III. Many Meetings
For the few days following me waking up in the Houses of Healing, I was to stay there, in my room. Day by day, I went through the same routine: I would rise early, head off to bathe, dress, and come back into my room to find breakfast waiting on my bed for me. Personally, I thought the breakfast-in-bed idea was a very sweet gesture but not entirely necessary.
Following breakfast, I would roam around what territory I could without overexerting myself, then that would most of the time lead to lunch where Arwen would stay with me and talk. During our talks, she tried to worm my past out of me. Eventually, she gave up—I was sure she knew that I caught on to her tactics.
Following lunch was a nap, then supper, and then a healer or two would strike a conversation with me before it was time for me to rest for the night. Even though the rut should have been boring after a few days, it was not. I enjoyed the company, the baths, the rest, the food, the housing, everything.
I was almost at the one week mark of staying in Minas Tirith since I woke up in the Houses of Healing. Instead of heading to bathe like I normally did, I decided to take a morning stroll in the area. A cool breeze welcomed me as I stepped outside, ruffling my nightwear that never seemed to be the same every night.
As I basked in nature’s beauty, my thoughts strayed to my home. Had it changed much since I was last there? I knew it had been well over hundreds of years since I had last been at home. Thinking of home made me think about my escort. He had to be an Elf, like me, because I was sure no other race would travel to Lórien unless they were extremely curious or horribly lost.
It would be nice, to be amongst my own kind again, without them around me. I was sure they were still searching for me, trying to pick up a trail. Hopefully, I had lost them. I knew they did not give up so easily. Their spirits were angry but persistent. They were hunters, relentless.
My brain tried to replay a memory for me that involved them, but I quickly shoved it away. I did not want bad recollections to come to me now, I was not ready to embrace the fact that they really happened, that I was in their hands for years, constantly travelling with them with very little chance of escaping.
I was troubled by their ways. What if I had not been the only one snatched by them? I knew the group I had been amongst was not the only one in Middle-earth, there had to be many more of them floating around. I saw them all as the same: evil, murderers, beings who thought that they could take whatever they wanted when they wanted it.
“Nimalia?”
I whipped my head around to see Arwen coming to me. I smiled at her, trying to hide the fact that they had begun to consume my thoughts this morning.
“What are you doing out early, Arwen?” I asked.
“I sometimes rise early. I can see you do as well,” she noted.
“I have always loved waking up early. I see things most do not because they are still sleeping. Have you come to tell me something?”
“Yes. I was thinking that maybe today is the day you move into the castle.”
She believed I was healthy enough to leave the Houses of Healing? I guess that sounded about right. I was well-fed now; I had no more dizzy spells. I was in the best shape I had ever been in for a while.
“Hmm, an interesting proposal,” I told her.
“I figured you would want to move out of your old room.” She shrugged. “Unless you would rather stay in there—”
“No, really. I do like the room I am in now, but I think change could not hurt.”
“Great. I was also thinking about getting you out and exploring Minas Tirith more today.”
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“I was thinking a little walk around, if you are up to it.”
“Would you be escorting me or would someone else?”
“That would depend on the time of day, and if I am not busy.” She chuckled. “You are also welcome to join me and a few others for lunch if you want since you are moving into the castle today.”
“I will think about it.”
With a nod of acknowledgment, Arwen let me be to enjoy the morning alone.
* * *
I had contemplated Arwen’s proposals in my mind various times when I went to bathe. I had come to love the healers who were so gracious to me here. I could still visit them, surely, when I moved into the castle. I would not forget them. They had watched over me, helped me recover even though they had no idea what I had endured before being found by that young Man in the middle of nowhere.
The idea of touring Minas Tirith further intrigued me. I had not really been in civilization for a long time. I could recall the last time I had been in a village or city—it had not been a pleasant visit.
When Arwen had personally come to fetch me, I had just had one of the healers combing my hair. Yes, I know, I should be plenty old enough to brush my own hair, but the healer insisted that she do it—she had nothing better to do since there were barely any patients in the Houses at the moment. To be honest, I enjoyed the time she took in brushing my hair, it felt like a bonding moment. It reminded me of when I was a little girl, how my mother would do the same thing, comb through my hair. I had always loved it when she did that, it made me feel close to her, just like how I felt close to my father whenever he would always tell me stories or we would be alone together and talk the days away.
