Disclaimer: I do not own LotR

Note: Expect longer entries, but less of them, now that things are getting juicy.

Chapter Four

Day Seventy Three, Night

Today has been bliss.

Well, mostly.

I was earlier interrupted by an elleth named Nimhel. She was achingly beautiful, like everyone here except for me and Gorvon. And in all honesty, he's rather fine himself.

Seriously, this is unfair! Okay, so I was never stunning or beautiful. But I was always pretty, usually one of the prettier girls in the room. I have the whole blonde-hair, blue-eyes thing going for me and I'm pretty fit, because I was a cheerleader in High-school, even if I work as an assistant masseuse at a spa now and have zero time to work out between that and college. I was always a solid seven-out-of-ten.

But here I am quite firmly the least good-looking thing around for miles. Even the men are more beautiful than me. How sad is that?

But moving on.

Nimhel spoke Westron, though heavily accented, so we could communicate in broken sentences and whatnot. She showed me to this small antechamber-type-place through a door in my room. There was a bath set up; a real, actual bath! Not one of those buckets Mildburg had us wash in. I was so happy. And it was filled with warm water. There were jars or shampoo and soap and scented oils, and a soft scrubbing-brush and a wooden comb for my hair and -get this- a razor! A rather scary and knife like one, but still.

There was more- yes, it get's better. Nimhel gave me a piece of wood with short bristles and a jar of something that looked pasty and powdery and smelled strongly of mint. And she told me they were for my teeth! Oh, to have clean teeth; you don't appreciate it enough until it's taken from you.

There was also a fluffy towel being warmed over a small fire (even at home, I didn't have this luxury!) and a silk shift (silk!), and a simple but lovely green dress.

Then Nimhel told me to take my time and said to come when I was ready.

So I did.

Take my time, that is.

I soaked for at least half in hour, scrubbing my skin and washing my hair and shaving, and feeling cleaner than I had in months. Elves make fantastic bathroom supplies (even their latrines are more sophisticated and have much better wiping materials. Though wool does take some getting used to, it is better than corn cobs). But their soap and shampoo and oils are like heaven.

I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, pulling it back and using the ribbon Rose gave me like a headband, and dressed myself, and then brushed my teeth. The paste was grimy and unpleasant and I had to rinse my mouth out several times, but my breath smelled minty fresh.

There is something very therapeutic about being clean. Especially when you have not been for some time. At the Inn, we got weekly scrubs, and were told to chew mint leaves to keep our breath clean. And Mildburg yanked our hair back into braids. She is so barbaric. But now I am so comfortable, my hair feels smooth again, my shift is impossibly nice, and I don't smell bad, even after weeks traipsing through the woods.

When I got out, Nimhel had brought some food on a silver tray- nothing fancy, eggs and bread and a peach, but it tasted heavenly. I thanked her profusely. She seemed amused at how delighted I was by the food but was very kind.

Then she said "Lord Elrond wants to speak to you today, are you alright with that?"

I was a bit terrified at that point, but what was I going to say? No, not at all, just let me eat and bath and dress myself here and ask no questions? So I just nodded. And asked if I could have another peach.

So Nimhel took me to the kitchens, which were very male-dominant. Only a few ellyth were there, and they were all baking bread.

Nimhel was very careful not to ask to many questions. She simply pointed out rooms to me and told me about what they were growing in the gardens. She was impressed when I recognized a few, and especially so when I knew their use. She seemed shocked that I knew certain flowers were good for relaxation and what extracts made good pain killers.

I wasn't sure how to explain that I was going to community college to be a spa-specialist and interned on the side, so when she asked me where I learned everything, I said I was training as a sort of doctor. Not the kind who can sew up wounds or anything, but one who works with helping people relax. That seemed satisfactory.

She must have been told not to press me too much for answers because though she seemed curios, she just went on to tell me about the types of 'healers' they had in Rivendell. It was fascinating.

To be honest, I only went into spa-therapy because I was rejected from UVA. I had wanted to study math, because it was the only subject I ever got an A in (and by the seat of my pants at that), but I enjoyed learning about massages and natural remedies.

I wonder if I'll be able to learn any more here? I mean, there must be millions of things the elves know. But I'm afraid I'll be to shy to ask...

