Rory couldn't sleep. No matter what she did, counting sheep, remembering things that sent her to sleep as a child, nothing. She tossed and turned, staring into the darkness, which was lit only by a small hurricane lamp she had found in one of the other ruined buildings.
As she looked around, she could see her companions, Brin, the Dwarf, curled up near his axe, Glorfindel, the Elf, one of the oldest living beings on Earth, sleeping uncharacteristically deeply as a result of the painkiller given him for his bitten arm. And last, but not least, Jessryn the half-elven archer from Mirkwood, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, his bow close to hand as he kept watch.
There was just enough light for her to see his face as he smiled at her. 'Can you not sleep?' he asked her.
'No, I can't,' she said quietly, so as not to disturb their companions.
'Do you want some tea?' he asked, indicating a cup, which he filled when she said yes, please.
She moved to sit facing Jessryn, with the lamp between them, and took the cup, drinking deeply.
'Do you wish to talk, as you cannot sleep?' he asked.
'Hhhmm, I suppose so,' Rory said, putting down her empty cup. She looked at the handsome man who was smiling gently at her, 'you've been wanting to talk to me for some time, I think.'
'Yes, I have,' he said, and threw his cloak over Rory's shoulders after noticing that she appeared to be cold.
'Jessryn? You won't be cold?' she asked even as she gratefully pulled the cloak about her.
'No,' he said, shaking his head, long blonde flying about him. 'I have many elven abilities, including great tolerance to the extremes of weather. Even Brin has more cold tolerance than you, you are such a tiny person it is no wonder you are cold.'
She stared; startled that he had noticed she had been feeling cold.
'In my world, Rory, men take care of women. We care, truly, about the comfort and wellbeing of our women. It is a man's place to see that a woman is comfortable, and safe. Yes, I know you are a warrior, but does that not mean I cannot do small things for you;' he indicated the cloak she wore. 'Besides, if you are frozen with cold, you cannot fight.'
To her surprise, Rory found herself blinking back tears, and impatiently drew her sleeve across her face, wiping away the moisture.
Jessryn watched, amazed. 'Have you had so few in your life to care about you, Rory?' he asked, his voice soft and gentle.
'I can take care of myself', she said, a bit defiantly.
'I did not say that. I said there have been few to care, really care about you as a woman, and not you as a warrior', he said.
She shrugged, 'so what, I survive.'
'But at what cost to your soul? Everyone needs love, and someone to care. My mother died many years ago, Father is a little ashamed of having an illegitimate mortal son, as are his children save Legolas. Always I have been able to count on my brother to care for me, as if I were truly his brother, not some unimportant result from one of his father's many affairs. My earliest memories are of him, in some ways Legolas has been more like a father than a brother.'
Rory pulled a face. 'Lucky you. I don't have one relative who wouldn't dance on my grave if I died tomorrow.'
'That is exactly what I mean. Has anyone cared, in any way about you?' said Jessryn, his blue eyes concerned.
'Elrond. Maybe Glorfindel,'she indicated the sleeping elf, as she answered after a moment. 'I mean I was useful to them, Elrond and I became friends, and I like to think Glorfindel liked me too. Certainly I consider him a friend. Gil-galad and Elendil trusted me all those years ago too.'
'No-one else?' he said as he ran his eyes over her. 'You have not had a lover, or husband.'
'Bilbo told you that,' Rory said, a little crossly.
'Yes, he did,' nodded Jessryn. 'Elrond told me of your stepfather, of his mistreatment of you. I know why you are reluctant to accept courtship from me or any other man.' He reached out to take her hands, which were clasped together in her lap, in his. Slowly, he lifted her hands, and separated them so that he held one of her hands in each of his. He turned her hands palm up, his fingers circling her wrists. Ignoring the scared look in her eyes, he kissed the palms of her hands softly.
'You are coming back to middle-earth with us, are you not?' Jessryn said.
'You know I must. All who passed through the time portal must go back together, or none may pass,' she responded.
'And what are you going to do in middle-earth? I am assuming of course the ring bearer's quest is successful' he asked.
