Carefully, I started to descend from my tree, stifling a small sigh when the direct sunlight disappeared through the leaves and branches. I was sure I would be cursing that sun at some point once I ventured out of the forest, so I reasoned that I may as well try to enjoy the shade while I had it.
Climbing down was much more nerve wracking than climbing up, so it took a while, as I was overly cautious, not wanting to fall and injure myself.
I would never be able to make it out of the forest and to that weird tower if I was injured.
Upon making it to the bottom I sank to the ground, lingering for a moment to control the slight shaking that had started up in my legs, both from exertion, and from what I considered to be very reasonable fear.
I scooted over to the stream, putting my feet in the cool water to soothe some of the aches and cuts I'd gained from walking barefoot. I'd have laid down in it if I wasn't already so cold, but it would have lowered my body temperature far too much.
Briefly, I wondered what time of year it was, that it was so cold.
Early spring? Autumn? It didn't seem like winter, but perhaps it was just a very mild winter?
while I soaked my feet, I also reached in a little further up to get a few more handfuls of water to drink.
I sat, staring at the water for a few minutes, drinking on and off in an attempt to hydrate myself the best I could, as going towards the tower would mean I'd have to leave the water behind.
The hunger was back, though I could tell the water helped a little bit.
It looked like I'd probably still have another week or more of travel before I was even out of the forest, though. People could go longer than that without food, as long as they had water.
But this little stream wasn't going to be with me the entire time.
I got one last drink of water, stood stiffly, and wiped stray dirt and leaves off my legs before looking around. I needed something to hold water.
I started searching the forest around the stream, not quite sure what I was actually looking for. After a short while, I started pulling at the moss that hung on practically everything.
I remembered reading somewhere that moss could hold a lot of water, and that some of it was edible. Maybe this was that kind..? It was the same as the moss I'd nibbled on earlier, and I didn't feel any worse for having eaten it.
It pulled easily from the rocks and tree roots that I pried it off, and wrung out a decent enough drink of water per chunk of moss I peeled up.
When I hesitantly tried eating it, it tasted..well..mossy. Kind of grassy and earthy. Overall, not a bad taste.
I continued walking around, prying up more as I went.
A few hours later, with a couple more handfuls of eaten moss, and more water from the stream, I felt slightly better than I had that morning, though it did nothing for my overall soreness.
Once I could relatively safely say that the moss didn't seem to be having any negative effects, I spent the rest of the day there at the stream, stocking myself up on moss.
I spent a few minutes holding the moss in the stream to try and clean out any bits of dirt or debris that were in it, then stacked it all on the side of the stream on a pile of leaves. I had quite a pile, and for another moment I sat looking at it, trying to think of a way to carry it out of the forest.
With a bit of fiddling and careful knotting, I managed to get the moss into a loose rope, which I looped around my neck and shoulders, hoping there weren't any bugs waiting to bite me.
I quickly decided that, since it was already at least late afternoon, it would be best to stay here the rest of the day, collecting moss and drinking water, then set off fresh in the morning for the tower.
I spent the next few hours collecting more moss and knotting it carefully into the original rope, eating and drinking as much as I comfortably could the entire time.
As the light started to fade, I slung my weird jumbled rope of moss around my shoulders and started searching for a tree to climb, not wanting to go through the same stress of having to find a tree in the dark that I'd had the previous night.
After I was safely in a tree, huddled high up in a bunch of branches that almost seemed to be forming something of a nest, I noticed that the areas of my body touched by my mossy rope were slightly warmer than the rest of me, insulated a bit by the moss.
I tried to wrap myself up as best I could, using the trunk of the tree to keep my back as warm as possible, and the moss the rest of me.
It didn't really work all that well, and the rest of the night was spent shivering, and semi alert to the noises of wandering animals, much like the first.
There were more growls and howls, the noise of large feet crunching on the dead leaves that littered the ground.
Halfway through the night the noises faded, growing further away, and I dozed lightly for the rest of the night, waking often.
It took another seven days of walking for as long as there was light until I reached the edge of the forest, and the days blurred together to the point where I couldn't really remember how long I'd been here.
It was spent in a miserable daze of cold, hunger, and an assortment of pain and soreness.
The moss helped a bit, and I continued collecting it the entire time, keeping my original rope to hold the stream water, and adding on to it as I went.
It was difficult to eat more than a small amount at a time, and it did little to abate the gnawing emptiness of my stomach.
It did keep me moderately well hydrated though, so for that, I was grateful.
The growling and scuffling of nearby animals had faded some time on the fourth night, and had not reappeared on any of the following nights, so I was able to get a little bit more sleep, though it turns out sleeping in trees isn't exactly the easiest thing to do.
I never quite fell into a full sleep, lingering in a state of semi awareness that was entirely unsatisfying.
Apparently it was enough, though, because I never passed out.
When I finally made it to the edge of the forest, I was both excited, and disappointed.
Excited to finally be out of the gloom the trees provided, and disappointed to find that between me and the top of the tower was a line of large mist covered hills that eventually grew into large, jutting mountains.
I gathered a bit of extra moss before striking out towards where the mountains, which I was now jokingly referring to as the Misty mountains, gentled into hills.
