Six months had passed within the confines of Aurora's cell. Though her grasp of Sindarin was still far from fluent, she had made progress. Basic speech and short, simple responses were becoming manageable for her.
Galion's patient guidance during their lessons had been instrumental in her slow but steady improvement. As they continued their routine, Aurora's determination to bridge the communication gap remained unshaken.
In the cell with Galion, they sat once again, the parchment and quill on the table before them. As they practiced, Galion's expression suddenly shifted, as if a question had taken root in his mind.
He looked at Aurora thoughtfully and then gestured, "Age? How old are you?"
Aurora's eyes brightened with comprehension.
She took a moment to find the right words and then replied in limited Sindarin, "Twenty-eight years old."
Galion's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and something akin to amusement dancing in his gaze.
"Twenty-eight? You are but a babe by elven standards," he remarked, his voice gentle.
Intrigued, Aurora's curiosity was piqued. She gazed at Galion, a silent question in her eyes. She motioned for him to answer the same question he had asked her.
"And you?" she inquired.
Galion's lips curved into a soft smile as he replied, "I am nearly a thousand years old."
Aurora's shock was palpable, her mouth slightly agape. "A thousand years?" she repeated in disbelief.
Galion chuckled at her reaction, his laughter warm and genuine. He watched her with fondness, seeming to understand her surprise.
Her next question was inevitable – her brows furrowed in curiosity. "Why do you look so young then?"
Galion's expression grew thoughtful as he explained, "Elves do not age like mortals do. Our bodies do not bear the weight of years in the same way. We age much slower, and our appearance remains relatively constant."
Aurora's curiosity was only further ignited. She leaned in, her eyes wide.
"Mortals? What do you mean by mortals?" she asked, her fingers tracing the unfamiliar word in the air.
Galion offered a patient smile, understanding her need for clarification. "Mortals are beings like you, humans who live relatively short lives compared to elves. And yes, in a way, we could be considered immortal, as we do not succumb to old age."
Aurora's mind was abuzz with these revelations. "So, elves cannot die from old age?" she ventured, seeking to understand more about this extraordinary reality.
Galion nodded, his gaze meeting hers. "That is correct. Elves do not die from the passage of time. However, we are not entirely invulnerable. Fatal wounds can still end our lives."
Aurora absorbed his words, the complexity of their existence settling upon her. As she continued to learn, her connection with Galion deepened, and her understanding of this foreign realm expanded bit by bit.
Aurora learned more about Galion's life. He spoke of his wife, Elanor, with a fondness that painted a vivid picture of their enduring love.
"We have been married for three hundred years," he shared, his gaze distant yet tender.
Aurora's heart softened as she listened to Galion's words. His tale of a love that had weathered the sands of time was both enchanting and heartwarming.
She couldn't help but imagine the stories they must have shared, the challenges they had overcome, and the moments that had woven their lives together.
Her eyes held a mixture of intrigue and vulnerability as she asked, "And do you have children?"
Galion's expression shifted, a hint of sorrow shadowing his features. He sighed softly before answering, "Elves do not have children during times of war."
Aurora's brow furrowed in confusion. "War? Are we in a war?"
Galion's expression softened as he shook his head. "No, not here in Gondolin. Our city is a sanctuary, a place of refuge. We are shielded from the outside world's conflicts."
Aurora's curiosity got the best of her. "Galion," she began, her eyes filled with intrigue, "What kind of conflicts are you referring to?"
Galion's gaze grew distant, his voice carrying the weight of history. "There is an ongoing war in the north, a conflict between the elves and the dark lord, Morgoth. It has cast a shadow over this land for centuries."
Aurora's brows furrowed in concern. "Elves fighting a dark lord? Is that what's happening beyond Gondolin?"
Galion nodded solemnly. "Yes, our people have been engaged in a long struggle against the forces of darkness. But here, in our city, we strive to maintain peace and protect our realm."
Aurora's curiosity burned brighter, and she asked, "Are there other elven realms outside of Gondolin?"