'I don't know; hunt orcs or something like that, I guess. About all I could do, unless there's a job for a wild horse breaker, or something,' she said, wondering where this was going.
'You would not like to have a happy life, a home, security, and someone to share that with?' he asked, still holding her hands, which Rory made a futile effort to pull away from him.
'I've never really thought about it. Besides, who'd want to marry me?' she said.
Jessryn had noticed that Rory had pushed up her shirtsleeves to her elbows. He was running a fingertip over the scars on her inner arm, long slashes that went from her wrist nearly to the elbow. When she spoke, he looked up, but continued to run his finger up and down her arm.
'Why do you say that no one would want to wed you?' he said, his blue eyes searching her face for clues.
'I'm not pretty, and I'm a soldier, not some lady who sits by a fire, sewing. Which seems to be what you middle-earth guys want in a woman,' she answered.
Jessryn did not reply to her immediately, and when he did, his answer astonished her, 'Not all men seek a perfect lady for a wife, and you are wrong, you know, about your appearance. You cannot be compared to ordinary standards, for you are like a sparrow. Tiny, with little bones like a bird, you have brown hair and eyes, but your eyes have gold flecks like those of a lady sparrow's feathers. And like a sparrow, you have beauty for eyes that can see.'
Rory sat frozen, her eyes fixed on Jessryn. As she seemed unable to speak, he filled the gap of silence. 'What is that I can hear?' He too froze for a second, warning her to silence, as he listened intently for a moment.
'What can you hear?' asked Rory, aware that his hearing was much better than hers.
He relaxed after a second, 'Rain, it sounds like rain on the roof.' He smiled, and brushed her hair from her face, 'I would like to know why you once tried to end your life.'
She stared open mouthed in shock, 'Why do you ask that?' she whispered.
'These scars. You cut yourself deeply, hoping to bleed to death, but you did not. Why Rory, what was so painful that you could not face it?'
Too shaken to lie, or to evade his questions, she answered honestly, 'I was thirteen, my stepfather had raped me, and I got on a horse, and rode into the saltbush country twenty or so miles from home. I felt so.' she shook her head, 'I took my knife, and cut myself, intending to die there. The next thing I know I was in the Aboriginal camp, the old medicine man had been out gathering plants for his magic and medicine. He found me, and healed me. Eventually, my mother found out where I was, and insisted that I was returned home.'
Jessryn frowned, 'How is it your mother could command you back to such a home, to a life of terrible abuse?'
'The law is that a child stays with his or her mother unless good reason is shown otherwise. Medical examination could prove I had been, well, you know. It was not possible of course to prove who did it, and my mother lied and said her husband had been with her, so how could he have assaulted me? She said someone passing through must have found me alone. Those in a position to make such a decision believed her, and so back home I went.'
The archer's blue eyes had turned nearly black with his emotions; 'Elrond said you suffered in this way for three years? How is it possible to survive such mistreatment?' he asked.
Rory pulled her hands away from him with a sudden movement, 'I don't want to discuss this to satisfy your curiosity!' she snapped.
Startled by her reaction, Jessryn didn't move. His deep voice was very soft when he spoke to her again, 'I did not mean to offend you, little sparrow. I want to know your past, to understand you so I can be a true friend to you.'
Suspicious, Rory looked at Jessryn, trying to decide if he being truthful. She remembered Bilbo telling her that Jessryn was a very truthful person who valued honesty above all. So that meant he was telling the truth.
'Ok. Guess I can tell you. It's no great secret, really. You just have to learn to turn to yourself off', she shrugged, and Jessryn looked puzzled.
'So you can't see, or think, or feel. You have to pretend it's happening to someone else,' she said.
Jessryn's face was grim. 'You have had a very hard life.'
'So have you, in a different way' was Rory's reply. She looked at Jessryn, really looked, for the first time. 'You're half elf, right?' she asked him. 'But what does that really mean for you?'
'What do you mean, Sparrow? I am confused?' he said.