Getting to hills that weren't too steep for me to manage took about three days, and if I thought had felt miserable before I the forest, I was kicking myself now for leaving. The sun became my worst enemy, having nothing to cover myself up with.
It only took a day for sunburns to develop, and after that it only got worse.
The ground outside the forest was less damp, harder, covered in prickly dead looking grass that stabbed into my feet with every step, leaving small cuts behind and making walking much more painful.
My pace slowed, partially from the torture of walking on sliced up and aching feet, and partially because I attempted to choose where I stepped more carefully to avoid the worst of the grass.
That didn't work.
With no large trees in sight to climb for safety, I ended up having to sleep curled up next to some bushes at the base of the misty mountains, hoping and praying that the animals that had wandered the forest didn't venture out onto the plains around it.
The first night out of the forest I didn't manage to find a place to sleep before it had gotten dark, and was unable to see the ant hill I laid down near.
It was also the first night I truly slept, exhaustion from the previous weeks of walking, the lack of real deep sleep in the forest, and the added pain of the sunburn causing my body to give me very little choice in the matter.
I awoke to the sun stabbing at my eyelids, and to intense itchiness from the many, many bug bites I had acquired.
I did not make that mistake again, making sure to give myself ample time to find somewhere hopefully safe, and with as few bugs and rocks as possible.
When I made it to smaller hills and started my ascent, a full two weeks after I had first woken up in the forest, I realized how lucky I'd had it with the mostly flat plains, and small rolling hills.
I was sore, my muscles screaming with every movement, extremely sunburnt, covered in small cuts and scrapes from sleeping on the ground and occasionally tripping as I walked, covered in dirt, and my feet were cut and scraped on the bottom, some of the cuts visibly infected.
The tank top and underwear I'd had on that were once light green and deep blue were now muddy brown, and torn in many places.
The only part of me that looked even slightly presentable was my waist length, wavy brown hair.
I had taken to unwinding it from the I braid I kept it in and finger combing it in those first, tense nights when no sleep was possible, and had continued the tradition even after the animals had seemingly left the area.
I'd also continued the tradition of stretching and doing yoga moves in the morning before I started walking, finding that though it didn't banish the soreness, it did help the stiff feeling from cold muscles.
I was forced to stop braiding after the elastic I'd been using snapped into two short pieces, and managed to find a long stick to use as a hair stick.
In an attempt to save the moss I had, on the off chance I came across another source of water, I picked and chewed at the tough, prickly grass, not knowing of any grass that was actually bad for you, and feeling relatively safe with that decision.
It did little for my hunger, though, which grew worse every day
My feet were, as ever, extremely painful.
I'd started washing them with water from the moss while I was in the forest, in an attempt to keep them from getting too infected.
I had to discontinue that practice once I left the forest, not wanting to get blood or infection into the moss in case I needed to eat it later.
How long would it take for an infection to kill you if left untended, I wondered.
I wasn't sure, but hopefully it would be long enough to reach somewhere with antibiotics.
The sun was high in the sky on the fourteenth day when I finally made it to the top of what I swore was the worst hill I'd ever climbed, only to stop cold in my tracks at the very top, swaying in place as I stared at what I had thought was going to be an old ruined castle, the tower the only part of it left visible to any outside the mountains.
It was not a ruined castle.
It was a spike of black stone, springing from the earth and ominously sending its shadow over the area around it. It was surrounded by a circle of trees, as well as a large, circular stone wall.
And it screamed familiarity at me.
I knew that tower, with its circle of plants and stone wall.
Things like that...they didn't exist in my world, at least not that I knew.
But they existed in Middle Earth.
That was no ordinary tower.
That was Orthanc.
Isengard.
Middle Earth.
My legs collapsed beneath me, and I didn't even wince at the hard ground slamming into my knees, still staring in disbelief at the black tower before me.
It looked different from the movie, but it was undeniably Orthanc.
I held my breath, looking around in some attempt to find something that would prove to me that it was or wasn't Orthanc, or tell me whether I was actually in Middle Earth or not. No answer was supplied.
The breath I sucked in left me only moments later in a silent sob at what that meant for me, but I quickly shook my head, mentally berating myself that no matter what situation I was in, I could get out of it, I just had to stay calm.
If it wasn't Orthanc, then maybe it was just someone who really liked Lord of the Rings, and had decided to make a replica of Isengard.
In that situation, it would be a good idea to go see if I could get some help, maybe they would give me food and medicine, and a ride home.
If I was in Middle Earth, then obviously Saruman hadn't revealed he was dark yet, but I had no way of knowing how early I was in the story.
So, going towards the tower might be a bad idea if Saruman was actually real, and was also evil.
I contemplated that for a moment, then decided that if someone had built Orthanc, I probably would have heard about it, and that it might be safer to assume that I was actually in Middle Earth until I had proof that I wasn't.
That way I didn't go about accidentally handing myself and all my knowledge of the story over to the bad guy.
Slowly looking around, I found a hint of a river, and slowly rose, quickly deciding that I could think more on the conundrum of where I was and what I was doing after I'd gone and gotten more water, for at this point I was going on two days since my moss had dried up.
