Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of The Rings or The Hobbit, only my own characters.
Chapter 3: A Period of Self-Discovery
Katherine lay in the dim candlelight, fever burning through her body like a slow-moving fire.
Shadows shifted across the wooden walls of the cabin, the flickering firelight casting shapes that her muddled mind struggled to make sense of. Voices murmured around her, familiar yet distant. Strong hands pressed cool cloth against her burning forehead, while a softer, lighter touch smoothed damp hair from her face. Time lost its meaning as she drifted between wakefulness and fevered sleep, not quite being able to stay in one long enough before being pulled into the other.
XXX
She stood in the darkened ruins of a battlefield. The ground beneath her feet was scorched, littered with broken weapons and armor from a distant past. In the distance, a massive shadow loomed, its fiery eyes fixed upon her form. A deep voice whispered her name, rumbling through her body. Her fingers curled, but she had no weapon–only the weight of something unseen pressing upon her very soul.
A silver tree beneath a star-filled sky. Its leaves shimmered with an ethereal light, a presence both sorrowful and ancient. The breeze carried a whisper–Remember. The word wrapped around her like a thread of fate, but she was unable to grasp it.
A beautiful pendant pulsed against a chest, whole and radiant, no longer incomplete, its light warm and silver and everlasting.
A cloaked figure lingered at the edge of the hilly valley, unmoving, watching. Katherine tried to call out, but her voice was stolen by the wind. She took a step toward them—
Darkness.
Cold, ancient air. It pulsed like a living thing, the darkness within reaching for her with unseen hands. A voice called from within, hollow and eternal, laced with a knowing that sent shivers through her spine.
A battlefield once more. The air was thick with smoke, the clang of steel and the cries of war filling the air. A large wolf sprinted through the mist, its rider clad in silver armor. It stopped before her, stomping its paws, waiting.
Blue eyes that belonged to someone long gone, yet somehow renewed.
Blood dripped from a sword, its blade gleaming with ancient Elvish runes. The hand holding it was hers, though she did not remember taking it. A cold sense of inevitability settled in her chest.
Anniina and Brianne's voices wove through the chaos, along with several others she did not recognize, calling her name, their faces distorted. The urgency in their voices made her stomach twist.
A glowing mark upon a circular door, calling out to her.
The ground beneath her shifted, and she found herself before an ancient book, its faded pages and unknown symbols whispering to her in a language she did not know.
Doom and salvation often walk the same path.
A small man with hairy feet running, clutching something close to his chest, terror in his eyes. A tower wreathed in storm clouds, lightning illuminating a fiery eye that saw everything. A lone figure on a windy hill, a gray cloak billowing behind them. A terrible screeching noise bringing fear and death.
A burning city, fire raining down upon the people below. A crown resting upon the head of a noble man. Hideous, inhuman creatures pawing at a defenseless person.
A lone figure kneeling before an untouched funeral pyre, gripping something close to his chest. A large hand holding a smaller one. A cry of deep anguish. A golden ring slipping into fire, its final whispers fading into nothing. A giant white stag.
A single white flower blooming in the snow, delicate yet untouched by the cold.
XXX
"Welcome back."
The deep voice startled her, making her wince as her head throbbed. Slowly blinking her eyes open, Katherine turned to see Jaakkima sitting beside her, his arms resting on his knees, watching her with a quiet intensity.
A soft blanket cocooned her, and the crackle of the hearth fire filled the silence. Her throat was dry, her limbs aching as though she had fought some great battle.
"You gave us quite the scare," Anniina's voice followed, softer and kinder. She appeared beside her husband, pressing a warm cup into Katherine's trembling hands. "Drink. It will help."
Katherine accepted the drink, her fingers tingling against the wooden surface. The liquid was bitter but warm as it traveled down her throat, soothing the rawness. Her mind struggled to recall everything she had been dreaming about, only offering flashes of images, everything seeming just out of reach.
When she finished the drink, she handed the cup back to Anniina who took it and left the room, returning shortly after with a steaming bowl of stew.
"Your fever has finally broken. In a few days, you should be completely healed."
Katherine's thoughts started rearranging themselves into a comprehensible mess. Yes, she was in a home, not a hospital. Jaakkima and Anniina. Their daughter, Brianne. Amish. Santa's elves?
