Deliver Us From Evil

I had spent four and a half weeks in Rivendell before my secret was revealed.

Lord Elrond had requested I meet him in his office one late morning. I had several working theories as to why; the main one being that word had been received from this friend of his. I knew someone else was in his office as soon as the door cracked open and before my gaze could find its way inside. The scent was different than that of the elves, telling that he - as the smell was distinctly male - was not of their species. He smelled almost human, but their was a slightly dissimilar tinge to it. There was also a faint trace of smoke from some unknown weed.

When the door was opened all the way, my assumptions had been proven to be correct. He was an older fellow; his hair was long, gray, and slightly wavy, but his beard surpassed its length. He wore dark gray robes and carried a tall wooden staff in hand. He gave me a kind but curious look with his blue eyes.

“Lady Daisy, this is Gandalf the Gray,” Lord Elrond introduced.

I gave a polite nod. “Please, Daisy is just fine.” I couldn’t figure out if people assumed I was being humble or not, but I was simply correcting them on the fact I did not have the title of “lady.”

“Miss Daisy,” he spoke with the same natural gruffness that all old men speak with, “Lord Elrond has told me your story and I must say that it is an interesting one.”

I stopped myself from insisting that it was true. That’s what liars did, right?

He continued on, “You said a witch did this to you? I myself am a wizard, someone who practices magick. Perhaps I can offer some insight.”

So I repeated the tale but added more detail and excluded the skinwalker parts.

“And you do not know why the witch chose you for her sacrifice?”

“No idea,” I lied.

He studied me for a moment before speaking. “Darkness begins to once again stir in Middle-Earth. It may be possible that the Valar sent you here for a reason, to aid the Free Peoples in the coming battle.” He closely at me. “Are you quite sure that you do not know as to why the witch chose you?”

“Definitely,” I lied, my index finger skimming over my philtrum on reflex.

He wrapped two hands near the top of his staff and leaned on it. “Miss Daisy, it is important that you do not lie.”

“I’m not lying!” I flinched at my own pitch. I was a terrible liar.

“If you wish us to help you, you need to be honest with us,” Lord Elrond told me, his face stoic once again.

I rung my hands nervously. “I - I’m not human.”

“Human?” Gandalf inquired.

“It is the word she uses for the Race of Men,” Lord Elrond supplied.

“Where I’m from,” I continued, “I’m a monster. My kind are known as skinwalkers.”

“Skinwalker,” Gandalf repeated as if trying out the word. “And what gave you the title of monster?”

“On Earth,” I explained, “most people don’t know magick exists, nor creatures other than humans and animals. And if they did, we would have to still live in secret. Hunters are always a threat to us.”

“Hunters? Your kind are being hunted down?” Lord Elrond’s brow creased and he seemed genuinely concerned. It relieved me to know that he found genocide, even if it was against monsters, to be terrible.

“Hunters aren’t necessarily evil, they just see the world in black and white. To them, everything is evil or it isn’t. I’ve never harmed anyone, but I’m still a potential threat to innocent people.”

“What quality does you and your kin have that make you different from the Race of Men?” Lord Elrond asked.

“Well,” I began, trying to think of a to explain it without causing danger to myself, “we were once human. We have an infectious bite, meaning that if I were to bite another human - something tells me it won’t work on elves - then they become one of us. Also, some of us have a… taste for hearts, but not all.”

They seemed rather surprised at this. “You continue your species by biting someone else?” Gandalf asked.

I nodded. “It happened it me and the skinwalker that bit him. When I was first bitten, I thought it was just some stray dog and I wasn’t too worried about it. But then I noticed my senses became sharper and it terrified me. And when I went through my first transformation, it was horrifying.”

“Transformation?”

I took a deep breath and I changed before them. Practice allowed me to simultaneously slip out of my dress and not become tangled in it. Rather than a 5’2 twenty-six year old woman, a red husky with a white face, chest, and underbelly stood before them. My blue eyes had become a lot more paler and my tail curled naturally like any other husky.
Lord Elrond then showed the most expression I had ever seen from him. His gray eyes were wide and his eyebrows were quite high. Gandalf, in contrast, seemed mostly amused. “My! Sent from the Valar indeed!” he exclaimed.

