Chapter 2: Of Men and Hobbits
Austin ran around the yard, wagging his stubby tail happily, as Laura watched him from the back door, occasionally glancing back into the house. Reaching down to a pocket of her jeans, she felt for a bulge indicating she had remembered her keys. A sigh of relief passed her lips as she heard the familiar jingle of metal against metal. Quickly, she pulled out her keys, looking them over before stuffing them back in her pocket. Raising her gaze, she assumed to see Austin still bouncing around chasing a moth or sniffing some shrub, but stopped as no sign of her dog was seen. Her eyes scanned the trees surrounding her for some trace of Austin, some movement that would indicate his being near, but nothing appeared and she swore loudly, jogging into the yard and eventually the forest, shouting his name.
"Austin!" she hollered as she ran after the little dog. "Hey, Austin!" she yelled again her eyes looking every direction. The overhanging branches scratched her, but that did not matter. She darted her way amongst the trees, thanking God she had been on the cross country team when in high school. There was no path to follow although, and that hindered her partially, but still she continued on, shouting Austin's name every few seconds. "Shoot," she muttered, slowing to a jog and looking behind to see if she could still catch some glimpse of her house. Nothing could be seen beyond the vast branches of the forest, though she took some comfort in the fact that she had run a relatively straight path and by turning around she could manage her way home easily. She spun around again and set off once more. "Austin!" she hollered in her loudest of voices, immediately leaving her speechless with having strained her vocal cords. She coughed as she ran on, hardly noticing the change in the forest, as the trees drew closer and grew more dense and foreboding. A feeling of helplessness came upon her as she looked at the looming trees, getting an eerie sense of hatred from them. She no longer felt at home, but was determined to find her dog and continued trekking on. She cursed herself for having left her cell phone on the table in the living room instead of stuffing it in her pocket, but that could not be helped.
Luck did not seem to be with her that day, social life problems, work difficulties, losing her dog. It all was maddening and all she could do was to try and keep her head held high. Luck would still continue to avoid her however as she failed to notice a root jutting out of the ground, groping into the air, just waiting to catch her. "Oomph," she muttered as she hit the soft forest floor. Growling, she shoved herself up with her forearms, but looking around, she noticed how hazy the forest looked. Just minutes before she had seen clearly, but then it looked as if she were in a dream, a fog suddenly appearing around her, swirling about her in a mist and pulling her into a daze. Hearing the call of sleep, darkness came upon her, and she saw no more.
When Laura woke, she hoisted herself up, scanning the woodland around her in attempt to recall what had brought her to be in such a place. Pushing up from the forest floor, she staggered on the ground, her head spinning.
"How did I end up here now?" she questioned aloud with a moan, rubbing her head delicately. Then suddenly, as if waiting for the question, the memories flooded back to her, bringing with them a look of disbelief. "Bloody tree root," she grumbled, picking up Riley's use of British terms. "As if I don't have any other problems going on. Oh no, my life is at the peak of perfection," she yelled loudly to the sky. She groaned and grabbed her head again as the headache drastically returned and she stumbled forward slightly to lean against a great oak tree. Taking a moment to calm and get a hold of herself, she leaned back against the trunk and closed her eyes. In the silence she took a few deep calming breaths and opened her emerald eyes once more. She looked the direction she had come, talking quietly to herself.
"Alright, I came from that way, so I just have to get home and give 911 a call. Hopefully someone should've found him." Her gaze turned back to where she had been running, her eyes scanning the trees hopefully for some miracle that Austin would be there waiting for her. She took a few steps in the direction and stumbled down a small slope landing on her knees in the middle of a dirt road. "Just great!" she bellowed jumping to her feet. "Now I fall into this dirt—" she stopped abruptly, realizing what she had been saying. There was no road in the forest behind her house! "Where the heck did this come from?" she murmured aloud. Taking a moment for her thoughts, she looked down the road on both sides. A look of confusion passed over her face, but transformed into interest as she heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. Crossing her arms, she stood to a side, waiting for the strangers to approach so she could ask when a road had been made.
