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A shout-out to kurleyhawk2 n' Crystal - thanks for the kind words! =) Glad you liked what ya saw so far... stick around and see what develops. ^_^

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The Dream - Part 6

by Bex

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Gandalf left for the Shire the next day, only one day behind his original schedule. Not a large change, as such things go.

After all, much more dramatic shifts to the original timeline of events were likely coming soon.

I'd sketched out my general knowledge of the events of the War of the Ring throughout the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon. Sadly, my memory for specific dates was not that good, nor my recall accurate for more than the most general information regarding the movements of the various enemy armies. I simply hadn't paid that much attention to those particular military details.

Hopefully, the changes that would now be set in motion would soon render that knowledge irrelevant anyway - even the few most crucial facts might be enough to give us the edge. Now, some of those battles might never need come to pass. Hopefully.

Some of my claims naturally had to be confirmed. My news of Saruman's defection, for example.

It was, however, not going to be tested by Gandalf. A messenger was going to be sent under a suitable pretext; hopefully, with our foreknowledge he would be able obtain the proof we needed of Saruman the White's treachery through a much less painful process than Gandalf's imprisonment and escape upon the back of a gigantic eagle. Ahem.

I tried not to think of what might happen to the 'messenger' if his true purpose were discovered by Saruman.

So many new worries, now...

Though they weren't really my responsibility, I kept reminding myself. Repeatedly. I'd spilled my guts, played the prophetess; it was now up to others to use that information to our best advantage.

I'd half expected to now vanish out of this waking dream, perhaps wake again in my old bed the next morning.

But here I was...day four in Imladris.

I was a bit at a loss for what exactly to do...but as it turned out...this was the day I finally ran into Bilbo.

Not literally, fortunately - I chanced across him as I perambulated the House's byways later that morning. Temeril had gone off for a while to other duties, evidentally considering me fit enough to be losing myself in the myriad of passageways.

And so I did just that.

And as I turned one corner, I saw before me this tiny old white-haired man shuffling down the hall towards me, cane in hand. If his diminutive stature hadn't given him away... the huge furry feet, unshod, certainly would have.

I stopped and stared. Bilbo - it could be no other! I'd forgotten all about him being here!

He glanced up and saw me. Eyes glinting, he rapidly sized me up. "Good morning!" he said. "Tall enough for one, but unless my eyes are mistaken...no elf. Are you visiting fair Imladris?"

I resisted the impulse to squat before him. "I guess you could say that. I'm Sarah Deccker." I smiled and resisted my second impulse, which was to extend a hand for him to shake - that was not a common gesture here. "Would you by chance be the Bilbo Baggins?"

He let out a short laugh. "Not a terribly difficult guess, given that I am the only Hafling in residence here these days!" He then mused, as if thinking aloud, "Deccker...what might the meaning of that name be?"

I considered. "Where I come from, the meanings of many of our names have been lost. But they continue to be handed down from parent to child."

He nodded. "You are our visitor from a very far land, is that right? The one who sent Elrond into such a tizzy with the news you brought?"

I shifted self-consciously. "Well, yes...though I'd hardly call it a 'tizzy'. They were of course interested..." I paused. "How did you know that?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's all over Rivendell now." He began to walk again, glancing up at me as he began to pass. "Would you care to join me for Elvenesses? The cooks here make a very nice seedcake. You could tell me about your land."

I turned and started pacing alongside him. "Well, it's not my land. Not all of it."

He chuckled. "Well, then, just tell me of your own bit of it!"

"All right, but no putting it in that book of yours." He shot me a startled glance, and I could tell he was both surprised and pleased I'd known of it.

"As you wish... but pray tell, why not?"

"I'm not supposed to be here." He gave me a bemused look-over as if about to re-state the obvious, and I clarified. "I only came here to do something specific. I'll be going back soon."

He seemed to accept that, nodding as most all there who'd heard my explanation had done.

I managed to deflect most of his curiosity during the subsequent conversation over tea and cakes by mentioning a few vague generalities, then asking him to elaborate on some of the details of his own past adventures. As I'd hoped, he was more than happy to be shifted onto the new subject, and held forth at length. He did mention 'his magic ring' once or twice, but didn't focus upon it. A sweetly eccentric old fellow, if a bit given to living on his past laurels.

Then again... how many dragon-ridden treasure quests can a person go on in one lifetime?

