Chapter One: Amon Sûl
The man's eyes came alive with fire: he felt threatened. Who was this mysterious woman? How did she know his name? Why was she dressed so oddly? Why was she alone?
"It seems you are at an advantage," he spoke calmly, ignoring the questions that swam in his head. "You seem to know my name, but I do not know yours. Have we met before, traveler?"
"No," she answered in shock. "I don't think we've met. I apologize if I threw you off or something."
He furrowed his eyebrows together. "I beg your pardon, my lady- 'threw me off'?" What could she mean by this? She didn't look strong enough to throw him off of anything. Why would she want to harm him?
The woman looked dumbfounded, lost, and confused. "I'm in Middle-Earth?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yes," Aragorn said slowly, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the hilt of his blade. "Who are you?"
~Autumn's POV~
My heart thumped wildly against my chest, and my head was swimming with unanswered questions. How did I get here? How do I get home? Standing in front of me was Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, looking as if he had walked right off a movie set. This had to have been a dream- there couldn't possibly be any other explanation.
Part of me was thrilled to be in Middle Earth- I mean, it was what I had always dreamed of. After watching the movies for the first time, I joined an archery league with the aspiration of becoming a dead-shot. Then gradually, I started fencing classes, even participating in several LARP (live-action role play) events. But this-? This was crazy.
Aragorn stood in front of me with a look of suspicion and distrust, and I couldn't help but understand why. I took a step backward and raised both hands to show him that I meant no trouble. "My name is Autumn," I answered slowly.
"Where do you hail from?" Aragorn demanded. "And what business does a woman have alone in Amon Sul?"
My eyes grew wide, and I looked up at Aragorn in shock. "Did you say Amon Sûl? As in Weathertop?" my heart skipped a beat. This had always been one of my favorite scenes in the movie. A very pivotal event in the trilogy, a turning point for Frodo. But if I was indeed in Middle Earth, then that meant... "Wraiths," I whispered, trying to mask the fear in my voice. "The Wraiths followed you from Bree."
Aragorn's eyes grew wide. He drew his blade and, at the same time, grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and pushed me against one of the pillars.
"Hey!" I hissed, my back slamming against the stone behind me. By the time I registered pain, the edge of his blade was against my neck.
"How could you have known this?" he demanded, a cold fire replacing the kindness in his eyes. "You're a spy of Sauron." It was more of a statement than a question.
"No," I answered calmly. (Or as smoothly as I could in the situation.) "I am not a servant of Sauron's, nor am I your enemy," I needed to think of something fast if I was going to survive. "I seek the council of Gandalf Greyhame and Lord Elrond of Rivendell."
"What else do you know?" Aragorn hissed.
"Stay your blade, my lord, I mean you no harm," my voice shook, but I tried to remain calm. "I know only that you travel with the company of four Hobbits. You seek Gandalf as well."
Aragorn studied me for a long moment, his gray-green eyes looking for dishonesty. After what seemed like forever, his grip on me loosened, and he pulled back, sheathing his blade. "I do not trust you, Autumn," he decided. "But I see in your eyes that you speak the truth... how you come by your information is a mystery to me. Now, pray, do tell me, what do you mean by the Wraiths?"
I rubbed my neck where the blade had been previously and tried to calm my nerves. "The Nazgûl followed the Hobbits to Bree, but you saved them and led them here," I said aloud, trying to piece the puzzle together. "But we're not safe, Aragorn, the Wraiths trailed you."
"How do you know all this?" He demanded in distrust.
Oh, gods of Olympus, how do I explain that?
I took a deep breath before slowly exhaling and meeting his eyes. "This is why I must speak to Gandalf," I told him honestly. "I don't know."
Suddenly there was a piercing scream, one that I knew all too well. It was almost like a high-pitched screech, but it lingered far too long. The very air grew cold, and all other sounds fell silent.