The wait was not long, for soon enough, a man looking to be in his mid-forties appeared, a tattered, old black cloak wrapped about him. His black hair was unkempt and dirtied, his stubble of beard completely unshaven. Under his cloak glinted the metal of a sword, and his grimy hands bore a silver ring with an emerald stone. He looked to be a traveler from a period long ago, but he looked far from dangerous despite his appearance. His grey eyes held secrets and knowledge that spanned across the years; strength was held within his dark orbs, but also a gentle kindness and respect not found in most men. She felt it an honor to be in his presence, but for what reason she was at a loss. An air of familiarity emitted from him to the woman, but she could not grasp why due to his strange attire. The man sped quickly up the road, accompanied by what seemed to be three children, with one leading a small pony; an even stranger sight.
"Uh…excuse me," she said, causing him to stop before her, indicating with a single gesture for his companions to remain behind. A look of suspicion crossed his features, but only for a moment as he waited for her to continue. Laura noticed the signs and was cautious to continue, but spoke nonetheless. "Listen, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wonderin' if you could tell me when this road was made. I don't remember it being here before." The man looked her up and down, taking in her strange garb, but he felt no hint of evil from her, only slight confusion and innocence. He relaxed the grip upon the hilt of his blade which he had grabbed instinctively as she had spoken.
"This road has been here for many ages, lady," he finally replied. "Its exact history, I cannot give you, for our time is short. My companions and I must continue on." He walked forward, making as if to pass her, still indicating no evil intentions from her, and therefore deeming her safe. The children followed, looking at Laura curiously as they passed. Looking them over, the woman noticed they were not children at all, only appearing so in stature. Their feet were also abnormally large…and hairy, drawing a look of confusion from her. What…? she thought. She turned to see the man's retreating back and spoke up once more.
"Wait, I'm sorry to annoy you again. I know you need to get going, but you look familiar. Have we met before?" The man looked back to her and his eyes scanned her face, but he shook his head.
"I have trouble understanding your dialect, my lady, yet I do not recall having met you before. Now if you will excuse us, we have need to go to Rivendell and all haste is required." He was about to lead once more but stopped as Laura spoke again.
"Whoa, whoa! Did you just say Rivendell? As in the House of Elrond? The Last Homely House?" The man gave a questioning expression and nodded slowly.
"Yes, my lady. You know of Lord Elrond then. That is indeed rare to find among Men. Few know of him, or at least they care little for the concerns of Elves." Laura heard his words, but did not comprehend them whatsoever. She gaped at him for a few seconds before erupting in laughter.
"That's a great joke. Lord Elrond…Elves…. Are you a friend of Riley's? Did she put you up to this? That's just like her. Just give me a little—" The man fluidly cut her off.
"I am afraid I do not understand, my lady. This is no jest and I know no one by the foreign name of Riley." He glanced over his shoulder to where he had been traveling, his patience wearing thin and worries drastically increasing. One of the children spoke up to the man—the one leading the pony, to be exact—his voice sounding like that of an adult. He was pudgier than the others, seeming just be a simple-minded being, but yet gave off an air of cleverness and strength. The most fear and uncertainty was held in his eyes.
"Strider?"
"Yes, Sam, I know," the man said, nodding swiftly, his mind back on track. He looked to Laura. "I am sorry, but we must carry on, for our need is dire. I sense no evil in you, although, and therefore welcome you to travel with us. I feel with your recognition of Lord Elrond, but slight confusion as to what goes on, it might prove well for you to speak with him." The lobsided grin that had been on Laura's lips disappeared and slipped to a frown, firstly due to the names mentioned between the travelers, but primarily due to how serious the man's tone was as he spoke. Looking into his grey eyes, she could tell he was in no way joking.
"Strider?" she said looking pointedly at him, finally understanding why he had seemed so familiar. He looked exactly like Viggo Mortensen, but Viggo would not be wandering around a forest in Illinois in a Lord of the Rings costume.
"Yes," said Strider, assuming she wanted an answer for the unusual name, "that is what I am called around these parts." He glanced back at his companions and trekked onward, brushing past them as he led on. "Come!" he called back to them all, "we must not tarry any longer. Come along Hobbits!" he said again when they had not responded to his first instruction.
Hobbits? Strider? Lord Elrond…? thought Laura, walking as if in a daze behind them. I guess I'm not in Kansas anymore. She could not help still being suspicious it was all a hoax and she was just a short distance from her home, but her curiosity won over her and she followed the group, though keeping a few paces behind them for safety.
