Legolas had woken me from my trance and held me while I recovered from the unsettling experience. I silently wished he would hold me like that again, if only to keep me warm. He turned back to me and came back into the shelter of the cove.
"You need to rest," he said, guiding me back to where my cloak lay on the floor.
"I want to," I said, sitting down in my little nest, "But every time I close my eyes, I . . ."
"What do you see? What has she shown you?"
"When I go to sleep, she shows me all the people she's killed. She makes me watch them die, over and over again. And the worst one–" My breathing hitched as I started to cry, thinking back on the scene she'd just shown me.
"I didn't even see the whole thing," I sobbed, "But I know how it ends. And just thinking about it . . ." I covered my face with my hands. I hated crying in front of other people; it doesn't happen that often. I'm usually pretty good at keeping up a bold front, and when I do cry, I try to do it in private. It makes me feel weak. I didn't want him to see me that way. I heard him sit down close to me, and then I felt a warm hand gently pulling my hand away from my face. I looked up; Legolas was gazing at me, a look of inexpressible sorrow in his eyes. He raised a hand to brush the tears from my face as my sobs subsided.
"This is a cruel game she's playing with you," he said, "But I think you are much stronger than she anticipated."
"Really?"
"Yes. You are stronger even than you know."
He took his hand away. I was so tired . . . I lay down again on my cloak, draping one edge of it over me for warmth. I felt myself drifting back into sleep, but I held onto consciousness for as long as I could – I didn't want any more nightmares.
"Sedho, Esther," I heard Legolas whisper, "Losto."
And I slept. And I didn't dream again for many days after that.
**Elvish translations:
sedho: be still; be quiet
losto: sleep