A/N: Ohmygod plot stuff! You have no idea how long I've waited to write plot stuff! Yaaaaaay PLOT!
History Will Be Kind To Me
From Lands Beyond
"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." - Nelson Mandela
08. Somewhere Over The Rainbow
Lothlórien, 2999 of the Third Age
Celírion was uncharacteristically quiet as he ascended the smooth wooden steps to a place he had never before set foot.
They had called upon him! The Lord and Lady! To their court!
He felt all at once jubilant and ill.
After all, why would the Lord and Lady call upon him at all? He did not hail from a house of great repute like the Lords Aragorn or Megilthor nor had he done any great deeds warranting any sort of gratitude. His father was a Silvan elf from Mirkwood and his mother, though lauded for her enchanting singing voice, was a common Teleri from Mithlond. If his parents were of no consequence to their Lord and Lady why would they ever take an interest in him?
Anxious, he climbed the steps alongside the messenger who had come to fetch him and tried to appear unconcerned. He didn't succeed. In fact, he stared wondrously upon the elegant ceiling that arced over their heads as they entered the hall at the top of the steps. Though all of Caras Galadhon was beautiful, there was something about this place that clearly set it apart from the rest of the city. As if light itself were painted into the very walls.
"Ah, there you are child."
Celírion's eyes snapped back down, alighting on the couple standing upon the dais at the end of the hall. And the third, dusky-skinned figure who stood before them.
Hastily, he bowed low, though not before he could wipe the shocked look from his face. What was she doing here?!
"My Lord. My Lady. I am yours to command."
"And command you we must," Celeborn's voice rang like thunder throughout the hall. "Rise my child. We have a task for you."
Celírion obeyed, curious. He had never been given a task from his Lord or Lady before. Not directly anyway. Instead of speaking though, Celeborn turned to Alice and motioned for her to speak.
"I need to leave Lothlórien."
Whatever he had been expecting her to say, this was not it.
Alice seemed to see this however, and quickly elaborated, "Only for a few days. I just need to visit the place I was found. The shack with the apple tree."
"I...see." Actually he did not see but he wasn't about to say so in front of his Lord and Lady.
"She has asked for you to be her guide," Galadriel supplied helpfully.
"Forgive my ignorance but would Ruinthir not be better suited for this task?" Celírion asked cautiously. "After all, was it not he who rescued Alice? Surely he would know the area better than myself..."
"She asked for you specifically," Celeborn answered. "I have faith that you will see her to her destination safely."
"Of course!" Celírion said automatically, a century's worth of conditioning forcing him to agree to anything his Lord commanded of him. Even ferry a human girl into the wild in search of...something.
"Good. You may leave when you are able. Take whatever supplies you think you may need." Celeborn turned away but was stopped by Alice.
"Thank you, Lord Celeborn. Lady Galadriel. You do not understand the boon that you've given me, but you do so anyway. I appreciate it."
Galadriel stepped down from the dais then, and laid a kiss upon the girl's brow. "Oh, but I do."
And then they turned away, dismissing the two without a word.
Celírion came for her two days later.
They had agreed that they would need a few days to prepare (mostly Alice) and so when the fateful day dawned, Celírion found her waiting for him at the base of her steps, dressed in a tunic and breeches with a bulging pack at her feet.
"We will only be gone for a few days," he said, deliberately eyeing her pack. "What did you bring?"
"Stuff," Alice replied defensively.
Celírion knew that look. Wisely, he let the matter go and instead slung her bag over his shoulder and motioned for her to follow. Obediently, she fell into step beside him as he led the way across Caras Galadhon and through its gates.
"Wait...are we walking there?" Alice asked suddenly, as if the thought hadn't occurred to her.
Celírion choked back a laugh. "No. We'll be riding." He informed her as he led her in the direction of the stables.
"A horse?"
"Of course," he began before a horrifying thought occurred to him. "You have ridden a horse before have you not?"
Alice rolled her eyes. "Yes, Celírion. I've ridden a horse before."
However, he remained skeptical all the way to the stables. Instead of leading her straight into the stables however, he led her to the paddock beside it where a dozen or more horses grazed lazily. He clicked his tongue and a slender roan mare trotted up to the fence.
"I know what you want," he said amusedly as the creature sniffed at him expectantly. From his pack, he pulled out an apple and she snatched it greedily from his open palm.
Alice looked on, clearly taken with her. "She's beautiful!"
"She would agree with you," Celírion laughed good-naturedly. "This is Rochiril."
Alice whispered unintelligible things as she stroked Rochiril's nose.
"Is she yours?"
"Yes. Though sometimes she gives me the impression that I am hers."
She laughed and kissed her nose. "Yes, I'm sure she does."
