(Originally posted 6/19/17, finally getting around to reposting these.)
What do you think? I'm sitting at a little round table, whose legs are curved and sweeping in a most intricate pattern, down to the floor. A floor which is some sort of smooth stone of an unearthly hue, and despite the warm summer air, is cool beneath my bare feet. No walls surround me, for this is a porch, in fact! Pillars of the same pale, multi-hued stone form a curved arc, and beyond is a sight that is difficult to even put to words. But I shall try.
The first thing my eyes are drawn to is the waterfall. It plunges from a height beyond my vision, and its low, rumbling voice is what I hear most. A white mist fills the air in soft, fleeting puffs, drifting over the garden. And the garden! Lush beyond description, with plants I could never name, flowers in every shade of the rainbow, butterflies and birds endlessly flitting here and there. The birds' songs are like nothing I could've imagined before hearing them with my own ears.
Nothing could be further from the Mark, in every way. And no surprise, for this is Rivendell! The Hidden Valley, one of the last bastions of the elves, I am told. And now that I've explained just where I'm writing from this morning, I can tell a bit of how I came to be here.
The invitation came months and months ago. Very early on in my friendship with Baldmar, in fact, long before I'd met either of our traveling companions. He said that someday, he would take me to see his homeland, the fabled "Vales" beyond the Misty Mountains. It sounded like a fantastic tale, and an adventure I'd never actually realize, but the thought of it hovered in the back of my mind. Of course, over the following days, I met Conrob, and Cesistya, and my dear Aallan, may he rest in peace. When Baldmar announced a few months ago that he would be returning home again this summer, and invited us along, I leaped at the chance to accept! Foolhardy, perhaps, for I'm no seasoned traveler, and certainly not a warrior capable of fending off roving packs of orcs and wargs along the Road. But I trusted him, as I do now, implicitly and without reservation. I know that no harm will befall me when he is nearby, and that he would lay down his life for mine. He's never said as much, yet I know it just the same.
The first few days of our journey were largely uneventful, as we passed east from Bree-town. Spirits were high, the sun was warm, and it was difficult to imagine that we might fall upon any sort of trouble in the days ahead. I must say, the conversation was light, for none of us are what you'd call chatterboxes. But that suits me just fine! Jack seemed to take a bit of a shine to Baldmar's mare, though she is larger than he is, and it was quite comical to see him sidling up to her and tossing his head proudly. I don't think she was very impressed.
The Lone Lands were much as I remembered them, from my brief journey there last autumn in search of Tothrandir. The land does not please the eye much, the grass seems to be a lifeless shade of greenish-brown, even in the height of summer, though there are patches of wildflowers here and there. Trees are scarce, and the land rolls endlessly in small hillocks and bluffs.
I did not see much in the way of wildlife, aside from some wild pigs and the occasional wolf slipping away before we got too close. I knew there were goblins and wargs hiding in the hills on either side of the Road, but through a stroke of mercy, or perhaps because they feared the enormous figure leading our group, we were not put upon.
Once we crossed a bridge over a river separating the Lone Lands from the Trollshaws, Baldmar bid us to pick up speed, as the land would become more wild and dangerous during the last leg of our journey to the valley. Steep banks rose up on either side of us, thickly forested with trees, and the road began to wind up and down, curving, dipping, and climbing. I thought it was beautiful! We kept a steady pace, however, and it was rather thrilling to be galloping through this strange, exotic place with the wind tugging at my hair, and the thunder of hooves all around. I haven't enjoyed such a sensation since leaving home.
It wasn't until we arrived at the river Bruinen that we had our first real fright. Baldmar halted us when we came round a bend, and the river was in sight through the trees ahead.
