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David looked up sharply when someone entered the tent he had been in for the past two days. He was on his guard, or as much as one could be while injured. It wasn't that he was ungrateful; he knew fully well he and Mike both would have died in the wilderness by themselves, it was simply that he didn't trust them. Who were these men who were quick to help two strangers who didn't even speak the same language? But, his conscience spoke up, why would they doctor their wounds if they were going to harm them? He looked over the facial features of the man who entered.
"Halbarad." David greeted him as Strider walked in. "Strider." He nodded.
"Day-veed." Strider acknowledged. He offered the man his hand and David tentatively took it, allowing himself to be anchored to his feet.
Halbarad was at the soldier's side, slinging David's arm over his shoulder and putting his left arm around his waist, providing sufficient for David's injured and malnourished muscles. Halbarad talked with Strider in the same strange language they always did and David focused all of his energy into schooling his emotions to show indifference and into taking the next step. His legs wobbled and threatened to give out, but he simply continued to walk as his vision swam. His legs finally decided he wasn't going to walk anymore and he began to collapse. Halbarad caught him before he did and with Strider's help, they steadied David so he could continue to walk.
"David." Strider pointed to a young man, only a few years younger than him. "Faelion."
David panted, nodding. He looked at the horse standing by Faelion and at Strider. There was nothing but a plain message in Strider's eyes and David had a sense that he was in the presence of greatness. He was a soldier and there was always something about the captains who merely decided what would be done and then did his part, instead of watching others die in his stead. Strider had that same presence. He looked at the horse and nodded, sweat pouring down his face from the exertion.
The three men then assisted him onto the horse. He adjusted himself as Faelion climbed up behind him. The young man gave him a reassuring smile and gently prodded the horse's sides with his ankles and they started towards the assembling Rangers on horseback. It was not their custom to travel on horses, but this journey from destroying Orcs near the Shire had demanded speed. David sat up as straight as he could, not feeling at all comfortable leaning back on a stranger's chest. Not only that, it was just weird. He was a man, and men didn't do that.
"Strider! Raza!" Someone shouted and David weakly tried to locate the emergency. He could see on the hill to the west that a horse was thundering down towards them.
"… Stranger?" David shrugged and yawned, his ribs moving painfully. He couldn't see very well in the bright sun because his eyes had been damaged in the beating he and Mike had received from the Iraqi.
"Michael!" He cried suddenly, looking around wildly. In the haze of the previous days, he hadn't had the energy to remember the journalist he had landed… wherever they were… with.
Strider appeared beside David and Faelion, a sleeping Michael in his arms and an old man beside him. The leader of the men made a sign that David should be quiet. He nodded and tentatively leaned back into Faelion's chest, his back and ribs aching terribly. He forced the need for sleep away and kept an eye on Michael. Though he was in no shape to, he would willingly fight off any danger from his friend. He did not want to be in this strange place alone.
"Razar." Faelion said, offering him a small red apple. David looked at it and memorized the word for later use. He took the proffered apple with a nod of thanks.
He bit into it slowly and gently. Eating anything was a pain for his upper left incisor and bottom front tooth and he knew, sadly, that it would remain so until he become accustomed to being without those two teeth. He continued eat as the old man and Strider continued to talk.
"Suzat… Bilba Labingi… Maura… Banizer… ribadyan..." Were the only words he caught as his mind started to cloud and he began to doze.
"David." Michael caught his attention and David sat up straight, looking at the rather battered journalist. "You look awful." He commented with a small grin.
"Thanks." David grinned, as best as he could with a healing gash on his left cheek. "You do too."
"How nice of you to notice." Mike drawled, a smile growing on his face. "You're alright?"
"I guess." David looked down at himself. "Do you know what they're saying?" He gestured at Strider and the old man.
Michael listened for a moment and looked thoughtful, "Well, something about Maura and Bilba… something happening on their birthday, in a place called 'Suzat'." He shrugged. "I'm getting better with the language, but I'm not fluent." He looked at their surroundings as Strider gave a command and all of the horses started forward. "Do you know what direction we're going in?"
David glanced at the sky, squinting from the sun, as it was still mid-morning. "South.. and slightly east." He reported.