One of the hobbits looked back at the woman and gradually lagged back until he was in toe with her, trying to keep up with her long strides. Laura had crossed her arms, looking in concentration at the ground, trying to comprehend what was happening. Her gaze strayed, however, to another pair of large feet beside her own. Raising her eyes, she looked into the kindly brown eyes of one of the 'hobbits', a mop of curly blondish hair on his head. Comparing him momentarily to the others of his…race?...she came to conclude that he was the youngest.
"Hullo," he greeted cheerily, a grin upon his features. Laura returned the gesture, suddenly feeling a bit more at ease for some unknown reason. "What is your name?" asked the hobbit in what sounded to be a Scottish accent.
"Pippin!" scolded another one of the hobbits, running back immediately. "Don't be so rude about it. Perhaps she does not want to talk." He looked angrily at Pippin, before turning back to Laura, also walking in toe with the two. He appeared just a slight bit taller than the first, but still looked similar to him. "Excuse my cousin," he apologized. "Sometimes he can be an absolute fool, being a Took after all. Exactly the opposite of us Bradybucks," he added with pride, jabbing a thumb at himself. Laura smiled slightly with a nod, brushing the apology away with the act.
She looked down at the hobbits with interest, wondering if she truly could be in Middle-Earth. The hobbits did look precisely like the actors from the films she so adored and they behaved like she always imagined the characters to. The taller hobbit jabbered on for a few minutes, explaining how Brandybucks were better than Tooks, Pippin throwing in comments here and there. Laura just enjoyed hearing their voices, silently pondering if it were real.
"Oh," the older hobbit exclaimed, smacking his head with his palm. "What am I doing?" He looked Laura squarely in the eyes. "Name's Merry Brandybuck," he introduced with a grin, "and this is Peregrin Took." He pointed to the hobbit beside him.
"Pippin," the young hobbit interjected, to which Merry nodded bluntly in agreement, his gaze landing on the two walking farther ahead: namely Strider and the other hobbit, Sam.
"That's Sam Gamgee," he added, pointing to the largest of the hobbits that carried the heaviest pack, pots and pans swinging idly from it, and still managing to lead a pony. "You've already met Strider," he commented, his eyes staring at the foreboding man that led the group. Sam looked cautiously back as his name was mentioned, but he said nothing, his eyes staring warily at Laura before shifting to Strider.
"And may we ask your name, since you have heard all of ours?" asked Strider, not turning to look back at the followers, knowing they had heard him. Laura kept quiet for a few moments, the gears in her mind spinning. Should she tell who she was to complete strangers, though they did seem to actually be characters from her favorite story? They had acted realistic enough, and taking a breath, throwing chance to the winds, she responded.
"My name's Laura Bradford," she replied to which she noticed Strider nod in thought, glancing back for only a mere second. He noticed exactly how far back the others were, Sam being the exception, and indicated they best keep up with a call.
Laura and the two hobbits immediately quickened their pace until they were a short distance from Strider and Sam. They walked on in silence, giving Laura the time to contemplate over her temporary traveling companions. Her gaze strayed among them all, trying to conclude if she were the target of some insane practical joke, or if in fact, despite the madness of it, she had mysteriously landed in Middle-Earth.
Looking over the hobbits, she noted how they looked real-enough by her standards. Large hairy feet tracked on the ground, curly mops of hair graced their head, yet they bore their adult features upon figures the size of children. Merry and Pippin most definitely seemed much like their movie counterparts, having the same characteristics and qualities about them. She had not had the chance to speak to Sam, however. As if on cue she heard Sam murmur quietly to himself in complaint.
"Sending Mr. Frodo off with that elf! How could you do that to 'im? All those Wraiths are out there. Still think you could be with the Enemy, despite 'is thoughts." Laura smirked to herself. Yes, that was definitely the mindset of Sam, ever the faithful servant and friend to Frodo. Sam suddenly seemed to sense her eyes on him, and looked back, giving her an untrusting stare and shutting up.
Laura's eyes gradually moved to view the backside of the ranger, the Dunedin, Aragorn, or Strider as he was now known. Could he actually be Elessar, the future king of Men? She wanted to find some method to test him, for it proved dangerous to be walking amongst complete strangers who could be complete maniacs in a forest, especially when one carried a sword. Trying to buck up her courage and stifle the fright that boiled up within her at what could occur if she thought wrongly about his realism, she jogged up to walk beside him.