Aragorn looked at me with wide eyes before both of us dropped our eyes to peer out over the valley. A thick fog had blown in, blanketing the ground in swirling mist. But that wasn't the terrifying thing... It was what was slowly making its way through the fog and toward the tower.
There were five, black-hooded figures making their way toward us- figures Aragorn and I both knew to be Nazgûl. "No," he said in disbelief. He turned to me with questioning eyes and stared in wonder, "You knew."
My hand went to my Bowie knife, and I drew it, frowning at the length. "We need to protect the Hobbits," I said quickly.
Aragorn's eyes went to my knife, and he frowned, shaking his head. "That will do no good against Nazgûl," he drew his sword and took my arm, pulling me away from the Wraith's view. "Stay here." He told me. "I will defend the Hobbits."
"You can't do it this alone!" I protested although I knew he could. If I was indeed in Middle Earth, it had to be for a reason. Whether it was Fate or some other force, I was here for a purpose.
Aragorn suddenly clamped his hand over my mouth and pulled me to his chest, dragging me back against the wall where my backpack was. I started to struggle in his arms, muffling into his hand in protest, but I stopped, seeing why.
We were on the lower levels of the Tower, meaning the Nazgûl would have to go past us to reach the Hobbits. "Hurry!" He whispered to me, releasing me and urgently motioning for me to follow him.
I sheathed my knife and hurried after him and to the wall. That's when I saw something I hadn't noticed before: a dark, shadowy room just in front of us. It was the perfect place to hide out while the Wraiths passed by on their way to the Hobbits.
I grabbed my backpack by the shoulder strap as we hurried into the small room and put our back to the wall. Aragorn brought a finger to his lips, signaling me to stay quiet. Instantly I understood what his plan was. There was no way we could reach the Hobbits in time to warn them, nor could Aragorn hold them off at our current position. Our best bet was to surprise them and gain the upper hand.
My heart rate spiked, and I already noted the increase in my breathing. The moon outside cast eerie shadows into the small room, bathing it in a soft blue and revealing several skeletons. Among the skeletons I caught sight of what appeared to be a broadsword of some type.
Suddenly Aragorn clamped his hand over my mouth again and turned his back to the archway, trying to shield me from whatever was outside. I strained my ears, trying to listen, trying to get a bearing on the Wraiths. My eyes were wide when the shadows started to pass by the archway, soundlessly making their way up the set of stone stairs near the support pillars.
I counted them as they passed: one, two, three, four, five. They were tall, towering over my slim five foot five figure by at least six inches. Their tattered robes trailed behind them, and in their gloved hands, they carried old, iron long swords. But they weren't just any long sword. If I remembered correctly, they were Morgul blades.
As the last Wraith passed by our hiding spot, Aragorn's grip on me loosened. "Torches," I whispered to him quickly. "Aren't Wraiths afraid of fire?"
The Ranger looked at me and slowly nodded. "We must be quick," he crossed to the opposite wall where an old torch was resting in a brass hook. I dropped my backpack from my shoulder and unzipped the outer pocket, taking my book of matches out.
"Allow me," I said, striking a match on the side of the box. In the brief light, I could see the surprise in Aragorn's eyes. I brought the flickering match to the oiled cloth on the torch, and the room came to life with the new light.
I dropped the book of matches back down on top of my backpack, reminding myself to come back for it later. As I dropped my eyes, I noticed that there was another torch on the cobwebbed floor, and I stooped over to pick it up. Aragorn was looking at me most peculiarly, but I ignored him and used his torch to light my own. "What's your plan?" I asked Strider, looking up at him for leadership.
He seemed to snap back into reality. "We need to defend the Hobbits. Hurry!" Aragorn turned and sprinted out of the archway and toward the stairs, and I did not hesitate to follow. But before I did, I sheathed my knife and grabbed the old broadsword by the hilt. The sword was light, but it felt awkward in my hands.
I took a deep breath and hurried out of the archway, following Aragorn up the steep, crumbling stone stairwell. The moon gave us just enough light to see what was in front of us. As we reached the third level, we passed by a heap of bedrolls and bundles- obviously belonging to Aragorn and the Hobbits.
