You're My Light in the Dark

Chapter 8: (Not So) Happy Handstands

A couple of weeks later I found myself out in the very same woods where I first met Frodo. But that first meeting happened two months ago. So much has changed. The first snow of the season hit last night, so snow crunched beneath my feet and the wind blew around me in a chilly breeze. I was looking upwards at the trees I was passing by; looking for one that had the sort of branches I needed.

"Bingo," I murmured, stopping short at one that seemed promising. This particular tree was extremely tall, its branches thick and sturdy, and just behind it there was a slight hill trailing downwards, leaving a mighty snow bank piled up right at the base. To me, the snow bank was just as important as the sturdy branches. I needed the branches sturdy enough to support my weight and I also needed a safety-net of sorts, just in case. It's been a little while since I've done anything gymnastics-like, after all. I'm probably going to be a tad rusty, and having the snow bank beneath me eased my mind. At least I knew I wasn't going to kill myself should I fall over.

I undid the buttons of my coat, revealing my gymnastics team sweatshirt and a pair of trousers, the latter an item Lily had supplied me with out of her father's old wardrobe. It felt nice to be in the familiar cloth of the sweatshirt, I must admit. I usually don't wear it outside of Bag End because of the oddity it's considered to be here in the Shire, but I couldn't resist it today. Besides, it's not as if I'll be running into a whole hell of a lot of hobbits in this neck of the woods. I also thought it kind of fitting, too, just like the old days when I would go to practice and warm-up with it on. Only today, instead of having beams, bars, and proper mats as padding, I have to resort to tree branches and snow banks. Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose.

With a sigh, I rolled up the sleeves of the gray sweatshirt to my elbows, shivering a bit when the cold air hit my bare skin, and then tucked the tunic I had on underneath into the waist of the trousers. I was finally all set to go.

I climbed up the tree, stopping at a respectable height; high enough up to give my heart a little thrill yet low enough to not injure myself if I fall. Falling is a great possibility, after all; a concept I learned early in life due to my sport. Therefore, I know how to handle them very well by now. I'm probably not as scared as I rightfully should be at the moment, but when you've been trained as I have in this art, you find that you're able to do a lot more than anyone ever expected of you.

And maybe that's why I'm here in Middle Earth.

With that thought in mind, I calmly walked out to the middle of the branch. The wood was thick beneath my feet, and although the branch was round instead of a beam's flat surface, I couldn't help but be reminded of walking along on a high beam. My toes could even grip the sides of it and everything. I turned sideways, looking out over the white winter wonderland of the woods, then knelt down in a crouch and grasped the branch with a tight iron grip between my feet. From there, I slowly straddle-pressed up into a handstand. And it felt so wonderful to be upside down again, like the handstand was an old friend I hadn't seen in ages. Perhaps that's exactly what my sport was for me, too – an old friend. I'm so familiar with it, know every single detail about every skill mastered, and could tell you the break down of a skill and what basics you need in order to perform it.

I had been the best of the best, the Elite, and yet for a while there I had absolutely hated the sport. Hated what it had done to me, where my life was going because of it, and the abuse it had put my body through. But now that I'm training on my terms rather than my mother's or my coaches', and now that I have a real purpose for doing it – a specific goal in mind – I believe I may have found my love for gymnastics again.

I had already been in the handstand for about a minute, and all the blood had rushed to my face – red and hot and pulsing. The bark was digging into my fingers, and my knuckles were white from gripping the branch so tightly while bracing my whole body weight… and don't get me started on the protesting shoulder muscles.

Oh, I should've kept up the training from the beginning, since I'm clearly paying for it now. Still, while I'm up here, I might as well try to build it back up as quickly as possible. How about I throw in a blind-change?

A blind-change is a half turn. In order to execute it you've got to lift up one hand and spin inwards, leaving you in a reverse grip – meaning your hands end up backwards. It's a trick typically done on bars to lead into front giants and other high level skills. And as the name implies, it's a blind hand movement, meaning with the way you turn, you can't see the bar when you go to put your hand back on it. It's one of those skills your body eventually learns after much practice and a lot of drills. (Not to mention the occasional whoops I missed the bar and crashed moments.)

