Hello to all of you wonderful people. Much thanks for all the supportive reviews; you have no idea how encouraging they are.
Just a warning: this chapter does NOT have a lot of action. However, I thought it was quite important, and that I would be cheating if I left it out. So, without further ado, I give you chapter four.
She couldn't breath. Something, she didn't know what, had been shoved into her mouth, she couldn't breath around it. Trying desperately to control her rising panic, she probed her tongue around the object, trying to see if she could move it. Finding her attempts futile, she attempted to lift her hands and pull the object out, only to find that her hands were bound behind her back by a coarse string, which, she could feel, had already rubbed the skin of her wrists raw. No longer trying to control her panic, she stumbled forward on her knees, for her ankles were bound behind her as well. She had barely gotten a few feet when a devastating pain seized her in her stomach, as if the very muscle fiber was being pulled apart. There was a blinding flash of white, and the pain doubled. The same voice that had been following her since the arrival of the Fellowship reappeared in her mind, a thousands time louder than she had ever heard it, reverberating in every corner of her skull. Follow them; the voice hissed, sounding unusually serpentine and cruel.
"Who?" asked Naomi, though she feared she already knew.
Another pain seized her, this time in her leg, forcing it to jerk about. However, her legs were tied behind her, and the spasms forced her entire body to quaver. "Fool girl," the voice jeered. A sudden image of Legolas flashed across Naomi's mind. "Exactly," the voice chuckled. "Follow the Fellowship."
When Naomi was finally released from the dream, and from sleep, she was bathed in a cold, clammy sweat that had also soaked the sheets. She panted furiously, muttering to herself in the darkness, "It was only a dream, only a dream, only a dream." Naomi was unable to restrain a bitter laugh. When she had gone to see Galadriel, the Lady had told her that surely the events of the day had been too much for her handmaiden; she should take this potion, which would grant her a dreamless sleep. Normally, Naomi would have argued, saying that she was fine, but the Lady's tone had brooked no argument.
Naomi had no idea what time it was, but she was sure she had slept all night, if not longer. Having finally regained her breath, she rubbed her eyes in an effort to stay conscious. Her hands felt oddly rough against the lids of her eyes. Naomi thrust her hands into the pool of light cast by a nearby candle. The soft skin of her wrists was red and irritated, as if it had been rubbed against a coarse string…
Naomi shuddered, then immediately wondered why. Of course, part of it was the icy sweat, but a much larger part of it was fear. She had no idea what or who the voice was, but she hardly had to be a Wizard to realize that it meant the Fellowship harm. Yesterday had hardly improved matters. The voice had woken her, shrieking inside her head with a kind of hysterical urgency. The rest of her day had been spent doing as the voice commanded, gathering food, drink and small tools: all things that would be needed for a long journey. Whenever Naomi had tried to question the voice, or to suggest a superior alternative to her instructions, a sudden severe pain would grip her; exactly like the pain she had experienced her dream.
Naomi shuddered again, and then dragged herself out of bed. Her body screaming out in protest, she bent over stiffly and pulled out a cloth sack from under the bed. It contained all the materials she had been ordered to collect yesterday. She stared at it for a few moments, trying to collect her thoughts. Apparently, she stared for a few moments too many, because the voice made a reappearance, shouting impatiently. Hurry up, lazy chattel! I've not gone to all this trouble just to see you fail now.
Resigned to her fate, Naomi walked into the hall her room entered into, clutching her bundle firmly to her chest…then promptly stopped in her tracks. She had no idea where to go. The voice had told her to follow the Fellowship, but where were they? And how did she get there? The voice came up again, but this time it didn't speak harshly. Instead, the voice became oily and smooth. Speaking softly, the voice guided her in all directions, until she couldn't have said which way was up.
Naomi did not regain her bearings or, it seemed, her free will, until mid-afternoon, when she found herself deep in the forests of Lorien, hiding in the bushes that fringed a small clearing. Evidently, she had been crouched in this manner for quite some time, if the soreness in her thighs was any indication. She was about to stretch, when she heard the sudden pounding of what could only be horse-hooves. She heard the voice for only a split second—Dim-witted woman! — before Naomi immediately ducked back into the shrubs. The voice was quiet, but for the first time, she could still sense the voice in the back of her mind, as if it were an actual presence.
She had been right—there were horses. Seven to be exact, though one of them was not carrying any people, but was instead laden with two large chests. The entire Fellowship was there, along with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. The entire party dismounted and the Fellowship formed a line of sorts, as Celeborn assisted Galadriel in relieving the seventh horse of his load.
Galadriel stood before the Fellowship and said something that Naomi could not hear, but seemed to be of great solemnity, for upon hearing it even the hobbits looked downcast. However, it seemed that Galadriel did not want them to be sad, for she laughed gaily and opened the chest Celeborn had placed in front of her. The first item she withdrew was a kind of covering for Aragorn's sword. Naomi knew nothing of weaponry, but even to her the sheath seemed a fine thing, wrought with silver, leafed with gold and inlaid with jewels. The Man accepted his gift with a bow of the head, and Galadriel responded in kind.
