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 XII
It is well past high noon, for I feel the heat of the sun bursting through my window. I believe that he has taken me to some place in the forest – the Dark Forest. Melin would never believe that the forest is this beautiful! Through my window I can see the most lovely of trees and flowers; blossoms the size of my fist, their petals softly curling towards the sunlight, red and gold and pink beneath the shady trees. It looks almost like a garden – perhaps it is a garden – except that I have never seen a garden that looked like it belonged so much in a forest in all my life.
He has not returned yet; however, I do not doubt that I have been brought to the safe place he promised me when he rescued me. The boar's gash in my back – for that is what I now know it to be – has been tended kindly and gently by a serving woman who entered a little while ago, robed in the same white of my bedsheets and curtains. I am beginning to wonder if, apart from the garden, there are any other colours in this serene place. The birdsong only just relieves it from being too quiet.
I know that I am not in the company of others of my kind – of other human beings. The legends have taught me this much; and my recent experience shows me that legends can sometimes be true. My rescuer – my golden-crowned prince – has a beauty too unearthly, too radiant for a mere man; and even the woman who tended my wound was not quite…right. I could not really see her face, try as I might; when I stared at her from the corner of my eyes, I caught off-hand glimpses of something beautiful, but directly, I saw nothing but vague features masked by a film of light. Perhaps it is best that I do not see what my caretaker looks like – I suspect, if she looks anything like the other of her kind whom I have seen, that I would feel quite inferior compared to her.
I think that I should feel much more worried and concerned that I do right now. I am lying wounded in a strange bed, in a strange place – well within the boundaries of the Dark Forest, of which village tales warn danger and darkness. I have met strange, non-human creatures; and I fear for my family. Especially my father – no one knew where he was when I left – or was taken by the Forest, I suppose. I am so terribly afraid that he could have been hurt, even gored by the same boar that attacked me…Gods! Protect him. I care for my father deeply, and any hurt to him might tear me apart.
I am growing quite tired of lying in bed now. When I last fell asleep, I must have tossed and turned a great deal, for the bed linen is strewn halfway across the floor. It is a beautifully tiled floor, and –
Someone is coming, and it does not sound like my nurse. The voice is deeper, richer – I am beginning to tremble. I fear it might be him. Does he know what I have thought of him? That I have watched him, secretly and silently? He nears my room, his footsteps soft yet steady, partners to a determined stride. I reach up to my tangled hair in vain, and struggle to pull my fingers through the twisted knots. I hear his voice again – a murmur to someone at the door, and I fling my hands down and pull the bedcovers up to my chin.
Then he is here, standing before me – smiling or frowning, I cannot tell which, and he opens his mouth to speak…I do not hear what he says.
His eyes are blue.