Galion nodded again. "Indeed, there are. Doriath is ruled by King Thingol, a realm of Sindar elves. There are different elven factions and rulers spread across Middle-earth."
Aurora's heart skipped a beat at the mention of "Middle-earth." Her mind raced, her thoughts colliding like a whirlwind. She couldn't believe what she had just heard.
Middle-earth, the term that had always belonged to the realm of fiction, now seemed to resonate with reality. She had to be misunderstanding something. She had to clarify.
"Wait," Aurora interjected, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Did you just say Middle-earth?"
Galion met her gaze with a calm nod, confirming her incredulous question. Aurora's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest.
"This is Middle-earth?" she stammered, her voice a mixture of awe and shock.
Galion's serene expression held understanding as he gently replied, "Yes, indeed it is."
Aurora's mind raced, her thoughts a jumbled mess.
Middle-earth, the fantastical world she had only encountered through books and movies, suddenly enveloped her reality. Her mind conjured images of grand landscapes, heroic quests, and mythical creatures. She struggled to process the enormity of what she was hearing.
"Oh my god," Aurora whispered, her voice filled with disbelief and wonder.
Galion could see the shock painted across her features, and he tilted his head inquisitively.
Concern laced his voice as he asked, "Aurora? What's the matter?"
Aurora was silent. Her mind raced, and a new question formed in her thoughts.
"Have you ever heard of an elven realm called Rivendell?" she asked, her tone hesitant.
Galion furrowed his brows, thinking for a moment. "Rivendell? I'm afraid that name is unfamiliar to me. Is it another elven realm?"
Aurora's shoulders slumped slightly, a mix of disappointment and uncertainty washing over her.
She then remembered another elven character from the movies—the majestic King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm in Mirkwood. Her eyes lit up with a spark of hope.
"What about King Thranduil, in the realm of Mirkwood," Aurora ventured, her voice hopeful. "Have you heard of him?"
Galion's brow furrowed again as he shook his head. "King Thranduil of Mirkwood? I'm afraid that name is also unfamiliar to me."
Aurora's hope dwindled, replaced once more by confusion. The revelation that she might be in a different timeline was unsettling, and she couldn't help but wonder about the implications of her presence here.
With a furrowed brow, she turned to Galion, her gaze a mix of uncertainty and urgency.
"Galion," she began cautiously, "can you tell me the current date? The year, I mean."
Galion regarded her curiously, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Of course. It is the year 493 of the First Age."
Aurora's eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding with a mixture of dread and realization.
"The First Age?" she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Galion's brow furrowed in response to her reaction. "Yes, indeed. Is something the matter, Aurora?"
Aurora's mind raced, connecting the dots in her mind with a horrifying clarity. She was not just in a different timeline; she was in a different era altogether—a time long before the events of "The Lord of the Rings."
Panic surged through her as she realized the implications. She had never read about the First Age, and her knowledge of Middle-earth was limited to the later ages portrayed in books and movies. She was in unfamiliar territory, and the weight of her situation settled heavily on her shoulders.
Galion's watchful gaze remained on her, his eyes reflecting both curiosity and concern. He sensed the turmoil within her as she grappled with the truth.
After a moment, he leaned in and softly asked, "Aurora, what troubles you? You seem... deeply affected by this revelation."
Aurora met his gaze, a conflicted mixture of sadness and anxiety in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment, her thoughts racing, before finally deciding to share a part of the truth.
"Galion, I don't know how to explain this, but I don't think I'm from this world or this time. The date you mentioned, the First Age... I'm not familiar with it. I'm from a country called America, on a planet called Earth."
Galion's brow furrowed, his confusion evident. "America? Earth? These are words I've never heard before."
Aurora nodded, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. "I know it sounds impossible to believe, but it's the truth. I was in my home in the city Seattle, and there was this crystal that glowed. I touched it and then I found myself here, in Middle-earth. I don't understand how or why, but somehow I've ended up in a different world, a different time."
Galion's expression softened as he listened intently, his eyes conveying both empathy and a willingness to understand.