Celírion smiled as he opened the gate to the paddock and then led Rochiril to the stables where he could saddle her. Alice fingered the tack as he quickly secured it all into place. When he reached for her though, intending to boost her up, she was already expertly swinging herself into the saddle.
She grinned. "I told you. I've ridden a horse before."
"Yes, I can see that now," he said, impressed. There was an easiness to her in the saddle that he'd never seen in her before. A moment later he was swinging himself up behind her, her back pressed tightly to his front. Her hair tickled his neck and chin...he'd never touched her hair before. It was soft… Celírion blinked, shaking such thoughts from his head, and quickly took ahold of the reins.
It was going to be a long day.
The ride through Lothlórien went smoothly and before he knew it they were leaving the cover of the trees behind. Celírion knew exactly when they had crossed the threshold because he felt the telltale ripple of magic skitter over his skin like an army of tiny insects. In front of him, he felt Alice inhale. Ah, she had felt it too then.
The sun was high in the sky as they rode into the open plains. Though he had not been amongst the group who had rescued Alice, it wasn't difficult to figure out where it was she intended for them to go. There was only one 'old shack with an apple tree' between Lorien and Fangorn and it had once belonged to an old woman. One of the only humans brave enough to venture so close to the Lord and Lady's wood. She had died long before his time as a marchwarden though and so he had only ever known the shack as a quiet, abandoned place.
It didn't take long to find it. By midday they were riding into the valley where the ruined building stood, but strangely, instead of calling for them to stop, Alice asked him to keep moving.
"I thought that this was the place you wanted to visit?" He asked, confused.
"No. This was where the elves found me. I'm looking for a place further upstream, where I started."
"Where you started?" Celírion repeated, even more confused. What did that mean? However, Alice didn't answer him, and instead took control of the reins and guided Rochiril into a trot towards the stream at the base of the hill.
And so they rode alongside the stream for a time, with Alice glancing about as if searching something and Celírion dwelling upon the words where I started as if they held some clue to his friend's mysterious behavior. Eventually they came to a stop but, as it turned out, not because they had arrived at their destination.
"What are you doing?" He asked, brows furrowed as Alice swung down from the saddle and began to wander off.
She looked back, giving him an exasperated look. "Don't look."
He was very confused now. "What do you mean?"
Her agitated look only grew more pronounced. "I have to go."
"Go? Go where?" What was she on about? Was she seriously about to wander off on her own?
"Celírion," she huffed, tilting her head back. "We've been riding a long time."
"Yes, I suppose-"
"And I need to empty my bladder now."
Oh.
Celírion flushed and hastily turned his head away to look at something, anything but Alice as she went off to...his ears grew hot.
"You know," She said when she had wandered back and swung herself back up into the saddle. He was even more aware of the warmth of her back than before. "If this kind of intimacy bothers you, I can't imagine how you'd react if we were married."
Celírion was eternally grateful that she could not see his face in that moment.
They stopped for the night just as the sun began to set.
"Shouldn't we build a fire?" Alice asked curiously when Celírion reached for their packs and pulled out some lembas and fruit.
"It is far too warm for a fire," he replied pointedly eyeing her rolled sleeves and bare feet. "Besides, orcs wander these lands at night. A fire would only announce our presence."
"Oh," she said. "I guess that makes sense."
Before he could stop himself, he asked, "How did you survive out here alone?" It didn't take much to surmise that she had few survival skills. Though she was skilled with a horse she did not seem to be aware of the dangers in the wilds. She could read and write (though only in her native language) but was unable to grasp the basics of mending or embroidery. He would've thought her a foreign noble of some kind but her lack of manners and her familiarity with he and the common people of Lothlórien told a different story.
"Oh, well," she began, her eyes cast downward as if she were embarrassed. "I suppose I was lucky."
"Ruinthir told me that you had no supplies with you when they found you. No horse. No clothing." What happened to you, he wanted to add but then he decided perhaps such a question was best left for a later time.
"I didn't exactly plan this trip. It just sort of...happened." She fell silent after that, eyes distant as she watched Rochiril graze at the edge of the stream.
"I think Eru must be fond of you..." he whispered, too quiet for her ears. He handed her a peach then and said, much more loudly, "Eat." She took the fruit but went back to staring into the distance, the peach dangling from her limp fingers, forgotten.
Celírion watched her stay that way until she fell asleep.
"It is time to wake Alice."
A low, rumbling growl was his only answer. He laid a hand on her shoulder, but Alice rolled her face into her pack.
"Nooooooo…"
"It is well past dawn."
More groaning and grumbling followed before the girl finally rolled into a sitting position, eyes still bleary with sleep. Her hair was in complete disarray, most of it having come free from her braid during the night. Celírion's eyes rose into his hairline.
