PART ONE: ANACHRONISM
LXXIV: The Senturiel
I probably should have called someone right away. I hadn't returned to Ohio in weeks, my parents had watched me vanish before their eyes, and everyone was probably worried sick about me. But every bone in my body was begging for rest, and my right wrist throbbed with the slightest movement. All I could do was collapse on my bed still dressed in my blood-splattered, grimy clothes and fall fast asleep.
I think I slept for sixteen hours or something along those lines. I woke halfway through the night, managed to wriggle out of my Middle Earth clothes, and stumbled into the shower to clean away the stench of the battlefields. Of course, I fell asleep in the shower and woke only when my apartment ran out of hot water. Once back in my pajamas, I staggered back to bed and passed out for another six hours.
By the time I woke properly, the sun had fallen and risen again, and it was the next day. As I changed into clean clothes, I realized that someone had cleaned my apartment during the three or so weeks I'd been away. My clothes were all clean and folded neatly in the dresser drawers, the carpets had been vacuumed, and even the microwave had been given a thorough scrubbing (something that hadn't happened since the day it came home from the store). My mom must have stress cleaned after I'd Skipped away.
It was too easy to picture my parents' panic even though I'd just told them the story of my Skipping, seeing it in person and knowing where I'd disappeared to for the first time must have given them a fright. I could picture my parents calling out my name, hoping they'd only imagined it. They would have remained in my apartment for a day or two on the slim chance that I'd return quickly. Mom probably cleaned the apartment, complaining about how I was supposed to be an adult now. Dad would've handled his worry in silence. Eventually, they probably gave up and returned home. I could picture them jumping at every ring of the phone, hoping, praying, that it was me on the other end.
I felt sorry for putting my parents through that. I mean, I'd been putting them through that worry my whole life, but now they knew where I was going. A world filled with danger and war…
But my dad knew this. He was from Bree.
For three weeks now, I'd had to push the questions to the back of my mind as the Skips had taken me through Middle Earth. If the Senturiel didn't want me to now my dad's story, then the Senturiel wouldn't make sure I didn't get to hear a word of it. I'd had to wait. But now, the Skips had brought me hope. Perhaps it was time. I hoped it was time.
I found my phone charging on my bedside table, right where I'd left it. Slowly, I searched through the contact list until I found the name "Mom". With a heavy sigh, I pressed the call button.
It took two rings.
"Ana?" The note of desperation in Mom's voice made my chest tighten.
"Uh, hi, Mom. Long time no see."
"Are you back? Are you all right? Have you been in Middle Earth all this time? Where are you? In your apartment? Do you need anything?" The questions seemed never ending, and I barely had a chance to get an answer in. She just kept talking and talking, working herself into a panic.
"Yeah, I'm back." I spoke quickly as soon as she paused for a breath. "I'm in my apartment. I Skipped home sometime yesterday…" I couldn't recall if it'd been day or night when I found myself lying on the couch. "I figured I'd give you a call, and let you know that I'm…all in one piece."
"Where did you go?" she asked.
"Middle Earth." Where else would I go?
"And you were there all this time?"
"It happens," I said. "I'm back now though. And, uh, I was wondering if you and Dad could maybe come up and visit. I think we have some things to talk about…"
Silence filled the other end of the phone line. Briefly, I wondered if Mom had gotten disconnected. I even checked the phone screen to make sure the call was still ongoing. Then, I heard Mom softly say, "Of course, Ana. We'll be there soon. We love you, you know."
I hung up.
I stood in the middle of my living room, the cellphone held loosely in my right hand. A cool breeze swept in through the open window, and a shiver ran down my spine.
My mom had felt guilty. Her silence, as she figured out what to say, had been confirmation. Long before I'd told them about my Skips and Middle Earth, my parents known. But they'd pretended not to.
Why?
Hadn't they noticed my suffering? Did they think I enjoyed disappearing? Did they think I wanted to miss school and family events? Did they think I liked having my life spin out of control? The questions flooded my mind, but no matter how hard I chased them, there were no answers. Why? Why would they pretend not to know? Why would they do this to me, to their daughter?