Somewhere above us came a shrill cry, and a firm voice yelled: "Back you devils!"
"Sam," Aragorn breathed worriedly. "Hurry!" he urged me, leading me up another set of stairs that curled around the ruins of Weathertop. His strides were long and his footing sure- he sprinted in rhythm, never once slipping.
I tagged behind him, breathing heavily. My legs hurt, and my heart thumped wildly against my chest. Adrenaline coursed through my veins- my hands were shaky; I wanted to cry. Here I had dreamt of this moment for years- being in Middle Earth- defending my favorite characters- and I was terrified.
As we reached the top of Amon Sûl, I spotted Sam, Merry, and Pippin, all lying on the cold, stone ground. If I remembered correctly, they had been thrown aside by the Nazgûl. There was a cry coming from near the crumbling pillars where a group of the Wraiths stood. One of the Wraiths stood with his hand outstretched and sword drawn.
Without warning, Aragorn leaped out from the shadows and swung his torch toward the Wraith, his sword glinting in the moonlight. The Wraiths screeched at the sight of the fire and backed away in fear and rage. Sending a quick prayer up the heavens, I followed suit, waving my sword and torch at the nearest cloaked figure.
The Wraith shrieked and lifted it's dark Morgul blade to defend itself. I swung my sword blindly and winced as our weapons collided. The impact caused me to stagger for a moment before blocking another blow aimed at my side. When the Wraith drew too close, I thrust my torch forward, prompting its tattered robes to catch fire. The creature screeched before turning and hurrying off into the shadows.
I heard a Hobbit cry out in pain and looked over my shoulder for a split second. The Hobbit had a mop of raven-black hair and wide blue eyes. He wore a dark pair of trousers, a burgundy vest, and a thin, brown overcoat. He was clutching his chest and howling in pain.
"Frodo!" I heard a second Halfling cry out.
I turned back to the four remaining Nazgûl. Aragorn was swirling back and forth, blocking every blow that the Wraiths threw at him and waving his torch with his hand. I hurried to his side, dodging a Morgul blade and just barely managing to parry it. I grasped my sword with both hands, sparks from the torch raining down on my uncovered hands. I hissed in pain. "Aragorn!" I warned, spotting a cloaked figure behind him.
The Ranger ducked, just as the blade swept across the air where he had stood only moments before. Had he not have stooped down, he surely would've lost his head. With one swift action, he brought the torch across the Nazgûl's cloak, and the figure went up in flames.
The Nazgûl screeched in agony as the flames licked his body, threatening to consume the creature. Screaming all the while, the figure bumped into one of its comrades and sent him up in a crackling inferno as well. The fourth creature swung at Aragorn, and the Ranger sank to his knees, straining under the strength of his opponent.
Without thinking of my safety, I swung at the Wraith, the flames, and my blades cutting through the creature like butter. The Wraith shrieked, waving his arms around frantically in an attempt to extinguish the fire.
We stood there for a brief moment, breathing hard before Aragorn spun around to face the last Wraith. The creature was slowly making its way toward the Halflings, but when he noticed us, he froze. The Ranger took his torch and hurled it at the beast, nailing it in the hood. The light ignited the dry fabric, and in a second, the flames had consumed the Wraith. It howled and took off running toward the edge of Weathertop.
The two of us spun in a full circle, making sure there weren't any more enemies around the corner. "Frodo," I whispered, turning my attention the poor Hobbit who lay on the cold stone floor. His three friends surrounded him and even though I knew he would be alright, my heart leaped to my throat.
"Strider!" Sam shouted, drawing Aragorn's attention.
The Ranger rushed forward, leaning over the Hobbit's convulsing body. Beside Frodo's limp form was a sharp, pointed blade. Aragorn grasped it by the hilt and stared at it gravely.
"Help him, Strider!" Sam pleaded.
