Edit 1: Substantial edits made here. Hopefully I've spruced up the ending a bit and corrected most of the grammar, spelling, and style errors.
"Denotes speaking in Westron"
"Denotes speaking in Sindarin"
Flashback or Vision
A/N: A big thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Your comments are greatly appreciated. tosses everyone big chewy chocolate chip cookies. Chapter Three is here :) This will follow the same format as the previous two. I'll do some editing tomorrow and have a final copy up as soon as possible. I find I work much better that way.
Memories of the forgotten are indeed the most terrifying of all, and Nienna's lonely hall brought no relief from the nightmares that troubled Nora as she slept. The young soldier tossed fitfully as images of dark dreadful figures pursued her toward a shimmering pool of blue. She awoke abruptly, eyes staring wildly for the briefest of moments. Then her breathing slowed, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, disturbed by the memory of rain.
"Rain..." She whispered to herself, looking down at the moisture that remained on her fingertips. There was something there. Something she should be able to remember. She recalled that glimmering pool, and realized with a stroke of cold fear that she had seen it before.
Nora pushed away the confining furs and swung her bared legs over the edge of the simple wood framed mattress. Several pillows fell to the chilled grey flagstones as she stood. The white night gown fell to gently kiss the tops of her pale feet. Night had fallen, and outside the grand archway, waves lapped calmly over the sand and mirrored the diamond points of light above. One slender hand braced her against a pillar wound with ivy of stone.
"You would have cherished the view more deeply if you had seen it under the radiance of the Trees." Nora turned to find her host cloaked in grey. Her features had taken on a depth of sadness that seemed unfathomable. "I did not believe you would awaken so soon. Forgive me, for I have been in the halls of my brother comforting the grieving souls of Mandos." Nora turned back to the sea.
"I'm afraid I don't understand." Trees were trees, were they not? And she knew not the plight of grieving souls, yet her own soul ached for that loving, merciful guardian, the memory of which she could not recall.
Nienna moved to stand beside her. "There is much you will not understand, dear one. Given time, you will learn. Come, you must be hungry." Nora was lead by the warm hand of the Vala through the half light of the silver lamps to a table by the hearth. A delicate and delicious aroma wafted upward from a steaming bowl of soup and a loaf of soft bread. She sat and ate slowly as Nienna's graceful fingers plaited her short burgendy hair. The silence was comforting, and as Nora nibbled the sweet bread her thoughts returned again to the dream. The pool and the rain she could recall, yet they still brought her no meaning. "What troubles you, Eruaistaniel?"
Nora set down her spoon and peered into the fire. That name, it was like the clear ringing of bells on a sunny morning, yet she could not remember her own. "A dream of something I feel I should remember." The fingers in her hair ceased to work as the Vala sought the mind of her Creator and the small corner where dwelled the conscience of the master of dreams.
"Irmo will come." She stated as her fingers once again took to the braid.
--
Mathers set the girl down and slumped to his knees in relief as her dead weight flopped grotesquely into the tall grasses. He had long ago stripped off his jacket and wore only his packed kevlar vest over a black t-shirt. Sweat trickled down his head and back and soaked the shirt through as the sun descended further and further toward the mountain peaks. The dense green of the forest loomed steadily closer, yet was still too far away for comfort. If only Reynolds was conscious and could walk on her own, they could have been sheltered there in half the time.
The shell of Ulmo rested comfortably against his skin, an ever present reminder of just how cracked up this situation had become. Beside him, the river, bubbled away swiftly toward the wood. He crawled over as his legs protested, cupping a handful of the cold water into his hands, he splashed the refreshing fluid over his face and the bare skin of his head before replacing the standard issue cap.
Standing upon the bank, his knees groaned and popped in protest to the movement. Away to the right he saw the blue meandering bank of another river flowing slowly toward the Celebrant. If it followed on its present course the two would meet somewhere within the forest.
The Colonel had resigned himself to the belief that Jamsa and Rogers had indeed made it back to Earth. Whatever had happened to the gate had occured just after he had pulled Reynolds through the event horizon. Now, he was no Carter; he had dropped out of physics in high school, but, he had read enough mission reports in his tenure at the SGC to understand that insert proper four letter word here happened when working with advanced alien technology. With a guttural growl of frustration, he threw the cap to the ground and rubbed his forehead with a weary hand.
