Fields of gold

The gentle alien

The gentle alien

"Laurëfindelë", she asked, detaching every syllable. "Where are you from ?"

"Arda."

She frowned; where the heck was Arda ?

"Ok. Is it in America ?"

He shook his head, wondering what am-er-ee-ca was. He would have to borrow maps to situate himself in this new world. For the moment, he could only wait for Eleanor to understand, since he didn't know the right words.

"Africa ? Asia ?"

Another shake of his head. Eleanor was losing patience, the nagging impression that she was missing something huge pounding in her skull. Who had never seen a cat, even on TV ? How could someone be so amnesiac that he forgot cats ? Fed up, she walked away from the table to fetch an atlas, and opened the book between them.

"Show me," she commanded more than asked. If there was the slightest chance of Laurëfindelë returning home, they needed to find his place of birth. But the man shook his head anew, blond waves flying around his face, his expression too resolved to be hesitant.

"Not here," his musical voice cut in.

Eleanor's stomach plummeted as she refused to understand.

"How can it not be here ? This planet. Everything is here."

Intense blue eyes returned to her, watching every single expression written on her face to the point it became uncomfortable. Flustered, Eleanor roamed her skull for another idea, and decided to fetch pen and paper. She presented the items to him.

"Show me. Map."

He understood at once; his skilled hands started outlining a coast. Chewing on a piece of toast, Eleanor marvelled at the beauty of the map he was elaborating; mountains and darkened, forests, sandy beaches and rocky coasts sprang to life. A proof that his long-term memory was intact, at least. When a great sigh escaped his lips, Eleanor bent over the picture and asked:

"Your home ?"

He pointed to a small place in the middle of a mountain range.

"Gondolin. Hidden."

"Your home is hidden ?"

"Yes," he responded his gaze serious as he revealed the peculiarity of his city. Eleanor blinked; was he pulling her leg ? From the intense longing written on his face, she doubted it. Yet, she'd never heard of a city entirely surrounded by mountains like this. Perhaps it was an exaggeration ? Artistic licence ?

He wrote the name of the city, and many others in that incredible language of his, spelling them for her sake. Gondolin. Beleriand. Ossiriand. None of them rung a bell in her mind, and she returned to the Atlas.

"Alright. So where is this, on the world map ?"

Laurëfindelë eyes lit up as he took in the words written in the title – world map. A mad flash of hope sprang in Eleanor's heart; did he remember ? Then, the hammer fell and wiped her sanity away.

"Not this world."

Eleanor recoiled, dread coiling deep in her guts. Not this world. Was he... an alien ? Her mind descended into full panic, wondering what kind of creature she'd invited in her home ? Science fiction always left her uneasy; images flashed in her mind, massacres, invasions, domination, and many, many unsavoury things that only dwelt in horror movies. Step by step, she retreated, her heart beating so wildly it became painful.

Did he want to eat her ? Consume her ? Worse ? What had she done, taking him under the government's nose ? Did she sign her death warrant ?

"Eleanor."