Chapter 17: Storms and Grief
A/N: Sorry! So, so sorry! I know it's been a month! I'll try to update quicker, but for the time being, here's Chapter 17. And also some of my babbling:
This story started with me and my friends, and all of a sudden I thought "I should write a Mary-Sue Legomance with all the sappy 'orphan with a horrible life' stuff." So I did. That's why it sounds pretty dumb in the beginning. Hmm… I think I should re-write the beginning. Elerina is 16 or 17, so I don't think she would be living in an orphanage. And "knee-length strawberry blond hair"? Imagine having knee-length hair...
Okay, one more thing. I'm going to be skipping some things that happen with the Fellowship, not saying that they aren't happening, just not putting the details in this story. I doing that because if I had details about everything that went on it would get pretty boring, 'cause you all know the story.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to felictiousmomento, amrawo, Lady EflDragon, mis.mira, and Haldir-March Warden for the reviews!
Disclaimer: As always. Tolkien is one heck of a genius.
Elerina awoke looked out the window. The sun was just beginning to rise, so she quickly jumped out of bed and changed into her traveling clothes. She dug a small bit of lembas from her pack and munched on it. It tasted surprisingly good, for traveling food. She threw on her cloak and quietly opened the door of her room. She slung the saddlebags over her shoulder and preceded to brush out her hair with her fingers and braid it.
When she got to the stables, Wingfoot greeted her merrily with a whinny. She patted his neck and put as much feed as she thought necessary into one of the four saddlebags. She quickly groomed the horse and slung his saddle over his back. She led him outside and attached the bags to the back of the saddle. She mounted and headed out of Rivendell, giving one last look of farewell to the beautiful stone walls.
The sun had risen above the horizon by the time they were three miles from Rivendell. Elerina relished the feeling of the warm sun on her face, and took off her cloak to attach it to her saddle. She had been following the River Loudwater southwest of Rivendell, and she would turn south when Loudwater ran into the River Hoarwell. She would then travel south to the Gap of Rohan, keeping as far away as possible from Isengard, and turn east.
She thought Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf might be in Edoras by the time she got there. And if they weren't, she could find a place to stay until they came. And if they had already left, which she doubted, she could always travel on to Gondor. The journey would be dangerous, but Elerina knew in her heart that it was something she needed to do.
Elerina scanned the horizon and noticed that the warm sun would not be there for long. Dark storm clouds were making their way towards her. She sighed and looked for some kind of shelter along the river bank, and saw a clump of trees about half a mile down. It was the only shelter in site, so she urged Wingfoot along, for the clouds, though still a ways off, were coming in faster.
"So much for a long day's travel…" she said to her horse. They reached the small group of trees and Elerina dismounted and took off Wingfoot's saddle. She found a place where the saddle bags would hopefully stay dry enough, and threw his waterproof blanket over Wingfoot. He tore at a piece of dry grass and nuzzled the saddle bags.
"No, no, Wingfoot. If you want food this early every day we'll run out in a few days." She sighed again, looking at the clouds. "Just great. What a wonderful start. On our first day we get about three and a half miles. They'll be out looking for us pretty soon. They'll take us back and I'll be stuck reading history all day while you sit idly chewing your hay in the stables. Let's just hope the storm that's coming is so bad they can't come looking for us."
Elerina wrapper her cloak tighter around her as the freezing rain pelted down. Though the Elven cloak gave more protection than most, Elerina was colder and wetter than she had ever been in her entire life. She huddled next to Wingfoot's shivering body for warmth. It would be absolutely no use to light a fire, for it would go out instantly, and any wood to be found on the ground was soaked through.
She stared at the rushing river in a have-slumber, not noticing its unusually loud roaring, nor its unusually fast current. Suddenly a dull roar that was heard over the thunder and the river snapped Elerina to her senses. She listened, then jumped up and grabbed the saddle bags.
"Get up Wingfoot!" she screamed over the raging storm. "It's a flash flood! We have to get to higher ground!" She threw the saddle over Wingfoot's back and, having no time to properly attach the them, mounted while clutching the saddle bags. Elerina urged Wingfoot forward over the wet ground and out of the trees. She saw a small hill ahead, and turned the horse towards it. Flash floods were dangerous. If she had fallen asleep they could have been swept away in seconds.
Elerina turned around and watched the river, the dull roar getting louder every second. Suddenly a huge wall of water flew down the river at alarming speed and swept over the small group of trees, tearing a few down and carrying them with it on its raging journey down the flooding river. They couldn't stay near the river, she should have known that. The rain hadn't let up at all, an not end to the storm seemed anywhere. It was probably a little past noon.
She couldn't go straight into the storm, and she couldn't follow the river. She had only two choices: to go back to Rivendell or to turn east towards the mountains. If she went back to Rivendell she could tell them that she had gone out for a ride and had gotten caught in the storm, and try again another day, but someone would suspect. Maybe the manservant had told someone that she was snooping around in the kitchen. Elrond would become suspicious.
If she turned east towards the mountains, she would lose her guide, the river. If she traveled along the mountains they would lead her too close to Isengard. Elerina bit her lip and patted Wingfoot's neck, and urged him on into the storm. She would keep going, and not stray too far away from the river. Besides, storms didn't last forever, did they?
Shock. Disbelief. Puzzlement. Grief. Gandalf was gone.
Legolas stood on the rocks just outside of Moria, an unsure look in his eyes. Gandalf was gone? It happened so suddenly… The Elven Princeling watched as the Hobbits wept and Boromir restraining Gimli while the Dwarf vented out his rage and sorrow. He looked up as Aragorn spoke to him.
"Legolas, get them up," he said, motioning to the Hobbits.
"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir pleaded, his own eyes smarting with tears.
"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up," Aragorn replied. He reached down to help Sam up. "On your feet, Sam." He looked around at the others. "Frodo? Frodo!"
Frodo stood alone, grieving, upon the stark hillside. Weeping silently, he turned towards Aragorn, a single tear running down his chin.
Wet. That was all that Elerina felt as she trudged further into the storm. She had lost all sense of being cold, for her entire body was numb, and she hardly felt the horse beneath her. So much for 'Storms don't last forever,' she thought. The rain had not let up at all since it started, and the thunder and lightning made her horse shy to the side every few seconds. She had kept the rushing river in sight, and had slowly made headway through the raging storm for hours.
Elerina patted Wingfoot's neck, encouraging him to keep going, and when he continually slipped and shied at the lightning, she got down out of the saddle and led him by the bridle. The horse drooped his head wearily and Elerina got one of the saddle bags. 'Thank the heavens that Elves make most of their things waterproof,' she thought as she attempted to feed her horse a little without getting it wet.
As they walked on, she looked up at the sky and saw the clouds clearing a ways away, and the last light of the sun as it sunk below the horizon.