I skirted a wide circle around what I had decided was Orthanc, the sight of it causing a mixture of fear and anxiety. What if Saruman was there, and saw me?
What if there were orcs around?
What if I was just going crazy because I was out in the middle of nowhere with no food or water, and I wasn't in middle earth at all?
I was parched, and the hungry gnawing had faded, which I felt was probably a bad sign.
The bits of grass I managed to pull up and chew on did very little, and it left me baffled as to how any horses could possibly be well fed in the wild.
I had fistfulls of itchy yellowing grass and had to chew them up for at least a minute before being able to swallow without being sent into a coughing fit at the prickly sensation of the smooshed grass going down my throat.
It certainly didn't help the dry feeling in my mouth.
I'd found a few pebbles to suck on to help create saliva, but it wasn't helping much.
It was slowly turning into night as I finally made it down to the river, which, if I were in Middle Earth, my mind supplied, would be the fords of Isen.
It was a relatively shallow, but wide across stream of water, and to my eyes it was the most beautiful thing in the world.
I actually started a slow trot when it came into view, dropping to my knees painfully at the edge of the stream and shoving my hands into the cool water to drink as much as I could, before shoving in what little moss I had left to collect some water.
It was cold and delicious, though at that point, any water was going to be delicious, whether it was cold or not.
Once my thirst was sated, I rubbed my arms in the water, trying to wipe away the layers of dirt, sweat, blood, and grime that had collected over two weeks of travel.
"I understand now why Aragorn always looks so dirty. I swear if you let me find some actual food, I'll never mentally tease him about it again. I might audibly, though."
I aimed that particular promise at the sky, because that was the tendency when you were talking to gods.
If I was going to decide I was in Middle Earth, I was going to do it all the way, and that meant deities and all. If I was going to talk to anyone, who better to talk to than them?
The water was soothing on my horribly sunburnt skin.
I don't burn easily in general, but with nearly spending all day in the sun in little to no clothes, and no form of sunscreen whatsoever, even I burnt. My skin was a bright, unhealthy red color one gets from prolonged sun exposure.
It was starting to peel, but the skin underneath was just as red as the skin on top.
I wished this desert plains area could have aloe vera, but unfortunately, I hadn't seen any.
I slowly rose, wanting to just lay down in the water, but knowing that my night would be a whole lot colder if I did.
Instead, I moved away from the water, dripping moss in hand, and found a place under the trees nearby to curl up for the night.
That night was plagued with moments of wakefulness where, for a brief moment, I awoke not remembering where I was or what I had discovered the day before.
Eventually the realization always came crashing down, and I was forced to stifle tears, and shaking sobs at the thought that I might not even be in my own world anymore.
That I might not survive to even make it anywhere with people and would just die with no one the wiser, no one even knowing I was here.
Worst of all was the thought that I likely would never see my friends and family again.
I wasn't terribly close to my family, but I would have at least wished to say goodbye if I knew I wasn't going to be able to see them again.
The thought of not seeing my friends again hurt much more deeply, a stabbing pain that resonated in my stomach and chest, making it difficult to breath.
They were more family than my blood relatives, and I decided that once I was in a safe place and didn't have to worry so much about survival, I would allow myself to mourn that I might never see them again.
With that decision made, I slowly counted, forcing my breathing into an even, steady pattern of four counts in, six counts out. Crying would only take precious water. I could not afford to cry.
It didn't take long for me to fall asleep after that, but it remained a restless sleep, and I awoke easily with the rise of the sun sun.
The next morning I started my day off with a long soak in the cool water, soothing my sunburns, cuts, and sore muscles.
Laying down in it was divine, though it certainly didn't help the shivering that had already plagued me.
I even took my hairstick out, leaving it carefully on the edge of the river so it didn't float away.
The water in my hair and on my scalp was shockingly cold, but it felt amazing.
My skin numbed soon enough, and after about a half hour of just enjoying it, I sat up, leaving my legs in to soak in the cold water for a few more minutes while I put my hair back up into a bun and got out all together.
I felt worlds better. Well, as good as one can with two weeks of barefoot, nearly naked travel, half of it in full sun, all of it with very little food or water.
Yeah, I hurt. Everywhere.
The water had at least soothed some of my hurts into submission for the moment, and I now had an idea of where I was, and where I should go, which was as reinvigorating as the cold water.
I stretched slowly, doing a few easy yoga positions to warm up my muscles, and went to drink more water and re-wet my moss.
I gave one last, longing look at the stream, and then turned, setting out again, around the west side of what I now knew to be the misty mountains.
I knew that if I followed them all the way up on the west side, I would eventually, hopefully, run into Rivendell.
Or at least some elves who could take me to Rivendell.
That seemed the best idea right now.
It was rather far, if my vague mental map was accurate, but it would be equally far to go to Lothlorien, and it seemed like with my knowledge of the world, seeking council from Elrond would be a good idea.
Saruman getting his hands on me would be disastrous, and that thought spurred me into a quicker walk away from the fords of Isen.
I gave a wide berth to the opening in the mountains that displayed Isengard, and was glad once it was out of sight again.