--
The youngest of the three Feanturi strode quietly into the somber hall of his beloved sister. Dressed in the grey of his house, Irmo still shone with the splendour of the gardens of Lorien where he made his home.
The Atani woman was dressed in an elegant gown of a pure and soft blue, a change from the rough garb of men he had seen in the orb. She sat now on a delicate carved swan bench upon the balcony, her legs curled up beneath her dress and a book open on her lap.
"Has she not remembered?" Irmo inquired. His sister had kept him in council since taking the girl in, and he had been made aware of the loss of memory. He had seen many among the children of Iluvatar suffer so from a blow to the head.
"She remembers very little, yet she is troubled. Is there nothing you can do?"
"Perhaps, but I fear what effect it will have on her mind. The second born are a fragile race." He removed his cloak and gladly accepted a goblet of wine. "I will try."
Nora turned the pages of the old leather bound book with care. The script was unknown to her eyes, yet she found a hand drawn picture of two trees within. The skilled, graceful lines captured little of their true beauty, yet the reverence in which they were held was unmistakable. These were not merely trees, it seemed.
Looking up at the waves, she thought for a moment that she had heard a faint echoing refrain. The melody was distant and as clear as the purest crystal, the subtle harmony of the imperishable flame. There on the edges of the world, Nora beheld the theme of Creation, though she knew it not.
Irmo stepped onto the balcony to find her lost in her own thoughts. He heard not the song, for he had sung his portion of it long before the world was made. "Eruaistaniel, come." He held out a hand to her, and Nora looked up in surprise. She closed the book and took the Vala's offered hand.
Flashback...
It was raining again. A hard sheet of cold droplets drilled into her back as Nora lay in the thick underbrush, her P90 trained on a Jaffa patrol. A Ha'tak vessel had landed in a large clearing not far away leaving SG17 cut off from the mining camp. They had lost contact with the commander of the expedition two days prior. Mathers motioned for radio silence and signaled for his team to move out...
"Fall back to the gate!" The roar of munitions fire almost drowned out the order as the Kull overwhelmed their position. Jamsa and Rogers fled first and Nora followed. Overhead, a squadron of gliders screamed and fired heated energy blasts into the thick jungle growth...
Nienna turned away from the unbearable pain etched into the woman's features. It was necessary, yet tears came unbidden to the Vala.
Vision...
Deep night had fallen upon the valley of the Celebrant, and Mathers had only just entered the protecting arms of the forest. The grey trunks of the trees, small yet in stature, but mighty nonetheless, provided a few minutes of weary rest. In the vast darkness of Moria, the Uruks stirred, their fetid hide fouling the once great kingdom of the Dwarves, yet did not venture past the Eastern gate. Alas, the unfolding tune turned toward the south and east. Pain crumpled Nora to the floor of the balcony as the leering head of a beast lunged forward, and her spirit fled in fright...
Reynolds's body heaved, and the girl thrashed, vomiting what little food remained in her stomach. Mathers rushed to her and turned her to her side. She trembled violently and faught to draw breath. "Easy, Lieutenant." He whispered, resting a hand on her shoulder as the sickness eased its iron grip.
"Where am I?" She choked, her eyes, oddly blank, darted from the river to the grey trunks surrounding them. Mathers helped her sit upright, and she looked at him in confusion. Slowly, she remembered his name, yet she had hardly uttered it when loud, harsh voices pushed through the undergrowth. Mathers shoved the girl behind him as an orc thrashed toward them, a black smeared blade held fast. It snarled and lunged, catching Mathers unprepared. The colonel was pinned, struggling with the beast as the blade nicked a long gash across his upper arm. The wood reeked with the creature's stench, and heavy footsteps heralded the approach of several more.
Combat being second nature to her, Nora reached for the knife she knew to be harnessed at her side. Drawing the blade, she lunged, burrying it to the hilt in the creature's spine. It thrashed, shrieking in agony before falling limp. Her hands black with blood, she stumbled toward the P90 where it lay beside their vests, and, finding it primed, she fired as eight more lurched forward out of the darkness. The rounds echoed hollowly in the dense, ancient forest, an unnatural sound, yet they hit their marks. Nine bodies lay bleeding and broken on the forest floor.
