Not Quite the Lord of the Rings
by Lothithil
Not Quite The Lord Of The Rings
an SG-1/LotR crossover guest starring the DarkElf
part Nine, Strange Stars
I don't mean to be disrespectful, but these Men do not understand that
an Elf is not a Dwarf and cannot dwell ever beneath the earth with the
weight of a mountain over her head, and without seeing the sky or the
stars and feeling the breath of Manwë on her face. I hunger for
the smell and sight of green growing things, and if I remain in the
cold grey world that they have created, I will fade.
It is merely a matter of waiting until my escorts have turned their
eyes away from my door. The guards at the portals see me through
beguiled eyes; I can appear to them as I wish, blending in with a group
of people heading toward the surface. My differences-- eyes, ears and
height-- can be disguised with a simple spell, which is aided by hearts
that wish to see only what is common.
And so I emerge from the depths of the mountain into a blazing orange
twilight. The sun here is a cold star, larger and somehow indifferent
of the creatures that dwell upon this world. Back home, Arien burns
with passion; a bright fierce orb of uncompromising purpose that soars
overhead to dispel the darkness. One knows that She sees what occurs
within the fall of Her light, and to Manwë reports all She sees.
Here, this eye of fire has no consciousness, and it is we who move
around the fire as a stone swung 'round in a sling, as the one named
Carter describes it to me. Marvelous and fearful to my ears was her
tale and now as I concentrate, I can feel the motion of the world
beneath my feet, and I doubt my balance for the first time since ever I
stood.
From the comfort of a boulder I regard the firmament. The stars here
are also different, and my heart yearns to see Eärendil's light
again. It seems so impossible to have traveled so far that not even his
beacon can be seen. Who watches the doorways to the Outer Void here and
keeps evil from crossing over and spoiling the land?
It occurs to me then, sitting beneath the blanketed sky, that my new
friends are these protectors. They watch the doorway-- what they call
the Stargate-- and keep those who would destroy and enslave the good
people at bay. And the price that they pay, like the Eärendil's
sacrifice, is no small cost to their lives.
The sky is whirling overhead, pinned to the firmament by a single dim
star. The basin-shaped constellation has turned over as if to pour it's
contents forth by the time Jack O'Neill finally finds me, sitting on my
rock with my knees tucked under my chin.
He waves away my attempt to apologize, merely nudging me to move over
and make room for him to sit with me. We watch as the coming dawn
slowly ignites the tangle of clouds caught upon the jagged peaks of the
mountains. He is a stargazer, too. I know it because the light shining
in his eyes. I know it because I can see upon his soul that he realizes
that he is but a small thing in a large place; humility and capability
in a mortal package such as I have not known since Tuor. He is a noble
Man.
He speaks to me, and his voice conveys more than the words that he
uses. There is some danger here to me, not very close and yet never too
far away. He tells me that by taking me away for a short time that we
may avoid this danger, and at the same time we may experience some
gentle adventure.
As much as it appeals to me to see more of this strange world, the
thought of going any distance from the gateway fills me with
trepidation. What happens if the gate is closed against me when we
return? What if my life is ended on this world? Will death bear me back
to the Mansions of Mandos or will my spirit linger here?
My hesitance is noted, and he allows silence for my thoughts to manifest.
Of all my faults, it seems that curiosity will lead me to
destruction... but on the way I shall partake of beauty and life
unguessable!
~~~
When first I set foot upon this strange world, I noted the smell and
feel of all I could see. The sharpness of youth, the tender age of the
trees, the scent of the smoky air tinged with life and industry. I
believed that all of this world was young, like the Men who dwelled
upon it. A mere handful of years among them, leaving small scratches
upon the stone before their sons and daughters might come after and add
their own marks.
Kneeling here on the edge of the great canyon I know that this world is
indeed old, perhaps even older than Eä. The mighty hands of Ulmo
might have carved this monument, but surely Morgoth would have
destroyed it; such beauty he would have abhorred.
Far below the coloured layers of stone the river lay gleaming, no more
than a silver thread from this height. As the breath from the canyon
lifts my dark hair around my face like wings, I feel the urge to spread
feathers and fly out over the gulf. I do not do this, of course, for I
have not wings even if my heart is light! I scan the air for the flight
of a great eagle. I mayhap could persuade one to bear me along the warm
updraft for a time.