"I admit, it is a difficult tale to comprehend," he said gently. "But your sincerity is evident in your words and emotions. You are not a trickster or a deceiver."
Aurora nodded, her eyes welling with unshed tears. "I know it's hard to believe, and I'm struggling to make sense of it myself. I miss my home, my life, everything I knew."
Galion's hand reached out to gently rest on hers, offering a small gesture of comfort. "I cannot imagine the weight of this burden you carry, Aurora. You are far from everything you know, in a world unfamiliar to you. But you are not alone. I will stand by your side and help you find your way."
Aurora managed a weak smile through her tears. "Thank you, Galion. Your kindness means more to me than you can imagine."
As the sun set, casting a warm orange glow through the window of her cell, Aurora found solace in the companionship of Galion.
In his presence, she felt a glimmer of hope that even in this strange and distant land, she might find her way home or forge a new path in a world that defied all she had known.
As the rays of the morning sun filtered into the chamber, casting a warm and gentle light, Aurora and Galion resumed their language lesson.
Galion's curiosity about Aurora's background led their conversation down a path of discovery. With each question he posed, Aurora shared pieces of her life story – the challenges she had faced, her journey from Singapore to America, her determination to build a life for herself in a foreign land. Galion's admiration for her resilience and bravery was evident in his kind and attentive expression.
Aurora spoke openly about her experiences, the highs and lows that had shaped her character. She described the bustling city of Seattle, its towering buildings, and the diverse cultures that had woven its vibrant tapestry. She shared anecdotes of her work, her friendships, and the moments that had brought joy and fulfillment to her life.
Galion listened with rapt attention, his gaze locked onto her as if he were absorbing every word she uttered. He marveled at the notion of traveling across oceans and venturing into the unknown, all in pursuit of her dreams.
His admiration for her grew with each passing moment, and he couldn't help but feel a deep respect for the woman who had faced such challenges with unwavering determination.
Yet, amidst the stories she shared, Aurora held back a secret – a significant part of her knowledge about this world. She carefully avoided mentioning the books, movies, and pop culture references that had introduced her to Middle-earth. She knew that revealing her familiarity with events and characters that hadn't yet come to pass in this time would only complicate matters.
As their conversation continued, Galion's genuine interest in her life and her world brought a sense of connection that eased the weight of her isolation. The language barrier that had once kept them apart now seemed less formidable as they shared stories and laughter, forging an unspoken bond that transcended words.
One year later:
In the grand dining hall of Gondolin, the atmosphere was one of elegance and tranquility. Elaborate chandeliers illuminated the space with a warm, golden glow, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on the marble floors.
The long dining table was adorned with exquisite dishes, each crafted with care, and the air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of the feast that had just been enjoyed.
King Turgon, the wise and noble ruler of Gondolin, sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding respect. His silver robes glistened in the ambient light, and a circlet of gems adorned his brow.
Beside him, his beloved daughter, Idril, exuded a grace and poise that spoke of her royal lineage. Her eyes sparkled as she engaged in light conversation with her father.
Seated across from Idril was Maeglin Lomion, the nephew of the king. Maeglin's piercing grey eyes surveyed the scene with a mixture of curiosity and detachment. His pale skin and jet-black hair added to his distinctive appearance, and he bore an air of mystery that intrigued those around him.
As the meal concluded and the dessert plates were cleared, King Turgon turned his attention to Maeglin.
"Maeglin," he said with a measured tone, "I have matters to discuss with you. Please join me in my study room after dinner."
Maeglin's brows lifted slightly in surprise, though he nodded in acknowledgment. His mind buzzed with curiosity, wondering what the king wished to discuss. A flicker of anticipation danced in his sharp eyes, hidden behind a veil of polite decorum.
The grandeur of King Turgon's study enveloped Maeglin as he followed his uncle upstairs. The room exuded an air of opulence, with rich tapestries adorning the walls and shelves lined with ancient tomes and scrolls. The scent of aged parchment and polished wood lingered in the air, adding to the sense of solemnity that pervaded the space.
King Turgon settled into his ornate chair behind an expansive desk, his expression composed yet weighted with the gravity of the impending discussion.
