I came to on a little green patch of grass surrounded by the biggest trees I’d ever seen in my life. Sun shone through the bright green leaves, creating dappled specks of light on the ground. I looked around me in awe, wondering where on earth I was, and how I got there. Suddenly a light bulb turned on in my head. With a flash of joy I realized that somehow I had landed in a place where only my imagination had been before. Middle Earth! I had pored over Tolkien novels and Histories from an extremely young age and I came to think of it so much that Arda and all the races of Humans, Elves and other Beings in it had materialized itself in my imagination. And suddenly there I was, for real, in the realms of the fantasy world. I could hear singing in amongst the trees. The song was incredibly beautiful, like nothing I’d ever heard before. I was absorbed by it, hypnotized. I sat for what seemed like hours listening and wondered who, or what, was singing. The language was completely unknown to me, yet, the strange and haunting words sounded vaguely familiar…. Like I’d heard them before, but where? The song was steadily growing louder, and whoever was singing it was coming closer. My first instinct was to run. I had no idea where I was and even less of an idea if the singer of the beautiful song was friendly. Suddenly the singing stopped. Everything was dead silent. I strained my ears for any slight sound that could give me a clue as to where the mysterious disappearing singer had gone. That was when I heard footsteps. Human footsteps. They were barely perceptible to any but the keenest ears, but they were there, and before I knew it there was a rustling in the bushes behind me, and I realized it was too late to run. Whoever was making those footsteps had already seen me. So I did what I would do only in the direst circumstances, prepared to fight…
Ever since I was five years old I had always been seen as somewhat of an outsider. I was quiet and withdrawn, and that, combined with some kind of mysterious air I had, made me a perfect target for ridicule from other kids. By the time I was six, I just got so incredibly sick of it that I begged and pleaded for my foster mother to take me to Karate classes, which she eventually did. My Sensei told me I had an incredible talent for Martial Arts. I learned quickly and by the time I was twelve I carried a Third Dan Black Belt in Karate. For my last year of primary school I was considered dangerous and was left alone. High School was a different story. I was provoked on a daily basis and fighting was a weekly agenda. That and constant training kept my skills sharpened and my guard up.
…I stood with my fists clenched and my body tense, straining every nerve and looking around in every direction for a possible ambush attack. My mind was racing at a mile a minute, planning for any attacks they could come at me with and ways I could evade them. The bush moved again and I kept stock-still, waiting for the rustler to show itself. I ventured to speak, to see if it was someone there and not just an animal.
“Edra negarn! I faeg neth al naeg!” “Show yourself! I mean you no harm!”
I jumped back at the sound of the strange words coming out of my mouth. I was speaking a mysterious language I had only heard in my dreams. The bushes rustled again, and out of them stepped the most astonishing sight I had ever seen…
…My Elven Prince, the one from my very dreams stood, real as the ground under my feet, five metres away from me. He was looking at me with an expression of askance and wonder on his beautiful face.
We must have travelled for miles and miles through the forest, but eventually we came to a path, clear cut and winding. A look of sadness came into The Prince’s eyes. “Here is the path.” He said, with a note of regret in his voice “May the Valar watch over you on your Journey, and may our paths cross again in the future.” He raised his left hand in Elven-Fashion bowed his head, quickly so that the two shining tears sliding down his face were obscured from view. With a heavy sigh I stepped onto the path, not wanting to leave my Elven Prince, who I had known for such a little time. My eyes filled with tears as I watched him slowly turn away and head in the other direction. Suddenly he stopped and turned back.
“Curse my rudeness fair Maiden, but I never introduced myself. My name is Nuindacilion, First Son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood. And pardon me, but I never asked after your name?”
I dug into my pocket and pulled out the forgotten brooch. It shone again with the same dazzling brilliance it had held when I first saw it. But here, it was stronger. Nuindacilion’s beautiful eyes shone at the sight of it as he put it on his cloak and did up the clasp. He said nothing, but the light in his eyes told me that his thanks couldn’t be put into words.
On silent feet we dashed through the forest, the trees and ground flying past us, to escape the Orcs. As I ran, I heard a faint sound. I stopped and strained my ears, Beckoning to Nuindacilion to stop and Listen too. We both listened carefully, hearing faintly what sounded like a song in the air. Nuindacilion’s face lit up. “That song! How familiar it is! It’s my brother!” He exclaimed, and made his way towards the source of the music.
“You mean me no harm, maiden?” He asked me in the same language. His voice was rich and soft, but strangely musical. And something in it hinted at deep sorrow.
I nodded, speechless from the events that were unfolding before me.
“Then may I ask what reason an Elven Maiden as fair as you has for being in these perilous woods without company or a single weapon? Perhaps you have lost your way?”
An Elf? He thinks I’m an Elf! I thought as I tried to regain my powers of speech and logical thinking. He was still gazing at me, but the expression of askance had gone from his face, only wonder remained. A glint of kindliness was in his eyes as he waited patiently for me to respond.
“That I do, fair maiden, and I would like nothing more than to accompany you through them. Shall we set off now?”
I agreed, and quick as anything we were on our way through the forest. The Prince was light on his feet and barely made a sound as he moved nimbly over tree roots and fallen branches. To my surprise, I found that I was as silent moving and as fast as any of the Elven race, and no matter how far or fast we went, I never tired or had to rest.
A breeze whispered past my ear, and a distant memory resurrected itself in my mind.
“My name,” I said softly “Is Firedhelien, and I have your brooch, clasp…Thing.”
“I Thought I had lost this to the waters of the Anduin,” He whispered “And you have returned it to me. It is my most treasured possession. My mother gave it to me just before she was…”
His voice trailed off and he looked with his keen Elven sight off into the distance, to some land foreign to me. He turned back to face me.
“Follow me, it’s no longer safe here. Orcs are coming, we must move, quickly.”