Title & Chapter Number: Ripples on the Surface 2/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: GoddessByline's LotR Realm
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is written, invented and/or imagined by J.R.R. Tolkien. However, I do own what is my interpretation and abuse of his work. I do not receive any money out of it. This is written and published for entertainment and (hopefully) pleasure purposes only.
Warnings: Although the low rating, this story is intended for mature ladies who hopefully will be able to identify with the main character.
Betas: Dorothy Noland (((hugs))), Proof-reader: Mike Kelley *** kisses***, Cheerleaders: Terri and Kit ~~~snargles~~~
Cast: So far unnamed OCF and Elrond.
Timeline: AU While this story contains the environment and characters from the J.R.R. Tolkien canon, it does however not follow it.
Spoilers: None
Summary: What was the meaning behind her dreams of lately? Who was the man who called himself Elrond? And why was he so set on trying to pull her into his consciousness? After breaking up from her old life and decided to settle in a small cottage on the countryside her dreams had become harder to ignore. It was almost as if they had started to leak into her wakened hours as well. She was afraid. Afraid that she was slowly losing her sanity; losing her grasp of reality.
Notes:
Once she heard someone say, that the last thing to leave a dying being is the hearing. It must have been when Peter died. She had been sitting by his bed for days, in a hush voice talking to him, hoping that somewhere under the still surface of his face he would still be able to hear her. The nurses and doctors had passed by in a steady stream during her waking days and nights nodding knowingly and telling her that she did well. One of the younger nurses had told her, "Keep talking to him. There is a small chance that he may hear you or at least recognise the tone of your voice." Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, the young nurse had added, "Even if he doesn't understand what you're saying, the sound of your voice will still calm him."
Wonder if it was her time to pass on now? She heard a voice talking to her, but she could not recognise any words, make no meaning out of what was being said. Nevertheless, someone was talking to her. Whispering words in her ear… words of comfort… words to calm her. A soft and gentle voice caressed in a low humming that went directly into her heart although the words held no meaning to her. She felt a warm breath against her ear and it was soothing, stroking her... Yes! Someone was definitely stroking her forehead with a warm and dry hand. Slowly she felt the hair from her face being pulled back, a hand resting on her forehead for a moment before it moved on to rest on her cheek.
Slowly her body began to make its presence known. She tried to shift a bit to ease the throbbing pain in her back, but she was unable to move, her muscles did not obey her command. She tried again, this time with more force, but all that accomplished was to send a spur of what felt like iced knives through her spine. The nausea came flushing and with that, the urge to empty her stomach of what content it still could hold. At that moment, the voice came back close to her ear. With a soft whisper, it breathed "Lanta kaima lirimaer." Accompanied by those words, she fell into blissful oblivion. (Translation: Sleep my lovely one.) ***
When she opened her eyes that morning, she knew that that day would be different, nothing like any other day so far in her life.
Reluctant to get out of bed, she tried to remember the evening before. She had vague memories of lying outside in the rain, on the ground, memories of being cold and afraid. She had been sick. She still could feel the aftertaste of her illness in her mouth. She had eaten her dinner, the rain that had started to pour down. Why had she been crawling in the grass? She had taken some pills for her headache. She had been drinking wine. "Darn!" She ought to know better than to mix alcohol with her medication. What had she been thinking? While scolding herself for her stupidity, she slowly climbed out of the bed. Her body stiff and a bit sore, but without the usual immobilising morning pain. I need to brush my teeth.
She quickly went through the usual morning procedure, put on a kettle of water for the tea and opened a window to let the day inside. The air was crisp and clear, like crystal. The wind cool against her skin, the sky itself transparent yet spreading a spectrum of colours that painted the surroundings in pastoral shades. She felt tempted to reach out a hand and touch the landscape that softly spread and rolled beyond her view, its presence almost tangible. Stunned she stood by the open window, inhaling the freshness left by last night's rain. After just a few moments she withdrew, afraid that the feeling would make her succumb.
What was it she was going to succumb too? What was so different about today? The answer surprised her, without a second thought, she had an almost unbearable feeling of being alive. Never before had she felt so alive. She tried to shake the feeling and turned away. At that moment she realised that time itself somehow was unsynchronised. Although she only had been away from the stove and at the window for a few moments, the water in the kettle had almost vaporised completely.
Without hesitation, she decided to take a walk. The fact that she had not eaten or taken her morning medications yet, made no difference. It was as if she was drawn outside, lured by a promise of freedom and rejuvenation. Directed by her feet's desire, she followed the gravelled path that winded up behind her cottage and towards the distant hills.
~*~*~*~
When she had walked for what felt like an hour, she cursed herself for not having put on her arm watch. When she turned around, she could no longer see the red little cottage or the main road. But somehow she understood that she was not done walking yet. Time became indifferent and once again, she felt the surge of life flooding through her veins… Her life, and the life of everything surrounding her. There was no room for astonishment or regrets, just for acceptance and for her to keep on walking. Light-footed and timeless, eternal and unexplainable. No sense of mystic or suggestion bothered her. She just accepted and stayed on the path.
Time went by, seconds, minutes and hours. She was completely and utterly lost, trailing on a pathway she never before had walked. Many thoughts entered her mind just to vanish as quickly as they came only to be forgotten again. At that precise moment, she arrived at the crossroad. She halted. Intensely aware of that if she walked on, she would enter another world. The insight was inexplicable. There was nothing unusual about this place. Still, there was something deep within her that became aware of a sensation, a perception that any other day she would have dismissed as absurd. She hesitated for a moment, before she with determination continued her walk.
The path took a turn, and opened up to a clearing that tempted with a promise of rest. She sighed quietly as she looked around. There was a bench and on that bench sat a man watching her with kind and aware eyes. She immediately recognised him. It was the man from her dreams.
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