There is a mention of self harm scars in the second half of this chapter, so please proceed with caution. This is going to be a continuing topic throughout this topic, but I'll put more specific warnings at the beginning of each chapter.
Chapter 4
Night fell, and whether it was due to the prospect of a real bed to sleep in or sheer exhaustion, Lori was having trouble staying on her feet. The path downward was shrouded in shadow, and loose rocks or uneven bits of ground kept tripping her up.
The third time she stumbled, Strider stopped and looked back at her. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." She flexed her bruised toes. "Just…really tired."
"We can take a moment to rest."
"No, I can keep going. I just want to be done with this."
When they reached the bottom of the valley, the path continued through the forest. It was well-kept here, the dirt soft and flat and interrupted only by daring sprigs of grass at the edges. After a while, it transitioned seamlessly to a stone bridge, which crossed a small stream and led to a wide courtyard.
Rivendell rose up around them, gleaming silver in the night. Some of the walkways and buildings were illuminated by white light, and Lori's heart leapt at the sight of them. If they had electricity here, maybe they had a way of contacting other parts of the world.
A tall figure moved into sight, descending a slender staircase on one side of the courtyard. Her eyes widened. The man was tall, dressed in a green robe, and his long brown hair was pinned back from his face without a single strand out of place. His facial features were almost unnervingly flawless, all smooth cheekbones and arching eyebrows.
But what unnerved her the most were his ears, and the fact that they tapered into pointed tips. Lori's mouth went dry. That wasn't a man.
He was an elf.
"Gi suilon, Erestor," Strider said, raising his hand in greeting.
The elf stopped at the bottom of the stairs and replied in the same strange language. He turned to Lori, and it was only then that she realized she'd been staring. "Man le?"
Lori didn't think she could have spoken if she'd understood the question, and she was grateful when Strider answered for her. Whatever his response was, it made the elf arch an eyebrow and ask another, longer question, his gaze lingering on her sling. She caught Elrond's name in Strider's response, but that was all she could make out.
The elf considered Strider for a brief moment, then dipped his head. "Aphado nin."
He began walking up the stairs, and Strider nudged her forward. She trudged after the elf and continued down a stone pathway lined with fragrant bushes.
"What language were you speaking just now?" she asked Strider.
"Sindarin. It is the language of the elves."
Lori glanced at the back of the elf and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Does he…speak English?"
"I can speak your tongue well enough," the elf said, making her jump. He paused and turned to face her. "Though it has been many years since I have had need of it. Forgive me."
"It's fine," she said, blushing.
"What was the name you used for the Common Tongue? English?" His tongue halted on the syllables of the word, as if he was completely unfamiliar with it.
"English, yeah." She frowned. "Do you have a different name for it?"
"We call it Annúnaid, and the children of men refer to it as Westron."
"Perhaps a lesson in languages would be better suited to daylight hours," Strider said.
As if to punctuate his point, Lori covered her mouth to conceal a yawn, and the elf blinked.
"Very well. Let us continue."
Eventually, they stopped in an open-air hallway. One side looked down on a garden area with a pond, and the other side was lined with doors. The elf stopped beside one of them and clasped his hands in front of him.
"You may rest here tonight. In the morning, someone will bring you food and a change of clothes."
"Thank you." Lori pushed open the door, then turned to look back at Strider, feeling strangely hesitant.
He gave her a small, encouraging nod. "I will see you in the morning, Lori."
She managed a small smile and stepped inside the room, pushing the door shut behind her. The room was larger than she'd expected, illuminated by a wide window with fluttering curtains on the far end. With the last of her energy dwindling, Lori zeroed in on the large four-poster bed and made a beeline for it.
She kicked off her sneakers, nearly losing her balance in the process, then untied her sling and dropped it on the floor. She burrowed under the covers, nestled her head into a pillow, and the ache of her muscles faded as exhaustion claimed her.
Waking up in a real bed only made Lori realize how filthy she was.
Her entire body ached, pulsing with exhaustion, and she pulled the covers over her shoulders with a small groan. The oil and dirt on her face seemed to cling to her skin, and it was this that finally made her get out of bed. With a sigh, she pushed her hair out of her face and sat up.
Soft golden light was filtering through the window on one side of the room. Besides the bed, there was a desk against the far wall as well as a small wooden door. The walls were paneled with intricate wooden carvings that resembled the rest of Rivendell's architecture.