***

I rushed down a corridor on my way back to my room. Lord Elrond and Gandalf had told me that they needed to discuss some things - my things probably - and would speak to me later. But they seemed to agree on inviting me to a “Secret Council” that was to be taken place this afternoon. I was not to speak of it to anyone, not even Baineth. They then turned their backs to allow me to change back into my dress, the same blue and gold one I had first met Lord Elrond in. I had taken my leave in human form.

I was so wrapped in my thoughts that I failed to notice a second person in the corridor, until I ran into him, that is. I was able to identify him as male before I even got a look at him for two reasons: (a) the form of his body when we collided, and (b) the strong masculine scent that he had. Unfortunately, these observations did not stop me from tumbling backwards. What did stop my fall were two large hands gripping my upper arms and holding me until I regained my balance.

“Are you alright, my lady?” he asked me. I looked him in the face for the first time. He looked to be in his late 30s. He had dirty blond hair that just touched the tops of his shoulders and a short beard. He seemed to be about nine inches taller than myself. Gray eyes searched mine to check my well being.

“Yes, I’m just fine. Sorry for running into you, my lord. I wasn’t paying attention.” Even though my knowledge on medieval times had a long way to go, I could tell from his outfit that he was most likely wealthy, maybe even a nobleman.

His eyes widened a fraction of a bit. “You are not an elf!” After it was out of his mouth, he seemed to regret it in fear of being rude. I wasn’t as shocked to see a non-elf in Rivendell as word of guests had reached Baineth, and in turn, me.

I waved it off as I saw no need to be offended. “No, I’m not. And neither are you,” I pointed out.

“I did not expect a citizen of Rivendell to be a woman. Please forgive me, I did not mean to be rude. But, my lady, it is not hard to mistake you for an elleth, as you are fair as one. Might I know your name, my lady?” His every word flirted and it caused me to smile. I could only imagine that most women here were not the initiators in romantic relationships and they were kept innocent enough for a simple sugary line to make them bashful. Women of the 21st century were indeed different.

“Daisy,” I told him. “And you, good sir?” I teased him. My playful tone brought out a smile.

“Lord Boromir, son of Denethor II. I am also the Captain-General of Gondor,” he informed me.

I flicked up an eyebrow. “Is that so?” It was quite obvious he was trying to impress me with his fancy titles. Even though we had just met, I found flirting with him fun. And that’s all this was: fun. While he was generally attractive, I did not intend to pursue any sort of relationship with him or anyone else in Middle-Earth. My main focus was surviving in a foreign world.

“Yes, it is.” His smile grew wider and I could tell me was enjoying himself as well. But in order for this game to stay interesting, it had to be challenging.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Lord Boromir, son of Denethor II, Captain-General of Gondor, but I need to be going.”

His smile dropped a bit. “So soon, Lady Daisy?”

“I have other matters to attend to,” I lied, feigning disinterest. I turned away and took a few steps until he spoke again.

“Perhaps we’ll see each other again?”

“Perhaps,” I repeated, barely sparing him a glance.

***

The “Secret Council” that I had been invited to was made up of many unique faces. I was thankful for the research of Middle-Earth I had conducted. This way I was able to recognize the fair elves of Mirkwood and the stout dwarves. There was even a person I first thought to be a child with an adult-like face until I recalled a passage of hobbits and realized he fit the criteria. Gandalf sat next to him and Lord Boromir sat across the circle from us, as I had a seat near them. I did not fail to notice that I was the only female attending. Lord Boromir’s questioning glances that he sent me weren’t hard to miss either.

“Strangers from distant lands,” Lord Elrond opened up, “friends of old, you’ve been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor.” His gaze scanned all of us. “Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction; none can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom.” His intense eyes landed on the hobbit. “Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.” He gestured to the stone pedestal in the center.

The hobbit, Frodo, stood and slowly made his way to the middle. He placed a golden band onto the stone and retreated to his seat.

“So it is true,” Lord Boromir whispered to himself, his hand touching his mouth.

Once again I was thankful for the history lessons of Middle-Earth I had forced myself to take. I had read enough legends to recognize the One Ring that had been deemed pure evil. Judging from the nervous glances passed about, I wasn’t the only one.

Aside from the tales, there was something off about it. Animals tended to be more sensitive to things than humans. This was a trait I had inherited. The feeling the Ring gave wafted was strong enough for a human to detect. The effect it had on me was terrible. My hair stood on end and my instincts were alive with natural fear.

