Anariel of Erudin: Valmoria's Wrath | Lord of the Rings

6. The Hobbits of Midgewater

Suddenly, I was back in the forest outside my village, reduced to my eight-year-old self, a happy child who could climb trees as tall as mountains and swim across lakes with a single breath—at least in her imagination. I felt alive again, more than I'd been in years. Across the forest floor I ran with the wind at my back, and I felt weightless, finally free. Everything, even the tiniest leaf, held its own wonder, and I would've happily spent my entire life exploring it all.

With my arms outstretched, I followed my feet for miles, never once questioning their path, until they abruptly stopped at a most unlikely place: the ruins of the elven palace. I would have raced up the stairs had it not been for the shadowy figure guarding the entrance. A single, brief glance rendered it a mere blob, but a closer look revealed the form of a woman: tall, willowy, though still nothing more than a silhouette to my eyes.

"Come, Anariel," she said to me, her voice whispery and melodic. It was her beautiful voice that must've been guiding my feet, for it was happening again. Helpless against it, I floated up the stairs and into the great hall, where she stood waiting near its end, her hand extended toward me, her misty fingers inviting me to join her, and I did without so much as a thought. She knelt next to me then and whispered into my ear, her voice tingling my skin like a light, cool breeze: 

"I need you to retrieve something for me, Anariel. Can you do that?"

At her words, the wall opened before me, revealing a small room, dark and ominous, and at its end sparkled the dazzling ruby pendent, like a beacon providing safe passage through the darkness. The ruby was all I could see as I heard the woman's voice in my ear once more, her voice almost as mesmerizing at the jewel itself.

"Bring it to me, Anariel."

Then I heard nothing, saw nothing, and when my vision finally returned, I saw not the jewel, but two pairs of eyes that sat above small, pointed noses.

"She's awake!" one exclaimed.

I gasped, springing up from the small bed beneath me. Now, I considered many beds small—even my own bed was quite tiny—but this one was long enough for only a small child. The two men among me were of that very height, with slightly pointed ears that stuck out from beneath their curly brown hair.

"Hobbits!" I screamed out of excitement rather than fear. Unfortunately, the two hobbits assumed the latter and immediately began apologizing.

"We mean you no harm," the shorter of the two said.

"You're quite safe, really," the other went on. "Your friends should be back soon."

"No, I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just excited, that's all. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I'd meet two hobbits. This is one of the greatest moments of my life!" All my words were running together so much that I likely sounded like a bumbling idiot, which was probably why they made the upcoming assumption of me.

The short one glanced at the other. "I think you may have given her one too many herbs, Jumbi."

He shrugged. "Well, she was practically dying when she arrived. What else was I supposed to do?"

Finally, I remembered everything. The orcs. The battle. The blade that pierced me. And as I recalled all this, my eyes traveled down to my chest, where a large scar marked the flesh beneath my right shoulder.

"You've been unconscious for almost a week," Jumbi later told me.

"But I'm alive," I said, returning my eyes to them, "thanks to you."

Jumbi's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Well, I did what I could ..." His voice broke off into a stutter, and then he laughed. "Where are my manners? My name is Jumbili Baggins, and this is—"