The two men fell silent and thoughtful. David lost himself in a daydream of being at his home with his beautiful wife and his newborn daughter, whom he had yet to see, and Michael watched the scenery go by. It was a beautiful country they were in, and reminded him of the English country when he had visited it for a journalism assignment, but without the buildings and modernism. The country was raw, and the trees that grew there had probably been growing since the creation of the world. He could not turn his eyes away from the beautiful grasses that melded into forests.
And all the animals he saw! He saw more birds than he could remember spotting in his entire life. There was a myriad of calls from a shrill shriek that reminded him of a seagull to the charming chirp of a red-breasted robin. The roughness of nature did his emotions and mind good, and the fresh air seemed to carry extra strength to his limbs and he had more energy than he had for many, many days.
Mike wished for a pen and pad to write all that he saw. He wanted to express all of the beauty he saw in a medium he could carry with him and remember. It was a cheesy thought, he recognized, but one that he truly felt. There was something in the air that opened his mind to beauty he, and the rest of his generation, had been denied by previous generations. He could actually see deer and their fawns leap gracefully away at the sound of the many horses and men, a sight he hadn't seen from living in Albany, New York for his entire life.
His eyes grew wide at the sound of a raging river. It was clear, a call to nature and to his heart. He had no idea of the name of the river, or of even where they were, but that was simply a detail to his heart.
"My-kul?" The old man caught his attention and Mike looked up.
You are new to this world.
"Ah!" Mike cried out, looking around for the source of the sound. Voices did not usually suddenly enter his mind and it frightened. It also made him suspect his own madness.
Do not be frightened, Michael. I am Gandalf, or Mithrandir as the elves call me. I commend you on your resilience so far.
Uh… thanks? Mike thought tentatively, not sure how to cope with this voice in his head. He looked at the old man and saw a grandfatherly twinkle in his eyes and he sighed in relief before looking shocked. It was not a normal gift, being able to talk in someone else's head.
I am surprised that you were able to pick up the common speech so easily. Both Strider and I shall help you and David until you are able to speak fluently.
Thank you very much. I was worried. With every word, Michael became more at ease with the voice in his head. He assumed that Mithrandir was the one behind it, or he was really in danger of being insane. Oh well. At least he was in a beautiful place in his own mind, if he was truly insane. But again, if he was insane, he wouldn't be feeling pain and he was definitely feeling pain at the moment.
Mike looked at David who suddenly looked shocked. The journalist grinned and David let out a sigh, obviously relieved he wasn't the only one. "So… I wonder who this Gandalf is that he can speak in our thoughts."
"Yeah…" David trailed off, engaged in a conversation in his head as well, so Mike decided to leave him and Gandalf to it.
Mike wasn't entirely comfortable anymore. He took a deep, calming, soothing breath and decided to think about everything logically. He and David were in a completely different world, thanks for some sort of rip between two words (or a different universe), and this world wasn't nearly as modern as their previous one. The men rode on horses, slept in tents, had swords, daggers and bows, ate wild game and spoke in a different language which he knew bits and pieces of. They were on horses to some unknown destination with men proven to be genuinely helpful, though they seemed to be of a different species. Michael himself was nearly six feet, brown hair and eyes, and almost unable to 'grow' calf muscles. The men he and David were now in the company of were close to seven feet, with muscles rock-solid. They seemed to be a rough, rogue band of soldiers who Michael was growing to respect.
With all this knowledge in the fore part of his brain, he was still unable to come to a conclusion as to why they were there, how did they come to be there, and how were they going to get home. Mike thought this place was beautiful, but it lacked something and he knew exactly what it was missing. It was missing Alex.
Mike felt all the moisture leave his mouth as he thought about his daughter. She seemed like a passing dream; her laughter ringing through his mind, her characteristic grin flashing every which way, and her goofy antics always present in his mind. He didn't know if she was safe, and it made him want to rip his hair out. He wanted to find her, gather her in his arms and kiss her hair, making sure she was well and safe. A tear sprang into his eye as he imagined walking through the door of his apartment and finding her lounging on the couch, watching cartoons on a Saturday morning, a plate of strawberries and pancakes in her lap and the aftermath of her cooking experience all over his kitchenette.
They came to the river Michael had heard from a long way off and crossed in the shallowest place. He looked down at the water and it was sparkling clear. His mouth ached for the sweet water the river seemed to promise, but he kept his mouth shut. The company of soldiers couldn't stop simply because he was thirsty. He leaned against Strider, his ribs crying out for a rest.