Snow. Cold. A chilling coastline with a strange name.
The realization crashed into her like a wave.
Middle-earth.
She was in Middle-earth.
Her breathing quickened, and Anniina reached out, but Katherine flinched away, heart hammering heavily in her chest. "This isn't real. This can't be real."
Jaakkima grunted. "But it is."
Once again, Anniina reached out. "I'm not sure what you endured before my husband pulled you from that river, but I can assure you, we are real, Katherine, and you are safe with us."
Katherine closed her eyes, her thoughts spiraling.
Was she dead? Or in a coma? Or perhaps she was in a dream within a dream, and she would wake up anytime surrounded by the teens that had knocked into her, pointing and laughing at how she hit her head. Come Monday morning, she could start her job at the police station and have a fun story to tell all of her new co-workers, and they'd all have a big laugh.
Because there was no way that Middle-earth was real.
It just couldn't be.
But if it wasn't real, then why could she see the individual blades of fur from the blankets she was surrounded by? Or feel the warmth from the fire? And she certainly couldn't remember being able to taste anything in her dreams before.
"Katherine, dear, I need you to open your eyes for me."
Reluctantly, the confused young woman did, meeting the concerned gazes of her saviors. They certainly looked real and more detailed than anything her brain could come up with. Since when had her brain decided to add a sense of clarity to how many wrinkles someone had on their forehead?
She shakily let out a breath.
"Do you hurt anywhere? Are there any pains or sore spots?" asked Anniina gently.
Katherine shook her head, but then was reminded of the throbbing sensation and stopped herself, groaning softly.
"Just my head."
Anniina frowned. In a soft yet stern voice, she told Katherine to sit up, which she slowly did.
"Here. Eat this stew. It should bring back some of your energy."
With some assistance from the matriarch, Katherine nibbled on the simple meat stew that Anniina had brought out. It took some time, but eventually, she had finished the bowl, and the older woman nodded in satisfaction.
Her muscles ached some, but it wasn't unbearable. Instead, she stretched them out, bones cracking slightly.
Katherine decided it was time to rip off the bandaid. If this world was in fact real, she needed answers.
"How long was I out for?"
Jaakkima answered for his wife. "Four days."
"And I still have…pointed ears?"
Jaakkima and Anniina both paused and looked at each other, before Jaakkima turned back and nodded.
"Aye, you do."
Katherine swallowed and brought up her hand to her ears, confirming the truth, that they still had unnatural points to the tips that should not exist–or at the very least, should not exist on her.
"But I'm not an elf." She brought her eyes up to meet Jaakkima and Anniina's, begging for them to believe her. "I'm human. How is this possible?"
A warm hand settled over her own, callused from years of hard labor.
"I'm sorry, child, but we do not know. We assumed that you would."
At her dismayed look, Anniina broke in. "But this does not mean that we do not believe you, nor does it matter. Not to us."
Katherine let out another breath, looking down at the hand that was settled over her own. It felt so real.
"Katherine," gently called Anniina, pulling her attention back to the couple. "Do you have any kin that would be looking for you? Anyone we can call for?"
The young woman thought about it. If she was in Middle-earth, does that mean she was reborn, and possibly has another family somewhere beyond the walls of this home? Something in her gut told her that wasn't right, so she dismissed the thought. If she had no family in this world, then she didn't have any at all–at least none alive.
No one would be looking for her.
She was alone.
Katherine shook her head, eyes dropping down again as she fought to keep her eyes from moistening. The last thing she wanted was to ugly cry in front of the kind strangers in front of her.
"No. I have no…kin." The word felt a little strange in her mouth. "I am on my own."
"What about your home?"
Jaakkima spoke up. "Where is this Star Valley? I do not recognize the name, but perhaps we can find it."
"I doubt you will," she said, laughing bitterly. "No, I think it is…lost, much like me." She thought about her situation, realizing that she was now effectively homeless and probably unable to get back to her home without a minor miracle. But even if she did get back, there wouldn't be anyone waiting for her. So, what was the point?
"I have no home anymore."
Anniina reached her hands towards Katherine's face, her palms framing the sides of her cheeks and bringing the young woman's watery gaze towards herself.