Mathers shoved the dead weight of the orc away and stood to his feet, shaking slightly. He prodded the cut on his arm and winced as it burned. It was not deep, but it would need to be cleaned as soon as possible. However, he could attend to his needs later. Speed now was their only ally. "Let's get moving. There'll be more of them." He took his vest from the ground and ignored the sharp acidic burn as he strapped it on. Reynold's, however, wasn't moving. Robert turned to find the white faced woman still holding the P90, her hands visibly shaking.
"Lieutenant!" Silence.
"Nora." The name passed his lips quietly. She turned toward him, and he was again drawn to her eyes. They were different. Something was decidedly off. She appeared almost lost.
"I recognize that name." She whispered, dropping the P90 to her side as she peered at him. "Is it mine?"
Swearing mightily, the Colonel laughed bitterly as the reality of the situation hit him full in the gut. They were stranded. They had no access to the stargate and no way to contact Earth. Now, his only companion had lost her memory.
"Yes, it's yours." He said as he pulled the knife from the orc's back and wiped it clean. "Now pack up, we're getting out of here."
--
His cold demeanor ruffled her irritably, yet Nora felt a twinge of familiarity as she strapped the bulging black vest to her upper torso. An ache, heavy and solid, pulsed through her head, and the bound and bloodied wound upon her forehead smarted against the bandage.
"Here, you'll need these." He said, returning the knife along with a holster that carried her hand gun and zatnikatel. The single remaining P90 he kept for himself.
The moon rose further into the night sky only to be obscured by dense green canopies. Mathers cleaned the small wound upon his arm with the frigid waters of the Celebrant as they walked onward into the forest. The wound burned incessantly now, and the sweaty beginnings of fever grew as angry red lines snaked upward toward his shoulder and downward into his wrist.
"I'm sorry...I don't recall your name.." Nora's timid inquiry grated upon his nerves now more than ever. Not simply because she reminded him in every light of his beautiful wife, but because his vision had started to blur, and his stomach began to knot.
"Colonel Robert Mathers. I'm your commanding officer," he retorted as something whistled passed his face, cutting a thin scratch across his forehead before embedding in a tree. He raised the P90 as several armed archers appeared from within the trees themselves, it seemed. They were tall and fair of both skin and hair. Their beauty, however, did not mask their skill as warriors.
One stepped forward, a hand resting threateningly upon the long curved hilt of a sword. An icy gaze foreshadowed a firey tongue. "We do not suffer strangers within our borders. Speak now before you meet your death."
"We were sent here to seek protection and proper medical attention." The fact that he was speaking and understanding an unknown language was the least of his worries as Colonel Mathers wavered on the edge of consciousness. The world dimmed around him as the orc poison coursed within his body. "One calling himself Ulmo..." He faltered and collapsed. Nora lunged forward with a squeek of surprise, but was unable to save him from hitting his head on the forest floor.
"Robert..." She spoke his name as she turned him onto his back.
"Stay your arms," Haldir ordered. The name of the Lord of Waters was never spoken lightly. "Milady, please step away," he knelt beside the man, noting that his companion was not male as he had first believed. He, however, received no response except a look of puzzlement. Never before had he met one of the race of Man who did not speak the common tongue. Taking her arm, he pulled her away and turned her toward Rumil, noting her anxiety. "Cover her with a cloak and return to the flet. We will bring the man."
Orophin stepped forward, inquiring of his brother in the language of the woodland realm. Haldir moved to inspect the prone body, kicking away the strange weapon. They spoke together in quiet tones as his guardsmen awaited orders. ""Tis Orc poison, brother. I am sure of it." Orophin said. "I could recognize the symptoms as I slumbered beneath the stars."
The Marchwarden's eyes narrowed. Unearthly noises in the night, strangers clothed in mystery and speaking the name of Ulmo. He beckoned for one of his Captains. "Take three guards and follow their trail. Keep a watchful eye for orcs." The guard bowed and took his leave as several of his guards hefted the unconscious man. He would need prompt care if they were to stem the affects of the poison.
Lisa