How was it that, whether I was in Ohio or Middle Earth, I always found myself so alone?
I sat down on the arm of the couch, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed.
There was a knock on the door, and when I opened it, a pair of arms pulled me into a tight embrace. Mom was a good few inches taller than me, and my head was crushed against her shoulder as she held me close. My arms flailed about uselessly for a second, but then I gave in, wrapping my arms around her.
"You're back," she said. "You're really back."
For as long as the Skips allow me to be back, I thought. I didn't say it aloud.
I was standing on tiptoe to reach my mom's shoulder. Over the sleeve of her beige shirt, I could see my dad standing in the doorway. He hadn't stepped over the welcome mat yet, and his dark eyes swept over my mom and me with something almost sad in them.
I tried to smile, but all the hurt and betrayal at the secrets he'd been keeping got caught in my chest. I managed a numb, "Hello," for my dad and that was all.
"Hello." He smiled at me, his eyes flooded with warmth.
I wished I could return his smile. I tried, but it was hard. When I'd been stuck in Middle Earth, I'd wanted nothing more than to see them again, but now…now I only felt hurt. Especially since my mom's hug was painfully tight.
"Lexie," said Dad. "I think you should let Ana go before she suffocates."
"Oh." Mom quickly let me go. I caught sight of her watery smile before she turned away and said, "Maybe we need some coffee…"
"Yes, please." I nodded, latching onto the benign topic. "I haven't had coffee in so long. The withdrawal symptoms were kicking in. Not a pretty sight. I was getting all twitchy. The people of Middle Earth were giving me weird looks…"
Mom didn't even bother to fake a smile. She kept staring at me as if she might never see me again. Which, I guess, was a fair concern considered I'd just disappeared for three weeks without so much as a warning.
Dad finally stepped into the apartment; the door closed with a heavy thud behind him. He tapped Mom lightly on the shoulder, saying, "Lexie, the coffee?"
"Right." Mom turned away from me and headed to the kitchen.
I heard the click of the coffee machine before I flopped down onto the lazy boy. Dad tentatively took a seat on the end of couch furthest from me. He fixed the cuffs of his light blue shirt, refusing to look at me directly.
"How was the drive up here?" I asked.
"Fine," said Dad. He picked up the remote from the coffee table but thought better of turning the television on almost immediately.
"And work?"
"Good," said Dad. "Karl mainly has been involved with the store since…" He quickly corrected himself. "We just contracted with an up-and-coming local designer. We're excited to have his pieces on display. Local is always good with tourists."
I nodded along with my dad's words. My anger faded a little as I remembered when I'd been younger and my dad would take me to his jewelry store. I'd look at all the glittering gemstones in the cases and ask Dad if we could bring them home with us.
I heard the click of the coffee machine, and Dad talk of his store came to an end. We watched as Mom entered the living room juggling three streaming cups of coffee.
"So how was your trip to Middle Earth?" asked Mom as she set a mug in front of me. "Do anything interesting?"
Faces flashed before my eyes, and it took me a moment to remember that I was in my living room, surrounded by my family. Despite their worried stares, I managed to smile and say, "Nothing all that exciting. What's more exciting is the story you're going to tell me."
My dad winced at the sharpness in my tone.
"Let's not rush," said Mom as she settled onto the couch. "We have all day—"
"You have all day," I said. I was having a hard time keeping my voice even. "Who knows how long I have before the Skips take me back to Middle Earth. Considering I'm here now, I think the Skips do want me to hear what you have to say, but I'd rather not risk it. I'm here, I want to know how my dad came from Bree to Ohio—and why you two decided to tell me this only now."
My mom paled at this last bit. Her blue eyes flickered over to my dad, a silent question passing between them. Dad let out a long sigh and leaned forward in his seat His hesitation seemed to have faded into resignation.
"The story doesn't really begin with me," he said. "It begins with a dwarf named Geirfast the Stone Biter."