"Then you will stay with us." Her voice gave off a stubborn quality that left no room for an argument. Her word was final. "I would not sleep well knowing I healed a kinless child only to throw her out into the wilds on her own."
Katherine could not believe the kindness that both Jaakkima and Anniina were showing her, a stranger with no home and no skills that could help them. Yet, all she could see in their gazes was a kind understanding that left her in Anniina's motherly embrace as she finally let out the tears she had been holding back for a very long time.
XXX
People say that your 20s should be the time for self-discovery.
Katherine didn't know they meant it literally.
Days passed in a blur. At first, she was too weak to do much, but Anniina encouraged her to regain her strength, feeding her nourishing stews and strong tea. Brianne hovered nearby, fascinated by their strange new guest, while Jaakkima mostly observed, speaking little but always keeping a watchful eye on her.
Slowly, Katherine grew used to their presences, which felt strange after having spent the last two years of her life on her own.
But it was nice, having people around. Once she had been deemed well enough, she had been moved from Jaakkima and Anniina's bed–of which she did not know she was in and kept apologizing for keeping them out of, but both were equally stubborn and told her it was no trouble–to Brianne's room, where she bunked with the younger teen given that both of them were smaller and could fit in the same bed.
That was a little strange, given how she hadn't shared a bed with anyone since…well, in a very long time, so it took a bit to get used to waking up next to the young teen girl, who, as she came to find out, liked to cuddle, often gripping Katherine like a pillow.
But it was a smaller home, and there wasn't another place that Katherine could sleep that wasn't just the floor, something which the whole family refused to have Katherine endure.
Brianne was ecstatic about it, saying how she always wanted another sibling to share the bed with. It gave her more time to ask Katherine questions about herself, though the younger woman did not usually say much, keeping her answers vague.
Her new living arrangement wasn't the only thing that was different in Katherine's life.
Apparently, Middle-earth villages didn't have access to mirrors.
But she needed to see herself, to confirm what the others were saying about her appearance.
"Anniina," she hesitantly called out to one day, after helping the matriarch with the dishes from their meal. "Do you have something I can use to see myself with?"
The older woman paused, thinking, before handing Katherine a cloak and a pair of Jaakkima's old boots, taking her outside into the snow. She found a patch of ice and broke it away from the ground, handing it to the surprised young woman.
"It isn't much, but you can use this to see your reflection if that is what you wish."
Katherine nodded and thanked the matriarch before taking the patch of ice from her hands, holding it up at an angle where the sun caught her reflection upon the ice.
She nearly dropped the ice in surprise, her grip faltering at her appearance. The face that looked back at her was still her own, her blue eyes staring back at her, but her ears were no longer rounded like before. Instead, they did in fact have slight points to them.
She thought back to what she knew of Tolkien's works and her knowledge of elves from the films. Elves were portrayed as tall beings filled with grace, elegance, sharper features, and effortless beauty, with long, silky hair and fine tipped, slightly narrow ears.
Katherine's own ears were pointed, but not in the same narrow way that the elves were–at least not the kinds shown on her television. They were shorter and less narrow than elvish ears.
She glanced down at herself, at her tangled, barely tamed waves and her slightly below average height.
No, she decided. I'm still human. Just with pointed ears now I guess.
The thought brought her a sense of closure.
XXX
The family continued their quiet observations of their particularly strange guest.
At first, they assumed she was an elfling—a child, given her apparent age. When she overheard this one night at their supper, Katherine couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm twenty-four," she told them.
Jaakkima raised an eyebrow. "For an elf, that is still childhood."
"But I'm not an elf," she insisted. "I was born human. Raised among humans. I—" She hesitated, catching sight of herself in the reflective surface of her drink. Her fingers traced her ears. "At least, I used to be human. And where I come from, 24 years is a decent way into adulthood."
Brianne leaned forward, studying her closely. "But your ears—"
"I know," Katherine cut in. "But elves have differently shaped ears." She gestured vaguely. "The elves I know, they're tall. Beautiful. Graceful. Long, straight, perfect hair. I—" She glanced down at herself. "That's not me."
"Perhaps one of your parents had elven blood within their heritage," said Brianne, "and you did not know."