We ran into another elleth, and she was prettier than all of the others I had seen, which was saying something. She had silvery blonde hair and a sort of lean face- she didn't speak Westron and wasn't as kind as Nimhel, but the two were clearly friends. Her name is Lýthril.

Apparently she is something of a weaver, so her and Nimhel showed me to the room where the looms were kept, and hers was amazing.

I find it unfair that elves be beautiful, immortal, and talented to a ridiculous degree. What do we mortals get? Facial hair?

Lýthril seemed pleased with my obvious awe at her work and when we continued our walk she pointed out several other tapestries she had made, each more beautiful than the last. She was a little...into herself, I'd say. But she did compliment my innovative hairstyle, as Nimhel translated. I am not sure, to be honest, that it was meant as a compliment, but I chose to take it as one. After all, I'd rather not feel like elves are mocking me.

Then came the fated hour. Nimhel walked with me to large oak doors (by this point Lýthril had left to finish up he latest creation) and knocked on them. They opened instantly.

There stood an old man. It took me a moment to register who he was; he had ridiculously bushy brows and was dressed entirely in gray robes. Then it hit me.

I kept myself from saying 'Gandalf?!', but I think he realized I though it. I don't know- there is something about Maia that really puts one off their game.

He didn't look kind and grandfatherly, I think I'll say. He was somewhat grouchy. Not mean, just... well, you know when someone is being kind but they really have other things to do so they're very short and slightly snippy with you? He was like that. I had imagined him that way when I read the books but the movies softened my image of him.

"Ah, right on time. Thank you, Nimhel." and then Nimhel left me and Gandalf ushered me inside.

The office was beautiful. One side opened onto a terrace, and the other walls were lined with bookshelves and maps and other doodads- I think I saw something vaguely telescope-y. There was a desk in the center, piled high with books and scrolls. Several chairs were around the room, each looking plush and comfy, most of them occupied.

There were five people other than me in the room: Gandalf, of course. Gorvon was there, and he flashed me what I assume was meant to be an encouraging smile but he looked far to awkward for me to take it seriously. There were two other elves; a blond I identified as Glorfindel and one with dark hair I assumed was Erestor, the chief adviser (I was right). And Elrond.

You know when you look at someone, and you just feel like you know them, even though you also know that you don't know them at all? Like celebrities or kids at school you have no classes with. Well, Elrond sort of gives that feeling, only there's the added feeling that you can't know him, because he's a freaking elf lord. He was more removed than anyone I had ever met, but he also seemed kind...it was like staring at a contradiction. I don't know how to explain it.

I wasn't sure what was expected of me, so I just looked around quizzically.

"You are Candes, are you not?" Elrond asked. I just sort of nodded weakly. He smiled- perhaps he realized how scary he seemed to mortals, though Gorvon seemed fine.

"Gorvon has told us much about you. I hope you have enjoyed your day thus far?"

I managed to say something to the effect of "Yes, it has been lovely. Thank you for being such a gracious host." thankfully I picked up some guest/host lingo in Bree. Working in an Inn and whatnot.

I would like to say that Gorvon didn't need to look as shocked as he did. I can be polite, you know! I did deal with customers on a daily basis! And it is completely preposterous for him to have a hernia because I showed some manners. Honestly.

Elrond smiled at that response, and the others looked mildly impressed. So, Gorvon has been telling horror stories about me and words I scream at innkeepers?

"I am glad. And I despair to have to possibly ruin this, but myself and Mithrandir, Lord Glorfindel and Erestor have all been curious as to your origins since Gorvon told us about you."

So that's where he ran off to. To tattle on me.

"My origins?"

Erestor spoke up now. He's not as kind and sweet as fanfiction will have you believing. Not that he's rude, he just doesn't sugarcoat things for you. At least, he didn't for me.

"We all agreed that a young woman, wandering alone in the woods, looking entirely foreign and not speaking a word of Westron, Sindarin, or any other language known to a ranger is somewhat odd."

In hindsight, the fact that Gorvon was a ranger was atrociously obvious. But it shocked me a little at the time.

"You a ranger? One of the Dúnedain?" I asked, feeling like a kid in a candy shop.

