Author's Note: Hello everyone! For all the people on my mailing list, I'm having issues with my Yahoo! account right now, and that's why I haven't sent out an alert for this chapter. Sorry about that! As soon as I work out what the problem is, I'll get everything up and running again. So here are my announcements: right after this gets posted, I'm changing the name of this story to "The Peacemaker," but I'll include a note in the summary about the original title. And after either this chapter or the next one (it depends how long it takes me to write) I'll move the whole thing into the Harry Potter section of the site. Thanks for all your comments everyone – please keep R+R-ing!
Chapter Seven
I stood on a high balcony that overlooked the edge of Rivendell. Today I had a gown of deep indigo with a softly curved neckline lined with white gems; each one was cut to look like a tiny star. They had left my hair loose today. I liked it better that way – I liked being able to toss it in the wind and the open air. Just beyond the ravine, where the border of Elrond's realm ended, stood Samara. She wasn't remotely creepy-looking this time: She still wore the white dress, but it was clean, not water-stained and rotten. Her long, dark hair was parted neatly on the side and hung smoothly down her back, all the way down to her waist. This was the way she had looked in life, before she became purely demonic, before even her own mother had to face the truth of what she really was. Her mousy brown eyes peered up at me with a distinctly childlike annoyance. She was mad at me.
It was mid-afternoon on the day after I'd had my last vision. I'd found Justin first thing that morning and told him my revelation:
"I think I'm supposed to help Becca," I'd told him.
"Becca?" he'd asked, "Becca Who?"
"You know, the girl from the beginning. When they were sitting on the bed, talking about the video."
"Oh yeah, the girl that died first. Rachel's niece, right?"
"No, no – that was Katie. Becca's the other one."
"Oh right! The crazy girl."
"Justin!"
"What?"
"That's not very nice."
"Well it's true, isn't it? Didn't she wind up in some asylum where they had to walk her from room to room behind a big screen because she was afraid to even look at a TV after that?"
"Yeah, but it's still not nice. . ."
"Okay, I'm sorry. But what are you planning to do about her?"
"I'm not sure. I guess the first thing to do is try and find that asylum, or at least figure out where it is."
"Well, the first thing we have to do is figure out how to get out of here."
"I guess. . . I wish we didn't have to leave."
It took Justin a few minutes to answer me; I think he could tell that I was deep in thought at that point.
"Well," he said finally, "We can't stay here forever, you know."
"Yeah, I know," I admitted reluctantly.
"After the Fellowship leaves, all the Elves are gonna take off for Valinor. And the Council of Elrond starts tomorrow."
"Seriously? How did you know that?"
"Frodo told me. I stayed up talking to them for a while after you left last night."
I had gone to describe my vision to him, and then I'd gone up to the balcony to try and think of way for us to get back home. I was still there – it wasn't going very well. For one thing, I had no idea how Justin and I had ended up in Middle Earth to begin with, so that made it even harder to figure out a way back out. For another, the minute I'd gotten up there I'd spotted Samara, and even though she wasn't really making any effort to frighten me at that point, she still kept me sufficiently distracted.
But it wasn't just that. No matter I tried to focus on what I felt was my duty (to get back home and find Becca), my thoughts kept returning to one thing: If I did find a way to get us back home, would we ever be able to come back to Middle Earth again? I wasn't sure I wanted to leave if I couldn't get back again. And I know it shouldn't have been priority, but I couldn't help but wonder: If Justin and I went home, would I ever see Legolas again?
So I stood on the balcony, watching Samara watching me, and getting more and more frustrated with my situation. Then I felt the subtle warmth of a hand on my shoulder. I didn't need to turn to know who it was; I knew his voice well by now.
"Why do you bait her like this?" he asked, seeing Samara.
"I'm not baiting her," I told him, "Besides, she's already angry with me."
"Why?"
"Because I helped someone she was trying to hurt."
There was silence for a moment; Legolas moved to stand beside me, gazing at me with an expectant look.
"Do you remember the vision I showed you?" I asked, "With the little girl that died?"
"Of course."
"She wasn't alone that night. She had a friend with her, a girl named Becca."
