Ya'aburnee

Nothing Left to Lose

It was dark, on the way home,  a cold November rain drenching Liv to the bone as she shivered, arms wrapped tightly around her body to keep out the chill. "I knew I should've brought an umbrella." The day had been awful already, and the pouring rain only made it worse. She realized after she was already soaked that she could have called an Uber, but she didn't want to drench the back of somebodies car, so she trudged through the rain, socks and shoes soaked through. 

Before she could continue to gripe and groan about her life, a sound down an alleyway drew her attention, and although hesitating for a moment, she decided that she did not want to die today, and began walking faster. The streets were deserted, save for the occasional car. It was 11pm the day before Thanksgiving, so everyone was at home with their families, sleeping, or relaxing, just enjoying the company of their loved ones. A sharp movement racked Liv's body, a shiver or a sob, it was anybody's guess.

Hearing heavy boots slapping on the wet concrete behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening as she began to move faster. A tall hooded figure walked behind her, and she heard the sound of the strangers footfalls stopped dead, and suddenly before her stood the figure, towering over her, and she gasped, jumping, but felt frozen in place. The man before her had fierce eyes, and although she was still afraid, she saw no malice in them. He had a long, dark beard, and wore a long heavy cloak, underneath which was medieval armor, intricately wrought. He carried a great hammer, which at first Liv had mistaken for a walking stick, until she saw the hammer end. 

She shifted her weight back, leg turning as if to run, and the man spoke. It was deep and thundering, but hearty, and kind. "Do not be afraid, child of Ilúvatar. I do not wish to harm you." She froze in her tracks, eyes wide. She gulped. She recognized the name, Ilúvatar, and she would have thought the man in front of her insane, if but for the strange aura he seemed to give off.

"Who are you?" She was not proud of the way her voice trembled, and although she could simply blame it on the cold, the freezing air was far from her mind at the moment.

The man smiled kindly. "Have you not already guessed? You have read all of the stories time and time again." He paused. "Though perhaps I will help you put a name to a face. I am Aulë, one of the eight."

"One of the Valar..." She breathed out. She would have to talk to her therapist about how quickly the tone of wonder slipped from her lips.

The man in front of her nodded, smiling. "I have a task for you, if you will accept."

"A task?" Internally, she was screaming at herself to turn and run, that this man was obviously either crazy or planning to hurt her, or perhaps both, but she remained rooted to the spot.

"Yes," He nodded. "Something terrible is going to happen to my sons, my children. The Dwarves." Liv furrowed her eyebrows. "You know the tale. It comforts you. It reminds you of when your father read it to you as a child..." Her lips parted, head tilting slightly. She remembered that December, her father reading The Hobbit to her and her brothers around the fire. "You know the ending. I want you to change it. You must protect the line of Durin." 

"But..." She shook her head, looking from side to side, bewildered. "You're a Valar. Much more powerful than I... Why can't you do it?"

"We are forbidden from directly interfering with the lives of those in Middle Earth. And by extension, we cannot interfere through those who live there." The Valar explained.

"But... Tolkien wrote it as a translation of a history book... Wouldn't that forbid you from talking with me?" 

"No," He chuckled. "I have found a loophole. Your Earth runs parallel to Middle Earth, but the two have never mingled. I can pull you from one to another, without the rules being bent." She still looked uncertain. "I will not do it without your will. But the path that allowed me to show myself to you will not remain open for long. I will need your answer by the morrow."

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again, nodding. "I... I will have to think about it."

"Of course." He nodded graciously, stepping out of her way. "And you will need to pack." She started to walk past, finally unfrozen from her spot. When she was a few meters away, he called after her. "Oh, and one more thing." She turned and looked back. "You cannot stay in Middle Earth forever but under one condition."

"What condition?" She asked.

"The dwarves must accept you as their own. Only then will I be permitted to decide whether you should stay." And at that, he vanished as quickly as he had come, into the mist of the November night.

***

She had  been sitting numbly at the kitchen island since she had gotten home, keys tossed on the counter as she stared at the wall. She hadn't even turned the lights on, the dim nightlight and the glow through the window the only light that lit the halls. In her hands she held a frame, which sat upon the countertop. She didn't look at it, but clutched it in her hands as if her life depended on it. She had nothing to loose. And if in the morning it seemed that she had imagined it all, she would turn herself in to a mental ward.

She set the frame face down on the counter, standing to get packed. She walked into the bedroom, grabbing out a couple of bags to uproot her life into. Clothes, shoes, toothpaste, soap, combs, everything she'd need. She packed only two outfits, setting the third out on her bed to wear. She packed the second bag with food and water canteens. Her hand hovered for a moment over the waterskin she'd purchased when she had started backpacking with her brother. She swallowed and quickly grabbed it, throwing it into her bag after filling it with tap water. Any food in her pantry that would keep she emptied into the bag as well, careful to keep the plastic waste to a minimum.

She set the bag on the counter, returning to her room to get dressed. She frequented the renaissance faire in the summer, and had gotten a well-made corset. It was faux leather, but tough nonetheless, and she figured it would protect her from at least some projectiles if need be. She put it on over a loose green jumpsuit, which looked like a dress unless she moved her legs apart far enough.

She walked into the adjacent bathroom and grabbed her comb, smoothing her hair backwards before braiding a single French braid across the middle of her scalp and down her back, the tip of it reaching the arch of her back. This she coiled on the back of her head, pinning it in place. She stared at her tired eyes in the mirror, her stormy grey piercing her own soul. "I have nothing left to loose." She murmured, tearing her eyes from her own gaze, grabbing the bag of clothes and toiletries on her way through the bedroom, setting it beside the other bag on the counter.

She sat again at the counter, looking at the frame that lay face down. After a moment, she reached out and grabbed it, slipping it into the bag, nestled safely between her two sets of clothes.

"Nothing left to lose..."