Jaakkima and Anniina watched as Katherine had slightly smiled at their young daughter.
"Perhaps." The young woman left it at that, and Brianne took the gap in the conversation to talk about a new herb she had found on the east side of the forest.
The next thing they noticed was that Katherine struggled when it came to living in the wild.
Most children, regardless of race, were taught at an early age how to do basic chores, like laundry and hunting for berries, all key parts of surviving.
Yet Katherine seemed clueless as to how to do tasks that even Brianne had mastered by age seven, such as how to tie up a dress, or how to sew up a tear in fabric.
Anniina thought that maybe Katherine had lost some of her memories from the traumatic incident where she fell into the river, and she simply was trying to relearn how to live again.
But as Jaakkima observed his wife teaching the younger woman how to remove a soiled spot from a piece of fabric, he wondered if perhaps Katherine never learned how to do these basic chores to begin with. In what kind of place would a young woman not have to learn about these tasks? he thought.
Yes, Katherine was indeed a particular person.
XXX
She was back in the freezing river, the icy water dragging her under. The current pulled at her limbs, relentless and merciless, the cold biting into her bones like sharpened teeth. Her lungs burned as she fought against it, desperate for air, but the river would not let her go. The world above the surface blurred, unreachable, the light dimming as the water swallowed her.
She kicked, struggled, but her strength waned. Darkness pressed in, her vision tunneling. Her heart pounded wildly—too fast, too erratic. The sound of rushing water roared in her ears, deafening, drowning out any other thought. The pressure mounted, suffocating her, dragging her into a dark oblivion.
Then—
She woke with a gasp, her body jerking upright as if she had physically broken the surface of the water. Her chest heaved, lungs starved for breath, her skin clammy with sweat instead of river water. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The warmth of the blankets felt foreign against her skin. The fire's glow seemed too distant, the wooden walls too enclosing. Her hands gripped the sheets, her fingers trembling.
"Katherine?"
Brianne's tired voice was quiet, cautious, and slightly muffled against the pillow she rested upon, her auburn curls strown in several different directions. The world slowly settled around her, and she turned toward the source of the voice, smelling the scent of herbs and woodsmoke in the air.
She was not drowning. She was alive.
Katherine's heart still hammered against her ribs, but she forced herself to breathe, to steady the panic that coiled tight within her. She swallowed hard, her throat dry as she croaked out, "I'm sorry for waking you. I…I was in the river again."
Brianne, her eyes half lidded, placed a calming hand on her arm in a practiced movement. "It was a dream," she soothed.
Katherine nodded slowly, trying to believe it. But the sensation of drowning lingered, clinging to her like a second skin.
She lay back down, staring at the ceiling, forcing herself to listen—to the crackling fire, to the murmurs of the others in the room, to the rhythmic beat of her own heart. She clutched at the necklace around her neck.
She was here. She was alive.
Brianne shifted closer to Katherine and closed her eyes, and within a few moments, the girl was fast asleep again. Katherine focused on her roommate's breathing and her steady heartbeat, hoping it would sooth her bundle of nerves.
She did not sleep for the rest of the night.
XXX
Days later, Katherine found Jaakkima tending to the horses outside. The crisp morning air filled her lungs as she approached him, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides.
"Can you take me to the river?"
Jaakkima turned, only to be greeted by Katherine, whose eyes looked as if they hadn't found sleep in quite some time.
"I just need to see it," she said. "Maybe something there will help me understand how I got here, or why I am here."
The hunter was well aware that the newest addition to his household often found herself awake in the wee hours of the night. He may not have the hearing of an elf, but there was only so much that couldn't be heard in their small house, and the sounds of her routinely waking up with a gasp often made him reach for his dagger next to his bed, just in case there was a threat to his family.
Jaakkima straightened from where he had been adjusting a saddle strap, his sharp gaze settling on her. "You're sure?"
She nodded. "I need to see it for myself."
Without another word, Jaakkima finished securing the saddle on his horse, whose brown coat was speckled with white snowflakes, and gestured for her to approach. "Have you ridden before?"
Katherine hesitated. "Not exactly."
He exhaled through his nose, before stepping beside her. "Then I will teach you."