"It's a Morgul blade," I interjected, watching as the knife disintegrated in the Ranger's hand.
The Hobbits turned to me for the first time. "Who are you?" Sam demanded, placing himself between Frodo and myself. He turned to Aragorn. "Who is she?"
Aragorn stared at me for a moment and turned back to The Hobbit. "It's alright, Sam. I think we can trust her."
Frodo hissed in pain, his breathing coming in short little gasps. "Autumn speaks the truth," he whispered sadly. "Frodo has been stabbed by a Morgul blade," he tossed the hilt aside. "This is beyond my skill to heal." He stooped down and gathered Frodo's limp body in his arms. "He needs Elvish medicine." He turned to the Hobbits and then to me. "Gather your belongings- we leave immediately."
I nodded, hurrying back down the flight of stairs and down to the second level where I had first found myself in Middle Earth. Turning the corner of the small room, I located my backpack and carefully sat down my sword and leaned the torch up against the wall. I tucked the matches inside and zipped up the pouch before swiftly shouldering my pack.
On one of the corpses- the one I had taken the sword from- I spotted a worn, leather belt and scabbard. Without thinking twice, I retrieved it and quickly threaded the belt around my waist- never more thankful for belt loops than now. Mysteriously the baldric fit as if it had been fashioned for me, and the sword slid into the scabbard with ease.
"Autumn?" I heard Aragorn call out impatiently, and without a second thought, I grasped my torch and hurried out of the small room to meet the Ranger. As I reached the stairs, I saw that Aragorn was already descending; Frodo was over his shoulder now, and three Hobbits trailed after him. "You will come with us." He said. "I cannot leave you alone here- and you have some skill with a blade."
"Thank you," I dipped my head. "You lead, and I will follow."
Aragorn led us down the long, curling stairwell of Weathertop and across the rugged terrain. The sky had become dark and overcast, the moon unable to disperse her light due to the cloud cover. I offered my torch to Aragorn and he took it with a curt nod. The Hobbits trailed behind us, obviously very afraid for his well-being.
"He'll be alright," I promised them, turning my head over my shoulder.
"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am," Sam stated, eyeing my with doubt and suspicion. "But why should we trust you?"
I felt a pang of hurt. "You shouldn't," I decided. "Gandalf warned you not to trust anyone on this journey... but I can promise you this, Samwise Gamgee: I won't let any harm come to you or your friends."
Sam exchanged a glance with Merry and Pippin. "How did you know my name?"
I mentally slapped myself for my stupidity. "Let's just say I bear a cruel gift," I decided, turning my attention back to the problem at hand. We had stumbled into a thick patch of forest now, and a thin layer of mist had blown in, blanketing the ground in white and hindering my sight. I tripped on a crooked root, almost falling forward, but I caught the side of a tree and managed to steady myself.
"Hurry!" Aragorn urged, waving the torch around to lead us further into the forest. I quickened my pace, nearly on Strider's heels.
"We're six days from Rivendell!" Sam protested, coming to a halt. "He'll never make it!"
"He will make it," I turned to the Hobbit once more. "I swear to you on the Valar, Frodo will pull through."
Aragorn lead us into the middle of the forest to where three, great looming-stone statues stood. They were so perfectly detailed- almost as if they were real. I shivered involuntarily as Strider set Frodo down and found two extra torches for Merry and Pippin. "Light them," he ordered, his voice laced with worry and anxiety. I did as I was told, and lit the two torches with a match from my backpack. I turned my attention to Frodo. The poor Hobbit's black hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes were cloudy, his face ashen, and his breathing came in labored little gasps.
"Look, Frodo," whimpered Sam, as his friend's eyes slowly opened. "It's Mister Bilbo's trolls." Frodo panted in pain, and Samwise placed a shaky hand to his clammy, sweaty cheek. "Mister Frodo?" his eyes widened, and he turned to Aragorn in distress. "He's going cold!"
"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked miserably.