He dozed off as they traveled through trees until he heard something. It was a sweet melody, finer than any he had heard before. Time seemed to pause as the song washed over him. He didn't know what the song was about, but there were no words to describe it. It was beautiful, it was enchanting, but those words seemed empty as description for the song. The song seemed to come from the trees themselves and seeing as how Gandalf could speak into his head, he didn't doubt for a moment it could very well be coming from the trees.
Michael's eyes widened to a comical size as a building seemed to grow out of the trees. It was apart from the trees, yet so much more dazzling and astonishing. It was no feat of men, he knew. The hands of men were too clumsy to fashion such a structure. He felt strange emotions wash over him; unworthiness, ugliness, shameful… as if he was unfit to be near this place.
"Imladris." Strider whispered in his ear as he dismounted and assisted Mike in doing the same. "Glorfindel." Strider nodded his head before greeting the blonde man by what seemed to be a traditional warrior's greeting- the clasping of the other's forearm. He bowed to the other man, more intimidating than this Glorfindel. Michael could not catch what Strider greeted this other man as.
He leaned against the horse as Halbarad came up beside him and assisted him in walking inside the structure. Michael's awe did not lessen as he and David, helped by Faelion, were escorted into 'Imladris' and to a room with beds and shelves of different leaves and potions. It was an infirmary and a strange man walked out, having finished with whatever work he was doing and the movement of turning caused his hair to move from his ear.
Michael blinked and stared. "A stunning new development, if you ask me."
David nodded, staring with the same awe-struck expression on his face as Michael. "Indeed."
Halbarad turned his head to watch the elf leave. He looked at his two charges and, realizing what had shocked them, glanced at Faelion. The two men began to laugh in amusement and nodded to the two injured men and walked out.
"Halbarad, I will see to my horse." Faelion bowed slightly to his superior and left in the direction of the stables.
Strider appeared at Halbarad's side, followed by Glorfindel and Lord Elrond. "My lords." Halbarad bowed to the two elves. "Do you have need of me?"
"Yes, we do, Halbarad. Come with us, we have much to talk about."
Halbarad and Strider followed the elves to Elrond's study where they were all seated; Elrond in the chair behind the mahogany desk, Glorfindel standing, and Strider and Halbarad in the chairs there for personal meetings with the lord of Imlardis. Mithrandir joined them a moment later, leaning heavily on his wooden staff. The room was quiet as Lord Elrond seemed to be gathering his thoughts.
"Who are these men?" He asked simply.
Strider stroked his growing stubble. "Their names are Day-veed and My-kul. Gandalf and I assume they are not of this world and perhaps brought here by Sauron to confuse us in this time of peril, or even by the Valar to help us, though I doubt they will be… more of a hindrance than a help." He chose his words carefully.
"Indeed. I do not think them evil. They were helpless when they first came to the Rangers' care." Mithrandir interjected.
"Yes, when another Ranger and I found them, they were shivering, frightfully injured and frightened. They were unconscious when we arrived with them back to camp." Halbarad said.
Elrond nodded. "This strikes me as odd. If they were from a different world, why would they be here? What purpose could they possibly serve, for they have no knowledge of our history, of the war, of the peril of being alive in this time." The elven lord let out a small sigh. "Do they even know our language?"
"They are learning." Strider answered. "My-kul is more fluent than Day-veed, though both hardly speak to us at all. We merely communicate through hand signs. They talk to each other in their own language."
Elrond stood up, beginning to pace. "Are the healers caring for them now?" His brows were furrowed as he battled to piece together this mystery.
"Yes, Faelion and I left them there, moments ago." Halbarad answered.
"I will meet them myself and we will decide what to do with them then." He looked at them. "I must speak with Gandalf alone." The others obediently filed out and Gandalf sat down, the weight of his great age suddenly on his shoulders.
"I have spoken to them." Gandalf said. "In their minds, there is no evil. They come from a time of war, in the middle of the war themselves. Day-veed is a soldier, and My-kul kept accounts of the soldiers' well-being and the happenings of the war."
"Perhaps they were brought here for relief of their own war." Elrond shook his head. "But that makes no sense."
"Perhaps they were brought here to aid us. Day-veed could fight, if it came down to that, and this war must be remembered. We cannot let another cause such great evil."