Only One

Disclaimer: Constructive criticism, suggestions and feedback are welcome. Flames will be cheerfully ignored. All recognizable characters belong to their respective, copyrighted Owners. Jordan Waters is mine. I have no money; please, don’t sue. Lyrics in this chapter are borrowed from ‘Flora’s Secret’—Enya/A Day Without Rain.


A New Day

An early riser by nature, Jordan awoke while it was still dark outside; the first rays of light had yet to appear. Thoughts of the previous night’s events filled her mind. With a smile on her face, the Immortal hummed to herself as she made the bed, neatly hung her shift and placed it in the armoire. After splashing cold water on her face, Jordan brushed her hair in the mirror and decided to go for a very early morning walk.

“I doubt I’ll get lost here.” She muttered.

Dressed in her own clothes, out of habit, the Immortal strapped on her weapons and settled her overcoat to hide them from sight. On impulse, Jordan reached into her pockets to discover her chocolates were still inside. Grabbing an apple and cheese from the fruit tray, she crossed to the balcony and down the stairs to the courtyard below. Munching her breakfast, the Immortal walked with no particular destination in mind. Enjoying the stillness of the morning, Jordan watched the dark sky slowly lighten.

“None of the national parks back home can even compare to the beauty of Rivendell.” Jordan said softly. Though she could see no Elves, thanks to the Buzz, the Immortal felt them.

Further on the woman walked, heading towards a thick grove of trees. When she finally reached it, the Immortal disappeared into the tree line and kept walking, until at last, the wooden sentries parted to reveal a sheltered glade. Jordan cocked her head; her eyes scanned the tree line hemming her in, noting the even lower level of the Buzz.

“I guess you can never be truly alone here” the Immortal said aloud. Her good mood deserted her as she contemplated what she must do.

“Now’s a good a time as any; I need to know.” She said softly.

Sinking to the ground, Jordan sat cross-legged. The Immortal laid her sticks on the dew-covered grass before her and set her Katana on her lap. Picking up her sword, the woman’s fingers hovered above the curved surface, watching as the full tang gleamed in the weak light. Turning it at an angle, the Immortal studied her reflection in the blade. Her green eyes were solemn as she gazed back at herself. With a sigh, Jordan resheathed it and reached for her rattan sticks, inspecting the smooth, polished surfaces that tapered at the ends. Jordan gripped them tightly until her knuckles turned white.

Despite the beauty of Rivendell, and the Elves’ hospitality, she felt like a stranger on the outside looking in; yet Jordan found herself becomingly increasingly enthralled with Rivendell . . . and against her better judgment, Legolas. Somehow she found herself briefly wondering where he was at and what he was doing. It’d be better for her if he did not have the ability to send her senses into a tizzy. Such adolescent, juvenile behavior had to stop, the Immortal sternly told herself. But Jordan couldn’t stop the smile that touched her lips when she remembered their forest kiss . . or their dance the evening before. Heaving a frustrated sigh, Jordan stood in a fluid motion. Holstering her sticks, she kicked a rock away and began to pace.

“I like it here too much; I must find a way back before I get too attached to this place. It’ll make leaving all the harder when Duncan comes. Think, think, think, Jordan!” she muttered.

Inspired, Jordan’s pacing came to an abrupt stop. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out one of her peanut butter cups. Tearing the wrapper open, she shook one onto her palm.

“Okay, Alice, it worked for you. Let’s see if Wonderland will still be here after I eat this.” She said.

The candy was halfway to her mouth when Jordan hesitated. Legolas’ face appeared before her, his impossibly blue eyes boring into hers. Before she could change her mind, Jordan took a bite, chewing and swallowing quickly. Nothing. Placing the rest of the confection in her mouth, this time the Immortal chewed slowly and carefully before swallowing. Still nothing.

“Maybe I to to eat the entire thing.” she mused to herself.

Jordan set to work on the second chocolate disc. Licking her fingers, she waited. Counting to one hundred in her head, still nothing happened. Frustrated, Jordan continued her pacing before coming to a halt.