I might have dashed from the scene if Boromir hadn’t stood up in that moment to make a speech. “A dream: I saw the eastern sky go dark,” he said, his eyes moving away from the Ring. “And in the west a pale lighting, voices crying. Doom is near at hand.” He took slow steps toward the source of evil. “Isildur’s Bane is found.” His hand began to reach for it, making my teeth clench. “Isildur’s Bane,” he faintly whispered.

Lord Elrond shot to his feet. “Boromir!”

Gandalf interrupted him, speaking in a foreign language that was dark and gruff. Boromir instantly pulled back and everyone seemed to panic in their seats. The sky grew dark and the ground shook lightly. The elves appeared to be in pain, and I with them. When he finally stopped, the scene returned to normal right away. Boromir and Gandalf took their seats again.

“Never before has any voice uttered words of that tongue here in Imladris,” Lord Elrond spoke in a clipped tone.

“I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond,” Gandalf told him, “for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the west. The Ring is altogether evil!”

“No, it is a gift,” Boromir insisted with a shake of his head. “A gift to the foes of Mordor.” He stood once again. “Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people have your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, let us use it against him.” Even though I disagreed with every word from his mouth, I had to admit he spoke with a fiery passion.

“You cannot wield it,” a voice spoke up. My eyes landed on a man with dark hair and pale blue eyes. “None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.”

“And what would a ranger know of this matter?” Boromir asked.

“This is no mere ranger,” a blond elf said, standing up. “He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.”

Boromir turned to Aragorn in surprise. “Aragorn? This is Isildur’s heir?”

“And heir to the throne of Gondor,” the elf added.

Aragorn held up his hand and said something to the elf in one of the elven tongues.

Boromir turned to the elf and said with contempt, “Gondor has no king.” His gazed moved back to Aragorn. “Gondor needs no king.” He sat down again.

“Aragorn is right,” Gandalf said. “We cannot use it.”

“You have only one choice,” Lord Elrond said, “the Ring must be destroyed.”

“What are we waiting for?” a redheaded dwarf asked. He stood, axe in hand, and swung it at the Ring with a battle cry. The axe instantly broke and the dwarf fell to the floor, making a few of his kin stand up in concern. The Ring was unharmed.

“The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess,” Lord Elrond informed him. “The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep within Mordor and cast back in the fiery chasm of whence it came. One of you must do this.”

There was a moment of silence before it was broken by Boromir. “One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breath is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this.” He shook his head at the idea of it. “It is folly.”

“Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has just said?” the same elf questioned him. “The Ring must be destroyed!”

“And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?!” Gimli half shouted at him.

“If we fail, what then?!” Boromir was back on his feet. “What happens when Sauron takes back what was once his?!”

“I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf!” Gimli declared. These words triggered an argument as everyone stood and shouted. Frodo, Lord Elrond, Aragorn, and I were the only ones remained seated. I noticed the look the hobbit gave the Ring; it was not desire, but fear.

He suddenly stood and said loudly, “I will take it!” but his words were drowned out by the argument. “I will take it!” he shouted again and everyone’s voices died out. “I will take the Ring to Mordor.” Everyone stood, shocked by his words. “Though… I do not know the way.”

“I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins,” Gandalf promised, placing a hand on his shoulder, “as long as it is yours to bear.”

Aragorn stood and said, “If by my life or death I can protect you I will.” He approached him and kneeled in front of him and vowed, “You have my sword.”

“And you have my bow,” the elf included.

“And my axe,” Gimli added, despite the end his axe had already met.

I thought about how I had come into Middle-Earth by accident, a fluke, a mistake made by a power hungry witch. But Gandalf believed it to be fate. I didn’t know if this was true, but Middle-Earth was my new home by default now, and I could not see it burn. “I offer you my blood if you will have it,” I said to him.

“You carry the fates of us all, little one,” Boromir told him. “If this is indeed the will of this council, then Gondor will see it done.”

“Hey!” a voice suddenly called out. Another hobbit ran out from behind a bush and came to Frodo’s side. “Mister Frodo is not going anywhere without me,” he insisted with his arms crossed.

“No, indeed is impossible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a Secret Council and you are not,” Lord Elrond said with amusement.

“Oi! We’re coming too!” Two more hobbits dashed onto the scene and I had to stop myself from laughing. “You’d have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!”

“Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest… thing,” the other said with a thicker accent.

“Well, that rules you out, Pip.”

Lord Elrond gazed at us all. “Ten companions, so be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring.”

“Great!” Pip said. “Where are we going?”