But for me, I've been doing them for so long that they were second nature now. It would take a lot more than a couple of weeks off for me to lose that skill. I pressed down hard on my left hand, lifted up the right one and turned.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" a voice yelled. It echoed off the snow and around the trees, and it definitely scared the crap out of me – enough to startle me out of my concentration, at any rate.

I nearly missed regrasping the branch on the other side, though I managed to fix the mistake at the last second. But by that time it was already too late – instead of staying upright in handstand like I'd been aiming for, I was falling over fast.

Falling over just like a front giant – back first. And unless I wanted to fall straight down and knock the wind out of myself, I'd have to hold on and swing through on the giant.

Problem: This ain't a bar and I'm not wearing grips.

Shit!

That person was yelling again. I couldn't make out what they were saying; too preoccupied by the bark shredding my hands as I swung down. That, and the fact that the branch was too fat to shift my grip and swing back up to a handstand: and with that thought in mind I promptly peeled off, the momentum spinning me into a front flip, and when I opened up I fell flat, face first, Superman-style into a snow bank. (See, told ya, professional faller.)

While the crash seemed like an eternity for me – as it usually does when you know the inevitable – I knew it had only spanned the course of a couple of seconds. Ten at the most.

"Oh Eru, Kate!" Someone was suddenly by my side, and this someone sounded an awful lot like Frodo. His voice was frantic. "Kate! Are you alright?" He was gripping my shoulders as if he was afraid to move me.

For the next few minutes I could only groan in pain and cough up snow. Frodo kept watching me with wide, fearful eyes. I sat up slowly, not at all liking how everything ached. "I was doing just fine until someone scared the ever-living shit out of me," I muttered, clutching at my throbbing head, "I thought I was the only one out here. But apparently not."

"I was out here on my way to the Mill, if you must know," he replied defensively with a tinge of hurt. Guilt flooded me when I realized how nasty I must've just sounded. Especially since he was obviously very worried. "Uncle Bilbo asked me to pick up some tools he'd lent to Mister Sandyman, and this here's a shortcut to get there. Oh goodness, you're bleeding!"

And indeed I was. My hands were akin to raw hamburger. I've had rips before but this is ridiculous. The splinters didn't help either. "I'm sorry," I murmured.

He ignored the apology or didn't hear it. "What were you doing up there?"

"I told you before that I'm an acrobat, didn't I?"

He grimaced as he looked my hands over, and then nodded slightly in remembrance. "Aye, you did. Still, you gave me quite a fright. I thought you were going to kill yourself."

I grabbed handfuls of snow and gripped them tightly in my palms, willing the sore area to numb. It didn't take long for the white to be stained with red. "No, I don't have a death wish, believe it or not. But we always found it funny how our coach called us kamikazes every once in a while."

"Kamikazes?"

"Yeah, I—" Oh god. Did I just tell him that – made a reference to Japanese suicide pilots? He's looking at me curiously, so I must've. Forgot who I was talking to for a minute there. "Never mind, it's nothing. Just silly talk. Don't mind me." I got to my feet. Frodo did the same, though he looked uncertain.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked again. He was gripping my shoulders, searching every inch of my face like I was about to combust or something. "Do you want me to walk you home? To the healer?"

"Don't be silly, you still have to pick up those tools, yeah? Go on, don't worry about me; I'm a big girl, I'll take care of it," I said, not unkindly.

He didn't seem to be too convinced, though he eventually gave in and went about his way. Once he was out of sight I turned and ran all the way to the Green Dragon as fast as my feet would carry me. I burst in through the heavy door, and while there wasn't a major crowd – it was a still before midday after all – there were a few people seated about for lunch. They didn't pay me much mind as I made my way up to the counter in the back. Lauren stood behind it, cleaning out ale mugs, while Lily had pulled up a seat in order to eat her lunch and talk to Lauren at the same time. They both turned to me surprised when they saw me approach.

"What are you doing here?" Lauren questioned, "You said you'd be out for a while. So how'd it go? Not as out of practice as you'd thought you'd be? I told you you'd be fine."