Geirfast the Stone Biter was a bit of a legend back in his day.
He was born in the beginning of the Third Age in the kingdom of Moria, or Khazad-dûm as my dad called it. The beginning of the Third Age marked the first defeat of Sauron, and Moria was struggling to reclaim its former glory. The orcs and goblins had been driven from the mountains, but the dwarrows' supply of mithril was growing less with each passing year.
Geirfast's family were crafters who spent their days in the depths of Moria, creating beautiful jewelry. Geirfast was expected to follow in his fathers' footsteps, but the dwarf found that his passion lay in travel. He took his family's wares and traveled across Middle Earth—from the Misty Mountains across Arnor and into Gondor. It was during these adventures that Geirfast gained his fame.
Geirfast was renowned for his ability to eat anything and everything—even elvish lettuce. Whenever he visited new places, he liked to try their delicacies, and he found that he liked every food that was presented to him. The legend says that one day his friend placed a plate of stones in front of him, and not one to turn away from a challenge, Geirfast ate them. He even enjoyed them. That was how he gained his name 'the Stone Biter'.
Soon, it became part of Geirfast's sales strategy. Dwarrows like to brag about their iron stomachs, and the iron of Geirfast's stomach was the strongest of them all. Whenever he came to a new town, word that Geirfast the Stone Biter was there. Dwarrows would gather to see the crazy dwarf eat whatever was placed before him, and after the demonstration took place, the dwarrows would buy Geirfast's wares.
One day, Geirfast's travels took him to a settlement called Bree. In the beginning of the Third Age, Bree was one of those little towns that was still finding its bearings in the world. It didn't even have an inn yet. Visitors were housed in one of the barns, and the locals took turns inviting the guests to dinner. Geirfast was only passing through when he made his first visit to Bree. He stayed in the farmer's barn, and when he dined with the family, he spent the night telling stories of Moria to the farmer's wife and two daughters. The youngest daughter, Leila, was only twelve at the time, but she was fascinated by Geirfast's stories, and she listened to the dwarf's tales until her mother told her it was past bedtime. When Leila awoke the next morning, Geirfast was gone. She did not see him again for five years. (A convenient amount of time for her to grow into a beautiful woman.)
In those five years, the Inn of the Prancing Pony was built, and travelers had begun to discover that Bree was a welcome place to rest. With travelers, of course, came gossip, and Leila no longer had to wait for strange dwarrows to visit to gain information of the outside world. She could sit in the inn and chat with men of the north and hobbits from the Shire. Everyone stayed at the inn.
Except for Geirfast.
When he returned to Bree, after those five long years, selling the latest jewelry from Moria, Geirfast decided to stay with his old friend, the farmer. And there, he met Leila, now seventeen years of age and a woman grown.
Did you know that interracial marriages are not common in Middle Earth? Elves don't marry humans. Humans don't marry dwarrows. Dwarrows don't marry hobbits. And we're not even going to consider the possibility of a dwarf marrying an elf.
The marriage between the dwarf, Geirfast the Stone Biter and the human, Leila the farmer's daughter was spoken of throughout Bree and the Shire. Dwarrows from the Misty Mountains came down to witness it, bringing with them wedding gifts from Moria. The dwarrows drank heartily, laughed about how Geirfast had always had odd tastes, and almost wrecked the newly established inn. (You know dwarrows: they come, they party, they leave a mess in the bathroom, and then, they depart.)
Despite the skepticism of the Misty Mountain dwarrows, Geirfast and Leila led a happy life in Bree. Cured, it seemed, of his wanderlust, Geirfast set up shop as a craftsman in Bree. He sold his wares to travelers, while Leila managed the farm, after her father's passing, with the aid of her mother and sister. It was said, among the Breefolk, that only Geirfast could have married Leila—after all, only the Stone Biter could have survived her cooking.
In those years, the balrog stirred, and the dwarrows left Moria in droves. Some of them came to Bree, and Geirfast and Leila made room for them in the barn when the inn was full. The couple helped the dwarrows settle throughout the Brandywine and Dunland. Geirfast became famous amongst the dwarves once again, but this time for a very different reason.
