A voice pierced through Maude's dreams that night. It was a low and deep rumble, like a mountain felled in a landslide, and enough to rouse her to conscious thought; and yet it were quiet, barely a whisper, as though the voice had spoken through a physical wave, rather than an audible one. The conundrum rattled her, and sent a shiver down a spine as she opened her eyes without the merest gasp.
Above her stood the wizard without his hat. Gandalf the Grey. That was what they called him, she understood, though only after Pippin had flung every grey object in sight toward her, whilst repeating his name over and over again with that cheery little grin on his face. He liked to be helpful that way. In fact, Pippin liked to be helpful in a number of ways, though many proved only in effect through a means of mischief. Merry was his accomplice, naturally, and Master Bilbo Baggins did naught to dissuade the two, despite the numerous scoldings he received from Frodo for encouraging them.
"Up with you!"
Gandalf pulled her from the bed by the arm, earning a grunt of protest from Maude. She scowled at him with reproach when he released her, but it did nothing to stop the wizard from hurrying her along.
"This will not do!" He made his way to the door with his staff hitting the ground on every step. "Hardly efficient—I daresay it takes less time to wake a hobbit! Come along! Before death should claim you in old age, if you please ..."
He led her outside and along pathways until they reached an area in Rivendell that Maude had not yet encountered. It was a moderate space, with weapons aligning the walls: bows, swords and staves, all organised in weight and size. In the corner, Gandalf had lit candles—enough to illuminate the structure, thus enabling the two to walk around without hurting themselves on any sharp objects. But that did not stop Maude from walking into the edge of a wooden table.
"Be careful," he warned her as she rubbed her knee. "Some of the weapons in here are older than you are, and very valuable. Now, let's see ..."
For some time, Gandalf bustled around her, taking measurements of her height and her limbs. After he was satisfied, he retrieved a stave from the corner and handed it to her.
"If you can fight with a broom, you can fight with a stave," said the wizard. "I'm certain you would forgive me for choosing to begin with this, rather than a sword. That is, of course, for both our sakes." Then, he smiled and told her, "Attack me."
Maude stared. Thirty seconds passed, and she glanced down at the stave in her hands, then back at the wizard with his own staff. She began to shake her head, insisting, "This is a dreadful idea."
"I thought you might refuse at first," he said, his tone cheerful. "Very well. If you shall not attack me, perhaps you will defend yourself."
And the wizard pounced. Maude barely evaded the strike, surprised at just how adept a man of his age could be. He went in for a second blow, which again narrowly missed her; and then a third, which hit her directly in the chest, knocking the wind from her lungs. She recovered, and cast a glare in his direction.
"If you are to prove to Lord Elrond that you can accompany us on our journey, you must prove that you are capable of and are willing to fight."
The night was long, and made only longer by Gandalf's cries of "Again!" when ever she dared make an attempt to swing the stave at him. The word was to become a bane to her in both Weston and English, if this were to continue. Eventually, he did allow her to return to her guest chambers, but by then the sun had already begun to rise.
It became routine for the wizard to wake her during the late hours for further lessons in combat, and she slowly but surely began to improve. He taught her about appropriate stance, as well as basic offensive and defensive tactics, and it became easier for her to interpret the choreography of battle; everything was a dance, and both her experience with footwork and dexterity allowed her to use this to her advantage. Unfortunately, before Maude could advance to the art of wielding a sword, Rivendell's guests arrived for Elrond's council.
The process was long and arduous, and even after two weeks it seemed that debate was getting them nowhere. Maude often watched them from her window in the courtyard, waiting for one of them to have an ingenious epiphany that would allow the council to move the council along, and free some of Gandalf's time so that the swordsmanship could commence.
It was not until the second month that he spared her any time, awakening her in the early hours of the morning. He took a seat at the end of her bed and held up a rather ostentatious looking stone attached to a silver chain. When faced with the light, it reflected a myriad of colours around the room and across her eyes, mesmerising her.
"This is an Elfstone—very precious and very rare," he explained, as though he, too, were charmed by its appearance, and had forgotten that Maude could not understand his words. "It is enchanted. I give this to you, Maude, only temporarily, and so long as you wear it in my presence, you shall understand what we here in Middle-earth have to say. But alas, we will still not understand you. This is all we can hope for." He glanced at her. "At least for now."
Gandalf set the chain around her neck, and she felt a chill take her bones. She was shaken by its power, and overcame it only when Gandalf whispered gentle words in an ancient tongue.
"Allow me to make another thing clear," he said, and Maude jumped at the sound of his voice. He chuckled at her wide eyes, then told her, "You must not speak around the Men of Gondor. I would prefer it if you not speak to the dwarves, either. This is of the utmost importance. Are you listening?" He paused until she nodded her head. "Good. Also, do not stray from my side whilst they are milling about ... I can only imagine the trouble you would cause. Do you understand? You must be in proximity for the magic of the stone to work." He took another pause, and she nodded again. "Lovely. Oh, and you will return that charm to me once we've arrived in Lothlórien. It is simply in your possession so that you do not make a fool of us all—or worse. The Gondorians are suspicious enough as it is, and the dwarves will certainly not take too kindly to an Elf-friend from another world.
"Now, we shan't be leaving for a while yet, which should provide me with enough time to speak with Lord Elrond on the matter and you to further enhance your learning. In the meantime, I suppose that I'd best introduce you to the new arrivals." He stood and made to leave, but turned on his heel at the door to give her a stern look. "Do remember to keep your mouth firmly closed."
A/N: Again, a hideously short chapter, but I have an upcoming college exam and some coursework that I need to finish. I'll still be updating regularly, just not every day.
As always, thank you to my reviewers.
FlayAltadusa: Thank you again! As for her joining the Fellowship, I imagine Elrond putting up quite the fight. He definitely wouldn't just allow a random female to slink in!
Antheila: Yay for reviews! And for the follows, which are coming along, too! I'm all for mortal, dance-inspired combat. Even more so when it's being taught by Gandalf.
smore9: A flicker of light at the end of the tunnel! Half a language barrier down, though with some iffy business about vicinity. I smell future problems, winkwinknudgenudge.
Kai-Aala: Thank goodness for that! Tap-dancing? Nice! How long have you been doing dance for? Also, thank you for pointing that out about languages!
obsessivesyndrome: Welcome to the story and thank you very much for your review! I'm trying to prevent this from being a repeat of all the other OC stories on this site, which is difficult considering there are so many of them!