Night had progressed, and the elderly couple had gone to sleep in their own small room. The elf remained near the fire, close to the boy. Her eyes stared into the crackling flames, watching as they danced and leapt, continuing their slow destruction of the logs below. She pondered over Grìma's illness and its current state. She figured that she could rid him of the disease, if she acted properly. The Fairy Healing Water she had given him earlier had already started to take effect, as the gurgling and rasping in his breath had almost stopped. Perhaps one or two more gourds full would aid in stopping the illness completely. Healing Water was extremely potent; the best serum on Middle Earth. It had healed some of the worst illnesses without side effect, and the elf was almost certain that it would help Grìma.
She paused and glanced over at him. The course of the night wasn't going well. Already, she had become very attached to this young human; a mistake quite inadvisable for an elf of any kind. Humans died. That's all there was to it. She would prolong his life for now, but eventually he would die. The thought was painful, but she had seen many humans die in the millennia of her existence. He would be just one more.
Suddenly, the boy's eyes shot open and a gasp escaped his throat; he sat bolt upright, his breath heaving in and out of his small chest. The elf rushed next to him and sat on the edge of the bed.
"What is wrong?" she asked, taking his hand and giving it a small squeeze.
Grìma's eyes were wide and full of terror. "I saw them...orcs...thousands of orcs...they...came upon Edoras and started killing everyone in sight! I...I tried to run, but couldn't...one caught me, and..."
"Shh...it's alright," the elf said soothingly, stroking the boy's small hand. "It was only a dream, nothing more. You're alright."
His eyes focused on her and stared straight into hers. It was at this time that the elf was able to notice just how blue his eyes were. The clear one to the left was like a sparkling sapphire, or the dark waves of the ocean on a clear spring day. The cloudy one to the right was beautiful as well, showing the intensity and depth of his mind as it gazed upon her, unblinking.
"Can...I ask you something?" he said, a hint of timidness in his voice.
"Of course," the elf replied.
"Are...are you the Flame Rider?"
She paused, allowing herself a moment to decide what to answer. It was obvious by the anxious look in his innocent eyes that he was quite hopeful of a positive answer. She had never imagined that the legend would affect anyone as deeply as it affected this boy, and she almost wished that it wasn't true. But humans had shown themselves to be intrigued by what they weren't accustomed to. What came up in response was of no concern to her. Until now, that is.
Finally, she decided to answer, truthfully, for she could not find it in her heart to lie to this boy.
"Yes."
A smile, wide and full of excitement, spread across his pale face and he let out a small squeal.
"Shh, now, now," the elf cautioned. "You will wake your guardians."
"I...I've wanted to..."
"Shh, yes, I know," she said. "And I'm quite flattered." She smiled and ruffled his hair. "It is good to know that I'm thought of...in some context."
Grìma was clearly so excited that he could hardly keep still. "Where are you from? What kind of elf are you? I've never heard of any black-haired elves with cat eyes...are you deformed?"
The elf laughed quietly. "Inquisitive young man, aren't you?" she said. Grìma blushed slightly.
"Sorry..."
"No, no, it's alright. Let's see...I guess I'll give you some kind of answer. I am from very far away, a place you've never been. And I suppose you could say I am deformed...I am the only elf like me in the whole world."
"The WHOLE world?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
She thought. "Well, I just am. I can't really say why."
Grìma pouted. "Why not?"
She smiled, and stroked the side of his face. "You aren't old enough to understand why."
"Well, will you tell me when I get older?"
The elf's expression changed. "I might not see you when you're older."
"Huh? But why? You...you're not going to leave, are you? Please don't leave! I don't want you to leave!"
"But I cannot stay, Grìma. I do not belong among Men."
"Yes you do! You can stay here with me, and belong here!"
She sighed and shook her head. "No, you do not understand. Men..." she looked about to make sure that no one would hear her. "Men would not like me. I am too different. I am..." She paused. "Nothing. Never mind."
"But WHY?" Large tears started to form in Grìma's eyes and the elf had to turn away in order to avoid that pitiful stare which caused her heart to pain.
"Because. I cannot explain why."
Grìma took on a look of angry defiance and grabbed her hand. "I won't let you leave," he said firmly. "I'll make you stay here..."
"Grìma," the elf said, prying his hand off of hers. "I told you. I must go. But I will stay with you until I leave. Will that make you happy?"