His eyes were downcast at the moment, searching the soft ground for tracks. Imprinted there, he could see the hooves of horses, ten horses, and judging by how deep the prints were they were at a gallop.
"Arwen…," he murmured, concern creeping into his voice, something rarely heard in his normally powerful tone, one that demanded respect. He was slightly startled when he saw another pair of feet beside him, and shook the thoughts away. Glancing up, he looked at Laura, no smile gracing his lips, and his features not betraying his original reaction.
Laura offered a slight smile in a minor attempt to comfort. If he were Aragorn, she understood where his thoughts lay. She glanced over his figure as his eyes reverted away from her. There had to be something she could ask about to help her indicate if he were truly Aragorn, something that would not increase his suspicions of her. She thought on the sword he bore, but decided against it, she considered him being of a line of kings, but again turned that down. She then noticed the single, silver ring he wore on his finger. It was such a small detail to the costume; she could hardly imagine some person going to such great lengths to get a ring to match the one that Aragorn wore in the film. Still, she thought it best to question it, in order to reassure her thoughts.
"That ring," she began quietly to him, drawing his silver orbs to her own emerald ones, "it's beautiful. Where did you get it?" Strider rose his hand and looked over the ring for a brief moment before letting it drop and responding.
"It is an heirloom of my family. The ring of Barahir is its name." He left his answer at that, not wishing to go into detail for fear of revealing his true identity, especially when the hobbits did not know it.
Laura nodded as if in understanding, when in fact she nodded to silently confirm her thoughts. Someone making a prank wouldn't know that little fact, let alone have such a detailed costume. Not saying a word, she decided on trusting her instinct. Somehow, she had to have come to Middle-Earth, but doubt still lingered, and she would only completely admit she had arrived on a new world once she had seen the House of Elrond. If their journey ended by arriving at a home of extraordinary beauty, one that could be deemed the Last Homely House, and she had seen Lord Elrond himself (if he truly existed), she would believe she had appeared in a world she only knew as one in stories and tales.
The company walked in silence for the next half hour or so, each keeping up in pace, though gradually tiring by the look of it. Laura was the least ready for such extraneous walking and her legs were near ready to give out beneath her. Her breathing became shallow as she tired. They had been walking on a path in a wood for near an hour and still the scenery had not changed. Trees surrounded them, bushes and shrubs dotted throughout the area. If there had been no path, Laura would have sworn they had passed the same tree numerous times, for when within a forest, every piece of greenery looks the same as the last. No tree appears different, no blade of grass stands out among the rest, and all is simply green and thriving. Would they ever leave the realm of the forest? Laura began to doubt it.
Her feet took to stumbling more on miscellaneous stones, causing her to sway dangerously before catching her balance at the last moment. At this revelation Laura's gaze became drawn to her companions. The hobbits seemed to be lagging behind Aragorn and herself more than usual, their short legs slowing in pace, though they kept a brave face and plowed on. Laura noticed especially Sam's exhaustion, lugging a large pack full of goods and leading a pony as well. She could still distinguish the obvious distrust of both Strider and herself on his features, his eyes suspicious and disagreeing.
Allowing herself to fall back, she walked beside him, immediately gaining his mistrusting gaze. She laid a hand lightly on his shoulder, bringing his dark eyes upon hers. A soft, compassionate smile is what met him, but that did not eliminate his wariness. As far as he was concerned, kindness and comforting words were some of the simplest tools of deceit. He was surprised immensely, however, at her next words.
"I've been noticing you're worrying for someone close to you. You have enough on your plate, and your pony enough on his back. Let me help you carry your pack. I could use the exercise anyway," she added, in attempt to lighten the mood. He did not look solaced, although, and instead replied with curious words.
"Why do you want to 'elp me?" he asked, not entirely understanding what she had said. "And how do you know what I'm feeling?" Laura was not taken aback by his question, seeing them as suitable for Sam, considering the situation. The more time she spent among the strangers, the more open she was in accepting them for Lord of the Rings characters. Her smile only grew at his words, hoping to convince him of her sincerity.