But no sooner had we paused there, then we heard a howling in the forest, much too close for our liking, and next thing we knew there was a crashing in the trees, and two monstrous wargs were charging. The moments that followed were a blur, and hard to recall exactly now, as everything was a flurry of movement and action. I drew my sword, even as Jack lurched to the side of the road, carrying me away from the animals as they ran towards us. I saw Ces with her staff in her hand, I heard a shout from Conrob, and somehow I cannot recall what Baldmar said or did in that moment, but an arrow suddenly came from nowhere and pierced the headmost animal, and it slid to a halt mere feet from us. The second beast was close behind, and I was desperately thinking of how best to defend myself, when a figure appeared from the trees, cutting off its path. A blade flashed and swung, and the warg tumbled to its death beside the first.
We sat, stunned, gaping, wide-eyed. At least, I did! The figure with the sword stepped forward, and then a second joined from the trees. A deep voice spoke, and to my amazement, greeted me by name. It took me several seconds to collect myself enough to realize who it was. Watcher! Of all men to run into in such a place! The figure beside him was an elf woman, introduced to us as Nidhiel. And upon the matter of names, Watcher revealed his to us there beside the river, but I will not write it here. Our greeting was forced to be brief, as Watcher bid us to hasten across the ford and onto the valley ahead. I was saddened to hurry away from them, having only just met the two of them, but necessity demanded it. Baldmar led us on to the river, and allowed us a brief moment to marvel at the breathtaking beauty of the canyon through which it flowed.
Then it was up the steep bank on the other side. We climbed and climbed, until I thought our horses might collapse, but suddenly the path opened onto a wide, mountaintop meadow. We galloped onward, Jack and Huck both puffing like a pair of bellows (I wonder just how much weight my darling steed has put on since arriving in Bree?).
Cesistya's eyes began to shine with what must have been an eager excitement, for she looked like a child about to behold some old, beloved place. At length, Baldmar turned us towards a nearby bluff that looked completely solid and impenetrable, and I wondered what his purpose was, until we drew nearly upon the side of it, and suddenly noticed a very narrow cleft cutting a path through the hillside. Two figures appeared from the shadows, invisible to my eyes until they moved. Elven guardians, they were, solemn and quiet, but welcoming us once they had greeted our leader.
My heart was in my throat as we trotted forward into the close passage, the horses' hooves echoing about our ears. I was about to behold one of the most fabled places in Middle Earth. It felt unreal.
A soft, dull thundering sound grew steadily louder as we continued, and once we emerged from the passage, the cause was clear, for there were an endless series of waterfalls, tumbling from heights beyond imagining! My breath caught in my lungs as my eyes held their first glimpse of the valley, stretching out before us in the soft twilight. Baldmar led us to a small overlook, and we paused to simply look, and marvel. It was one of those moments; those moments in life that you know you will never, ever forget, and to have those you love beside you makes it all the more meaningful. My chest tightened and my eyes grew misty, but there wasn't time to linger for long, as both travelers and horses were weary and in need of food and rest.
Our group continued along a winding, switchback path that gently descended the hillside, and across the valley the image of a large and otherworldly house grew larger and clearer. The Last Homely House, I was told, and the home of Lord Elrond. We began to see many paths leading into the forested hills around the house, along with bridges and pavilions, and I felt an eager, childlike urge in me, to begin running and exploring. At last, we crossed an arching stone bridge over a thundering waterfall, and were met by a smiling and exceedingly beautiful elf, who offered to take our horses. Baldmar bid us goodbye, as he wished to take a walk along the riverbank.
Conrob and I took a moment alone to gaze in wonder at the valley from our vantage point on the bridge. To have him beside me somehow made the moment ten thousand times more sacred.
We wandered towards the house, and came across Ces again, standing on a little bank by the river. She joined us and led us inside, where our breath was taken away all over again. Tired as we were, we took a few moments to simply soak in the ethereal majesty of the place. We heard soft singing and music, laughter and gentle voices, and everywhere there seemed to be a shimmering light that hovered in the air, no matter where I looked.
I must pause for now, as I’ve written an entire novel here, it seems. I will be sorry to leave this place, though my excitement grows by leaps and bounds when I think of our next destination.