The horse shifted slightly as Jaakkima guided Katherine's foot into the stirrup and helped her swing herself into the saddle. She wobbled, gripping the reins too tightly, her heart racing for an entirely new reason.
This was very different from riding in her car.
Jaakkima swung himself up onto the saddle behind Katherine, taking the reins back from her.
"Relax," Jaakkima instructed, adjusting her posture. "Trust the horse. Move with him, not against him."
It took effort, but eventually, she found a rhythm as they rode toward the river. The journey was quiet, save for the crunch of hooves against the earth and the occasional guidance from Jaakkima. Katherine focused on the motion, on the way the wind brushed her skin, grounding herself in the present moment.
The moment she caught sight of the frozen river, something inside her clenched.
The sound of rushing water, though muffled by ice, sent a deep, primal fear through her. Her breath hitched, and she tensed her posture. Jaakkima noticed, but he said nothing. He helped her dismount from the horse safely before tying the reins securely to a branch so that the horse would not wander off.
A sharp, invisible hand wrapped around her throat, the icy currents wrapping around her limbs.
Jaakkima observed her hesitation. "You do not have to go any closer if you do not wish."
Katherine clenched her jaw. She had come here for answers, and she wasn't about to stop this far away without at least seeing where exactly she was found.
"Show me."
Together, Jaakkima and Katherine walked towards the bank, their footsteps crunching in the snow, the larger man leading the way.
One step.
Another.
Katherine tried to keep her breathing calm, but the sounds of the rushing water only became clearer with each step, and she had to remind herself she was still on land.
"This is where I found you."
While she had been concentrating on making her feet go forward, Katherine had forgotten the distance between herself and Jaakkima, and she was startled, her feet slipping slightly.
Her foot hit the snow near the edge, and sudden, vivid memories flashed through her mind—icy hands dragging her under, her lungs burning, her vision going dark. The river blurred before her eyes, morphing into that dark, merciless force that terrorized her soul. She swayed, her balance faltering.
Katherine gasped. She couldn't do it. She couldn't go any closer.
Jaakkima's steady hand caught her arm, his voice a quiet anchor, and her hands gripped his arm just as fast, her fingers digging into his thick coat like he was her lifeline. "Breathe, Katherine. Look at me."
She forced herself to meet his gaze. His grip was firm but grounding, his expression unreadable yet steady. She latched onto the moment—the warmth of his hand, the solid ground beneath her feet, the way the morning sun dappled through the trees.
She took a slow, shuddering breath, nodding. "I'm okay," she murmured, though she wasn't entirely sure if it was true. She turned her gaze to the river, not releasing his arm for a minute.
Jaakkima didn't push her to go closer. Instead, they stood together in silence, the water murmuring at the edge of her senses. She had come looking for answers, but perhaps, for now, facing the river itself was enough.
When she finally regained control of her breathing, she shook her head.
"There's nothing here," she murmured, though she wasn't sure if she was speaking to Jaakkima or herself.
The river held no answers, only a fear that she hadn't had before.
She turned away, forcing herself not to look back.
XXX
Katherine began to learn how to live in Middle-earth.
Slowly but surely, Katherine adjusted to her new reality. She wasn't strong. She wasn't skilled. But she was learning.
And for the first time since waking in this strange new world, she felt a little less lost.
Katherine's life with her new "family," for the lack of a better term, was anything but easy at first. Adjusting to a world without electricity, running water, or any modern conveniences tested her in ways she never expected. Yet, with the patience and kindness of Jaakkima's family–and the teasing of young Brianne–she slowly learned to navigate the rhythm of her new unfamiliar world.
Every morning, if she wasn't already awake from a nightmare, she awoke to the soft glow of the fire that Anniina kept burning through the night, wrapped in thick furs against the harsh chill of the cold weather outside. Brianne often teased her about how she shivered too much, yet always made sure that Katherine had an extra fur on her side of the bed.
Jaakkima took it upon himself to teach her basic survival skills, seeing as she currently did not have many. Under his watchful gaze, Katherine learned how to track animals in the snow, how to tell which plants were safe to eat, and how to defend herself should the need ever arise. She surprised him at how good she was at fighting, her skills at defense being more advanced than he thought she would be. It was likely Katherine's training from the past that fared her so well.
He was patient but firm, and his lessons always ended with an encouraging nod or a rare, approving smile.