"Did she die as well?"
"No, but she went mad. She was traumatized, I think. She was the first to discover the dead girl's body. . . Legolas, something strange happened last night: I had another vision, but it was different from the others. It was like I was really there, not just watching, and I could change things if I wanted to. I saw Becca, and I followed her into the room where the other girl was killed. I helped her; I guided her away from the room so that she could go get help. That's why Samara's mad at me – she didn't want me to help her."
The distant form of Samara scowled up at me; I wondered uneasily if she could hear us.
"I see," said Legolas after a long while, "But that's not why you've been standing here all this time. Is it?"
I turned and looked at him; his deep blue eyes burned into mine, and I knew he could tell what I'd really been thinking.
"Listen," he said gently, breaking the spell, "Whatever you decide, you must remember your own world, and your own time. You cannot forsake it completely."
"How did you know that –"
"No – you must not ask me anything further. I cannot give you any answers. You must find them for yourself. In the meantime, you need to come with me to Lord Elrond's chambers. He wishes to speak with you."
"He does? Why?"
"Can't you guess?"
I flicked my eyes down to the spot where Samara had been standing; she was gone. I couldn't decide whether I was relieved or nervous – as much as she scared me, I kind of preferred being able to keep an eye on her, just to know where she was. Of course there was only one thing Lord Elrond could possibly want me, and I had no idea how I was going to explain everything to him. Nevertheless, I couldn't refuse the summons, so I nodded and followed Legolas away from the balcony and down to the forest floor.
We had to pass by the stables to get back to the House of Elrond. I heard the horses stamping and whinnying as we passed, and I peeked inside the door to look at them. I caught a glimpse of a gigantic horse's eye close to the door, and felt a spasm of horror in the pit of my stomach as I realized it was same eye Samara had shown me that day in the woods on the banks of the Anduin. The horse let out a terribly high-pitched neigh when it saw me, and it pulled back desperately at the reins that held it to the stall. Then everything happened at once: the horse reared and swung its head violently back and forth, trying to break free from the reins. Legolas rushed forward to restrain it, and I heard Aragorn's voice from somewhere behind me, shouting in rapid Sindarin. I sank to my knees, covering my ears to block out the horse's frantic screaming. Aragorn joined Legolas and together they managed to grab hold of the steed just as the reins snapped. The horse was outside of the stables now, rearing and kicking as Aragorn and Legolas were joined by more Elves who helped restrain it. I crawled backward; I couldn't take my eyes off the scene, and I had a horrible feeling that something was about to happen. The Elves gently coaxed the horse to the ground, getting it to fold its legs and lie still, its chestnut coat glistening with sweat. It kept its eyes on me, watching me intently as if I was something wild and dangerous.
And then something came over my body; it didn't feel right. It was suddenly as if I was feeling everything, even my own clothes and the hair falling in front of my face, through a thick, damp gauzy material. My hands went to the ground, pushing me up into a standing position. My arms and legs felt unnaturally steady and powerful somehow.
"Esther!" I heard Justin's voice from somewhere muffled and far away, wrought with concern and anxiety, "Esther, are you all right?"
I felt his hand on my shoulder; I whirled around and smacked the hand away. I saw his face then: a horrible combination of dawning realization and recognition, coupled with sheer terror. And then a voice came out of me, something like my own, but all wrong somehow.
"She doesn't like the horses!" I snarled, "They keep her awake at night!"
"ENOUGH!" I knew that voice; the only sound after that was the uneasy stirring of the horse, struggling to get away but not straining as much as it had been. I heard soft footsteps drawing closer to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the tall staff and the long grey beard, and quiet words were being spoken into my ear, but I couldn't hear them. Something inside me quailed, and I felt a strange flutter and a surge of cold; then my body felt normal again, but strangely exhausted. Someone caught my arm just above the elbow as I stumbled, and I looked up into the stern, worried face of Gandalf the Grey.
"Lord Elrond is waiting for you," he said simply, his voice gentle and grandfatherly. He turned.
"Legolas," he said, "I believe he would like to speak with you as well."