Alice noticed and growled, "Not. One. Word."
Wisely, he kept silent and went about re-saddling Rochiril while Alice wandered over to the stream.
By the time his mare was saddled and ready to go, Alice had pulled her hair back into a knot at the base of her skull and washed the grime from her face. She smothered a yawn behind her hand and climbed into the saddle only slightly less gracefully than she had the day before.
"Is this what Tinuthel deals with every morning?" Celírion teased as he climbed behind her and set Rochiril into a brisk trot.
"I'm not a morning person," she replied as if that explained everything.
"What, pray tell, is a morning person?"
"Elves."
"I think this is it."
Celírion stared at the long expanse of yellow grass, virtually indistinguishable from the other yellow grass that they had been exploring for the last day and a half.
"Are you sure?"
But Alice was already climbing down to investigate and he had no choice but to follow.
"I don't understand," he began cautiously, following behind her as she brushed her hands against the sun-bleached stalks. "How do you know?"
"I just do," she shrugged, closing her eyes and turning her face up to the sun. "It just feels...familiar. You know?"
Actually he didn't know. He didn't know at all, but then this also wasn't his trip. It was hers. If she said that this was the place then he would just have to trust her. Thus, Celírion left to unsaddle Rochiril and make camp while she wandered through the grass, lost in thought. He watched her though. She was like a ghost. Silent, unaware of the world around her.
It was unlike her.
She came to him at last as the sky turned flame-bright and the stars began to peek beyond the horizon.
"I have a favor to ask of you."
He sprang to his feet.
"Anything."
"I need a stick."
That caught him off guard. "...A stick?"
"Yes. A big one. Do you think there are any around here?"
Truthfully he didn't think there would be but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
"I will find you a stick." Even if it took him all night.
Thankfully, he wouldn't be required to search all night for just as he began to look, he found a large branch hidden in the grass not far from camp. It was even stripped clean of any twigs or forks. Perhaps Eru really was fond of her…
Curious, Celírion brought his find back to Alice and she declared it acceptable. He watched avidly as she pulled a knife from her pack and began to carve tiny foreign letters into the end. He had no idea what it was supposed to say but he could tell that it was important to her so he left her to it. She wasn't at it long though, before she was soon asking him to drive it into the ground.
"Just deep enough so it'll hold," she explained. He complied easily, driving it deep until the top rested just below his thigh. And then...she sat there, knees folded to her chest, eyes roaming over words only she could understand.
It reminded him of a sight he'd seen only once before, when he was still a child. An ellon had died of a mortal wound sustained during battle and his body had been laid to rest under a mallorn tree. He had not yet understood the nature of death and the gathering of so many elves to mourn had been an alien experience for him.
Had someone died here? Who was she mourning? The questions burned in his mind but he dared not utter them aloud. Whatever she mourned, it was best to leave her to do so in peace.
He didn't even notice her leave her...grave? Memorial? He was unsure what to call it until she put a name to it aloud. She appeared at his side late into the night, when the stars were high in the sky and he had been humming a hymn to Elbereth.
"That's a pretty song."
He didn't reply, only stared at her in the starlight. She was apprehensive, her fingers picking at the grass nervously.
"If I tell you something, will you promise not to ask questions?"
What a strange request! He sat up straighter and leaned forward curiously. "You are shaking!" He noticed with alarm. "Are you well?"
"Have you ever had something unexplainable happen to you? And you knew that if you ever told anyone they would never believe you?"
Celírion stared, wide-eyed. What was she going to tell him? "I have not."
She took a deep breath through her nose, as if readying herself. "My home...is very, very far away..." she began.
And then she told him everything.
A/N: Oh boy. Here we go. Shit's about to get real.
Chapter Timeframe: July 2, 2999 T.A. - July 6, 2999 T.A.
Today in "Middle Earthean History, Culture, and Geography Notes AKA Stuff I Feel Like Talking About":
- There aren't really any notes for this chapter to be honest. Just a lot of traveling and secret divulging...you know, the usual.
- For those who didn't quite catch it, Alice was going back to the place she woke up in Middle Earth so she could mourn her old life and put it to rest. Normally I see this sort of thing happen in other Modern OC fics at the end, but it's already been over a year and I think even Alice knows that she's never going home. This was her way of dealing with that and moving on with her life. Obviously Celírion noticed none of this since it's all from his POV and she's doing all of this soul-searching internally.
- Yes, she really told him everything. He is one very, very confused boy right now. Poor thing.
Sindarin Names and Their Meanings/Pronunciations
Rochiril - Horse Lady (row-keer-eel)