Disclaimer: Middle-Earth was created by the genius J.R.R. Tolkien, not by me. And the little song Imrel sings, it's from the LotR soundtrack. Only the poem and storyline are mine.

A/N: First of all, I apologize for the long wait in updating. As you already know, I was on vacation, but during that time my brother, Ricky, passed away and I've sincerely found it very difficult to write about anything else, having been really close to him, but here's the new chapter I'd promised you guys, anyway.

Chapter 9

...As the whispering voice faded, the wind began and the water in the pool began to whirl in the opposite directions again. The figures in it blurred slowly, reluctantly into a cold, gray mass, and as Erin stared into it, she felt everything around her began to shift as well... and as everything slurred to nothing, she began to drift upwards...

Erin felt herself slowly gaining consciousness as after a very long, deep sleep, and for a moment she thought she must be asleep, because everything felt like a nightmare. Her eyes half-opened, but she closed them when she found how painful the light was to them. She found it difficult to move, and the horrible, chilling cold made things even worse. Her head hurt like hell, too, as if there were a tiny little Orc in there slashing at her brain.

'No, let me go to sleep. It's cold, and I hurt so bad... you're cold, and it's making me hurt all over,' Erin protested in her thoughts as a gentle hand shook her by the shoulders. 'Leave me alone... I'm so tired... don't want to wake up again, ever... no pain there... no grief... I can't stand the pain anymore. Just leave me alone!!' She moaned silently, wishing it would go away.

A gentle and rich, young-old voice reached her ears- Imrel's voice. 'Come on, Erin, don't fall asleep now...' he pleaded. 'Erin, listen to me,' he said, more insistently as her eyes near fluttered open once more, 'you have to wake up NOW.'

His voice was stern enough to convince her-, which is saying a lot. She opened her eyes, confused for a moment, and then she realized where she was- in a bathtub! Little wonder her body felt so heavy. 'Imrel, you son of an Orc!' she shouted. Ouch. Now that was a bad idea, she realized. Not only the light hurt and her throat felt painfully raspy, but he was looking as fierce as a dragon in a pinch.

'Explain yourself,' he said severely. He was not at all pleased with her actions. 'Why don't you explain yourself?' she countered, and added pointedly, 'As far as I remember, I didn't put myself in a cold bath!" Imrel frowned at her. 'What do you remember?'

Mmmm... omitting all the weird dreams that might actually have been real? 'I snuck around and got some wine or something out of one of the smaller barrels down in the cellar, came back here and drank a goblet full of it... Then, when I started to feel dizzy, and you came in... I don't know, I think I might have fallen down or something... and after that I don't remember anything,' she answered hesitantly. 'I just know I woke up here, in a cold bath,' she added, sarcastically, for his benefit.

His frown deepened. 'No wine is strong enough to do that so quickly, not even Dorwinion, and you've already proved you are stronger than that, anyway. You must've drunk something else... which explains why it took me so long to wake you after you blacked out. Don't lie to me Erin- this could be very serious- what was it?' She shrugged nonchalantly.

'You don't know what you drank?' 'No,' was Erin's simple answer. 'Didn't you read the inscription carved onto the barrel? You could've poisoned yourself, did you know that?' She shrugged again. As if she even cared anymore. 'I'm not good at reading Elvish writing. All I really know is the Angerthas Daeron.'

'I need you to think, Erin, and try to remember everything as detailed as you can. Try to remember where the barrel was exactly and what it looked like. If you left anything of the liquid, even if only a few drops, it would help me know what it was you drank and what to do to counter it. Several of the smaller barrels are reputed to be dangerous for weaker mortals, and I have little doubt what you drank came from one of those.'

'Weaker mortals, huh? So I'm no longer like an Elven maiden?' Erin muttered sarcastically to herself as she dried herself off briskly with the rough towel, while Imrel tried to find the flask she'd used to smuggle the drink out. She felt like hell, and all she wanted was to climb into bed and sleep, but it was far too obvious Imrel wouldn't permit even the thought of doing that- it was 'too risky', he'd said. (Thus, he'd deliberately woken her with all the delicacy of a brick crashing through a window by dumping her into ice-cold water.)

Most of her felt guilty for acting so irritably, but she was still indignated enough by the cold bath, and there was still enough liquid flowing through her as to not give it any mind just yet, even if he had meant only her well-being. 'Yeah, and maybe just a minor case of pneumonia, by the way,' she thought sulkily to herself, feeling her throat closing up and her forehead becoming warmer.

She dressed herself as quickly as she could with trembling hands, shivering violently. Damn it- she just had to get sick now... Blast those lucky elves with their foolproof immunity to any sickness... little wonder they were the only ones able to live for long in the likes of Mirkwood, anyway. Erin hadn't understood it completely yet, but Mirkwood emphasized every detail of her, both strength and weakness. Here, she was at her utmost extremes, and therefore, she was all the more vulnerable to everything, illness included.

She walked carefully, feeling weak and uncomfortably dizzy, into the room, where Imrel was sitting at the small table observing the marks the wine had left within the cut-glass flask. 'I think I know what it was, Erin, and let me tell you it's a miracle you're awake now,' said Imrel as she walked towards him, without even turning to look at her, 'most mortals would've slept during days, and eventually would have died. That's a rather powerful draught- it has water from the Forest River in it- though not much.'

'Hmmm... that's interesting,' she answered distractedly as he continued listing the ingredients it, while thinking, 'Yeah right... as if I even cared. All I want is to forget... Forget everything I've done and everything that's happened to me... and I'll always keep trying, no matter what...and if I die in the trying, then so be it. What good is it for me to be alive anyway? The one reason I haven't committed suicide yet is I'm still trying to find a real reason not to do it...'