My mood dampened in that moment. I missed my parents dearly. They had to remember me still, after all this time. I swallowed, fearing the worst: that my parents had forgotten about me or believed that I was dead. My heart ached at the thought of my worst fear coming true.
If Arwen noticed my temporary mood dip, she did not bother to inquiry me about it. That was what I liked about her; she knew boundaries very well and did not step over them, respecting the person’s wishes. Still, I felt bad that I was shutting her out from asking personal questions. I knew she wanted me to open up and tell her my life story. However, I was not quite ready to do that with anyone. I barely knew Arwen, and even though she seemed like a very trusting person, I would not reveal anything more about myself to her until I felt like I could truly confide in her.
I felt intimidated, entering the courtyard of the castle. Apparently, Minas Tirith consisted of seven levels, and the Houses of Healing were on the sixth. The castle, naturally, was the top level of the city. Let me tell you, the view was astounding. In the center of the courtyard stood a white tree that was currently blossoming. It was accompanied by a small fountain. The cool stone beneath my feet was the cleanest surface I had ever walked on.
I stopped to fully drink in the size of the castle. Beside me, Arwen chuckled. I stopped my gawking to turn my attention to her.
“What is so funny?” I asked.
“You act as though you have never seen a castle before,” she said amusedly. “It is a sight to behold, I agree. If you think you are taken aback by the outside, wait until you see the interior. Come.” With a wave of her hand, Arwen took off, gesturing for me to pull in tow behind her. My legs obeyed her command before my brain could tell my legs to start walking.
My eyes lingered on the tree we passed until it hurt my neck to look at it anymore. Arwen pushed open the doors; they gently creaked, announcing our arrival.
Though the outside of the castle was massive, inside did not seem as colossal. Inside was mostly made of marble, with a throne at the far end of the room. I swallowed, taking in the details around me. The room was empty.
“My husband should be around here somewhere,” Arwen muttered, whether to herself or me.
From behind us, voices erupted. I did not turn around but did listen to the voices. There were two, one sounded a little gruffer than the other. Curious, I whirled around just in time to be confronted by a Man and an Elf.
Immediately I took one of them to be the King of Gondor, judging by the crown that lay atop the mess of dark, stringy hair. I swallowed, my heart pounded anxiously. I had never been in the presence of royalty before. I had no idea what to do!
An awkward staring contest began amongst the four of us. My blue eyes darted everywhere: Arwen, the king, the Elf, before finally landing on the floor. I felt heat rise in my cheeks. I had no control over myself.
“I finally get to meet her,” the king mused, a smile in his tone. I peeked up through my lashes to take in more features of the king. His grey eyes were warm and welcoming, not the least bit threatening at all. “I will not hurt you.”
I gasped, taken aback. Since when did a Man speak Elvish? Well, then again, he had an Elf for a wife, so I did not understand why that surprised me so much.
“This is Nimalia,” Arwen introduced me, putting a hand on my shoulder carefully. I did not shrink away from her touch. I looked to her, trying to fish for an answer as for what I could say.
“She’s shy,” the Elf noted. If I did not know any better, this Elf had more beauty than me—and that was saying something.
His hair was a much paler blond than mine was, his eyes a darker blue than mine. Like all Elves, he had a lean build to him, and his eyes were those of an Elf who had lived in Middle-earth for many, many years, seeing many things in his lifetime. It was very possible he was much older than me.
“Nimalia, I would like you to meet Legolas,” Arwen told me gently. “He is the one who will escort you back to Lórien.”
I could only bob my head towards Legolas; I could not get words to come out of my mouth for some reason. He was right when he said I was shy.
“How soon would you like to return, Nimalia?” Legolas asked politely.
“Um…” was all I could embarrassingly utter. “I do not really care. Whenever you feel is best, I guess.”
“Are you well enough to travel?” I nodded. “Then are you opposed to leaving tomorrow morning?”
I swallowed. That was unexpected. It was not like Legolas said we were leaving tomorrow, no questions asked and no refusals. I was given the option to leave Minas Tirith tomorrow morning. I bit my lower lip in thought.
