This took forever and it's not even Saturday. What is wrong with me. Also, a reminder! While similar in trajectory, this version of AIWIME is significantly different than the original. If you are waiting to pick up where AIWIME left off, it may be best to read the new story in full because a lot has changed from the OG. Just heads up!
Please enjoy and review!
Chapter 1: Arrival
Meara landed unceremoniously on her back, her body heavy from the effects of the magic. Just as quickly as it had surrounded her, the magic dissipated, leaving her to pry her eyes open to stare at the canopy of trees overhead. As soon as her eyes focused on the golden light, her ears popped, drawing her attention to the ringing sound that seemed to come from nowhere. At the same time, her nose was assaulted with an overwhelming amount of new scents, which made the ringing in her ears worse.
"Ow," She croaked. Stiffly, she sat up, her hands hovering before her, unsure if she should grab her head to aleve the headache blooming there or block her nose from the sensory assault.
Her nose won the decision as she pressed the back of her hand to her poor snout, a grimace on her face as she glanced around her immediate area. The forest around her was silent, the heavy brush eerie in it's stillness. Meara wondered if it was her arrival that made the forest silent, or something else. Something that may have been just as dangerous as herself. Or more dangerous. With a small grunt, Meara took to her feet, dusting dirt from the butt of her pants.
Humming to herself, Meara lowered her hand and took a tentative sniff of the air. While still unfamiliar, the air around her was much more bearable to her nose, sparking a mild dose of concern as she eyed a piece of flora that looked like the average tree. Carefully walking towards it, she perked her ears as she placed a hand on the trunk, looking up into the towering trunks foliage. The bark was rough to her finger tips, the tree still as she gazed deeply, looking for any sign of a magical being that resided in the tree. Or she should say as the tree. Unfortunately for her, it looked like a tree, felt like a tree, and was still like a tree. It just didn't smell like any of the trees she'd ever seen before. So, it must just be a tree.
Meara hummed again and looked behind her, puzzled at her surroundings. She'd been all over the world, to mirror realms, but the air itself, the trees, the dirt; none of it had ever had such a massive change in scent that she'd had a sensory overload.
By now, the ringing in her ears had ceased, allowing Meara to tilt her head and listen to the forest around her. While local wildlife hadn't picked back up directly near her, she could hear small rodents, bugs and birds in the distance. And something else. A frown marred her lips as she tried to place the discreet sound heading in her direction. Was that fabric?
A familiar sound caught her ears, surprising Meara as her body automatically took a step to the side, allowing the arrow to drive into the dirt where she once stood. Her eyes quickly studied the arrow, the way it stuck up from the ground, leaving her with one conclusion: whoever shot it missed on purpose.
Humming to herself with a twinge of curiosity, Meara listened, waiting for the shooter to appear. Or, she should say shooters. To her ears, she could make out multiple sounds of fabric upon fabric rubbing together, and the barest sound of pit-pat on the ground. The repetitive sound seemed to fan out, spreading around her until it came from multiple directions. Surrounding her. Meara gave a grim smile, smart of them.
"Pusta!" A hard voice called out, the language spoken unfamiliar to her.
Meara tensed, watching as a lithe figure in silver armor stepped from behind a tree, an arrow pointed between her eyes. Other figures appeared around her, also pointing arrows at her, bows at the ready. Meara eyed the being before her, studying him as she raised her hands cautiously.
The figure was decidedly male, even with the long hair that fell past his shoulders. The armor he wore was accented by a simple red cloak that hung down to his ankles and he bore a frown that could quell any thought of rebellion in the most unruly child. Meara met his grey eyes and watched him cooly, unsure how to perceive his presence.
He started speaking, his voice clear and calm as he watched her. At first, Meara didn't understand the words that came from his mouth, though the language was beautiful, but soon the gift Queen Titania gave her all those years ago kicked in.
"...ady of Light. There is no going back." His eyes narrowed briefly at her. "Who are you?"
"My name is Meara. Daughter of Conan." She spoke carefully, testing the new language on her lips. "You are…?"
It may have been a little presumptuous of her to lip back to a mysterious being pointing an arrow at her, but she was confident she could escape the impending scuffle if need be. First, she'd try to de-escalate the situation.
"You speak quenya?" The bow lowered slightly, eyes narrowed and suspicion making his face a cold mask. The bow lifted back up to aim for her head. "I will ask again, what you are doing in the wood of the Lady of Light?"
"Easy, friend," Meara glanced around her, taking in the number of the small squadron before her. "I am simply lost. I know nothing about your Lady. I awoke here."
With that she gestured to the patch of dirt she had landed on, the faint disturbance of a body laying there only visible to a trained eye. She figured this scouting party would be trained to spot such disturbances.