Lori tossed the covers aside and walked across the room to the desk. Someone had laid a pile of neatly folded clothes next to a tray of food. There was a small loaf of bread next to some sliced apples and a cube of creamy white cheese, as well as a pitcher of water and a small glass. She wolfed it all down, hunched over the desk and pausing only to push her hair out of her face.
Wiping her mouth, she turned to the pile of clothes, but she felt too dirty to even touch the soft red fabric, so she wandered to the small door.
Just as she'd suspected, there was a bathroom on the other side. Her attention was immediately drawn to the large porcelain tub at the back of the room. The faucet above it was a simple lever, and when she pushed it up, warm water began to stream into the tub. She usually preferred it to be hot enough to burn a little, but she was glad this place had running water at all.
While she waited for the tub to fill up, she moved to the full length mirror in one corner of the room. She was just as dirty and disheveled as she felt, but something else made her pause. She'd always hated the roundness of her face, and after a week of hiking all day with only two small meals to keep her going, she'd slimmed down a little.
Maybe that should have made her happy. She'd heard it enough from her parents that she needed to lose weight. But she could barely stand to look at herself.
Lori turned away from the mirror to find the tub nearly full. She shut off the water and began pulling her sweater over her head. She hesitated at the splint on her arm, which was tied over her sleeve, then carefully undid the knot on the bandage and tossed it to the floor.
With a sigh of relief, she pushed her jeans down. They were stained black from mud about halfway down the calves, and she was glad not to have the stiff fabric clinging to her skin anymore, especially her thighs…
A lump appeared in her throat. She sat on the edge of the tub and looked down at her skin. The scars ribbing her legs like barcodes were different than she remembered. The familiar ones were faded, and there were new ones, too. She ran a thumb across the unfamiliar ridges, pressure building in between her ears.
Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
She stripped off the rest of her clothes and lowered herself into the tub, shivering at the warm water. If she'd relapsed and she didn't remember it, then it didn't count, right? It didn't have to mean anything.
Lori sat in the tub and told herself that over and over, wrestling with the circular motion of her thoughts until the water grew cold. She swore softly and drained the tub. Once it was empty, she turned on the faucet again and crouched there, curled up like a fetus as the water swirled over her toes and ankles.
She had to move. Strider was probably waiting for her, and she couldn't sit in the tub forever. She closed her eyes, pushed the doubt and fear into one corner of her mind, and got to work.
There were a number of glass bottles beside the tub, but none of them were labeled. Lori tried to guess from the scent and texture what was what. She scrubbed her skin with a small white brush until it was raw, then attempted to work out the knots in her hair with her one usable hand. The water was cold by the time she'd untangled most of it, and several strands of dark hair were wound around her fingers.
The water had turned slightly gray from the amount of dirt and whatever else she'd scrubbed off, but Lori decided she didn't have time for a third bath. She drained the tub and climbed out, dripping and shivering. There was a white cloth folded next to the bottles, and she wrapped it around her shoulders and ventured back into the bedroom.
The clothing they'd left her was a dress, made of a red cottony material with silver embroidery around the waist. It took some maneuvering to get it on without straining her right arm, but the fabric was comfortable and clean, and felt like heaven after days of traveling in her sweat-stained clothes.
Despite whatever magical climate control Rivendell had, the air outside was slightly too cold to be considered comfortable. Lori wrapped her arms around herself and started down the open-air hallway.
In the gray winter light, Rivendell was even more beautiful. The buildings glowed silver against the autumn backdrop of the trees, the terraces and windows and balconies decorated with graceful swirls and bends. The calming white noise of flowing waterfalls was interspersed with cheerful birdsong and the lilting notes of a harp.
As Lori wandered over curving bridges and through fragrant gardens, she caught sight of more tall figures that could only be elves. It was difficult not to stare, to confirm for herself again that they were really…not human. They moved with an unnatural grace, tending to the gardens or taking measured strides to some destination. Lori tried her best not to make eye contact.
Despite her misgivings, she still had no idea where to go, and was trying to work up the courage to talk to one of the elves when one of them approached her. She looked up and couldn't help a relieved smile as she recognized him as the elf from last night. Even if they barely knew each other, he was one of two people she'd spoken to since coming to this strange place, and it was comforting to see a familiar face.
"Good morning," she said, then realized she still didn't know the elf's name.
An amused smile curved his lips. "I would return the greeting, but I fear it is already past noon. I trust you slept well?"
"Oh." She blinked. "I didn't realize I'd slept that long. I guess I was really tired."