Anniina taught her the ways of healing. At first, Katherine fumbled with bandages and salves, unused to the process of grinding herbs and stitching wounds by hand. But over time, she became adept at recognizing the right plants, memorizing their properties, and preparing tonics.
Anniina was impressed at Katherine's ability. It seemed she was a natural when it came to healing, the young woman catching onto certain concepts much faster than some some healers could ever dream of doing. But when watching the young woman, she sometimes wondered if her skills with herbs and healing came from her own mortal body, or from something more powerful and unseen.
Katherine was none the wiser, simply taking in the knowledge she was being taught.
Brianne, who worked with her mother as a healer's assistant, eagerly taught Katherine how to identify and gather herbs.
They spent much of their mornings going out into the wild to search for certain plants that Anniina needed for her salves, digging through the snow and searching the crevices of rocks to find what they were looking for.
The young teen liked to talk, and she felt the most free to do so out in the forest away from her family's watchful eyes. Katherine often didn't speak as much, preferring to let the girl gab and say what she wanted to say. It's how she found out that Brianne really wanted to travel on her own and see more of the world, but she was afraid to tell her parents so. She often felt like she was trapped in Pynci-Pelooc, unable to leave because of how small their village was, and how much everyone relied on each other to survive. The girl also didn't want to disappoint her parents either, as apparently they were both very influential figures in their community.
Katherine enjoyed their outings into the forest, spending time with the young teen. Something that she had missed when living in Arizona were the trees and animals that she had once grown up accustomed to. The desert was not nearly as wonderful as the greenery of nature.
And Middle-earth's forests were nothing to scoff at, the trees towering so much more than the trees she had once grown accustomed to when she was a child.
XXX
Spring had arrived, and while not all of the snow had left the Icebay of Forochel, pockets of the forest had revived itself, greenery spreading its wings like the birds that flew in the sky.
The forest was quiet as Katherine and Brianne walked along the narrow path, their baskets in hand. The sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, mingling with the faint floral scent of the herbs they had already gathered.
Brianne was speaking about one of the new foals in the stables that had arrived only a fortnight ago, it's coat still shimmery and new.
"It is so cute," Brianne said, gushing over the baby horse. "I know you have yet to see it since you have been helping mother with chores, but you have to see it!"
"We can do that after we finish collecting what we came out here for," Katherine replied, shaking her head at the young teen's enthusiasm.
Brianne continued to speak about the foal for several minutes until suddenly, her voice trailing off mid-sentence.
"We shouldn't be this close," Brianne muttered, her voice tight with unease.
Katherine glanced at her. "Close to what?"
Brianne nodded ahead, her grip tightening around the basket handle. Katherine followed her gaze and saw it—the entrance to a cave, gaping like the mouth of some ancient beast. Shadows clung to the edges, and an unnatural chill radiated from within.
Brianne leaned in close to Katherine's ear, whispering so softly that even with her sensitive hearing, she had to strain to make out the words. It was almost as if the girl was afraid of speaking the name aloud.
"Pimeä Luola."
Katherine glanced at the cave, which while looking a bit ominous, still remained only a cave.
"Is there a reason why we shouldn't be near here?" she asked Brianne.
"I don't like being near it," Brianne admitted, keeping her eyes on the ground as if afraid looking at the cave too long would invite something out of it. "It's a dark and evil place. All of us are told to stay away from it, else the darkness will consume us. They say that those who go in, never come back out."
Katherine, however, felt something entirely different. Granted, she could feel a dark and ominous energy around the cave, she couldn't deny that she felt something else.
A pull—subtle, but undeniable. It was as if something within the cave recognized her, whispering to her in a voice just beyond comprehension. A strange, almost electric sensation danced along her skin, and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away.
"We won't go near it," she reassured Brianne, though the words felt like they weren't meant for herself.
Brianne nodded and hurried ahead, eager to put distance between them and the cave. Katherine hesitated for just a moment longer, staring into the abyss of darkness beyond the entrance.
Those who venture inside never return—but why? What was it about this place that even the bravest villagers avoided?
The darkness should have repelled her. But something deep inside whispered that there was more to it than just fear and shadow.
"Katherine?" Brianne called, urgency in her voice.