“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked in a small voice.
“Yes, of course.”
“I think I can have an answer for you by supper,” I declared, scolding myself for giving myself a deadline.
“Then I will wait until then.”
“Nimalia,” Arwen butted in kindly, “did you still want to tour the city?”
My stomach rumbled. Blushing, my arms covered my stomach. “Maybe after lunch?”
With all of us in agreement, we made sure to eat before heading out of the castle.
Since she was free, Arwen accompanied me to explore Minas Tirith’s other levels. I already knew two: where the Houses of Healing were and where the castle was. The other five levels, Arwen told me, were simply alleyways, pathways, marketplaces, shops, and housing for the villagers.
Even with Arwen tagging along, I felt flighty. Even though I knew I was in a safe place, I scouted for danger—a habit of mine since running from them. At the mention of the vile beings, paranoia began to creep into my veins. Had they tracked me here? Were they spying on me right now, as I walked with the Queen of Gondor? I gulped, suddenly feeling uneasy.
“Nimalia?” Arwen asked, worry evident in her tone. She touched my arm, stopping me. I looked at her with wild eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I do not feel safe here,” I whispered, my eyes searching around me. “I feel as though I am being watched.”
“I can assure you, you are fine. We have guards patrolling every level of the city.”
“Can we head back to the castle now?”
“But we have only just begun our walk.”
“Please, my lady.”
“All right. If you do not feel comfortable, then we will go.”
With a gentle hand guiding my back, we both turned on our heels, heading for the castle.
* * *
I paced in the magnificent room I was housed in. Birds chirped outside of the open balcony that let in a faint breeze. I hated myself right now. Because of them I could not even take a stroll with someone who wanted to be there for me! Instead, I convinced myself I was being stalked and ruined the day. Even though Arwen understood, I was sure she was upset with me.
I made my mind up about going back home with Legolas after I reflected on my panic attack in the city. I would feel much safer in my birthplace. So when supper was called, I felt at ease.
In addition to the king and queen, Legolas joined us for supper. Let me tell you, I had been treated well in all my time here in Minas Tirith. I was sad to realize that, by deciding to leave for home, I would miss all of this: the healers, the hospitality, Arwen. If only I could somehow take all of this with me on the journey to Lórien.
Supper was almost silent the entire time until Legolas popped me the question I promised him an answer to.
“So, Nimalia,” he addressed me, “are you up to leaving in the morning?”
“I am,” I said confidently. “If I may ask, what business do you have in Lórien?”
“I am expected there.”
“Oh!” Arwen chimed. “I know what it is about! Aragorn told me.”
“What am I missing here?” I asked in a childish tone.
The king—Aragorn—laughed. “Legolas is heading to Lórien to be with his beloved.”
My eyes widened slightly at the news. It did not surprise me that Legolas would find someone, all male Elves were more than capable of finding a mate. However, male Elves were not like some Men, who flirted with every woman they came across.
She had to be really special to him if they were together.
“Your beloved?” I stammered to Legolas.
“Yes. I just came from Lórien actually, by boat to see Aragorn, to catch up,” he explained. “We can use the boat again to travel in the morning.”
I swallowed uneasily. “I do not think I want to travel by boat.”
“What is the problem with it?”
“Let’s just say I have seen many bad things happen involving rivers, and let’s leave it at that.” I glared down at my empty plate.
“I can assure you, nothing will happen to you. We will stop to be on shore at night.” I glared up at Legolas. “I do not see the point in leaving the boat useless when it came from the very place you want to go to.”
“I would still rather travel by land than water,” I said gently but stubbornly.
“It could still be manageable,” Arwen piped. “We can always lend you a horse.”
“I will not object to that.”
“Since I do not see there being another way that you will want to travel, we will ride to Lórien,” Legolas amended.
“It is settled, then.” I tried not to look smug, knowing that I got my way.
“I will help you pack, Nimalia,” Arwen offered. “We can start now, if you would like.”
“I would,” I agreed.
Excusing ourselves from the table, Arwen and I disappeared to my room, my room in which I would spend my last night in here in Minas Tirith.
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