"It is never an easy journey through the Wild." He turned and gestured for her to follow him. "Come. Lord Elrond awaits you."
Trying not to jostle her arm, Lori hurried to match his strides. "I'm sorry. I didn't know he was waiting for me, or I would have gotten ready faster."
"It is no matter," the elf said lightly. "You will find the patience of elves to be quite extensive. There is rarely a need to hurry in Rivendell."
That was something of a comfort to Lori, even if it was the exact opposite of how things were in her hometown. Everything here seemed…not sleepy exactly, but serene. It was nice to know she could find a moment here to just breathe and think.
"I don't think I caught your name last night," Lori said, making the elf glance at her.
"I am Erestor. And you are called Lori, yes?"
"Yeah." She still wasn't sure what to make of his accent, and the slight roll of the "r" in her name, but she tried not to think about it too much. Hopefully this Lord Elrond would be able to clear up at least some of her confusion.
They entered the largest building in the complex, passing through a wide entrance hall lined with columns decorated with carvings of winding vines and leaves. Erestor led her up a couple flights of stairs (to which the muscles in her thighs protested somewhat) and stopped outside an intricately carved oak door.
"Here is where I leave you." Erestor reached over to push the door open, for which she was grateful since her free hand was still holding her injured arm.
"Thank you, Erestor," she said, and stepped inside.
The room just beyond was comfortably furnished with a few seats placed around a fireplace, which was thankfully lit and filling the room with warmth. A desk was placed next to the far wall, and a wide set of windows behind it looked out over the winding gardens and streams below.
Two people were standing by the fireplace, and turned to face her when she entered. Lori almost didn't recognize Strider at first. He'd also bathed and changed into clean clothes, and his ruggedness had been scrubbed away along with the dirt. In its place was something more dignified and refined that showed itself in the lines of his posture. While he couldn't match the regal grace of the elves, he looked far from inadequate. Lori gave him a small smile and turned her attention to the other person by the fireplace.
This one was an elf, his ears pointed and features smooth and flawless just like Erestor's. As they locked eyes, Lori was struck by the depth of his gaze, a measured wisdom that spoke to many years of experience retained by a sharp memory. This had to be none other than Lord Elrond.
She thought back to Erestor's comment about the patience of elves, and wondered with a chill if this one really was much older than he looked.
"Greetings, Lori of Long Island." He held one hand over his heart, then extended it in greeting. "Welcome to Rivendell."
The formal way he'd addressed her made Lori cringe inwardly, but she tried not to let it show. She wondered if she should return his greeting gesture, but both of her arms were occupied, so she settled on a small, awkward bow.
"Thank you. I'm, um, really grateful to…to be here." She held back a grimace as she stumbled over her words. She hadn't thought at all about what she wanted to say once she finally met Elrond. Relieved as she was to be in a safe place after days in the wilderness, her anxiety over her situation had returned. This was the moment of truth, and the thought left a pit in her stomach.
"Aragorn tells me your arm was broken," Elrond said with a glance towards Strider. "May I look at your injury?"
Aragorn? Lori sent a curious glance towards Strider, who gave her a small, encouraging nod. She turned her attention back to Elrond and gingerly extended her arm.
He stepped forward and grasped her elbow, then pushed back her sleeve. He inspected the length of her forearm, applying gentle pressure with two fingers, then instructed her to rotate her wrist and close her fingers as much as she could bear. His movements were incredibly graceful, as if he was perfectly aware of the space around him and how to move through it with the most efficiency. Lori found that her own movements were weak and shaky, but the pain in her arm wasn't as bad as it had been last week.
"You did well in securing the injury," Elrond said to Strider, then turned back to Lori. "The break does not seem severe, and with a few more weeks of rest, it should be completely healed."
"Thank you." She pulled her sleeve down and returned her arm to its place against her chest.
Elrond gestured for her to sit in one of the armchairs, and took the one across from her, while Strider remained by the fireplace. "Now, it is my understanding that you were brought to these lands by strange circumstances. If you could explain these circumstances to me, I will do what I can to help you."
Lori looked up at Strider, who said, "I did not give him any details about your story. I thought it would be better suited coming from you."
"Right." She swallowed and settled back into the armchair. Something about the setup of the room felt weirdly like a therapy session. She took a moment to gather her composure, then recited the strange events starting when she'd woken up on the train.