"That does not explain how you understand and speak quenya."
Meara shrugged, "I'm gifted."
The leader of this squadron narrowed his eyes at her. Meara shrugged her shoulders, giving him an easy smile that didn't fit her predicament. One of the other beings shuffled slightly, the barest hint of the movement coming from the sound of fabric ruffling against something. She must have tilted her head though, or made some sign of hearing the movement, because the squadron leader before her tensed, his gaze flitting briefly to a figure behind her.
"Maybe we can lower the weapons, and speak civilly? I'd hate to resort to violence over a matter as trivial as not knowing where I am."
"You have trespassed on the land of-"
"Yes, I heard you the first time," Meara cut the figure off, "But I don't know who that is, or where I am. I was just dumped here twenty minutes ago."
The figure was silent, watching their surroundings with an analytical look, "No one else has disturbed this area, except for you. You are not to be trusted."
"I was magically dumped here, of course no one else would have disturbed the area," Meara motioned for the stranger to look to himself and then to her own attire, "Do you really think we come from the same world, or the same time?"
Meara could imagine the way she looked to these people, who dressed similarly to the military uniforms of her youth. The blue jeans and black shirt she wore were vastly different, from the material to the silhouette. Not to mention the stark white of her canvas shoes amongst the green foliage.
There was a pregnant pause as the male before her assessed her. "You will come with us."
Meara tensed as one of the being's came up behind her, a soft fabric coming over her eyes to bar her eyesight. Forcing herself to remain still and refrain from growling, Meara concentrated on her hearing and sense of smell. Obviously they didn't want her knowing where they were taking her, otherwise they would have just led her openly. Her curiosity peaked as they began to guide her through the trees, giving her the barest guidance to keep her from tripping or walking into the tree. Meara didn't mind of course, allowing herself to brush against brush and bark here and there to leave a trail. The new world may have not had a familiar scent, but she definitely knew what she smelled like and a trail to follow in case of an emergency wasn't a half bad idea.
It was a long walk through the forest and only a few prods to continue when she would pause to listen. The suspicion they were headed toward a river had Meara chewing the inside of her lip, a small sense of anxiety filling her as the rush of water filled her ears.
"This isn't going to go well," Meara muttered to herself in english, hearing the familiar sound of rope on a tree as it was tied taut. Most likely taut over the river to cross, if the sinking feeling in Meara's chest was any indication.
One of the beings stepped over to her, their fingers nimbly untying the blindfold to reveal a rather delicate looking rope tied across the river from one tree to another. Meara would have doubted the strength of the rope if one of the squadron members wasn't already making their way across the rope like a squirrel bounding across a telephone wire. Meara's eyes cut to the red caped being, speaking their language as if she knew it her whole life.
"Please tell me you are joking."
"Afraid of a little water?" He watched her with a cool gaze, his grey eyes piercing.
Meara wrinkled her nose at him, annoyance filling her as she stepped up to the rope and pulled herself up rather ungracefully. She tensed, waiting for the rope to settle as she waited for her balance to return to her. Standing, she started slow and cautious until she reached the center, with nothing but water beneath her.
A small moment of fear overwhelmed her for a second, as the scent of the ocean from memories past crept into her mind, the burn of ocean water stinging her nose. Shaking her head, she cleared her mind, pushing the fear aside to take several quick steps to the otherside of the river, ungracefully falling to her knees on the dirt as she jumped to the shore.
She glowered at the being before her, who gave her a small smile as he offered her a hand to help her to her feet. He turned her, so that he could retie the blindfold over her eyes as the rest of the squadron, nimble as cats, walked the rope to join her and their companion on the other side of the bank.
With her vision clouded, Meara allowed herself to be guided once more, leaving scent markers on the unfamiliar trees as she passed. She was able to distinguish different scents from the trees, though she had no idea what they were called and while there were some familiar trees, like pine, fir and spruce which were sprinkled here and there, another type of tree lingered in the forest that smelled almost like some sort of sycamore tree.
Meara was guided for another few hours when she was finally brought to a stop. She heard the lead scout call for them to halt, her blind fold removed in the process. Meara blinked. They stood in front of one of the largest trees she'd ever seen. And that was saying a lot-she's been to Tir Na Nog, where trees were coveted and the grand hall of King Oberon and Queen Titania was held inside the mother tree.
"We will rest here."
Meara eyed the squad leader. "What are you called?"
He blinked at her, "I am called Haldir."
Meara nodded, "Interesting."
Turning away from the illustrious Haldir, Meara followed the rest of his squadron up steps that curled around the base of the tree. If she had been human, she would have been fatigued about a third up, but her higher stamina as a werewolf allowed her to climb the steps up to some form of platform. The forest had grown darker as they had climbed, the air glowing silver with the moonlight filtering in from the canopy above.
