I don't own Lord of the Rings . . .
This passage makes it very clear to see what I wrote in 7th grade vs. what I have recently written. Enjoy. :)
One more thing: The "Im Adonneniel" in this passage is Elvish. I didn't forget my apostrophe.
Comments are appreciated . . .
Middle-earth
This land protruding from my basement was not like any other. Instead of being greatly concerned that my brother tracked in a great quantity of mud and grass, a meadow grew or it flooded and a river sprouted. I knew exactly where I was. I was only about one league north from the river Loudwater which is just south of Rivendell. Maybe it was my insanely keen Lord of the Rings instinct that knew this, but it seemed like more was behind my knowledge besides strange gut feelings and hypothesized answers on The Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit. There was history about the trees and the river that I heard some distance off flowing noisily as if it were in a hurry. This ground Julia and I stepped on was Middle-earth. It had seen many ages. The first age consisted of the rule of Melkor, and the seeking of the Silmarils, the brightest and most wonderous things tangible upon the treaded ground. The second age made rise to Melkor's apprentice having his own name, Sauron. Though Melkor seems forgotten in the world of Middle-earth, Sauron's spirit still lingers. The third age holds the tale of Hobbits. From Bilbo in The Hobbit, overcoming the dragon Smaug, to now Frodo, Bilbo's nephew, Hobbits or the Halflings continue making their impact in the third age. Frodo's adventure didn't seem to have begun. My adventure had apparently been happening for a while. My ears were pointed and I beared a mind that had seen more time than I had before I had stumbled upon this Earth in the Middle.
"Too many thoughts in brain!" exclaimed Julia. That's how I felt, but Julia expressed it unintelligibly.
After I forced my mind to comprehend what was going on, I realized Julia was singing and spinning around in circles.
"The hills are alive with the sound of music," Julia sang. Of course I decided to chime in, "with songs they have sung for a thousand years." Then together we sang; "My heart will be blessed with the sound of music and I sing once more." After that we just sort of were lying on the grass laughing at ourselves.
"Neigh," Julia said to me (one of my nicknames is Neigh.) "Can you please check and see if we can get back."
"Jules," I responded. "Are you oblivious to the door right behind you?"
"Eh hehe huh," that's Julia's famous "I Knew That" sound. There then was a brief moment of silence, during which I swore I heard her mutter "Legolas."
"Does it smell like late October to you?" I finally said at last.
"Yes it does," said Julia recovering her intellect.
"On October the 24th, if you want to know!" I shouted a line that Gandalf says in Rivendell. Our minds were triggered it was obviously the 20th of October the day of The Flight to the Ford. Frodo, the hobbit, and bearer of the Ring of Power was about to almost die by the banks of Loudwater. At that, we started off at a sprint. Loudwater was only a short distance away, so we arrived there rather speedily, passing quickly through the trees as barefoot Elves would make the effort to do. We were Elves now. That was the reason for the pointed ears I realized. That is why seconds seemed insignificant to the span of time. Nonetheless, urgency was still in effect.
I breathed in the October smell, the combination of bonfire and renaissance festival. Every year I lived for October and I had stumbled upon it without the progression of seasons and excitement filled my veins. The trees seemed thousands of feet tall. They weren't intimidating they just seemed noble in proving their existence. A golden orange leaf fell into Julia's brown hair contrasting beautifully and was soon swished away by the breeze we created with our sprint. I didn't run often because I hated it pretty sincerely, but now I felt as if I could run forever because this Earth seemed softer than our own.
The sound of rushing water came nearer and the pebbles we stepped on became more frequently a disturbance. From across the river we saw Arwen Evenstar daughter of Lord Elrond of the Rivendell realm. We waded into the water, the deepest waist high. The October nip did not stop our perseverance. Getting closer, we could spy her dark hair falling into the eyes of what would have been thought a child, had I not the previous knowledge. This child was one of the Hobbits, folk of the northern parts of the world, the Shire. His face was drained of any rouge and a green hue had come over his skin. A gapping hole sat idly on his left shoulder. It wasn't bleeding; it was just a dark indent in his body that seemed to refuse to heal. That's when I immediately realized the Hobbit as Frodo. Frodo had been stabbed by the leader of the nine Nazgûl.
Arwen stood up, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He's strong and holding on as best he can," she spoke to us. "We must get him to my father." (Wow! That sounded vaguely familiar. That is a line from the movie.) It was strange as Arwen spoke to us, yet it wasn't. It's like we knew her well. "Nethwen," continued Arwen speaking to Julia. Julia responded unquestioningly to her Elvish name which she acted disobedient to its utterance before. "You take Frodo to my father, ride on Asfaloth (Asfaloth being Arwen's horse.) My father will hopefully be able to heal the Nazgûl wound." She handed Julia the 3'2" hobbit. With a quick glance of disgust at Frodo, who had slime coming out of his ears, (I forgot to mention that part amongst the above given details). Julia mounted the horse like she'd done it a million times before and galloped away.