Geirfast and Leila also had a family, the Stonebiters of Bree (the last name had been adapted). Their eldest child was a boy named Alred. He grew up to be a stone carver and went to live in the Blue Mountains with his dwarvish wife. The second child was a girl named Myrelle. She inherited her father's wanderlust and set out eastward as soon as she was old enough. The third and last child was Galin. Galin was a good bit younger than Alred and Myrelle, a surprise to his parents, and by the time he was old enough to possess any reasonable intelligence, his siblings had already left Bree for good. So, he grew up as an only child who wanted to claim as much of his parent's attention as possible while also trying to escape it. Which meant he was a born troublemaker.
Yes, this is my dad we're talking about. I know what you're thinking—my dad is not a troublemaker. Apparently, he was…back in the day.
His goal in life was to drive his parents up the wall. When he was a child, Galen spent his days exploring the woods surrounding Bree. He was curious about everything—the trees, the animals, even the moss. He'd gotten lost on more than one occasion, and the Breefolk had needed to comb the woods in the dark to find him. As he grew older, Galin stopped exploring the woods and instead began chasing around the pretty maidens of Bree. (Mom shot my dad a disapproving look at this point in the story.) Basically, my dad was the player of Bree when he was younger. The horror.
Now that you know what kind of youth my dad was, you can sort of understand how the next part of the story happened. One day, a group of strange men from the north passed through Bree. They were different from the usual northerners Bree received; they kept to themselves, sitting in a corner and speaking in low voices of an enduring Dark Lord and a gift from the Valar. My dad recalled the gaunt looks on their long faces. He also remembered the box they carried with them.
It never left their side, Dad said. Even when they ate supper in the downstairs hall of the inn, they kept the box with them. It was small, barely bigger than your fist, and made of gold. Perhaps that was why my dad had been drawn to it. Like me, he'd always had a weakness for gold and gemstones. There were runes carved into the sides of the box, but they were of a language my dad didn't know. His best guess was Sindarin. The northerners kept the box concealed in their cloaks for most of the night, but every so often my dad caught glimpses of the gold edges.
He didn't know what was in it, but all the grandeur and mystery surrounding it made him curious. He didn't want to keep the box; he wasn't a thief or anything like that. He just wanted to take it, see what was inside it, and then return it…and maybe show it off to the girl whose attention he had been trying to get. (Mom gave him another disapproving look.)
My dad didn't have time to plan the theft carefully. Looking back on it, he realized what an idiot he'd been. The northerners were all armed to the teeth, and judging by the steely expressions on their faces, they would have no problem punishing a boy with wandering fingers. But, well, back then, my dad had been an impulsive fool.
The inn was busier than usual that night, and Dad volunteered to help the innkeeper deliver food and drink to the tables. As he passed by the northerners with a tray, my dad pretended to slip. He spilled the mugs of frothing ale all over one of the men, and when trying to help the man clean off the drink, my dad nicked the golden box.
Before the northerner could realize the box was gone, my dad slipped away into the dark streets of Bree. There were no walls surrounding the town at the time, and under the shadow of night, my dad ventured into the woods he'd spent so much time in as a child. It was there, amidst the overgrown trees, tangled roots, and creeping moss that he opened the golden box and saw the red gemstone inside.
It was beautiful, my dad recalled. He'd seen the jewels that the dwarrows of the Misty Mountains had gifted to his parents on their wedding day. He'd seen the gemstones of the Lonely Mountain when traders passed through Bree. He'd even seen the shimmering white metal of mithril mined in Moria. But he'd seen nothing so breath-taking as that red stone.
My dad hadn't known the name of the Senturiel until I told him the story a few months ago. He hadn't known that the Senturiel had been a gift from the Valar to the men of Númenor. He hadn't known that the stone had driven its first owner, Atanalcar, insane. He hadn't known that the stone had been locked away for centuries to prevent its further use. He hadn't known that the men dressed in black were Dúnedain who had been tasked with bringing the Senturiel to Galadriel for safekeeping so that it may never fall into the hands of darkness.