“Well, they’re not red ruby slippers, but…”

Drawing herself up to her full height, the Immortal clicked her heels thrice as she chanted ‘there’s no place like home’ three times. Still nothing. Improvising, Jordan clicked her heels again, chanting ‘there’s no place like Seacouver’ three times as well, with the same result--nothing. Resuming her pacing, the Immortal absently toyed with teaf eaf at her neck, thinking.

“Of course!” she exclaimed.

Certain this time she’d found her way back, Jordan stood still and took a long last look around the glade.

“I’ll miss you.” She whispered. Jordan closed her eyes and curled her fingers curled tightly around the Leaf.

“Lothlórien leaf, take me home!” Opening her eyes, the beauty of Rivendell greeted her. Stamping her foot in frustration, Jordan repeated the command.

“Lothlórien leaf, take me home now!” Still nothing. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Jordan sighed.

“Well. I guess that settles it; I’m here for a while.” She said with mixed emotions.

Deep down, Jordan was secretly relieved to find she remained in Rivendell. The Immortal sighed to herself again. Her melancholy did not last long as her mood perked up. It was hard to be glum in Rivendell, whose wonders she had yet to explore. If anything, it’d make a fantastic story to tell when she returned.

“It would’ve been rude of me to leave without thanking Lord Elrond. Or saying goodbye.” Jordan reasoned. Yet the image of a certain blonde haired, blue eyed Elf came to mind, not the regal Elf-Lord.

“Might as well make use of this time alone” Jordan said quietly.
.
Deciding to practice with her sticks, the Immortal focused and cleared her mind. Her thoughts returned to hearriarring sessions with Duncan. Repeating the maneuvers, her steps were measured, her movements graceful as she performed the kata. Giving herself over to the joy of the movement and wanting to feel her blood pump through her veins, Jordan increased her speed. After a while, the Immortal switched weapons and joined her sticks.

Pressing a button that locked them together, Jordan spun it several times, feeling for the proper balance, before launching into another practice. As she spun the staff, the Immortal wondered what the day would hold. Jordan knew she would have to make good on her word; somehow she needed to meet with the Elven virtuosos and practice with them, so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. After a moment, the Immortal holstered her sticks, stretched her arms and made her way back.

#


After escorting Jordan back to her quarters, Legolas was restless. Disturbed and intrigued by his feelings for the mortal woman, the Elf changed clothes and strapped his weapons to his lithe body, preparing to patrol Rivendell’s borders; instead of taking out his frustrations on Orcs and Uruks as he’d hoped, the night was uneventful, for the trees whispered all was well as the wood Elf passed thru their branches.

The uneventful night afforded the Mirkwood Prince ample time to think about Jordan -- the strange woman whose face was vivid in his mind’s eye. Three hundred feet up in the trees’ canopy, the pre-dawn found Legolas heading back towards his quarters, nimbly leaping from swaying one swaying branch to another, barely disturbing the leaves as he took his favorite route back. He was almost there when his keen Elven sight spied a lone figure walking. Recognizing Jordan, he followed her. She was eating an apple as she walked. He watched as she dropped the remains of the fruit into a pocket of her strange garb. Following her to the secluded glade, Legolas was confident the woman was unaware of his presence, until she stopped and looked towards his direction. Was it possible she was aware of him? Could she see him? The Elf continued to observe her; their eyes met, and the Prince raised his hand in greeting, but the woman didn’t respond, in fact, she seemed to be looking thru him. Legolas couldn’t help but wonder.

Lowering herself to the ground, Jordan looked to be lost in thought as she stared at her weapons; she then stood, only to pace the glade. After a moment, the woman pulled a brightly colored packet from her pocket, and consumed its contents. Then she resumed pacing before coming to a halt and hit her heels together; although he was too far away to hear the words, Legolas could see her lips moving as she spoke. The wind stirred the leaves of his perch, the branch swaying slightly in the wind; grasping the bough above him, Legolas continued to watch the woman below.