Aragorn turned to the Hobbit and answered solemnly. "He's passing into the Shadow World. He'll soon become a Wraith like them..." his eyes met mine. "But you know this already, don't you, Lady Autumn."
I dropped my eyes from him, unable to meet his intense gray-green eyes. "Yes."
Another howelling scream rang through the night, and my hand drifted to my sword. A thick feeling of uneasiness and dread came over me. "Wraiths," I swallowed hard, trying to hide my fear for the sake of the Halflings.
"They're close," pointed out Merry.
"Sam," Strider said hastily. "Do you know the Atheleas plant?"
Sam's brow furrowed into one of confusion. "Atheleas?" he asked.
"Kingsfoil."
"Kingsfoil, aye, it's a weed."
"It may help to slow the poisoning," Aragorn said quickly. "Hurry!" Sam nodded before hurrying off into the night to locate the weed. The light from his torch slowly disappeared as he made his way further and further into the brush. Aragorn turned to me. "Protect the Hobbits, I will be back soon," his eyes were wary. "I trust you." And then he was gone as well.
I gripped the hilt of my sword, slowly turning around in a small circle to keep watch. The night closed in around us, the silence of the forest was alarming to be sure- it was too quiet. Another eerie howell rang out, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
Merry stared at me with dark brows and an uncertain face. "How do we know we can trust you? How did you even find us to begin with?"
I sucked in a breath before slowly exhaling it. "I'm not sure," I answered honestly. "I was camping, you see... and when I woke up, I was no longer in the woods, but asleep in Amon Sûl."
"But you knew so much about us," countered Pippin.
I sighed, "Yes, and that is an even longer story, I'm afraid. One I cannot tell you know, for I fear I must speak to Gandalf and Lord Elrond first." I frowned at their reactions and the doubt in their eyes. My eyes scanned to the area, taking in the circling mist and shrouded canopy. Had it not been for our torches, we would be blind in the dark. A long time passed, and my mind wandered to the movies-knowing that soon Elrond's daughter, Arwen would be along shortly.
Sam hurried back into the campsite, his brow creased with worry. "Did you find it?" Merry asked him hastily. Sam looked down and shook his head in dismay. "You're supposed to be a gardener!" Merry snapped. "What good are you if you can't even find a weed!"
I placed a hand on Merry's shoulder. "Merry, don't worry. Strider will find it." The steady beat of hooves on the turf drew my attention away from the Hobbits and toward a thicker part of the forest. "Get behind me!" I said quickly, jumping in front of the Shire-folk to defend them. I drew my sword and placed myself between whatever was coming and the injured Frodo.
A graceful figure dressed in gray and green riding garments came into view- she was saddled on a beautiful, ivory horse. The woman had long, dark hair that was pinned back by a small pin and piercing blue eyes. From her pointed ears, I knew her as Arwen. She dismounted with ease before striding over to us and saying something in Elvish. "Frodo, im Arwen. Telin le thaed. Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad," she whispered.
I sheathed my sword, and slowly backed away to allow her and Aragorn, who had appeared at our side only moments before. The Elf Maid gave me a curious look before shaking her head and kneeling beside the Hobbit.
"Who is she?" Merry asked, his brow scrunched in perhaps anger.
"She's an Elf," I answered quietly.
"Frodo?" Arwen whispered, placing a gloved hand on his forehead. Beside her, Aragorn brought the weed to his mouth and chewed it hastily to make a green paste. He then took the paste from his mouth with a finger and slowly placed it to Frodo's chest. "He's fading," she whispered, and Frodo gasped out in pain, his chest convulsing. "He's not going to last. We must get him to my father." Aragorn knelt and picked up Frodo's limp body before following Arwen to her horse. "I've been looking for you for two days."
"Where are you taking him?" questioned Merry.
"There are five Wraiths behind you," Arwen reported in disdain. "Where the other four are, I do not know."
Aragorn hoisted the Hobbit's body onto the saddle and turned to Arwen. "Dartho guin Beriain. Rych le ad tolthathon.", he said lowly.