She blinked and turned away, shaking off the strange feeling. "Coming," she said, forcing herself to move.
As they continued on their way, she resisted the urge to look back. But the weight of the cave's presence lingered, as though something unseen still had its eyes on her.
XXX
Despite the warmth of Jaakkima's family though, the village itself was slow to welcome her.
Many regarded her with suspicion and distrust. Compared to the darker skinned people that inhabited the village of Pynci-Pelooc, her pale skin and pointed ears marked her as an outsider. Whispers followed her when she walked through the marketplace–whispers she could hear more clearly than most expected–and mothers ushered their children away when she passed.
She understood their wariness. She was someone unfamiliar, who looked different from everyone else.
But she refused to let that stop her. One by one, she earned their trust.
Ronja, the baker, was the first to warm up to her. Upon Jaakkima's request, Ronja had allowed the young woman to learn how to bake from her instruction.
Katherine had spent an afternoon struggling with dough, trying to knead it as Ronja instructed, when the older woman finally burst into laughter.
"You handle dough like you handle a knife—too much force, and not enough patience."
From then on, Ronja took it upon herself to teach Katherine how to bake, starting small with flatbreads and working up to more intricate pastries.
Suvi and Tähti, the tailors of the village, became Katherine's friends after she stubbornly refused to let them gift her new clothes without working for them in return. She spent hours helping Tähti stitch winter coats and mend torn tunics in exchange for learning how to properly sew and fit clothes.
Eetu, one of the village guards and a quiet but kind young man, often lingered around Tähti's shop, making excuses to speak with her. Katherine caught on quickly to his admiration, though the young tailor seemed blissfully unaware of his affections.
Yrjö and his brother Arvö, the fishermen, were skeptical at first, but after one afternoon where Katherine proved that she could gut and clean a fish without flinching, they allowed her to help them with their catch. She even found herself laughing along with their ridiculous tales of sea creatures and old legends. Yet, when they asked if she wanted to join them out on the docks, she politely declined each time, preferring to stay firmly on land.
Maybe Katherine was a bit peculiar, but she wormed her way into their lives.
However, not all welcomed her.
"Kirottu valkoinen iho!"
A wrinkled hand pointed accusingly at Katherine, who shrunk back at the angry tone, bringing her hair forward to cover her ears.
"You do not belong here. Go back from where you once came!"
Matleena, one of the village elders, refused to acknowledge her presence with anything but sharp warnings.
"Leave her be," shouted Ronja, who was wrapping up some bread for Katherine to bring back home. "She's just as much a part of this village as you or I, you old bag."
"She will bring darkness and destruction," the old woman muttered, her eyes burning into the side of Katherine's face. "Mark my words, she does not belong here."
"And you don't belong here, botherin' my customers. Now get, Matleena."
Matleena huffed, stalking away towards her home in the village, but not without one last glare at Katherine.
"I'm sorry about that," apologized Katherine. "I didn't mean to make a fuss."
"You did nothing wrong, child. She just has a problem with people who do not look just like 'er."
Though Matleena's words unsettled her, Katherine did her best to ignore them. She had hoped that by hiding her pointed ears, that would lessen the warnings, but it seemed that it didn't matter to the elder. She could only do so much to hide the fact that her skin tone was by far the lightest in the village, and no matter how many times Katherine tried to tell her she was just human, the woman only got more angry at her for "trying to hide her devil self."
Whatever. Katherine had more pressing matters to focus on.
Pimeä Luola.
While she wasn't always in the village, she sometimes caught whispers of it when she did visit. The villagers spoke of it in hushed tones, warning their children to never step near its entrance. It was said that those who ventured inside never returned, that the darkness within swallowed them whole. Though no one knew its true origin, the lingering malevolence that seeped from its depths was real.
Katherine could feel it. It was a whisper at the back of her mind, a slow, curling sensation that drew her toward it whenever she gathered herbs with Brianne near the outskirts of the village. It wasn't just fear—it was recognition.
But of what, she couldn't yet say.
For now, she focused on building her place within the village, on proving that she could be one of them, even if she wasn't entirely sure what she was anymore.
And before she knew it, a year had passed.
Translations:
"Kirottu valkoinen iho" = cursed white skin