Again, my apologies on the wait. A lot's been going on.
Mike watched the sun set through the open balcony. He heard singing in the distance and let out a sigh. His heart was quiet and no evil thoughts seemed to flit through his mind. It could have been said he was at peace. The beauty of the land enchanted him and put him under a welcome spell, one that soothed away his fears, if only for the moment. He pushed himself into a sitting position and watched David sleep.
His smile was slight, but his gratitude was shining in his eyes. That Hispanic was the reason he was still alive and he came once again to the realization he had come to the moment he had agreed to going to Iraq. That was what America was about. Relentlessly saving a friend without needing thanks. That was what they had all been fighting for. That was the ideal that forced his hand to write, that sprung words to his tongue to defend his country in the only way he knew.
Michael ran a hand through his damp hair. It felt so good to get out of bed and bathe. All of the dirt and dried blood had floated from his tanned skin and with a good wash with the rough soap of the elves, he felt as good as new. After his bath, two slips on the slick rock later, he was back in bed and very grumpy about it. He smiled at his own behavior; he was still coming to accept this world and he couldn't help his own childish behavior. He was reminded strongly of Alex when she had been seven or eight years old. She had gotten the flu and had stayed at his place for two weeks. He made a face and laughed. He had given her his bed. That had been a painful and tiring two weeks on the couch, but a lump formed in his throat.
Michael laughed as eight-year-old Alex bounced around his apartment. Normally, he would have been slightly annoyed for he had an article due within the next three days, but his daughter had been confined to bed for the last two weeks and she was finally feeling better. She jumped up and down onto the couch.
"Alex, don't break the couch." He told her, looking up from his laptop.
"Oh, Daddy, I won't! I'm little!" She replied happily.
Mike left his work on the table and walked over to her, catching her into his arms. "But one day you will get bigger and then you will!" He teased her, holding her easily. "Someday you'll be a big girl and then there will be boys who will want to date you, but I'll have to beat them up." He grinned at her.
Alex poked his nose. "Well, I don't want any boys to date. You're the only boy I want in my life. I love you Daddy, and I don't want Mommy to marry another boy because you're my only daddy." She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on.
Mike smiled against her pigtails. "I love you too Alex." He whispered, sitting down onto the couch and cuddling his daughter in his lap.
Mike cleared his throat, blinking the tears from his eyes. No. He had to keep hope. He would find a way back to her. No matter if he had to face God himself, he would return to his daughter and beat that loser his ex-wife was dating into a bloody pulp. He felt a bubble of anger in his blood, but he calmed himself. It would do no one good to get angry and become bitter. Alex would survive as she always did. He admired his little girl so much for holding everything together through the hard, long divorce. He sighed, thinking back six years to when he and Julia had decided to separate.
God! He could remember those long sleepless nights, the anger, the severe depression, and then the simple acceptance he would become a single man. Even at eight years old, Alex understood. She knew it wasn't her fault and that her parents loved her very much, even if they didn't decide to show it, but as she grew up into her preteen years and the divorce was, at last, made final, she became shaky and depressed. Mike had worried so much for her, until she found Jesus and then things slowly got better.
Mike missed his daughter above all else. In his 'old age', as he would always joke around, she was all he had to look forward to. He did love his job, but he loved her more. He missed having her around at his apartment; he missed hearing her talk about how terrible Robyn was being, and how creepy Chris was being. He missed her quirky personality and having to help her with her algebra homework. He realized he missed Alex and he missed being a father. He missed having someone to depend on him. He knew it was wrong to draw strength from his daughter because it would be detrimental to her emotional health, but he was trying to change.
The door opened and broke Mike from his thoughts. He looked up to see a dark-haired elf walk into the room. Like the rest of the elves he had come into contact with (he still couldn't get used to the trance that seemed to come over him!), Mike found him a closed book. Not that Mike had a talent for reading minds (though sometimes he thought that would be pretty cool), with other people, if you paid enough attention, you could pull out their emotions from strange habits. For instance, if someone was nervous, they usually had a habit; looking at the floor, biting their nails, crossing and uncrossing their legs. But the elf was simply there. He radiated calm and Mike's fear and apprehension melted away with a single friendly smile from the elf.
"Elrond." He said simply. "My-kul." He pointed to Mike, who nodded.
It is a pleasure to finally have the chance to meet you, Michael.
Mike jumped, aggravating one of his wounds. No, the pleasure is all mine, my lord. He replied as a thought, seeing the elf smile slightly at his formality.
Would you mind telling me what you remember?
Mike watched Elrond with distrust. He didn't want to say anything. Though elves appeared to the journalist as kind, calm beings with hearts to do good, he didn't know where the heck he was. No matter how calm these strange elves were, Mike did not feel comfortable. He believed Strider knew, to an extent, and Gandalf knew everything from probing in his mind with his permission, but there was a strange feeling in his heart. Who was he to say if Elrond would… Mike sighed and blinked.
Alright. I am not comfortable with this. He reminded the elf-lord, looking down at his folded hands.
Go on, Michael. None will know of your past.
Michael was stunned. He suddenly didn't understand. His existence, along with David's, seemed pointless. This place was engaged in a war, and he did not understand how him being there would change things or aid the war. He sighed and played with the leather bracelet Alex had given him for his birthday.
There is a war in our world, or time, as well. We were in a desert place; David was fighting, I was keeping records of it. The enemy came and attacked our camp and the last thing I remember was fire and shards of rock everywhere. Then David and I woke up in a prison. We were then beaten, increasing our wounds, and then something silver appeared on the wall and it sucked us in… no matter how strange that sounds.
Mike watched Elrond's face, and he did not look troubled. The elf nodded slowly, his fingers rubbing his jaw as he thought. Mike took this opportunity to observe the lord's clothing. He was wearing great robes of dark blue. They were unadorned save for an elaborate symbol on the right side of his breast. Underneath the robe, he wore a fine white shirt and dark blue trousers. He wore fine black boots and a ring on his right hand, but Elrond's hands were clasped in his lap.
It is as I feared, Michael. I cannot be certain, but the workings of the evil one are still very much alive today. I do not know why he brought you here, nor what purpose you serve here, but our Enemy is at work here. Either the Enemy or Eru.
Michael raised an eyebrow. I do not understand.
Elrond nodded. The Enemy has been using all means to get our attention from the battlefront. If this is the Enemy's doing, then you are to be a distraction.
And if it is Eru's workings? Mike could only assume Eru was God.
Then you shall aid us. Perhaps David shall fight, and you shall keep detailed records of this time in the fashions of your people. Maybe it is our experience in your own war that will help us. I am Wise, but even I cannot see all ends.