He'd simply seen the glistening red gemstone and thought, "Oh, how pretty." Gently, he plucked the stone from the box and cradled it in his palm.
Skip.
The Senturiel brought him to a coffee shop. My dad recalled that the whole experience as being terrible disorienting. Cars. Light bulbs. Glass. Metal machines. Paper cups. Coffee. It was all new to him. What had happened? Where was he? How had he gotten there? Who were these people? There were no answers except for the red gemstone in his right hand. It was his only connection to Middle Earth.
As much as I hate to admit it, I owe my existence to the Senturiel and its decision to drop my dad in that coffee shop. You see, my mother happened to be working at that very coffee shop the day my dad appeared.
She was about ten years younger than him (but my dad's dwarvish heritage means that he'll live longer than the average human and age slower, so technically, if you convert half-dwarf years into human years, she was five years older than him at the time) and working her way through college.
Mom was the only person to see my dad appear out of thin air. The other employees, the customers, the store manager had somehow managed to miss his sudden appearance—or chalked it up to trick of the light—and thought a guy from the Renaissance fair had walked in. My mom, however, refused to believe she'd seen wrong. She was convinced this man had appeared out of nowhere, and when she spoke to him, his confusion only made her more convinced that she was right.
She sat my dad down with a cup of coffee and told him to wait until she finished her shift. When she was done working, she took my dad out to dinner and demanded that he explain everything. And he did.
When the story was told, they were faced with a choice. Should my dad see if the Senturiel would return him home or should he stay for awhile to explore this new world? My dad, being the curious sort, chose to stay. The two of them wrapped up the Senturiel in a napkin, and Mom took Dad home with her.
I don't know all the details of what happened over the next couple years. My parents didn't explain it to me in great detail, the reason for which, I suspect, was that there may have been illegal activity involved when they got my dad registered as a citizen of the United States under the name Galin Stonbit. My mom graduated college, and my dad found a job working as a jeweler for his now-business-partner, Karl. My parents built a life for themselves in Ohio, and after four years of living in this new world, my dad asked my mom to marry him. A year and a half later, they had me.
In the beginning, the Senturiel did tempt my dad. They kept it in a glass box on the mantelpiece of their new home. My dad would sit in the leather armchair and stare up at it, wondering if he could Skip home and then return. Not for long, just to see how his family was doing. Did his parents miss him? Had his sister returned home? Had Bree changed while he was away? It wouldn't take much to Skip back. He simply had to remove the glass case and touch the cool surface of the gemstone…
He didn't dare risk it though. He didn't want to lose what he had in Ohio—his beautiful wife and his small, chubby-cheeked baby girl. My dad never Skipped again.
A good five years passed, and my parents' memory of Middle Earth began to fade. They spoke of it rarely. My dad only dreamed of Bree during the holidays when Mom's family came to visit. He remembered his parents and his siblings, and he hoped they were all doing well.
During this time, their chubby-cheeked baby grew into a chubby-cheeked child who, unfortunately, inherited her dad's curiosity. It was a dark and rainy day, ten days before my sixth birthday. My dad was at work still, and my mom was busy in the kitchen. Little child-me was playing with dolls in the living room. My parents didn't know the details of this part of the story, but apparently, the glittering red gemstone on the mantelpiece got my attention. I pulled the ottoman up to the wall, and standing on tiptoe, I pulled the Senturiel out of its case.
This next part, I'm going to blame on my dwarvish heritage. My grandfather was attracted to bright rocks, my father was attracted to bright rocks, and now I have the same curse.
You see, I took the Senturiel out of its case, and I ate it.
I couldn't believe it back then, and I still can't believe it now.
"Are you telling me that I ate the Senturiel?" It was the first time I'd spoken since Dad began his story. The words burst from me, my voice trembling with restraint.