"Hon mabathon. Rochon ellint im. ," Arwen protested.
Aragorn looked to her with pleading eyes. "Andelu i ven ."
"What are they saying?" Pippin asked anxiously.
"They're discussing who will ride to Rivendell with Frodo," I answered bluntly, and the Hobbits turned to face me in wonder. "I studied Elvish back home," I shrugged.
"Frodo fîr. Ae athradon i hîr, tûr gwaith nîn beriatha hon," Arwen said quickly. "I do not fear them."
Aragorn took her hand in his and squeezed it softly before answering; "Be iest lîn." He gave her a leg up onto her mare. "Arwen, ride hard. Don't look back."
Arwen nodded before her eyes met mine. "I will tell my father about your arrival, Autumn," she turned to Aragorn and whispered, "Beriad lîn." Before giving him a small smile before turning to her horse and urging, "Noro lim, Asfolath. Noro lim." Her silver mare bowed its head and cantered off into the darkness, slowly vanishing from our sight.
My heart fluttered in nervousness.
She knew my name.
"What are you doing?" Sam demanded. "Those Black Riders are still out there!"
"Arwen will protect him, Samwise," Strider turned to face the gardener. "She is of Elf-kind, and she rides one of the swiftest horses in all of Imladris. Do not fret." He turned to face us wearily, his eyes locking with mine. "Arwen spoke your name."
I nodded, swallowing hard. "Aye," I answered. "So she did- though I haven't a clue how she knew me."
"The Elves have the gift of foresight," he answered bluntly. "She told me to protect you."
"What are we supposed to do?" Sam demanded. "Do we follow her?"
"No," Aragorn answered solemnly. "We will rest here tonight and recover our strength. We leave at dawn."
The Hobbits bedded down beneath the great shadow of the trolls, whispering among themselves in low voices. They gave me curious looks but didn't bother saying anything to my face. I ran a tired hand through my hair, my braid already starting to fall out. I pulled out my hairband and unwoven my hair, letting it cascade below my chest. I picked out several leaves and twigs before quickly putting it into a side braid over my right shoulder.
Aragorn gave me a funny look. "What?" I asked.
"You are not from the Arda," he deadpanned. "You are from somewhere else."
I chewed my bottom lip before nodding. "Yes."
"How is it that you have come here?"
I shrugged miserably. "To be honest, I don't know... One minute I was camping in Westeros National Park, and the next-."
"-Westeros?" Aragorn asked, furrowing his brow. "My lady, Westeros, is the language we are speaking."
"It is?" I asked.
"Yes... but you say it is a park in your world?"
Oh, gods of Olympus. How am I going to explain this?
"In my world," I started slowly, fiddling with my hands. "We have large cities and few forests left, so the government-our Kingships- have set aside different forests as 'National Parks.' They're sort of reserved, and no hunting is permitted on the land. I went camping this weekend out at Westeros, and I fell asleep only to wake up back at Amon Sûl."
"Your story is a complex one to be sure of, my lady," Aragorn said thoughtfully. "I am sorry for attacking you back at Weathertop, but I did not know you. You have proven your courage, to be sure."
"It's okay," I smiled. "No biggie!"
"You're from another World?" Merry asked, sitting up from his spot near the trolls.
I nodded. "I am, and I'm sorry if I frightened you all earlier. I did not mean to."
"You dress funny," Pippin said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Why do you dress like a man?"
"Boys," Aragorn scolded. "Sleep now, we have a long six days ahead of us." The boys shrunk back against the shadows and spoke no more. "You should sleep now, as well," Aragorn directed, turning to me. "You will need your strength for the upcoming journey."
I nodded, "Yes, sir." I settled down in the mossy ground, taking my backpack from my shoulders and settling it under my head. My mind was swimming with questions: Why was I here? How did I get here? What did Middle-Earth hold for me? And would I ever make it back home?
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Hey guys!
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think! :)
Have a great weekend!
-Alexis