"No," he replied, sullenly. "I want you to stay forever."
She sighed once more and picked up the book, still lying at the foot of the bed. "You know the story by heart?" she asked, turning to the page marked by a leaf.
"Yes," Grìma replied, leaning forward.
The elf looked over the words and pointed out one sentence. "What does it say here?"
"That the Flame Rider travels from place to place, never having a place to call home."
"You see? I cannot stay."
Grìma's eyes became desperate. "Then take me with you!" he exclaimed. "I'll not take up a lot of room...I can carry your sword, and feed your horse...I can gather firewood, I can help you somehow! Please!" He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly, tears flowing. "Don't leave me!!"
'Dear God,' she thought as she held the boy, and stroked his hair affectionately. 'What am I to do?' The child brought forth feelings she had never felt before, and it was almost alarming. She could not take this child with her; he would be placed in dangers too terrible for even a grown man. And if anything happened to him...she would never be able to forgive herself.
"Poor, sweet child..." she said softly. "I know your pain. I know the terrible things you have been through in your life...I have experienced many of them myself. I know that you want someone to be with you, and care for and love you like you deserve. But right now, I am not the right person to do so. Allow the old woman and man to take care of you. Become a strong and intelligent man, and live your life as a model to others. I know there is a great future planned for you. You cannot attain your greatness if you are with me."
"But you're a legend..."
"And I wish I weren't. People wrote legends of me because I was strange and did not allow comfort or emotion to influence me. I fight orcs out of self-defense, not for the good of others. I stop thieves because I want to fight. I am a terrible person, Grìma. I do not want you to become like me."
"But you're NOT terrible!" Grìma said. "You're nice, and kind, and beautiful! I won't believe that you're terrible, ever! Not in a million years!"
A tear fell from her own eyes. "Alright, then," she said softly, still petting the child with the utmost tenderness. "All this excitement will make you even sicker. You need rest." She gently laid the boy back down on his pillow, and got up to get him more water. Once again, she slipped the Healing Water into the drinking gourd and handed it to him. He gratefully drank and immediately became drowsy. The elf remained by his side until sleep overcame him.
The sky was beginning to show a faint glow in the east when horse and rider made their way across the plains beyond Edoras. The city grew smaller and smaller, and the elf found herself stopping one last time to look at it.
"Another day, Daemìra," she told herself. "Another day."
As she continued on, she silently hoped that he would find the gift she had left for him.
Grìma woke with a start. He looked around the room, hoping to find her there, but the only person he saw was the old woman making breakfast.
"You're awake," she said. "You look well this morning! I didn't hear you cough once last night. That elf must have helped you somehow."
"Where is she?" Grìma asked, panic in his voice.
"Gone, I'm afraid," the old woman replied. "She must have left before we woke up."
Grìma jumped out of bed and dashed outside t the stable. The great black horse was gone. In a fit of anger, he picked up a rock and threw it against the stable wall. It wasn't fair! She'd gone without so much as a goodbye, and what's worse, he had never even learned her name. Heavy- hearted, he trudged back inside.
"There is something under your pillow," the old woman informed him when he entered. "A note, too, but I couldn't read it."
Grìma approached the bed and lifted up the pillow. Underneath, laid a pendant of some sort. He picked it up and examined it. It was a lovely piece of work; it filled his entire palm, and seemed to be made of finely treated silver. The design was very interesting, with intertwining vine- shaped coils wrapping around a large circular onyx stone in the center. He picked up the paper that lay under the pendant and looked at it. It was written in an unknown language; possibly elfish.
He sighed and held it towards the fire so that he could get a better look at the script...but something caught his attention. The moment the firelight touched the back of the paper, another message appeared beneath the original, this time in the language of men. It read: "Darkness conceals me, fire makes me strong. I am the night. I am the Shadow Jewel."
'What's that supposed to mean?' Grìma wondered to himself. He let out an exasperated huff. It didn't matter. She was gone. But...that didn't mean that she wouldn't come back...perhaps she had something important to do elsewhere. Maybe she needed to leave to help someone. And when she was finished, she would come back. Yes, that's it! She would come back, she had to! And when she did... He laughed to himself and plopped back down on the bed. He could wait. He leaned against the window sill, expectantly peering over the plains, searching for the tell-tale line of flame.
She would come back. She had to.