The Elf nodded, and Gandalf led me up the stone steps into the House of Elrond. Legolas and Justin followed, speaking in hushed voices behind us. I supposed Justin was asking what had just happened, and after several moments it finally dawned on me what had really happened. And I wasn't scared this time: I was insulted, and more than a little pissed-off. Did that bitch just possess me? The nerve! Oh, it was personal now. If I hadn't felt a resolve to get rid of her before then, I sure did now.
I had trouble keeping track of where we were going; the floor seemed to pass under us so quickly. In the back of my consciousness I heard Legolas offer to carry me, but Gandalf insisted that I walk at least partially on my own. (I was clinging to his arm to keep myself upright.) He said that I needed to regain as much of my strength as possible before speaking with Elrond. We entered a large, open room with several "windows" that were really breezeways. In the center of the room was a raised space, a small dais at the top of a curved set of stairs. In a high-backed chair on the dais sat Lord Elrond, regarding me with wise, grey eyes. Arwen stood at his side. I'm not sure exactly what happened next, but I guess Gandalf must have let go of me, because I remember finding myself in a kneeling position on the floor again. I was vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and the next thing I knew Arwen was kneeling in front of me.
"Give me your hand," she said.
Confused, but without the strength or the presence of mind to ask questions, I held out the hand that had hit Justin. Arwen held it palm-up to look at it. I sucked in my breath sharply: my palm was smoking, and the edge of my sleeve was singed. Arwen raised her eyes to her father, who was standing beside us.
"What happened?" asked Elrond, turning to someone standing behind me.
I then heard Gandalf's voice, clear and whimsical.
"It appears that our young friend here has quite a friendly little specter in her wake," he said lightly, "I've sent her on her way, for the time being, but she will return no doubt once these two," I assumed he meant Justin and me, "Have left this realm."
"What sort of specter? Evil has not passed these borders since the dark days."
"A wraith of some sort, unless I am mistaken. And apparently a wielder of the nensha."
I heard the rustling of movement behind me, and I turned my head to see what was going on. Gandalf was gently coaxing Justin, who looked even more frightened than I felt, forward towards Elrond. Justin then lifted his sleeve to reveal a bright red mark in the shape of a hand on his forearm.
"Legolas," said Elrond, studying Justin's arm, "These two children traveled here with your company, did they not?"
"They did," said Legolas, stepping forward, "The spirit seems to follow this girl more closely. The boy merely came too close to her just now, and she said something about the horses."
Legolas looked at me uneasily.
"She doesn't like the horses," I repeated weakly, "Because they keep her awake at night. They can sense it when she's close-by, I think."
I looked down at my hand; Arwen had placed her own hand on top of it, and it had stopped smoking. She took her hand away and helped me to my feet. I was still shaky, but I had more control over myself now. Elrond turned to me.
"I need you to tell me what you know about this ghost that follows you," he said, "Everything you know."
I took a deep breath; this wasn't going to be easy.
"I don't really know what she is," I said, "But I know she's evil. She's been following me for weeks now, but I don't know why."
"What was it you said about the horses?"
"Her family raised horses, and while she was alive she slept with them in the barn. They kept her awake at night."
"Legolas told me about your visions. He said you had seen them before."
"I never told you that," I said, turning to Legolas. He gazed back at me apologetically; he must have read my mind again.
"If I may, Master Elrond," said Gandalf, "It seems that this girl doesn't understand this situation thoroughly enough to explain it. And given the recent events she and her companion have been through, I would think it wise to allow them time to rest before a proper interrogation."
"Very well," said Elrond, nodding, "Arwen, take Esther back to her chambers. I would like to take a closer look at this mark before you leave, with your permission of course," He added to Justin, who nodded dazedly.
"Lord Elrond," said Legolas, stepping forward again, "If it is necessary, I would be willing to take this girl and boy under my protection again."
No, no, no! I thought desperately, You're supposed to join the Fellowship! Oh, this is all wrong. . .
"No," said Elrond, to my relief, "There are greater forces at work here than you are aware of, Legolas son of Thranduil."
