Hope - A Lord Of The Rings Chronicle

"Hobbits will put us all out of jobs!"

The first thing I register is how bright the sun shines. Its light is pure and steadfast, never ceasing nor dulling. Whispers rush past my eardrums, unintelligible sounds, and I rub my eyes, getting rid of the crust. My glasses no longer lie on my face, and I wonder where the fellowship put them.

And I wonder where they are.

The last memory I have, was of outside the mines or Moria, collapsing with the azure sky filled with clouds looming above.

Things seems so different now. The floor seems so soft, like I'm lying in a field of daisies, or on top of a marshmallow. My eyes flicker below, noticing the shape of my legs underneath a blanket.

Bracing myself, I slowly push myself upward, so my chest is off the ground.
"Lie still my dear." A matured, cultured voice tells me.
My gaze flocks to the right, and I squint, noticing two elves. The first one has bronze hair, with strong blue eyes and is the taller of the two, whereas the shorter has blonde hair and eyes that look as though they have seen much; good and bad.

The blonde male moves toward my bedside as the other leaves, and I lie down, slightly uncomfortable. Around us are trees, thick oaks with millions of foliage surrounding their branches. I look across, noticing what seems like a bridge with a beautifully complicated architectural decorations and archways, and lanterns (unlit of course.)

At the other side of the bridge lies a corridor, and through the leaves of the trees I can spot other buildings. I scratch my head, and discover that my hair was undone.

I groan slightly as the male reaches me, wondering if my hair band was somewhere near. My hair defies gravity, its curls thick and springy, so I prefer it tied up. Beside me is a circular wooden table, mahogany brown, with circular table legs that coil in on themselves.

There my glasses lie with my blue hair tie, and a clay basin with a soaked cloth. I reach for my hair band and move to tie it up.
"Not now my lady..." the healer tells me "Your head is still injured.."

I place it down, gulping. The roof of my mouth is dry, and as I speak my voice is raspy.
"But I need to tie my hair up, it... looks weird out like this..."
The healer raises an eyebrow in agreement...
"Yes its certainly...very robust isn't it?"
I roll my eyes playfully.
"That's what it likes when you have hair that defies gravity...also I haven't combed it in days and if it was straightened, it would be past my shoulders..."
"Straightened?" He replies, wringing the cloth and placing it on my brow. The furnace of heat had returned, and it was the best thing to have as a remedy.

I smiled, closing my eyes in contentment.
"Its...nevermind. Too hard to explain."
The healer moved a stool by my beside and sat down.
"Still, I have not seen people like you who have had hair like yours. Its wonderful." He smiled "Very thick and longer than usual."
I teased a strand, it bounced back into shape once I left it.
"That's because apparently I have some Arab or whatever nation ancestry in my family...otherwise my hair would be like any other black person's."
I sigh, pushing locks out of my brow..
"Can I tie it up later?" My hand feels around my scalp, and I come across a smooth surface.

Great. Bandages again.

Well, at least they're small this time. I wince as my fingers press on it. The healer removes my hand from the area.
"I shall call for an elleth to braid your hair away from your face later, but only once you've rested."
I nodded.
"You still have a fever my lady, and Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn have charged me to take care of you."
I blink.

We must be in Lothlórien then. That was fast. But if we are...how did we get here? And so fast too. Gandalf only...died this afternoon...
"What is the date?" I asked him
"January 17th of the year 3019 my lady." He peered at me concerned. "Is there any other questions you need asking me?"
I shook my head, puzzled.
"No. What is your name?"
He bows his head a little as he introduces himself.
"My name is Tûrdir, I am the healer who has been given charge over you."
I nod.
"And...where are we exactly? Lothlórien right?"
"Yes my lady. In Caras Galadhon."
I sneeze.
Tûrdir passes me a handkerchief.
"Ugh.." I breathe, "Do you have any water?"
The healer fetches me a glass, and I place my glasses on, suddenly able to see him so much better.
He stops in surprise once he sees me, but hands it over with a look of curiosity anyway.
"Forgive me if I seem rude my lady...but wht are those?"
"They're glasses." I reply "They help me see."
He nods
"You are blind. It is some form of magic?"
"No. Just...things are blurry when I look at them. The glasses just make things clearer."
"Oh..." he nods "I have heard of many men whose sight has ended up like that as a result of old age. If only Middle Earth had more glasses, eh?"