Next was Boromir. He received a belt of gold, nearly a hand wide. He repulsed Naomi, for reasons she could not name. Finally, she attributed it to his obvious dislike for his gift; he thanked Galadriel politely enough, but as she knelt to take the next gift from the chest, Naomi saw a distinct look of disgust pass over his face. That belt was easily thrice what Naomi made in a year; what right did any noble have to scorn it? Yet there was another reason for her dislike; he kept on eying Aragorn and staring at the scabbard, clearly jealous. Yes, thought Naomi, this is a man who can never be satisfied.
The next gifts were identical and given to two hobbits that Naomi likewise had trouble telling apart. Merry and Pippin, she thought their names were, and their gifts were belts of worked silver. Naomi liked them instantaneously; although their gifts were nowhere near as fine as the previous presents, the hobbits were obviously extremely grateful of that which they had received.
Much to Naomi's disappointment, Legolas's reaction to his gift gave nothing away about his character. He received a bow; nothing special by Naomi's standards, but what did she know? At any rate, he thanked the Lady politely enough, without seeming unctuous.
The next gift was a small box containing some mysterious object. Whatever it was, it made the portly hobbit who received it cry out in delight.
Gimli, a Dwarf, did not seem to have any gift at all. Instead, Galadriel spoke with him for a few moments before reaching up to the engraved clip that caught up her plentiful tresses. She unpinned it from her hair, and with a light laugh, gave the Dwarf the few hairs that were caught on it. Even from where Naomi was sitting, she could see the Dwarf's blush; but he seemed far from unpleased.
Last was yet another hobbit, but this one seemed different. Naomi leaned as close as she dared, not risking her cover. While all the other hobbits seemed cheerful and perpetually jovial, this one was somber, his eyes slightly dulled. He had the look of one who has been sick for many, many moons and has only just recently been able to walk. However, all of Naomi's observations flew from her mind when she saw his gift. It was a crystal vial, unremarkable in itself, but unless Naomi was very much mistaken…Galadriel had just given up starlight.
She had, however, far less time to ruminate on this than she would have liked. All too soon, all in the Fellowship had been gifted with Elven cloaks that seemed to morph with their surroundings and brooches to bind them with. They began to remount their horses, and Naomi had to stifle a moan as the voice spoke again. Follow them.
Naomi did just that, waiting until the last horse had thundered past her before daring to emerge from the bush. She ran out and stared in the direction the last horse had gone. She could just make out a long, scraggly tail rounding the corner. Running as fast as she could, she managed to keep the last horse in sight until they finally stopped at the banks of a river Naomi had never seen before. Indeed, she hadn't even known there was a river in Lorien. Thinking fast, she rushed to the banks of the river.
Nearly a half hour later, she was still hiding in the reeds on the bank of the river. Several times, she could have sworn that Legolas looked directly at her; but each time, he had turned away too swiftly for her to be sure. He, Aragorn, and the other man who she thought was named Boromir, were far too busy loading up the boats and keeping track of the hobbits to do anything else, never mind scouring the bushes for spies.
Earlier, she had been concerned about how she would be able to sneak onto a boat. At this point, she was more worried about that fact that when she did find a way, her legs would be so stiff, she wouldn't be able to move.
Finally, she saw it. One of the hobbits had been careless enough to leave his new cloak in a boat, unguarded. Legolas and the two Men had their backs turned. Hardly daring to hope, Naomi dashed out to the boat. Using dexterity she never knew she had, she curled up under the cloak just a split second before Aragorn turned around. She heard him sigh, and then speak. "When will those fool hobbits learn…?" His voice trailed off disgustedly. "Do they not understand that Elven gifts are hardly to be scorned, and definitely not to be disposed of with such disdain?" Barely grunting with the effort, he picked up the cloak, and Naomi, and deposited them both rather unceremoniously in another boat.
Naomi had counted on the cloak being a good disguise, but not quite that good. Thoroughly exhilarated, she relaxed under the cloak. It hardly seemed likely that anyone would notice, given what Aragorn had just done. Picked her up as if she was nonexistent! Naomi had worked hard to achieve that level of invisibility.
Suddenly, she felt the boat lurch forward. Scrabbling to make sure the cloak still covered her; she strained to make out just who had entered the boat. Naomi couldn't make out anything as precise as the shape of facial features, but she did catch a glimpse of terrifyingly blue eyes that seemed to quiver in their sockets. It was the sickly hobbit she had noticed earlier. Shuddering, even under the safety of her cloak, she started to roll in the opposite direction, as a much heavier person entered the boat. The boat pitched wildly as the heavier one moved to talk to the scary one.
Unable to restrain herself, she began to silently giggle. The whole affair was simply so ludicrous. Here she was, a servant for Galadriel, and now she was hearing voices and playing at spy, sneaking onto boats! Just a week ago, she would have laughed at the very idea, and now she was living it.
She lurched again as the boat began to move. The boat rolled nauseatingly while pushing off from the bank before settling into a pleasant rocking-and-rolling rhythm. Slowly, she let the events of the past week wash over her. After that, it took little persuasion before Naomi was lulled to sleep.
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