"What did you think?" he asked. He looked curious and bewildered, like it should have been obvious. Well, it's not like he wore a name-tag! Hello, my name is Gorvon, Ranger of the North.

"I didn't." I confessed with a shrug.

"Candes, can you tell us where you are from?" Gandalf asked, keeping the conversation on track.

I paused.

What could I tell them? I had already divulged a bit about my past to Nimhel, so amnesia wouldn't work, but I doubted they would believe the truth. Still, what choice did I have?

"I not think I have the language to explain and if I did..." I shrugged, "you not believe me."

"And why do you think we would not believe you?" Glorfindel asked. He gave off much friendlier . vibes than the others. Not that they gave off bad vibes- oh, look at me, all hippie-ish. But you know what I mean.

"I have trouble believing me."

Well, they didn't take too well to that.

"If you think you have gone mad, I can assure you, you have not." Gandalf said firmly.

"How?"

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. You know, I thought that only happened in movies. Apparently not.

"Old man's intuition."

"Old man?" I raised an eyebrow. OK, so that was far from being my best move. In fact, it was the most brain dad thing I could have done.

For a moment everyone stared at me like I was hiding something. A long second. The longest second of all time.

God, I am such an idiot.

"Perhaps, Candes, I can speak with you tomorrow. I think you'll find that regardless of what you believe, I will be able to get some measure of you."

"I think that might be wise." I admitted.

After that was decided, Glorfindel cheerfully suggested we all go to lunch. He even offered to sit by me and help me with my Westron. Erestor rolled his eyes and informed me that I had a good grasp on vocabulary, but needed to learn some 'be' verbs and tenses and the like. He gave me an oddly extensive lesson on our way to lunch. And then after lunch as well. For a good two hours. I am not kidding.

Gorvon and Gandalf and Elrond all disappeared to have a chat I assume I was the topic of, but Glorfindel stuck around with me and Erestor, interjecting occasionally.

I do not think either meant to end up giving me a lesson in Westron, but Erestor seemed to get caught up in it, once he realized I was trying to remember everything he said. And I think Glorfindel found the whole thing amusing. And once I started to ask questions about certain vocabulary terms, I realized it was a good thing Glorfindel had stayed as Erestor launched into no less than three lectures about various verb forms and the like.

I am a bit better at Westron now, which I am proud of.

After that whole ordeal, Glorfindel offered me a tour. I think there must have been some secret don't let her out of your sight because god knows who the fuck she is code sent out, because that's how things went since my unfortunate slip of the tongue. Part of me is annoyed- yes, I know more than I said, clearly. But what do they think I am, some sort of spy?

Wait, that's actually a possibility. Damn.

It's fine I'm sure, tomorrow I'll speak to Gandalf and clear everything up. He's a Maia, he'll know I'm telling the truth, won't he?

Oh, don't be silly. He will.

He will, I know.

I do.

Anyways, Glorfindel showed me mostly around the halls, telling me about the events certain paintings depicted. We came across one of Lýthril's and I mentioned I had met her. Glorfindel seemed shocked and amused at the same time.

That Elf has an impressive facial range.

"Oh? Did she regal you with the entire history of the house this depicts? Her lecture on how so few can truly understand th depth and symbolism in this, even among the Eldar, is quite impressive and informative."

"No, I am afraid I missed that." I told him, smirking.

"Count that as a small blessing. Come now, there are many more easily understood tapestries."

So, my impression of her had not been entirely off, though I don't know if Glorfindel was just joking or really not fond of her. Probably the former, I think.

Soon it was dinner time, and once again I was steered away from people who may ask to many questions, but Nimhel and Lýthril did smile at me.

I ate mostly in silence- Gorvon was talking to a man who had recently appeared, most likely another ranger. They looked similar. The man glanced at me a couple of times.

After that, the best part of the day came.

The Hall of Fire.

I had known elves songs were amazing, wondrous and beautiful.

But this was something else. I don't think I can properly describe it. It was like a choir of angels, prettier than any song I had ever heard on earth. And I own the soundtrack of Glory.

I wish at times like these I had a tape recorder.

I mostly stayed towards the back with Erestor, trying to keep out of everyone's way. I wanted ask him what certain songs meant, but chose not to. Besides, were I listening to a conversation I would miss part of the songs.