"You see pretty well at night for one of the Edain." Haldir said from behind her, as she stepped aside on the platform, allowing Haldir and another scout to step onto the platform.
"Edain?" Meara tilted her head, the word foreign on her tongue and yet her gift easily translated the word in her head. The Second. Another translation filtered into her mind directly after: Man. Interesting, Meara thought to herself.
"You speak the language quite well, and yet there are some words you do not know." Haldir observed.
Meara shrugged, wandering away from the entrance to gaze out to the canopy surrounding them. Meara smiled then, the view of the canopy enthralling. Moon beams filtered in through the thick leaves, the light pure and bright. It seemed so natural and beautiful, Meara had a hard time believing that she was in another world.
Turning away, Meara sat with her back against the tree, watching the beings before her settle in various areas on the platform, pulling out waterskins and some sort of bread that looked like hard tac but had a far more pleasant smell to it.
She eyed Haldir as he sat by the opening of the platform, blocking her path if she wanted to run. Her lashes lowered as she watched him with a half-lidded look, holding back the smirk she wanted to give him. It would be an altercation, but she bet she could get past him. He underestimated her, especially since he thought she was human. She looked away from him when he frowned at her, finding his gaze slightly too perceptive for her taste.
Instead, she studied the beings before her, trying to figure out what exactly they were. They all had pointed ears, not nearly as exaggerated as the fae in Tir Na Nog, but something similar. Though Meara couldn't deny that they had a striking resemblance to the High Fae. The beauty that seemed to emanate from them in a soft light, the grace that was evident in every move they made. It wouldn't have surprised her if their farts smelled like roses.
"You are not The Second," Meara spoke softly, turning her full gaze on Haldir, "what are you?"
He frowned in response, studying her closely. "We are the Star-folk. The First of Eru's Children."
Meara watched him blankly. She heard Star-folk but her mind translated the word to Elf. She looked back at the group of elves before her, shock starting to permeate her mind. It was like an odd sense of flipped personality to her. These elves before her were much like the High Fae as she'd previously observed, but they called themselves elves or at least that was what the magic was translating for her. All she could picture though were the child-like creatures from her world who frollicked in small villages and were barely passable as pre-teens.
"Uh, sure?"
Haldir gave her an odd look but she ignored it in favor of leaning back on the tree behind her and shutting her eyes.
She feigned sleep, using the time to herself to think about the magic that had transported her here. Magic tended to have its own distinct smell, but one of the well guarded secrets of werewolves was the ability to smell the scent of the caster that lingered with it. It took years of being exposed to magic to get used to the different layers of scents they held, and even more years of experience to learn how to distinguish them. Meara was fortunate that she'd been surrounded by magic her entire life to be able to distinguish the scent of magic and feel it before it activated or claimed it's target.
Back in her father's office, she thought the magic was headed for him, but she'd barely taken a step when she smelled the first sign of magic; the scent of ozone. It had looped around her lazily like smoke tendrils that lingered in the air. The acrid scent of something unidentifiable followed right after, and quickly followed with the familiar sweet tang of orange marmalade. An unidentifiable scent was curious in and of itself-Meara has traveled a lot and has gone to some pretty interesting places and smelled even more interesting scents. She supposed the scent could have come from here, a location where even some of the plants smelled foreign.
Then there was the orange marmalade scent.
If she weren't feigning sleep, she would have groaned and thrown herself on the platform like a petulant child, banging her head against the floor to rid her of her irritation. There were a few magic casters she knew who's magic smelled like orange marmalade, but there was only one she knew who had magic that was both strong enough to cast the spell and had the flavor of orange marmalade.
Meara shivered, her hair standing on end as she thought of the woman powerful enough to drop kick her into an entirely different world. The woman was a nightmare, both in reality and in legend. She remembered when she first met the woman in France, if she could even call it a meeting. Meara had finally steeled herself to eliminate the village but instead of pouncing on the townspeople of Gevaudan, she found herself suspended mid-air, a wisp of a woman grinning at her as she waved her hand in greeting before disappearing in a flurry of snow. When Meara could finally move, she realized the witch had left in her wake a town that whispered of werewolves but all records and drawings of the incident describing a lion. Even the people she had questioned over and over, who'd seen the Beast, her uncle, described a lion when she asked once more, a glaze over their eyes like they were in a stupor.
With a final shiver, Meara pushed the memory to the back of her mind and let herself fall into a mild sleep. She'd figure out what to do later, for now she would bide her time. After all, this Lady of Light may have magic of her own. A way back to her own world could lie in the road ahead.