Well, at least, a mortal's lifetime. He could hardly be blamed for liking to cast his gaze backwards, dwelling on past experiences, the accompanying traumas dulled by the intervening years.

I reflected upon that as we parted ways, him heading back to his quarters, me pausing a few moments to watch him go. He'd seemed especially to have relished the notorious reputation his travels had gained him among his fellow hobbits. Or so he'd claimed. Perhaps he'd simply made the best of an unpleasant social reality and taken up his new 'black sheep' role with gusto...until it had at long last worn thin.

At least he'd had this haven to retreat to for his retirement. After performing a feat of will that no mortal had ever before been known to do - voluntarily giving up a malevolant talismen of supremely concentrated power.

He had earned all our respect, I reminded myself. It was quite easy to get caught up in the obvious with that fellow...and forget what he had done.

I felt a presence behind me, and turned to see the Lord of Imladris and his daughter, sweeping by on their way somewhere. We exchanged nods of greeting, me attempting to suppress the pang of sheepishness as I recalled finding out exactly who that young woman I'd accosted two days ago was.

Fortunately, she did seem to have a good sense of humour - she did not, I could tell, hold it against me.

Still, a bit over-awed, I'd decided to stay out of her way now that I knew who she was. I was just a mortal; she someone centuries older and more knowledgeable than me, yet forever looking better than I ever would.

It was a bit off-putting.

I wish I could have not cared about those things...but I did.

Besides...I wasn't going to be here that long.

What I didn't realize until a bit later...was that I was still broadcasting my thoughts and feelings, rather strongly. Wish I'd known that...especially when certain people were passing nearby. There's nothing like finding out you were doing the equivalent of running around, babbling loudly, whilst the people around you 'heard' your comments about them.

May you never experience that level of supreme embarrasment.

I was, however, spared that realization for a little time yet.

The days began to blur together as the week progressed. I continued to wake, dress and wander Imladris, returning to the House for meals and more sleep. I'd been advised to not wander too far from the settlement proper. Occasionally I would spend time with the few faces I knew: taking meals with Temeril, very infrequently Bilbo, who seemed to spend a disproportionate time in his room. He'd mentioned he was adding the last touches to his book, but I suspected he was mostly napping.

The place was peaceful - too peaceful. I found myself sitting, my mind drifting, for hours on end, in corners of secluded gardens. I also began frequenting the hall in which story-telling - mostly songs, actually - went on during the evening, as it had a similar effect on me.

Several times, I woke there to find Temeril gently shaking me awake, before helping me back to my room.

It seemed the place was slowly but surely seeping its way into me. I was, I reflected, becoming little better than Bilbo. I'd even begun to nap afternoons.

It was a lovely place; it was unreal. The people within it were unreal. Too pretty. Too quiet. Too graceful. Their voices at night as they sang eerily sweet.

Or maybe I was the one who was unreal - the burr within the silk. After all, was I still supposed to be here? Surely not; certainly not anymore. I'd done my bit, surely I ought to have already returned home. But then neither did I angst over family and friends left behind. I simply...existed.

I didn't notice at the time that Temeril was becoming increasingly concerned at my growing lassitude. After all, he'd seen a human male raised here...and he'd certainly never descended into this sort of passivity.

The morning after he (as I found out later) went to Gaenir to mention his concerns was the day I didn't bother getting out of bed. In a departure from his usual practice, Temeril knocked upon my door when I didn't appear at my regular time, on my way to breakfast.

"Yes?" I had barely the wit to answer.

"Are you yet risen? I wait to escort you to break your fast..."

I smiled fondly. My elven squire...

"Lady Sarah?" I winced inwardly at the honorific. 'Lady' did not suit me.

"I'm not hungry...you go on without me."

I could feel a vague sense of worried indecision. That was him, paused before the door.

"I'll be fine. Just need a bit more sleep." Dismissing the idea of him, waiting outside, I rolled over.

"Lady Sarah...? May I enter?"

I grunted in faint irritation, shutting my eyes, ignoring the bright late April morning sunshine . G'way. Wanna sleep.

Not getting a terribly clear answer, he apparently hedged his bets - the door eased open a crack, giving him a view of the room, but he advanced no further. The door quietly re-closed and his presence rapidly receeded.

And I sank gratefully into a sleep much too deep.

~End Part 6~