Lapsus Memoriae [Rávamë's Bane: Book 1]

Part II : Chapter 8 ~ An Abundance of Fancy Titles

Part II : Chapter 8

- An Abundance of Fancy Titles -

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Frodo Baggins finished his recovery much faster than I think even Lord Elrond had been expecting. I’d been ordered by my mentor to tend to him during his recuperation — which mostly involved mixing up and applying topical salves and changing bandages. With the Morgul blade splinter gone, the rest of his injuries were fairly minor, and he would slip in and out of semi-consciousness whenever I was there. 

Bilbo and Gandalf had been coming in to see him regularly, and on the third day of treatment Glorfindel had come up to me in the hall outside and bluntly stated: “Master Frodo is awake. Your attendance is no longer required.” Then he’d glided gracefully off down a passageway. 

‘Probably to go and drop-kick some puppies, or take candy from small children,’ I’d thought sourly.

That of course meant it was back to work as usual for me. Elrond had me organising the herb stocks in the infirmary this time. Cataloguing, checking dates of the harvest, making sure they were properly stored. It was mind numbingly dull work, but it left me with much needed time to think over what was happening.

It had been two years since I’d come to Arda, but my limited memories of Tolkien’s stories hadn’t faded much. I’d made sure of that. From my own fragmented recall of the books, and from talking with Bilbo, I had a pretty good idea which part of Tolkien’s ‘story’ I’d ended up in.

Frodo had been brought to Rivendell after being stabbed with a Morgul blade. Gandalf was here, Aragorn had returned as well, and the One Ring was here too. It hardly took a rocket scientist to put the pieces together. Especially when Lord Elrond told me the previous evening that there was to be a meeting of emissaries from all the free races of Middle Earth. 

And it was to be held in Rivendell, today.

And I was already late.

The reason for my tardiness was thanks to the towering pile of record books I’d been given the last minute task of returning to the apothecary. Each book was as thick as my arm, stuffed to the bindings with loose bits of parchment, and weighed about the same as a small dog. I’d just about managed to stumble to the top of the stairs without dropping any or tripping over my dress, when something big and solid as a brick wall barrelled into me from my right. 

If I hadn’t been so weighed down with all the books, I would have been hurled backwards off my feet and into the air. As it was, I was saved from being bulldozed back down the stairs by a hand seizing me by the wrist. The record books weren’t so lucky. They were catapulted out of my arms, and crashed thunderously back down the stone staircase while loose pages flew in every direction like party streamers.

Hell. I was going to get hell for this.

I whirled on the spot, more than ready to give the idiot that had ploughed into me a pointy-ear-full when my tongue suddenly lost it’s ability to function. The man standing before me, still holding me firmly by the wrist, was not an elf. 

The only coherent thought I could form at seeing him was; ‘Oh thank God, someone with a beard!’

“I’m so sorry!” He spluttered, quickly releasing my arm as if it was a hot poker fresh out of the fire. I’d barely opened my mouth to answer him when he stooped and started hastily picking up the papers that had been scattered like confetti over the landing.

I just stared down at him like an idiot.

He was a tall man, or at least he would have been if he'd been standing, with auburn hair he'd neglected to cut in a while. It fell almost to the tops of his leather shoulder guards. He was also broad across the shoulders, a trait I'd only seen in Aragorn and the elves who trained serious in swordplay. It was small wonder he'd nearly sent me flying just by walking into me. He stood up to hand me one of the books he'd knocked out of my arms, and I got a good view of a really nice pair of blue eyes to go with the russet bread. Clearly he'd won some kind of genetic lottery at birth, because he was handsome. Really, handsome.