Maeglin took his seat, facing his uncle, his eyes locked onto Turgon's.
With a steady voice, Maeglin inquired, "What's the matter you want to speak of, uncle?"
Turgon's hands were clasped on the desk before him, fingers interlaced as he leaned forward slightly. His gaze held a mixture of concern and consideration as he began to speak.
"It has been a year since the mysterious mortal woman was placed in a cell," he began, his words measured and thoughtful. "Tomorrow, I have decided that it is time to interrogate her, to uncover any information she may possess."
Maeglin's eyes flickered with momentary surprise as the memory of the woman resurfaced in his mind. He had indeed forgotten about her during the hustle and bustle of court affairs and his own thoughts.
He leaned back in his chair, intrigued by the turn of events, and asked, "And what do you plan to do with her after?"
Turgon's gaze held a steadiness that belied the complexity of the situation.
"If she poses no threat to Gondolin and its secrets, she will be allowed to live within the city," he replied, his tone resolute.
Maeglin's curiosity deepened, and he ventured to ask a question that had been lingering in his mind. "Would you take care of her yourself, uncle?"
The corners of Turgon's lips curved into a faint smile as he responded, "No, my dear nephew. I believe that responsibility should fall upon you."
Maeglin's shock was evident, his eyes widening as he processed the unexpected proposition.
"You want her to be my ward?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Turgon nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes. I trust you to care for her, Maeglin."
A mixture of emotions churned within Maeglin. He held his uncle's gaze for a moment, his mind racing as he grappled with the weight of the responsibility.
While a part of him disliked the idea of a mortal woman in his household, he knew better than to defy his king's wishes.
With a resigned expression, Maeglin nodded, his voice tinged with reluctance as he acquiesced, "As you say, my king."
Turgon's smile widened, and he inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Goodnight, Maeglin."
Taking the king's dismissal as his cue, Maeglin rose from his seat, offering a respectful bow before turning to leave the room.
As the heavy door closed behind him, Maeglin's thoughts swirled with a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation, knowing that his life was about to take an unexpected turn with the arrival of the mortal woman who would soon become his ward.
Maeglin's footsteps echoed through the corridor as he descended the grand staircase of the palace, his thoughts heavy with the weight of his encounter with King Turgon.
However, his somber reverie was interrupted when he came face to face with Idril. Her piercing gaze bore into him, and Maeglin's heart skipped a beat as he met her eyes, brimming with a mixture of cold detachment and weariness.
For a moment, the air seemed to thicken around them, laden with unspoken emotions.
Maeglin felt a pang of disappointment as Idril's expression quickly shifted to one of distaste, and she turned to walk away, leaving Maeglin standing there, feeling the sting of her cold dismissal.
His heart ached, for he had loved Idril in silence for many years, an unrequited affection that had become both a source of solace and torment.
Yet, as much as he wished for something more, the reality of their circumstances was clear – they were cousins, and elven customs strictly forbade marriage within close family lines.
Maeglin let out a sigh as he continued his walk, his thoughts a tumultuous storm within him.
He exited the king's palace, his steps leading him back to his own abode, a place where solitude often offered a respite from the complexities of his emotions.
Entering his study, he sank into a chair, the weight of his princely duties calling him back to the present.
Before him lay a stack of reports, each requiring his attention and approval. He cast a weary gaze at the documents, his mind drifting back to the discussion with the king and the unexpected responsibility that had been thrust upon him – the mortal woman who was to become his ward.
Maeglin's brow furrowed as he wrestled with his own reservations. He preferred the company of his own thoughts and found solace in the quiet corners of his world. The prospect of guiding and caring for another, especially a foreign mortal, was a daunting task.
"Why does it have to be me?" he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with exasperation and a hint of bitterness.
With a resigned exhale, Maeglin shifted his focus to the stack of reports, his fingers tracing over the parchments as he prepared to fulfill his princely responsibilities. His mind wandered, the allure of his own thoughts offering a temporary escape from the impending challenges that lay ahead.
:);)