A smile tugged at his lips as he observed her odd behavior. It faded as her hand clasped the Lórien leaf; their conversation the evening before echoed in his mind as the cool morning breeze clearly carried Jordan’s words to him.

“Lothlórien leaf, take me home!”

“She is attempting to return!” he said aloud.

The Elf’s blue eyes narrowed as his mind realized what his heart refused to believe; it beat a little faster as he watched, waiting to see what would happen.

“Lothlórien leaf, take me home now!” When nothing happened, Legolashed hed in relief, not realizing he’d held his breath.

Surprised at himself, the Elf didn’t have time to ponder his feelings. His eyes were riveted to the woman below who took her sticks out and began some sort of fighting routine; slowly starting until the speed and sureness with which she moved left no doubt she could be a formidable opponent. Legolas continued to watch with interest, as the sticks became a long staff, just inches taller than her. Jordan twirled it a tim times, then faster until it blurred. Stabbing, twisting, turning, her long coat swirled around her as she moved.

Effortlessly, Jordan switched to a one handed; without missing a beat, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the apple core. Tossing it high in the air, it teretered when it fell onto the whirling staff. Shortly after, Jordan separated the sticks and tucked them away. Legolas’ expression was thoughtful as he watched her walk away, her long, glossy hair and overcoat fanned out behind her in the morning breeze. Jordan Waters was full of surprises.

#


It was dawn when Jordan returned to her quarters. The Immortal felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Invigorated by the early morning exercise, she looked forward to the rest of the day with a clear conscience as she gathered her toiletries and sought out the washroom. Losing her way, a servant came upon her in the hall and escorted her to the room; when fini, Jo, Jordan managed to successfully find her way back to her quarters, where she ate more fruit and cheese. Recognizing the Lembas in a covered dish next to the fruit, Jordan broke off a small piece, and nibbled it while inspecting the contents of her armoire. Her stomach feeling decidedly full, the woman passed on the soft breeches, opting to dress in a brown velvet gown with green embroidery; she twirled around, loving the feel of the rich, flowing fabric.

Determined to find the House of Healing, Jordan hoped to talk with Læurenthail. Asking directions from servants, she eventually found it. Hearing her visitor long before she arrived, Læurenthail stood at the doorway as she welcomed Jordan warmly, pleased to see her dressed in Elvish clothing.

“Good morn, Jordan. Are you well?” Læurenthail inquired.

Her sharp eyes noted with mild surprise and interest that Jordan’s injuries were completely healed—no trace of hurt was upon her person.

“Good morning, yes, thank you. I just wanted to thank you for your company last night. I had a lovely time. I was hoping to learn a couple things from you, and maybe help you with whatever needs to be done. Back home I work with healers. We call them physicians or doctors.”

As Læurenthail worked, Jordan watched, inspecting and sniffing the herbs and poultices. She examined with delighted wonder the healing vessels displayed in the House, some of which she was convinced were beautiful predecessors of modern day apothecaric apparatuses. They spent a good portion of the morning comparing notes on healing; as an added bonus, the Head Healer taught Jordan the basics of Elvish language and etiquette; Læurenthail was pleasantly surprised to discover Jordan was able to articulate the language.

The woman’s tongue occasionally stumbled over the pronunciation, but her effort was commendable, for her mind grasped the inflections, if not the meanings; however, it was a start. After several tries, Jordan was able to parrot back words and sentences, as long as they were short. In return, Jordan taught the Healer a few words in both Tagalog and Spanish. To Læurenthail’s surprise, the Elven maiden discovered the company of a mortal could be pleasant and somewhat enlightening; as a result, the morning flew by unnoticed. It was mid day when a servant brought an assortment of breads, cheeses and fruits for their meal.

Aware that she was expected to sing at the evening’s festivities, Jordan was reluctant to leave the presence of the skilled and knowledgeable she-Elf. Wanting to be somewhat prepared, the Immortal excused herself and made her way to the great hall, where she found a group of Elves looking over the selections of songs for the evening’s entertainment.