Elrond listened in silence, only the occasional quirk of his brow betraying his reaction to her story. When she finished, he didn't speak for a long moment, his gaze far off. Lori chewed on the inside of her lip and waited for him to say something.
"Yours is a strange tale, indeed." Elrond folded his hands in his lap. "Could you tell me more about your home?"
"I lived just outside New York. It's a big city, and pretty well known," Lori replied, unable to keep the impatience out of her voice. "Do you possibly have a map of the area that I could look at?"
Elrond inclined his head and rose from his seat, then motioned for her to follow him over to the desk. There were a number of papers spread across its surface, filled with a curling script she didn't recognize. He retrieved a scroll from one side of the desk and unfurled it. The material was too thick to be paper, and looked almost leathery in texture. Inked across its surface were the lines of a map, and Lori leaned closer to take a look.
The first thing that caught her eye was the mountain range bisecting the map from north to south, and the large forest stretching to the east of it. The western side of the landmass was bordered by water, but everything was labeled in the same curling script as the other papers on the desk. Desperately, Lori racked her brain for an area that would resemble this place.
"What is that ocean called?" she asked, pointing at the unfamiliar label.
"That is Belegaer, the Great Sea," Elrond replied.
Is that the Pacific? Maybe they call the ocean something different than the rest of the world. Or maybe this map shows a relatively smaller area, and the sea isn't that big.
"What's on the other side of the Great Sea?" Lori asked.
Elrond hesitated. "The answer to that question will change depending on who you ask. To mortals, the lands on the other side of the sea are unknown but to a few mariners."
What does that even mean? Her heart fluttering in her chest, Lori traced the other three edges of the map. "What about here? Is there anything beyond here?"
"To the north is an icy region known to few. To the east lies Rhûn, and to the south Harad, both lands inhabited by kingdoms and tribes of men." Elrond pointed out each direction in turn, speaking with the calm inflection of a geography teacher. He looked at Lori out of the corner of his eye. "You recognize none of these realms?"
"I don't recognize any of this." She ran a hand through her still-damp hair. "Which doesn't make any sense. People have mapped out the entire world and explored almost all of it, and I've never seen any of these places on a map. Not to mention if there were elves living in a valley somewhere, we would all know about it!"
Lori clenched her jaw. She could see the truth looming in front of her like the barrel of a gun, but she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.
"Then that leaves only one possibility I can conceive." Elrond straightened. "The world from which you came is not the same as this one. When you died, your spirit left your world and continued onto the next, but due to your…attempts to escape the passage, you arrived here instead."
"What do you mean, spirit?" Lori asked, her own voice sounding faint in her ears. "I-I don't feel dead, or like a ghost, or whatever."
"It may be that you took a new form when you left your world."
She pressed her thumb against her arm, as if to make sure she was really there. "Well, c-can I go back? If I'm still alive, is there a way back to my world?"
A glimmer of sadness passed over his gaze. "There are very few powers in the world that can grant life again after death, in the way that you wish. It is most likely you will remain here. I am sorry."
The warmth from the fire seemed to have left the room. "So…So I'm stuck here."
"You are welcome to stay in Rivendell for as long as you wish. This place will always be a refuge for those who need it."
Elrond probably meant for his words to be comforting, but they barely reached her. All she could feel was the truth she'd denied for so long, and all she could do was try and keep its weight from burying her.
She was dead and gone.
She could never go home.
A lump rose in her throat. Her fingernail bit into her arm through the fabric of her dress, her chest growing uncomfortably tight.
"Lori?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Strider step towards her. Whatever he and Elrond could see on her face, it was causing both of them to look at her with concern. Her face flushed.
It took an enormous effort to keep her voice steady as she said, "I need some time to myself. I'm sorry," and fled the room.
She hurried down both flights of stairs and out into the cold. Tears began to well in her eyes, and she picked up her pace, hoping that whoever she passed wouldn't look too closely at her. Her broken arm throbbed with her footsteps, but she didn't care enough to slow down.
It was a painful, thundering eternity, but eventually she made it back to her room. Lori crawled into bed, gasping with suppressed sobs, and let her tears bleed into the pillow.
Whenever I write about elves having perfect facial features I think about the "average enjoyer" meme. I wish all elves looked like that lmaooo
Sindarin phrases were taken from Arwen Undomiel, The Council of Elrond, and Ambar Eldaron (those are website names, though I wish I could get lessons from real elves).
Also, I know Westron and English are not actually equivalent, but I'm treating them as such for simplicity's sake.