Disclaimer: "The Lord of the Rings" and all related items belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. This is merely an excursion into Middle Earth as it transitions from a land of hobbits and elves to the domain of man.
The Dark Forest – Part X
He pushes the beast away from me, almost effortlessly, and extends his hand further. I lift my arm, barely, from the ground, and with some last surge of strength I meet his fingers. I have never touched anything like it in all my life. It feels like a normal hand, and yet not – it feels good, it feels light. Brilliant in this darkness. And then I look up, raising my face from the dirt and weeds, and see him staring down at me.
His hair is less golden than white, the gold strands woven in between the snow of the others. But it is bright, incredibly so; I can hardly keep my eyes on it. The features of his face are fine, strong; he is more beautiful than I had even hoped to imagine. I drop back down into the dirt; it is too much of an effort to hold my head up. He holds my hand more firmly.
He says something to me, in a sweet, lilting tongue. I do not understand him. He must speak a different language than us; that is logical, and makes sense, even to me in this state. I feel so vastly inferior to this being. He tries to speak again. This time, the words come out somewhat different, less comforting – and foreign sounding.
"You – are injured, lady?"
I cannot trace the accent issuing forth from his lips, but I savour it all the same. "I'm very well," I whisper into the ground. I tip my head to one side, glancing at him out of the very corner of my eye, and he seems to frown.
"Come, lady," he says.
"I am well," I whisper again, and his grip on my hand tightens. He pulls me to my feet, and I feel the slightest trace of pain in my back. A wet, hot pain. I flinch, late. He stares at me, and I am sure that I can read concern in his eyes. He says something in his own language, quickly and fiercely, and I recoil in fear. But his eyes are no longer focused on mine; instead, they gaze intensely at something behind me. I try to turn around, and suddenly I find that he has caught hold of me. Have I fallen, oh ye blissful gods? I want only to close my eyes and pass forth into your realm at this moment, when pain and tears and anger and fears do not wrack my soul with their grievances.
"I will take you to a safe place," he says quietly. His words blend into a series, a string of sounds that comfort me. They wind me in their swaying robes; their gentle hands wash away the blood and ease the biting pain in my back; they suffuse me with their strength and give me some unnamable peace. Hunger and weakness are non-existent, and I settle into the silken comfort of white sheets that wrap themselves around me.
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Author's Note: Again, thank you for the reviews, everyone! I'm so glad that you're enjoying this story. Thank you especially for the constructive criticism. I'll definitely be keeping your comments in mind.