So That We Might Remember || stories of middle earth

V. This Passing Mist

. . .
This Passing Mist
. . .

Wind brushed against my face, the rush of air deafening in my ears.

I was falling, fast and unhindered.

My body hit something—and kept falling.

Light and darkness blurred to a haze before me. and then I could see light no more. Dark tendrils danced around me, twisting into the icy depths. Shadows wove among them in a spritely chase of illusion.

My arms were heavy yet somehow weightless. I felt freedom as never before, as if I could soar over the Misty Mountains of Erebor. To my misfortune, my sight could only display a darkening murk, almost as if a hazy wool had been pulled over my eyes. I knew I should be flailing—that alarm should overcome every thought I might dare to venture.

But it didn't.

Creeping sensation said it should.

What had brought me here? How long had I been here? Where was here? Should I care?

A nagging realization was pounding on the back of my subconscious. I did not wish to open the door to it, pushing whatever it might be deeper into the void of unfeeling. Even as I did so, wisps of thought and memory slipped their way through the cracks in my defense. I jerked my mind away from them but still caught flashes of times since past.

Laughter, twinkling up to the sunlit sky; whispers of secrets that would never be kept; then darkness as I had yet to know, fading to the faces of many people—did I know them?

They seemed so familiar yet incredibly distant, as if from a half remembered dream, or phantasm that circled in the roaring cries of young and old, dead and alive. All of them I seemed to have known—could I now refuse to remember them?

I pushed the odd notions away. There was no purpose for any of it here in the abyss that I found myself. Here it was peaceful, no loss to be found or wanted. I was content.

Was this death?

Light pierced my dark fortitude. Yet this light was as the sun had been in my reminiscence—warm, welcoming. Perhaps there was more to the annoyances that begged to be discovered, something more deep-rooted than I had perceived.

I drew them back towards me, searching for their meaning as I thrust open the gates to remembrance. One by one yet synchronously in a blur, images flew before my inward eye. Friends, enemies, the good that overcame the bad, spiders, forests—

—and then a hand, only, this hand left me no choice. I could neither take it nor could I draw away. Instead, it moved towards me, latching on as a newfound hope would. I was pulled up as darkness fell away—

—and my head broke the water's surface. I knew I needed to breathe, knew I would die if I didn't, but my lungs would not answer my calling. My head lolled against my chest unable to remain upright without the water's embrace. Somehow I moved, yet it was not of my own doing. Something had secured itself around my waist. The roll of gentle waves soothed me to a place between awareness and oblivion, yet I could not allow myself to lose this battle. Pushing the welcoming arms of stupor away from me, I struggled to function. The mere thought of it increased in difficulty as I realized that air still could not reach me—or perhaps I could not reach it. 

An abrupt sting ignited, centered entirely on my right cheek. My eyes fluttered, struggling to see the blurred image before me. There was a shape—dark, hardly recognizable if not for the voice that escaped from it. Estel.

"Don't you give up now, you pe-channas elf, I said I wouldn't let you die, and you'd best not make a liar of me—" then an unforgiving blow pounded upon my back. I lurched forward, a gasp attempting to startle my lungs, yet failing.

This consciousness was waning.

On and on it went, a monotonous cycle of hope turning to despair—until something changed.

Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was accident—perhaps it was nothing but effort on my friend's part, but air creeped into my throat and I could breathe. My lungs answered and suddenly I was coughing, water spewing from my lips in an increasing flow. The harsh sound of it was both a blessing and a curse for ai, Valar, did it hurt, but I was finally living.

I had no sense of how long it went on, but at long last, quick, uneven breaths turned to a slightly hitched but bearable pace. My eyes, having been squeezed shut, opened wide, gradually adjusting to the glare of light. Gradually, what were dark shapes gained color and I saw people that I might—should—know. Several children, someone in a gray robe, and the one I had caught a glimpse of. Was there not supposed to be another? I shifted and realization dawned. I seemed to be leaning against the last. "Estel? What happened?" I forced myself to speak, voice hoarse and rasping against my throat.

A grin quirked at the corners of Aragorn's lips. "Nothing noteworthy, mellon-nin. We were crossing the river using a fallen log. You had assured us that it would be safe, and for the most part it was... until you and Pippin attempted to cross. The log began to split, you leapt forward and pushed Pippin forward, falling yourself, of course, and inherently hitting your head on the way down."

I groaned, bringing my hand across my eyes. "That would account for the headache..."

A small voice reached my ears, meek but not quite at peace. Ah, they were not small children. Perian. "I'm sorry, Mister Elf, sir, you really oughtn't have done that. I coulda swum meself, you know..."

Another voice—Merry's—whispered. "No, you couldn't of, Pippin. You've hardly ever tried."

"Yeah, well even if I couldn't, you shoulda saved yourself, I'm not more impor'ant than a prince."

Mithrandir cleared his throat, stepping closer. "Regardless, I believe we should leave our elf friend be. This has been quite the ordeal and I believe we can afford a few moments rest."

Shaking my head to silence Mithrandir, I sat straighter, wavering momentarily before gaining my balance. "Nay, dear perian, even the smallest are great in the eyes of fate. You may not see it yet, but one day your fate will shine through Middle Earth."

Pippin' eyes brightened and the mood lifted. Aragorn and I glanced at each other. Somehow, I felt that the moment for the perian would come far sooner than even we expected in this darkening journey.
___________________________

Quick drabble—old, a bit of a mess, but something to think about as I try to not die during finals week.... hehe

Translations:
perian : hobbit
mellon/mellon-nin : friend/my friend
pe-channas : lacking intelligence/stupid