Aravan {A Lord of the Rings Story}

O•N•E

The sky was dark.

The air was cold.

The trees creaked and swayed in the slight wind, their dark branches appearing to be long, scraggly fingers that were reaching out for the sky like it was their only purpose. It was almost as if the entire wood were blanketed in a sheet of menacing fog that was intent on doing harm to its visitors. Amongst this darkness there sat a figure, resting on a stump and slowly taking draws from a long, odd looking pipe. It was obviously a man, but one could not see his face, for he was wearing a long, ocean blue cloak that revealed only a long, white beard. Next to the man, there was a small fire, crackling peacefully as it died down. The clearing in which he sat seemed to be the only place in the wood that did not possess such an unsettling aura; like somehow, he was a piercing light in the inky blackness that surrounded him. The man took another draw from his pipe and allowed the smoke to billow out smoothly from between his lips. He shifted his eyes towards the fire, next to which there lay a young girl. Her long, dark locks were sprawled out around her like a crown, and full, black eyelashes adorned her closed eyelids. Another cold breeze swept over the wood, swirling around their small camp, swishing the man’s cloak around his ankles and causing the maiden to stir. The man glanced over to her figure once more and acknowledged that she was beginning to wake up, but made no move to interact with her; he merely sat on his little stump and continued to smoke his pipe. He watched as her tiny figure shuddered and twitched in her deep sleep. She murmured a little, a faint whisper that mixed in with the wind of the wood. Finally, after a few more moments, the girl’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing deep, stormy, stern green eyes; she was awake.

 She rubbed her head and winced, for it was tender and sore, then began to sit up and survey her surroundings. All she could see was an endless mess of black, mangled trees and a black nighttime sky. She shivered once more as the cold wind blew around her, sweeping her hair off her shoulders and tickling at her exposed arms. Goosebumps bloomed across her skin, and she hugged herself, attempting to create warmth. As she looked around more, alarm overtook her. She realized that she did not know where she was, nor how she came to be there. In fact, she could not even recall what her own name was. Breathing hard, she stood to her feet. Something popped and crackled behind her, causing her to whirl around, a scared and confused look adorning her pale face. She now caught sight of the fire, and of the man in blue. He took yet another long draw from his pipe, avoiding eye contact with the young girl.     

‘I see you’re finally awake,’ he said. His voice was gruff and firm, but not angry. 

The girl did not respond. 

‘Was your rest satisfying?’ 

The girl nervously shifted her stance.

‘Who are you?’ she asked slowly. 

The figure cocked his head. ‘I cannot say.’ 

‘And why not?’ 

The old man paused a long moment before answering, ‘I am simply unable to tell you.’ 

‘Then maybe you can answer something else for me.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Where am I?’

‘That I can answer,’ he said. ‘We are in the Lost Realm of Arnor; Chetwood, specifically.’

The girl nodded. ‘And…who am I?’ 

‘That I cannot answer, my young damsel, for even I do not know.’

  ‘If you cannot tell me who you are, and you cannot even tell me who I am…why are you here with me?’