I stayed for only an hour, however, before yawning. Nimhel offered to walk me to my room and I thanked her.

Oh, Gorvon was missing from the Hall of Fire, as was the other guy. I wonder why Gorvon didn't speak to me much today. Or at all, really. Maybe he figures I'm no longer his problem?

Well, he left me with Mildburg for a month, so if he thinks he's done with me, he has another thing coming.

Day Seventy-Four, After Noon

Morning a lot like last, only without bath. But I got to clean up again.

Given two more dresses; purple and blue. Chose purple.

About to meet Gandalf.

Wish me luck.

Day Seventy-Four, Evening

My last entry was rather spastic, was it not? Sorry, nerves.

I met Gandalf out at a terrace. He was sitting at a table that had some food on it: breads and cheeses and fruits, mostly. I didn't eat much.

"I thought that perhaps, in a less intimidating setting, this conversation would be easier," he said.

"Yes, but you still probably not believe me." I felt very hopeless. For all of my self-assurance that this conversation would go fine, I was scared.

"Well, let us see if that is the case. Tell me, where did you come from?"

"Place called Richmond, in country America."

"I have not heard of that place." He admitted. His eyes narrowed very slightly under his eyebrows- they really are ridiculous, you know?

"It not exist now."

"I would have heard of its destruction, I think." He gave me another piercing look, like the kind after I said the old man thing.

I shook my head.

"it did not...it is not destroyed. It no exist now."

"What do you mean."

So I showed him. I took three peaches and laid them on the table. I pointed at the left one and said 'Yesterday' then the middle one and said 'Now', and then the last and said 'tomorrow', and waited for some response. He nodded at me, looking very exasperated and confused. So I went on to part two of my plan. I pointed at the left one and said 'past', the middle one was again 'now', and the third one 'where I from'.

He just stared at me for a good, long second.

"Surely you realize this is no time for jest?" his voice wasn't cruel or accusatory, just very worried. I nodded miserably. He leaned back in his chair.

"Do you have proof of this?"

"A little- I how long Bilbo one-hundred-and-eleven?" I asked.

"Bilbo?"

"Yes. Hobbit. Old travel with...with drarves?"

"Ah, you mean Bilba. How do you know of him?"

Oh, apparently all Hobbit names are translation. Weird, right?

"In..." I pointed at the third peach and he told me the word for future, "In future, there books. Talk about..." I looked around, to make sue no one heard, "One talk about Bilba and his going to Erebor. Others...when Bilba turn one-hundred-and-eleven?"

"Now, hold on one moment. You tell me there are books about Bilba? And can you prove any of this?"

"I can try."

"Then do."

so I told him the entire tale- I made sure to include every detail I remembered, even small conversations within the company. And I took it a step further; I had read the Unfinished Tales, so I told him also of his side of things which raised his eyebrows. It took almost an hour and afterwords I was dying of thirst, so he disappeared for five minutes and returned with a jug of water and two goblets.

"That was, indeed, strange. You know what I am?"

"A Maia, one of Istari."

"The Istari."

I shrugged.

He pondered everything for a while, taking into account what I knew.

"Where Does Bilba's one-hundred-and-eleventh birthday tie into this?"

"It is when he comes to Rivendell, or starts his way, anyhow."

he looked up at me, and I knew right then that he believed me. Well, he knew I wasn't lying, anyways. But then he said something scary.

"Candes, Bilba turned that age over sixteen years ago."

well.

I knew Frodo kept the ring secret for about seventeen years, and I was hoping to spend some time without, you know, a war. This brought me closer to the action then I would have liked- I mean, being at the Inn... I guess my sense of time was way off.

"Candes, tell me what you know. Not future tidings, but things that are past."

So I told him everything. We sat there for hours. With me clarifying details and him asking pointed questions. It was tiring, but at the end my goal was achieved.

"Candes, I believe you. I know you are telling the truth, your knowledge is remarkable and, to be frank, alarming. I suppose you have foreknowledge concerning what is to come in the same detail?"

I nodded.

He sat in silence for another moment.

"Candes, return yo your room. I will speak to Elrond and the others. Though they may wish to question you themselves..."

I nodded and did as he said. And here I am now, as nervous as before.

But at least they don't think I'm a spy.

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