'I know what plant to use to counter it... I'll be right back with it... but don't fall asleep,' he warned her. 'It's-' 'too risky, yes, I know,' she finished for him, and added, 'don't worry; I'll just sit here and write, or something. I've just had a lot of weird dreams... I'd like to write for a while. They help me find the right words, sometimes.' He nodded his approval and left.

It was true. She was a fairly good writer, and most of her inspiration came from dreams. She usually wrote about her feelings, but the metaphors were what she dreamed. Taking the dark quill, watery ink and creamy parchment that had laid unused in a drawer in Imrel's room, she began to write down whatever thoughts came into her mind, not even pausing to think.

Ironically, 'I'll be right back' seemed to mean 'in two hours' in Imrel-language, but to her the time seemed short, being so distracted in her writing she didn't even notice when he came back in carrying a few dark leaves, even though he'd knocked quite loudly on the door before walking in on her. She'd already filled a sheet of parchment, and was now working on a new poem and a new sheet.

The parchment caught his eye as he drew near. "Could you tell me what is written here? I can't understand what it says very well, being poorly skilled in reading these runes. Unless you'd rather I didn't know, that is," he requested shyly. Damn, sometimes he was so polite it really got to her how downright mean she had been in return. "Why should I mind? I might've been mean to you more than once, but you're my friend."

She gently took the parchment from his hand, and would've begun to read aloud, if he hadn't taken her elbow and reminded her why he had gone out into the forest while the rain was yet pouring, (which is also why he took so long- he'd paused first at his own room to change his clothes) and began to prepare the counter-poison for her.

'I know they taste horrible, but otherwise if you fall asleep you might not awake again," he said sympathetically a few minutes later, as she tried not to vomit the ground Fenugreek leaves and Dorwinion wine (mixed with a few other things she'd decided it was best not ask him to identify) in the leather cup he'd given her.

Somehow, she managed to keep it all down, and decided to distract herself from the hideous aftertaste by fulfilling his previous request to read her poem. It was a very short one, since he'd interrupted her, she warned him.

I yearn the lost days of my innocence

In a world of illusions not yet broken.

I look in the mirror of my broken features

And I can hear, within the silence, the weeping of wood-fairies.

I feel the emptiness consume me,

The fullness of my lie.

I let the tears wash over my face,

Wishing they could cleanse me of my sin.

But I have gone so far and so deep

I hold no hope of being saved.

And in my hopeless desperation

I resolve to walk over the ledge.

I see my dreams fly past me, broken to pieces,

And a light that shines brightly before me.

But when I try to light the path,

I die within and the light vanishes.

I now walk blindly ´till I do find

An ethereal fire that consumes me completely.

And only when I have rid myself of my body

Can I embrace my liberty once more.

She repeated the last two lines in a soft whisper the deadly silence of the room magnified a thousand fold. Imrel stared at Erin, shocked by the strength of her words, while she struggled to keep the hot tears that had come to her eyes beneath her lids. She hadn't meant to let him know, but the words had caused an unexplainable flurry of emotions to come to surface, the feelings she always kept well hidden and under control, except when she was in Middle-Earth. Here, she couldn't hide what she really was.

'You hold much in your heart for someone so young,' he said finally, and wished he could find a way to ease her misery, and his heart filled anew with the feelings of grief and pity for her his face betrayed. 'Why must you think of such things and keep them within yourself? Why must you insist upon doing yourself harm?'

'I don't want to,' she said in a voice barely above a whisper, knowing that if she spoke any louder her voice, unlike her face, would betray her emotions. Her hands trembled, and she set the parchment on the table. Taking a deep breath, she went on, 'But what choice do I have? I have no one beside me, no one to share and ease my troubles the way I once had. All whom I once loved and trusted are dead. Dead, Imrel, and though I've seen other's dead loved ones, I've never once seen mine again, not even in the furthest corner of my dreams.'

He wrapped her gently in his arms. 'Fifteen times have the leaves fallen in Mirkwood since your birth, Erin, and even to me, that seems but a short while. I have been as alone as you have, for many long years... You have no idea what that has been.' She looked in his eyes and saw they shone with unshed tears. Her own worries seemed suddenly small and insignificant by comparison and she felt horribly ashamed. 'Imrel, I'm so sorry...' her voice cracked, and she bit her trembling lip to keep herself from crying again.

'Don't cry. It's all right, believe me... you'll be all right,' he tried to console her. His own pain had lain away, forgotten, and yet, instead of wishing she hadn't brought the memories back, his one thought was to relieve hers in any way he could, because that is what a real friend is there for.

Holding her as close as he could, he began to sing softly, noting, but giving little mind to, the fact her face was flushed and curiously warmer than usual.

Lay down

Your sweet and weary head

The night is falling

You have come to journey's end

Sleep now

And dream of the ones who came before

They are calling

From across the distant shore

Why do you weep?

What are these tears upon your face?

Soon you will see

All of your fears will pass away

Safe in my arms

You're only sleeping

What can you see

On the horizon?

Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea

A pale moon rises

The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn

To silver glass

A light on the water

All Souls pass

Hope fades

Into the world of night

Through shadows falling

Out of memory and time

Don't say

We have come now to the end

White shores are calling

You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms

Just sleeping

And all will turn

To silver glass

A light on the water

Grey ships pass

Into the West.

And, as he sung, she laid her head on his firm chest and let her eyes close, welcoming sleep, feeling too completely worn out, both physically and emotionally to care what risks it might bring. Imrel carefully carried her sleeping form to the bed and once again gently tucked her in, settling himself beside her to watch over her as she slept, wondering just how it was he came to care so much for this little mortal girl, and not caring for the answer...

A/N: This chapter I specially dedicate to Ricky's memory, being he who introduced me to Tolkien's work.

I love you, bro.