A/N: Wow, I am so sorry it took me this long, but my computer broke down and I nearly lost the file to my story completely…eek. Don't kill me. Read on!
Chapter 46—The Dream, Part 1
Not possible. She could not possibly have gone back to the world of a book. It defied all natural law. It was just a coma dream. That would be logical. But…this fellow, J.R.R. Tolkien, he was dead, according to the foreword. Dead long before Delaney herself had been born. It was impossible, and she had certainly never read his work before this. She began to feel dizzy, lightheaded. What could this mean?
So then…was it all true? Where is Middle Earth? Is Legolas real? Was Rosellyn real? The book didn't mention me…of course it didn't mention me, she's dead! Wait. Her. The book didn't mention her.
Who am I? Delaney Freeholder? Or Rosellyn Stillwater? She was Delaney. This was Delaney's body. She tried calling to Rose. –Rose? Are you there?- There was no response. Rosellyn was dead, if she ever existed. But she had to exist, the world was written right here, in front of her. And Aragorn! He was a Ranger, just like Benvenue was! And parts of it took place in the house Elrond and Arwen, didn't Benvenue mention seeing them in his travels?
Della…you're going crazy.
"Have you finished this book already?" asked her mother, surprised, when she dropped in with dinner. Della glanced at the lovely leather-bound book, watching the cheap lights of the hospital shine on the stamped golden letters.
"Well, you know, find something you're interested in, and it just sort of reads itself."
"I'm glad you liked it. Isn't it better than your Gameboy?"
"It's…interesting, certainly."
"And how are you coming on your homework?"
"Fine. How're you coming on the insurance papers?" Wrong question to ask. Her mother slumped down and began to pick at her sandwich. "That bad, huh? Sorry I asked."
"Oh, we'll make it work somehow. Did you know your school is setting up a fund to help you?"
"I highly doubt they could find enough people to want me alive."
"Della, I don't know why you're so cynical. I'll have you know that they've already raised almost a hundred dollars!"
"Mom, that's the equivalent of every other student donating a penny. These people are loaded. If they wanted to contribute, it would be a hundred dollars per person, not for the entire school. It's what happens for all the other donations, anyway. The firefighters got almost twenty thousand dollars when we raised money for them."
"You should be grateful for what's given to you, Della, I thought I raised you better than that!" Della decided to ignore that.
"When do I get to go home?" Her mother pursed her lips and frowned, but let the issue slide.
"When the doctor says," she answered brusquely. Then she wrapped up the rest of her sandwich. "Well, I'll leave you with some peace and quiet, so you can finish up your homework."
"Thanks for dinner," she said, but the door closed on her last words. Great. And now my mom is upset with me. Fantastic. Why couldn't she have just stayed with Legolas and Tracie? Why couldn't she have lived as Rosellyn? She could have married Legolas, and Tracie would have married Benvenue and had lots of redheaded babies. The war was over, they won, why was she thrown in right when the conflict began, and taken away right when it ended? It didn't seem fair.
She had a dream about Middle Earth, that night. She dreamed that she was looking down at Mirkwood…only it wasn't the Mirkwood she had known. This Mirkwood was dark, pitch dark even at high noon, and the spiders had overrun it. She felt sad, remembering the lake and the scenic beauty it held for Rosellyn…and then she was gone, racing over fields and mountains and forests, until…
Rivendell. It must have been. It looked exactly like the book described it. But she didn't stay there long, either; instead, she went flying away again before coming to rest, permanently, she felt, in yet another Elven realm.
Lothlorién! It was the most beautiful place she had ever hoped to see. Galadriel. She must be here, somewhere…but she was in no hurry to find her. The Golden Wood, it was dubbed, and rightly so. The sunlight streaming through the canopy lent more to the name, throwing gleaming rays of gold all through the forest. She remembered the words of Damita, so long ago: If you ever see Lorién, you'll indeed see why anyone raised there would be eager to get back. And for once, she understood. Maybe not enough to abandon a child elsewhere, but she understood a little. She walked around a bit, reveling in the beauty of the place. Am I real? She looked down, and saw no body. She tried to pinch herself, but couldn't. No, she thought sadly. I'm just a ghost. But at least I'm here, back in Middle Earth.
Soon, she began to see other Elves, most paler than Legolas, but very few were on the ground. Most were, she saw, in a high-way system in the tall reaches of the huge mallorn trees. A few moments later, she was up with them, listening to the haunting voices that filled the air. The melody seemed to carry her, carry her away…
"Legolas." She stopped. Who had said that? "It sounds familiar…" She looked around wildly. Who was talking? Who had mentioned Legolas?
"Father…that Ranger so long ago, Benvenue, was it he who said that?"
"You're right. When he brought news of…the war in Mirkwood." She found them. Three Elves, startlingly dark among the backdrop of golden trees and fair-haired Elves.
"That was so long ago," said the third. "Almost…two thousand years?"
"I've lost trace. It makes me all the happier that I got you children out of there when I did. Look what happened to…the people that lived there."
"You mean my sister," said the second Elf, "and our mother. You could at least say their names, Father." Delaney moved closer. They all had relatively long hair, but the second Elf was quite obviously female, with the longest hair of the trio, the same hair that Rosellyn had, and pale green eyes. The other young Elf had hair leaning more to a shade of auburn, he was well-built, with brown eyes just like…his mother. She marveled. These were her—Rosellyn's, that is—siblings. And…she looked to her—Rosellyn's—father. He was majestic in his twilight years, with hair that looked like it had bleached somewhat in the sun, and fantastic deep green eyes. Rosellyn's eyes!
Kellys. Ellywin. They're still here, she thought, awe-filled. But why are they talking about Legolas?