Recognized as Lord Legolas’ and Master Gimli’s guest, the minstrels greeted Jordan cordially as they tuned their instruments. Thinking back to her school choir days, Jordan hummed the tune of the song she planned to sing. The Elves’ natural aptitude for music made it a simple task to teach them the lyrics. Because of the unfamiliar arrangement of the chords and tempo, they ran through the song twice with a minimum of fine-tuning. Jordan thought fondly about her karaoke nights with her co-workers.

**This beats karaoke any day! * * Jordan thought.

All too soon, it was time to prepare for the feast. The Immortal was amazed at how time escaped her notice in this beautiful place. Back home, it was rush, rush, rush. Bidding the Elves farewell till the evening, Jordan caught herself thinking about Legolas on her way back to her quarters, hoping to see him later that evening.

Successfully finding her way to the washroom, Jordan took her time as she bathed. Back in her quarters, the Immortal marveled at the generosity of the Elves. The gown she wore last night was hanging in the armoire, however, another gown was thoughtfully provided for her, complete with matching slippers: royal blue velvet embellished with silver embroidery; the Immortal touched it reverently as she held it up, admiring the exquisite needlework, for unless Elves owned sewing machines, it had to have been done by hand.

With a whoop of delight, Jordan spun around the room, crushing the gown to her. Eagerly shedding her robe, the Immortal carefully slipped it over her head. The gown settled over her body like a gentle caress. Feeling like a medieval princess, the woman looked at her reflection, turning to inspect herself from different angles, her hands smoothing imaginary wrinkles.

“No doubt they want me to look presentable.” The Immortal told her reflection as she laughed.

By the time Jordan finishes preparing for the evening, once again, the feast was well under way by the time the Immortal arrived. Stopping by Lord Elrond’s table to greet her host, they exchanged pleasantries before the Elf-Lord bade the Immortal enjoy herself. Deciding a handshake or wave ‘good bye’ was inappropriate; Jordan genuflected to the Elven Lord before doing as she was instructed.

This time the Immortal was accompanied by Læurenthail, who stayed by her side as they listened to the Elves’ tale telling. Too nervous to eat, the woman discreetly searched the gathering for a particular fair head; her gaze wandered around the room. Spying Gimli drinking with a group of Elves, Jordan waved and smiled to him when he raised his tankard in greeting. All too soon the time for singing came. Several songs were sung by the Elves, much to Jordan’s enjoyment. Thinking they changed their minds on hearing her sing, Jordan relaxed—until it was announced that Lord Elrond’s guest would share a song from her land.

Knowing she must sound like a frog next to these wondrous beings, Jordan hoped their voices and instruments would drown hers out. the Immortal’s hands were cold and sweaty as she made her way to the raised platform where the minstrels waited. Jordan took a goblet of what she was told was Miruvor, the Cordial of Imladris, from a passing servant. Eyeing the clear, colorless liquid dubiously, Jordan was unsure about the alcoholic content. Although she didn’t drink alcoholic beverages, tonight she was willing to make an exception.

*Liquid courage* she thought wryly.

Taking a healthy swig, Jordan swished it around her mouth, fighting the urge to gargle before swallowing the slightly thick, spicy sweet drink; its invigorating warmth spread throughout her body and to the pit of her stomach, bolstering her courage. Jordan cleared her throat as the ing ing strains filled the air. Looking at the expectant faces surrounding her, the Immortal took a deep breathr clr clear tenor, though soft, increased in volume when the haunting voices of the Elves in the background blended with and strengthened hers:


Lovers in the Long grass
Look above them
Onlyy cay can see
Where the clouds are going
Only to discover
Dust and sunlight
Ever make the sky so blue

Afternoon is hazy
River flowing
All around the sounds
Moving closer to them
Telling them the story
Told by Flora
Dreams they never knew

A collective murmur came from the Elves as her voice floated across the room; before long, some were dancing, others were smiling and nodding in approval, their heads moving in time with the music. Jordan’s voice grew still stronger as she sang; the combination of the Miruvor, the song and the beautiful beings made Jordan feel she belonged to this magical place, if only for a brief moment.