'Well, you have asked me some terribly personal questions, so I figured it's my turn. How does being half mortal and half elf affect your life. Do you get a choice about which race of person you belong to like Elrond did?' She had noticed that it was the second time he had called her 'sparrow', and was bothered by the casual way he had given her a nick-name. Thinking about it, she decided her best course of action was to ignore it, for the time being at least.
'Ah, you mean a life's choice. No, I do not. For Elrond, and his brother and parents were given the choice as a reward for Earendil's courage in seeking aid from the Valar for the people of middle-earth,' he said quietly.
'So, what are you then?' she asked.
He laughed very quietly, 'A man, Rory', he said. At her glance of exasperation he continued, 'Legolas once described me as a 'mortal elf' to some of the Laketown Men. I think that's close to how I think of myself, but I do not know if that makes any sense to you.'
'No, except that you think of yourself as a elf', she said. 'You say you're mortal, Jess, but you're like 700 years old?'
His eyebrows had shot up at the shortening of his name, but as she had ignored being called Sparrow earlier, now he decided to ignore this. 'That is correct,' he said.
'But you don't look any older than me! I thought that sort of thing was the exclusive property of elves,' said Rory, looking slightly bewildered.
'I will age and die one day, but I believe that my lifespan will very likely be another thousand years, perhaps a little more.'
Rory looked stunned, 'This is normal for those of half-elf nature?' she asked.
'Yes. If Elrond had not had his choice, he would still have lived about two thousand years, as would his parents and brother,' said Jessryn.
'Lucky you, I'll get maybe 40 or 50 more years. If I'm going to have to live in Middle-Earth, I'd like more time to explore the place!' she said.
'No, ordinary mortals do not get much time', he sighed, clearly troubled by this. 'Even dwarves get 300 hundred years.'
'What else does being half elf mean? I mean I know you are well, a bit different in appearance to an elf,' she said, not sure how to tackle this subject, but wanting to know.
'I understand time, and the passing of time better than elves. I feel the seasons and years pass as no true elf would. I know I am ageing, no matter how slowly. But I feel the magic of the world as no mere mortal would. I hear the trees speak, and the water murmur. As a child this was very difficult to deal with, which is why I spent much time in Rivendell, where Elrond helped me to understand myself.'
'So you're mortal, you'll die one day, but you have the elf magic as well as a very long life. The best of both worlds, I should think,' said Rory, contemplating what Jessryn had said to her.
'Yes,' he said as thoughtfully as her, 'I think you may be right. Perhaps I am all the more fortunate for not having a life's choice. I have never thought of it like that before. I always wanted the choice, so I could choose to be an elf, and be with my beloved brother forever.' He smiled at Rory, 'Elrond said that sometimes you can cut straight to the heart of a matter, and I do believe you may have done it this time.'
Rory looked a little uncomfortable at this praise of her, it was something she was not used to. 'You look a bit different to an elf too,' she pointed out.
'What do you mean Rory?' he said, a slightly cheeky smile on his face. He knew perfectly well she'd taken a good look when he'd changed his shirt earlier. And one of the physical differences he had from elf-men had been quite apparent. He was broader shouldered then any male elf Rory had seen, but the major thing was she'd never seen an elf with chest hair. But it wasn't that she mentioned, to Jessryn's surprise. In fact, her next action surprised them both.
'You need a shave,' she said, reaching out to draw her fingertips across his cheek. Jessryn couldn't help it; he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, a shiver going through him, as her fingers stroked his face. He caught her wrist, and kissed her hand, 'I love you, Rory,' he whispered to her.
Her eyes were wide and frightened at his words, 'but that is unimportant now. We have to finish this quest to find Elrond, and to get home safely. The Valar alone know what we will find in Middle-Earth, maybe we will all die fighting the forces of evil.'
He took the cloak Rory wore and laid it on the floor next to him, smiling ' but do not worry about that now, Sparrow, just lay down and sleep. My cloak will keep you warm,' he said.
She did lie down, realising at last that she was tired, and she stiffened slightly when he wrapped the cloak about her, his hand stroking her hair softly. 'Sleep now, I will wake you if anything happens'.
And sleep she did, strangely comforted by his presence by her side.