"I want to help you 'cause I see you deserve help, and as for my knowin' what you're feeling, let's just call it a hunch." Sam made no response, but seeing no reason to reject her offer to help, he cautiously began to remove his pack. He eyed her in wonder and disbelief as he obliged, handing over his pack, but gratitude flowed from within his weary muscles once he had relinquished his belongings. The lack of weight sent a burst of energy up his spine, and he was compelled to go on.
Laura shouldered the pack, finding herself surprised at what a burden it proved to be. If she were even struggling to walk with it, she could hardly imagine what hell Sam had been going through. Despite her creaking joints and protesting muscles, she used the strain of the pack to motivate her. Allowing only a few moments of silence to pass, she spoke aloud to Strider.
"How far 'till we're there?"
"We are close," came the Ranger's curt response as he wound his way amongst the trees that continued to surround them. He was far from his last legs, and strength still burned within him. If there were a need, he could walk for days without growing a slight bit tired, but due to the trials he had faced in the past days, he was even beginning to weaken. He still was the most fit among the company however. Looking back to his companions, his eyes scanned each of them in turn, lingering on Laura for the longest amount of time.
"I have never seen such garb in all the likes of Middle-Earth before, Lady Laura," he commented, gaining her attention straight away. She looked down at the shirt, jeans, and shoes she wore momentarily before her eyes landed upon the back of his head as he continued. "Where do you hail from to have such unique clothing?" He did not speak solely for the purpose of discussion, but in attempt to rejuvenate the company's waning energy with some conversation. He could sense no danger near, and therefore thought it safe to risk some words; otherwise he would dare not have questioned her. Also, his curiosity was piqued of who exactly their newest companion was, so he listened intently for any reply.
Laura made no sound right away. Her eyes instead took to surveying the ground her feet walked on. What sort of answer should she give? The truth could very well cause the others to give her strange glances, but a lie could later raise suspicions. To not reply, itself would be rude and also could increase mistrust. Looking at every possible response, she realized anywhere she turned could come out badly, and cause terrible reactions. As the hobbits began to give her quizzical looks, she settled on a reply and spoke forward.
"I come from a land far from here. One you most likely would not know of." Strider offered a sidelong glance at her, but took her vague answer as it was. It was her choice to explain where she came from or no, but the fact of the matter was that her answer increased his curiosity and interest more so.
"I have traveled much of Middle-Earth and know it well, though I shall take your word," was his simple response, indicating he understood her wishes and would not press further on the matter. Laura released a bated breath, thanking the Ranger silently for his selfless act. It was then she realized she enjoyed the man's company and found him very intelligent and worldly. He perceived much and took things in stride, a trait she greatly admired.
In a short time, they came to a stream, shallow enough to wade through, and yet with a powerful current that could easily knock one off their feet. The small company looked longingly to the other bank. Laura glanced over the rocky preface where the steam surged from. In her mind's eye, she could see the waters rear up and take the shape of brilliant stallions, overcoming the Enemy as they attempted to cross the Ford. It seems so real, she mused to herself, gazing in wonder. Strider knelt down and pawed at the ground, speaking quietly to himself, though still loud enough for the others to hear.
"There were ten horses on this shore…," his eyes looked across the waters, "yet I only see the prints of a single horse on the opposite bank." He stood to his feet, his grey orbs scanning the ford. "Hope is kindled in my heart at this sight," he murmured, then looked back at his companions. "We must cross this ford, and we shall then be in the realm of Lord Elrond. A short distance more and we shall arrive in Rivendell." He smiled grimly at the look of horror on the hobbits' faces at the prospect of going into the water. "Do not fear," he said calmly to ease their worries. "The water is low. It should come up to your waist at most." Without saying another word, he plunged into the ford, the water rushing against him and lapping up against his calves. Laura stepped in right after him, wading easily through the water until halfway to shore. Aragorn was three-fourths of the way across by then. The woman looked back to see the three hobbits still as stone. Not one of them had taken a step closer towards the rough waters.
"Don't worry," she called to them. "You heard Strider. The water won't be too high, and we're close as ever to Rivendell." At her goading, Pippin cautiously stepped forward, slipping his large feet into the stream. Laura turned around to see Strider climb onto the opposite bank, looking back for his remaining companions. "One minute!" she hollered to him over the roar of the speeding ford. Aragorn nodded in compliance as he watched the woman turn about and crash through the water towards the hobbits.