Silver willows
Tears from Persia
Those who come from a far-off island
Winter Chanterelle lies
Under cover
Glory-of-the-sun in blue

Arriving late, Legolas checked on Gimli, who appeared to be having a grand time with the Elves gathered around the ale and Miruvor casks, trading battle tales as he extolled the prowess of the Dwarves. After speaking briefly with Lord Elrond, the Wood Elf went to get a bite to eat, filling his plate with the delicacies Rivendell had to offer; as he ate, his bright eyes searched the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jordan.

Overhearing snatches of conversation about ‘the woman’ and ‘singing’, Legolas stopped a passing maiden, to be told Jordan was to sing a song as she promised the even before. Handing his empty plate to a servant, he followed the music. Watching from across the room, the golden Elf saw the trembling of Jordan’s hand as she lifted a goblet from a passing tray; taking a gulp of the potent liquid, her cheeks and nose became pink as she composed herself, slowly mounting the steps to the dais.

Knowing no mortal could compare with an Elf in song, he wondered how she would fare, when her clear voice carried across the room, accompanied by the minstrels. Legolas had to admit she was fairly good—for a mortal. He stepped out from the shadows into view, drawn by the yearning in her voice. Taking in her appearance, the gown skimmed her curves, again showing them off to her advantage, the Leaf of Lórien rested in the hollow of her throat. Jordan’s green eyes glittered in the light, her black hair, worn loose framed her face. Swaying in time to the music, the woman smiled when she saw him, before shifting her gaze to the dancers below sweeping gracefully by. This stranger awakened a longing in the Mirkwood Prince that could not be ignored for much longer. Legolas continued to watch, his fingers twitching at his side, remembering the silky feel of her hair.

Some they know as passion
Some as freedom
Some they know as love
And the way it leaves them
Summer snowflake
For a season
When the sky above is blue
When the sky above is blue
Lying in the long grass
Close beside her
Giving her the name of the one the moon loves
This will be the day she
Will remember
When she knew his heart was
Loving in the long grass
Close beside her
Whispering of love
And the way it leaves them
Lying in the long grass
In the sunlight
They believe it’s true love
And from all around them
Flora’s secret
Telling them of love and the way it breathes and
Looking up from eyes of
Amaranthine
They can see the sky is blue
Knowing that their love is true
Dreams they never knew
And they sky above is blue

Before the final strains faded away, the Elves clapped their hands, crying out “Again!” as the room took it up. Delighted and fortified with the Miruvor, Jordan complied. Once again the song was sung, this time the entire room in motion as the Elves danced and lifted their voices in song.

While the minstrels continued to play, an Elf went up to the dais, pulling Jordan down to dance. Glancing at Legolas before she was led down the steps, he inclined his head in acknowledgement. Gazing up at her partner, a noble Elf she was acquainted with, Jordan smiled politely as he led her in the steps. To her credit, she didn’t stumble. Trying to be subtle, the Immortal glanced where Legolas was standing, to see he was gone. Disappointed, she continued to chat politelth hth her partner.

“May I have this dance?”

Behind her, Legolas quiet voice felt like a caress. With a nod to Jordan and a bow to the fair Elf, her partner placed her hand in Legolas’ before he stepped away. Legolas enfolded her hand in his, and again, a delicious shiver went up her arm to her neck and down her spine. Luminescent blue eyes held her spellbound as they danced in silence. After a moment, Legolas spoke.

“Mae carnen.”

“Huh?” Jordan mentally kicked herself as soon as she uttered it, for it was not exactly an articulate word suitable for the present company. It was Les’ ts’ turn to look confused.

“I left my Elvish to Common translation book in Seacouver.” She joked feebly. A smile tugged at the Elf’s lips.

“Well done.” Legolas translated. The Elf’s compliment made Jordan laugh.

“Compared to Elves, I sound horrible, but I thank you anyways. I watriftrified. But, because I had help I was able to sing.” She said.