Legolas stepped back and lowered his head respectfully, masking his disappointment. Arwen led me back upstairs, and the others stayed behind, I guessed to discuss what had just happened in greater detail. I wasn't confined to my room, but I stayed there for the rest of that day and most of the next. Arwen kept me company, coaxing me outside for short spells while most everyone else was attending the Council. Justin was avoiding me. I supposed he was still shaken up from my having attacked him; I couldn't really blame him. I kept turning over Gandalf's words in my mind; was Samara really a wraith? Like the Black Riders and the Barrow Wights? They all definitely hovered in that strange netherworld between life and death, but I was sure they weren't ghosts. So, to some degree, that made sense. But what in the world was the nensha, and what could she do with it? What power did it give her? There were so many questions burning through my mind that I knew couldn't be answered, so I shut my mind as well as I could and stayed with Arwen. Sometime in the later part of the morning on the second day of the Council, Arwen and I found ourselves in a gazebo at the edge of the ravine. I was asking her about Aragorn, not to be intrusive, but to get my mind off of my quasi-possession of two days before.
"He is afraid," she told me, "He bears a great responsibility to his people, and he fears that he will not succeed where all his forefathers since the days of Elendil have failed. He is the last remaining hope for the world of Men."
"I can't imagine what that must be like," I said, "To know that an entire race of people is relying on you. . . How much longer will you be here?"
"Me? I do not wish to leave."
She moved away from me and stood at the open archway in the gazebo. That wasn't really what I'd meant; I had intended to ask how much longer the Elves would be staying in Rivendell, but I didn't have the heart to correct her. I silently wished I hadn't said anything. . . But then she spoke again.
"There are dark times ahead, Esther," she said, "And not just for Middle Earth. I could not bear to leave these shores and abandon these people to the evil that waits for them."
She turned back to me, a strangely expectant look reflected in her bright, dark eyes.
"You're staying because of Aragorn," I said, then wondered what could possibly have made me say something so tactless.
But she didn't seem offended.
"Yes," she said, "He will need my help before the end. And you . . ."
I waited. What about me? What was she getting at?
"And I?" I asked warily.
"You stay because of Legolas."
I felt my face flush; hearing someone else say it aloud made it seem more real.
"Don't worry," she said gently, "I have told no one, and I have no intention of doing so. But you should speak to him."
I looked down into my lap and began picking at my fingernails; what did she expect me to say to him anyway? He couldn't stay with me, and I didn't want him to. I wanted everything to end exactly as it was supposed to.
"You could stay," said Arwen, "And follow my people to the Undying Lands. You could wait for him there. Or you could return to your own world and try to destroy the ghost. But you must make a decision."
I sighed; I knew she was only trying to help, seeing as her situation with Aragorn was so similar to mine. But I didn't want to face it, not yet. It was going to be difficult either way. . . If I went west to Valinor, I would be safe from Samara and I would be in the company of the Elves. But could I really leave my home forever? And how did I know that Samara wouldn't just follow me there, or wreck havoc on the rest of Middle Earth while I waited? And I had already promised myself I would help Becca, if I could. .
And what about Justin? I put my hands to my forehead and sighed deeply; it was all too much. I heard a quiet rustling as Arwen moved to sit down next to me.
"You know how this is going to end, don't you?" she asked.
I knew it wasn't really a question; she was referring to her story, and the War of the Ring. And I did know how it would end if everything continued on the way it had been written, but I didn't know if my interference would change anything. I wasn't sure of anything anymore. And even if I was, it wasn't my place to tell her.
"If I told you," I said quietly, "It could change everything."
She nodded, seeming to understand. I sensed that she had already made the choice to stay, regardless of whatever I could have told her. Then the sky went dark. We both stood up and looked, and a fierce, thunderous voice that shook the earth filled the sky:
"Ash nazg durbatulûk,
ash nazg gimbatul,
ash nazg thrakatulûk agh bursum-ishi krimpatul!"
And then all was quiet, and the darkness lifted. Arwen looked at me with a look a deep foreboding.
"Was that . . . ?" I began fearfully.
"The voice of Sauron," she said, "And the Black Speech of Mordor."
She turned her gaze back to the sky.
"It has begun."