Julia and the slimey Hobbit were about to disappear completely into the trees when the screech of the Nazgûl hit my ears like an IV needle that missed the vein and had to be stabbed repeatedly. Repeatedly, the screeching called out to us sounding like insults when nothing real was meant by it. Nine black riders yielding their drooling stallions progressed in fear of the river's strength. Arwen and I both drew our swords. In her hand gleamed Hadhafang, its curved blade sliding down to its brown shaft with gold sparklings of plants. I felt empty holding my sword because it had no identity and I was certainly surprised I even held it raised high in my hand at all.
"If you want him come and claim him," Arwen and I said in unison.
The Black Riders raced toward us. The competition rules were this; kill them and spill their blood. Truthfully, I was frozen in my tracks. The heavenly aspects of autumn (drooling stallions and all) came tumbling down on me like a waterfall with sharp rocks at the bottom.
"Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer, Rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulair! Nin o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer, Rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulair! (Waters of the Misty Mountains listen to the great word; flow waters of Loudwater against the Ringwraiths!)" She chanted this phrase twice and horses of her own came splashing down the river, neighing as if they were real. The protection of the Realm of Imladris had succeeded. Lord Elrond sensed this danger as his daughter called upon the River Bruinen and perfect timing commenced. The beasts were washed away their screeches squelched. The banks were slightly flooded. My clothes dripped because a puddle that was newly created around me. We had some great assistance. The nine riders and former bearers of Rings of Power were crushed and washed away.
Middle-earth was not heaven, but, oh, I wanted it to be. It was then that I decided I was in. I was in like you are for a game of tag. I hoped that the onlookers at the other side of the river saw my arm stiff in the air as heroism and not a state of frozen waffle.
The people that were on the other side of the river were crossing over to our side. (That sounds like some psychic term they are "crossing over.") Oooo the Pet Psychic. That's not what I mean. The company included the wizard Gandalf. There were three hobbits. Samwise Gamgee (Sam) was the largest Hobbit in size and heart. Meriadoc Brandybuck (Merry) and Peregrin Took (Pippin) were the jokers, but certainly a needed comic relief; they pounded each other in the shoulders as a sign of our victory against the Nazgûl. And Aragorn, a silent and rugged Human, known as Strider at this point in the story, was there also.
I observed them coming closer in disbelief that I was seeing them face to face. I was not acting like a crazed fan because they were actually approaching me instead of me with a pen and slip of paper asking for an autograph. Gandalf the Grey was looking rather grey and bearded. His staff was a gnarled branch which served as the kind of walking stick that you're lucky to find on the path in a forest. His eyes I found were grey also, but grey from wisdom not grey from age.
Sam walked close by me and loving him so much as a character I squeezed his shoulder much too friendlily.
"Suilaid," uttered Sam attempting to say something to me in Elvish, but in a most distinct Hobbit accent. "You're an Elf right, my Lady."
"Indeed," I said. As I agreed to myself that I was an Elf. My look on Middle-earth being a heaven lingered back, and I celebrated with a happy dance inside my head. "Im Adonneniel."
"Adonneniel," he repeated to himself to remember. "Well, I'm just one syllable Sam."
"I know," I said then changed my mind. "I mean…hello, one syllable Sam." Sam smiled.
In hope that I wouldn't give myself away I shook Merry and Pippin's hands and asked them their names when I greeted them.
"I'm Merry and that's Pippin," said Merry he pointed to Pippin.
"Very interesting river you have here," he spoke slightly hitting on Arwen as he talked with her and casually leaned against a tree.
Strider rolled his eyes at Pippin while playing with one of his zillion knives. The rugged Ranger spoke to me with unanticipated respect.
"I've heard much about forgotten tales," said he. What is he talking about? I haven't heard anything quite yet, "We can discuss matters later."
"Off with us," said Aragorn in a very simple manner to the entire company. "Rivendell awaits us and Rivendell waits the giving of comfort to Frodo Baggins if he is not yet safe in its enclosure." The Hobbits soon became downtrodden and proceeded forward on their large hairy feet, patting the earth left after right. Maybe there was heaven and hell on this earth just as ours. Heaven just seems to be in the smallest, or people with the largest of hearts. The caring of a friend comes before the conquering of a hell that swallows hearts; delivering heaven on earth sometimes is postponed.