As the song ended, another began. Leading her away from the dance floor, they sat, watching the merry makers. Legolas entertained Jordan with stories about the Elves he pointed out, and answered her questions; after a while, they fell into companionable silence. Wanting to be alone with her, Legolas stood; holding her hand, the Elf led Jordan outside to a shadowed corner, where they stood at the railing, gazing up at the stars twinkling overhead. The Elf seemed to be lost in thought. For a long time, he didn’t speak as he gazed at something in the distance—Jordan was beginning the think he’d forgotten she was there. Clearing her throat, the Immortal spoke softly.

“’Second star to the right and straight on till morning.’” Jordan quoted with a smile as the Elf looked questioningly at her.

“Home.” She said.

Legolas studied her face, and though his face was serene, the expression in his warm blue gaze seemed . . . troubled. Jordan suddenly regretted her interruption. Falling silent, she looked away.

“Tonight is the last night of the festivities, then the Orcs are to be dealt with. As Lord Elrond wishes, I am to go with the hunting party. When I return, I shall help you--” Legolas’ words were silenced as Jordan placed a finger softly to his lips.

“Shhh…tonight let us enjoy the evening.” The Immortal teasingly said, echoing his words.

The smile on Jordan’s face faded when the Elf caught her hand and placed a warm kiss on her palm. Holding her breath, Jordan watched as Legolas placed it against his face, his skin was as she imagined -- warm and smooth. The Immortal watched in fascination when his golden head bent closer; his lips brushed hers with a soft, inquiring quality to it. Raising her head, Jordan answered his kiss with one of her own. Legolas’ free arm encircled her waist and pulled her tight against his body as he buried his hand in her hair, deepening the kiss. Jordan could feel the Elf’s arousal as it pressed against her. All too soon Legolas broke away, placing gentle kisses on her cheeks, nose and forehead.

“Were we to continue, Orcs could not stop us.” His ragged voice gave away the strain it took to control himself.

Dazed, Jordan simply stared at him. Legolas looked at Jordan: her eyes were dilated to the point that the green was almost entirely eclipsed by her pupils. The woman’s lips were swollen with his kiss, and her hair was in slight disarray, her bosom rose and fell as she breathed, trying hard to calm herself. The desire in the Elf’s eyes burned with intensity that made the Immortal shiver. By mutual consent, they returned to the feast, and once again, when the revelry ended, Legolas escorted Jordan back to her quarters. This time, he did not so much as kiss her hand. Inside her quarters, Jordan changed into her shift then set about preparing for bed.

“What was that all about?” she asked aloud.

Jordan didn’t know whether to curse of bless the Elf, for he was complicating matters. . . and shifting her focus. The Immortal knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, for her mind would replay the balcony scene in an endless loop. Restless, Jordan sat up in bed; wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her chin on her knees. Staring at the dying flames in the hearth, Jordan thought about Legolas. She had been kissed before, some of which were quite memorable, but the kiss from Legolas was…beyond incredible.

He made her toes curl; with a look he made her feel faint. When he kissed her, Jordan swore her blood boiled in her veins and her body felt as if she were on fire. His touch . . . Jordan shivered at the thought of his touch; her imagination ran wild, conjuring images of she and the Elf locked in a passionate embrace.

“Yeah, like that will ever happen.” The Immortal snorted.

Shaking her head, Jordan laughed and hugged herself, unable to stop the grin that plastered her face. No, she’d never felt quite like this about anyone—much less a kiss. The last time Jordan felt something remotely close was with ** Him **.

Like a bucketful of cold water in the face, the thought of * Him * was enough to erase the smile from the Immortal’s face, as the hurt and embarrassment returned in excruciatingly vivid detail. Forcefully pushing it out of her mind, Jordan questioned the rules of attraction in Rivendell.

“Okay, what’s the code of conduct between Elves and Humans?” Jordan wondered. An uneasy feeling filled the pit of her stomach.
“Maybe—maybe I’m too direct. Am I supposed to be coy?” she wondered aloud. It’d been so long since she’d dated, the Immortal was unsure of what to do and how to act.