"Come on," she said in a quieter tone as she came nearer to them. "I'll take Bill. You just take care of yourselves." She trampled up to them and took the pony's reins from Sam, gesturing for them to go ahead. Merry started forward, following Pippin into the water, but Sam remained behind, a question plaguing his mind.
"How did you know Bill's name?" he asked, his eyes scrutinizing her in curiosity. Laura silently cursed, realizing she had messed up right away. How was she going to explain she knew all about them due to some books that she read? Her mind thinking quickly, she answered as rapidly as she could.
"I thought I heard Strider mention it once on the journey." Sam looked at her questioningly for a long moment more, but luckily for Laura, Merry called for the hobbit, indicating he should follow. Sam seemed to forget all about his question immediately and jumped down after the other hobbits, his urgency to get to Rivendell overpowering his suspicions for the moment. Laura pushed him ahead, watching the hobbits as they struggled across the ford. She sensed they were managing well enough, however, and placed her concentration on getting both herself and Bill across.
Strider assisted each hobbit up the slippery bank in turn, ending in helping Laura lead Bill. He smiled lightly with a laugh as he met her and grabbed hold of Bill's reins. The bottom of her jeans and shoes were drenched to the core, and he realized with ease that her clothes had to be soaking wet with the multiple times she had crossed the waters.
"I most definitely see you are not the typical maiden who would cringe at the thought of wading through a ford," he commented, leading Bill easily up the slope as she followed, trudging behind him. She grinned at the observation, and waited until they locked eyes before she replied.
"Far from it. I'm always willing to get my hands dirty, or help a hobbit in need." She glanced lightheartedly at the hobbits as they attempted to wring the clinging water from their tunics and trousers. Strider followed her gaze, an equal smile upon his worn features.
Laura turned her green orbs from the hobbits to notice Strider, or Aragorn as she should rightly call him. His smile caused his careworn face to lose many years. The spark of knowledge and worldliness still shone brightly in his eyes, but a smile on his features brought back a certain youth and happiness not often seen there. That in itself brought a grin to the woman's face. Aragorn chuckled lightly at the hobbits' poor attempts to rid themselves of the dampness and instead spoke some words of comfort.
"Come, hobbits. There are clean clothes and warm beds in Rivendell awaiting your arrival. The sooner we are there, the sooner you return to comforts not so different from your own hobbit holes." The few words brought glints of anticipation to the three hobbits' eyes, and immediately they readied themselves to continue on, Sam once more resuming his duty of leading Bill, but not before inclining his head in thanks to both Laura and Aragorn.
The troop walked around the preface of a small cliff, paying little attention to their surroundings (Aragorn being the exception), until they beheld a sight that made their jaws fall open. The Last Homely House stood before them and it was utterly beyond belief to see. No words could accurately describe the Elvish haven to its due credit. Waterfalls rolled majestically off the rocky cliffs the city resided on. Luscious trees surrounded the buildings, their leaves the gold, reds, and oranges of autumn trickling lightly to the ground on a soft breeze. The city itself seemed to glow in its brilliance, making it seem a heaven of sorts. Rivendell seemed untouched by the years and immortal in its own sense. Time did not appear to elapse at the House of Elrond, all just occurred in the present moment, while the world around it went about its own affairs.
The company, still awestruck by the magnificence of the Elf-lord's home, entered beneath the great stone arch of the haven as if in a daze. Only Aragorn seemed unperturbed and collected. He led the troop on easily, bearing his destination in mind and silently looking forward to the peace Rivendell would offer.
They approached a stairway leading up into a hall. There, at the height of the steps, stood an elf, tall and regal in bearing. His face was stern, holding within its features the memory of all the years that had passed. A cold gleam lit his careworn eyes, one that demanded respect, and yet gave the viewer a glimpse at the many horrors he had seen in his days of living, as well as the pleasantries. Long raven hair flowed down his back, landing lightly on the shoulders of his robe. A bright circlet christened his head, thus completing his appearance. Lord Elrond stood before them.
"Welcome to Rivendell, my friends," he proclaimed as he greeted them, ushering them inside.