"Not exactly," I said, holding up my bleeding hands as explanation, "I kind of had an accident."

"Jesus! That's nasty," she breathed in return.

Lily hissed through her teeth before grabbing my elbow to get a closer look. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at Healer Mayweather's?"

"No need to see him, I already know how to take care of it. Main thing is to not let it get infected. But since we haven't got any Neosporin or any other anti-bacterial I decided alcohol was the next best choice."

Those words went completely over poor Lily's head. Her confusion was written all over her face. "Germs," I elaborated quickly. "Can't let the germs get at it." That didn't seem to make any sense to her either, so I shrugged and turned my attention to Lauren, who was filling up two tankards with rum as she shook her head.

"I dunno, Kat. You sure about this?" she said, placing the two massive glasses on the counter in front of me. "It's going to hurt like a bitch."

"Yeah, I know."

"But soap—"

"Nope, need something stronger."

"Okay, if you say so."

"Kat," Lily piped up imploringly, "I really think you should see the healer—"

Too late. I had already stuck both my hands into the mugs of rum. Lauren was right. It hurt like a bitch.

Later on that evening Frodo found himself at the Green Dragon pub with his two cousins, as well as Lily and Sam. Frodo had asked both Lily and Sam there in order to talk. As luck would have it, turns out Merry and Pippin had stopped by to visit Lauren, and when they found out she and her sister had gone home for the day, they were about to head over to Bag End before Frodo found them and asked them to stay for a drink or two. Never ones to pass up on a drink, they did just that.

It was quite a while before the talk got underway, for several hobbits kept coming around to say their 'hellos' and 'how do you do's. After Sam's Gaffer finally went off to discuss something with Dotty Underhill, they were finally left to themselves. "So, cousin, what's with the meeting, eh?" Merry asked.

After taking a sip of his ale, Frodo made fast work of getting to his point. "To request something from the lot of you." Seeing he had all of their devout attentions he continued, "I don't think we should ask Kate and Lauren about their past anymore. You see, something happened today and I think I understand now."

"What are you talking about?" Pippin questioned.

"Lauren and Kate, I mean. Why they… are the way they are."

"Mister Frodo, they've been travelin' abroad," Sam said, "They're not from around here, either. Surely that's why."

"I don't know," Frodo replied. "Seeing Kate today was… unnerving. She fell from a tree, from seven feet up if I'd have to guess. And she did it with grace. Her hands were cut to bits yet she didn't even give a notice that it hurt; not a wince, not a tear, nothing."

Lily's eyes flew open wide. "So that's what that was from!" They all pinned her with curious glances. "She came in here earlier, hands all bleeding and acting peculiar. Demanded Lauren give her a drink, she did, and kept going on saying all sorts of nonsense."

"Nonsense?" Sam echoed.

"Sophisticated nonsense, mind you. Anti-something or others. I couldn't make any heads or tails of it, though Lauren seemed to understand her. She refused to go see the healer and insisted on bathing her hands in rum."

Pippin scrunched up his nose. "Waste of drink." Sam promptly elbowed him.

"Maybe they're part elf," Merry suggested. "Explains the grace an' all."

"Dunno, they seem pretty hobbit to me."

"I said part, Pip."

"It's just…" Frodo started, then sighed. "It was frightening today, not sure how else to say it – never saw her that way before. That and they never want to talk about where they're from or where they've been. I think maybe they were in a battle or something bad happened to them."

"Bad memories they're trying forget, you mean?" Sam added.

The comment was met with silence. That really seemed like the only logical conclusion. As the group sipped at their drinks, they couldn't help but wonder what could possibly be so bad. And the possibilities of what those bad things might be, to be quite honest, terrified them.

"Maybe it's best if we focused on who they are now instead of worrying about what happened to them before," Lily suggested. "They mean well, after all."

"Indeed," Merry replied, finishing off his tankard before pushing his chair out, the legs screeching along the wooden flooring. "Now I'm off to get us more drink, since we've clearly not had enough if we're this serious about things."

Conceding this fact, they all hummed their agreement.