“He probably thinks I’m sort of hussy, too willing to kiss him and be kissed by him” Jordan muttered sourly.

“What’ve you done to me, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Tharanduil? You must’ve put an Elvish spell on me.” She whispered harshly to the flickering flames.

The Elf made her feel alive, and if Jordan was honest with herself she would acknowledge that she was teetering on the edge of . . . something.

“What exactly is going on here? Am I imagining things, or is there something happening between us?” Jordan asked
aloud, filled with uncertainty and confusion.

In Legolas’ presence, Jordan forgot she was from another time and another place, a displaced traveler. It would be hard to maintain a platonic friendship with the Elf, but in the long run, it would be for the best. An occasional kiss or caress wouldn’t hurt. . . or could it? The Immortal shook her head to clear her mind. The Elf was not only distracting -- he clouded her judgment without even trying.

“I will keep my distance, no matter what. I must—for both our sakes.” Jordan vowed.

With a sigh, Jordan lay down; sleep eluded her as she tossed and turned. When she did finally sleep, dark was her dream.
The Immortal was back in Trollshaw Forest; a sense of déja vû engulfed her as she looked around. Fear. Every instinct in her body propelled her forward; the air was thick with silver fog as she ran. Jordan’s limbs felt heavy, as if she were moving in slow motion. Behind her, she could hear muffled sounds. The Immortal wasn’t planning on discovering its source. Overhead, the steady ‘whomp, whomp, whomp’ of helicopter blades beat the air in its slow, rhythmic drone. Coming to a stop in a clearing, the mist hung heavy in the air. A shadow was taking shape.

Swallowing hard, Jordan reached for her Katana. The Immortal panicked when her hand closed around air; looking down, Jordan was dismayed to discover she was clad only in her sleeping shift, barefoot, weaponless and vulnerable. Looking up, in the distance before her stood Duncan, the Highlander wore an expression of great relief on his face. When he saw her, he fanned his Katana before resting the gleaming blade against his shoulder and reached out to her with his other hand. With a feeling of joyous urgency, Jordan ran towards her Mentor. The Younger Immortal’s steps slowed and she came to an abrupt stop as another figure materialized. Legolas stood beside Duncan, his crystal blue eyes burning into hers, a smile on his handsome face as he held his hand out to her.

*Jordan, come home…*


: : Come with me…: :

The Highlander and the Elf’s expressions became pleading as they reached for Jordan; their voices became indistinct as they repeated their whispered pleas over and over. The words became one and reverberated in Jordan’s head. The Immortal stumbled backwards with her hands clapped tightly over her ears, trying to block out their voices that shouted insistently from everywhere and nowhere.

With a jolt, Jordan sat up, wide-eyed; her chest heaved as she panted for breath. Moonlight streamed in thru the window, illuminating the room in its silvery glow. Her legs were tangled in the bed sheets, her hair and shift damp with perspiration. Shivering as the cool night air evaporated the perspiration on her body, Jordan turned her pillows over to the dry side before untangling her legs and climbing out. Padding slowly to the armoire, she brushed her hair out and splashed cold water on her face and changed into a fresh shift.

Rather than return to bed, Jordan sat on the carved bench on the balcony outside and faced her quarters. The Ithildin inlaid into the stone glowed brightly in the moonlight; the Immortal’s eyes followed the swirls and runes upward, where they climbed up the ornately carved sides like a living thing. Jordan stood; her bare feet hardly felt the cold stones as she walked. Reaching out to touch the walls, her hands traced the carvings.

Without thinking, Jordan began to scale the wall, her hands and toes unerringly finding purchase as she climbed. The woman’s thoughts briefly traveled back to her childhood, when she would climb the tall coconut and mango trees on her father’s plantation. She should have been in school studying.

Seated on the roof, the panoramic view of Rivendell at night was spread before her; the outlying lands beyond lay shrouded in shadow and mist, vaguely reminiscent of the vestiges of her dark dream. Unmindful of the cold, damp air, Jordan wrapped her arms around her knees and stared out across Rivendell until the sun’s first rays appeared above the horizon.