Dad gave me a sort of wry smile and said, "You truly are Geirfast the Stone Biter's granddaughter."
I wasn't in the mood to appreciate the humor. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many emotions that I was trying to keep in check. "I ate the magical time-skipping gift from the Valar that causes its users to go insane? I ate it? Like it was a frigging piece of cake? I ate it?"
Dad's face lost all of its humor. "Yes."
"We kept hoping you would digest it, but no such luck," said Mom. "We were terrified that you would travel to Middle Earth, but after three months of waiting, we thought that the stone had lost its power."
"But I did Skip," I said. "I Skipped to Middle Earth and encountered a dragon. It almost killed me. And when I Skipped home, you two didn't believe me."
My parents visibly winced under the force of my words. Mom had gone as white as a sheet, and Dad couldn't bring himself to meet my gaze. He turned his cup of coffee, which had gone cold at this point, around in his hands, fidgeting with the handle.
I tried to be calm. I hadn't seen my parents in weeks. I'm sure I put them through a lot of suffering. But, well, I didn't have it in me to be calm right then. "Why? Why did you lie? Why did you say I was imaging things? Do you know what I've been through? Do you know how much I've endured? My life has been a living hell! You only Skipped once and you were done with it. I've been Skipping since I was six. Back and forth. And until Nick and Bonnie, I'd never told anyone about Middle Earth. Do you know what it was like? Do you have any idea how lone—"
One look at Mom's expression was enough to silence me. She looked broken. She wiped a tear from her eyes but another soon took its place. "Oh, Ana…"
Dad was looking from her to me and back. His mouth was set in a hard line as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.
Mom could barely get the next words out. "It was a promise."
"What?" My voice cracked on the word. "A promise? To who? You didn't tell me about Middle Earth because of that? A promise was more important than me?"
I waited, but neither of them said a word. Fat tears dripped down Mom's cheeks, but she only shook her head. Dad
"You're not going to tell me?" I was shouting now. "You're just going to keep your secrets for what another sixteen years?"
But no matter how much I shouted and argued they kept their secret. That day and all the days that followed.
It took me a long time to forgive them for it. I remember my frustration. I remember yelling at them for a good twenty minutes before I finally collapsed into the armchair and sobbed. Mom had stopped crying, at least, and while she dried her eyes, Dad went into the kitchen to make some more coffee.
I didn't want to be there, trapped in my apartment with my parents. I wanted to be somewhere else. I didn't know where. No, that was a lie. I knew exactly where I wanted to be. I wanted to be back in Hobbiton, in Bag End, sitting around Bilbo's kitchen table, making jokes with the Company. I wanted to be in Rivendell, before the Fellowship set out on their journey, drinking and laughing every night. I wanted to be in Rohan, sharing stories of our misadventures with Éowyn and the Riders. I wanted everyone happy and alive. I wanted peace.
But to have peace, I needed to stop Skipping all the damn time.
"They died." My voice was small. I spoke mainly to myself. At that point, I didn't care much what my parents did or didn't do. "I had to watch them die. Fíli and Kíli. Frodo and Sam. I almost had to watch Thorin die too, but when I saved his life, he got mad at me."
"He got mad at you?" Mom repeated the question hesitantly. She looked beside her at Dad, but he was just as confused.
I ignored her and continued speaking to myself. "I don't want him to die."
"Who?" asked Dad.
"I don't want any of them to die. But the world doesn't work the way I want it to. Frodo and Sam made it. I saw them at the entrance to the Mountain of Fire. But then, after I saved Thorin's life, they died. They died on the slopes of the mountain, far from the entrance."
My parents exchanged glances.
"Ana…" Mom spoke softly as if I might break with one wrong word.
"I know what I have to do. But I can't do it. I can't. Don't ask that of me."
"We're not asking anything of you," said Mom.
"Not you," I snapped. Great, I was talking to no one. I was going insane just like the first Skipper. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and then said, "I'm going back to Middle Earth."
"How?" asked Mom. "I thought you had no control over the Skips."
"I don't. But I can change that."