Beyond the Bounds of Time

Time passed.  Endless slow circles pricked with pinpoints of light.  The patterns were, at first, random, disjointed, unconnected, but eventually, like performers in a celestial dance, they came together and the darkness developed meaning.

She watched, indifferent, observing changes that might have taken minutes, centuries, aeons.  Stars blossomed, like poppies in a summer field, and faded.  She was unaware if there was ground beneath her feet – unaware if ground was needed – nor yet feet.  She drifted in the void with neither past nor future, in a blissful absence of sensation, a spirit freed from the cares of the world.  But it could not last for ever.

A light filled her eyes with an empty glow of red and it was – warm – yes, she remembered warm.  It felt like a caress, as soft as silk drawn across bare skin. And the silence, the vast silence of endless vacuum was filled with sound.  She could hear earth shifting as roots eased their way into the spaces in between the fragments of soil.  She could hear leaves unfurling and the sound of water seeping through rock.  She could sense these things and they were not her.  She was separate; something different.   She felt her heart beating in a steady slow rhythm that indicated moments in order; one, again, again. 

She inhaled.  Each breath was a heady richness filled with the essence of green and she felt movement where there had been stillness.  She rested against something unyielding and explored the sensation of touch.  Part of her moved and the surface beneath her gave up messages:  hard, cool, soil.  How did she know these things?  She brushed her hand against something soft and responded to its contact with her own body.  She was separate; something apart.  Her breathing quietened in her mind as she grew used to its sound and she could hear – another?  She frowned; confused.

‘Are you ready to return?’  The voice was soft, softer than her pulse in her sensitive ears, but she could detect amusement and welcome.

Her mouth opened and closed, like an infant seeking nourishment.

‘Drink,’ the voice continued.  ‘You will be thirsty.’ 

A hand slid behind her head and lifted it gently, pouring drops of liquid between her lips with the skill of an adept.

The sensation of taste exploded in her mouth.  Water, it was water – but it felt like liquid light on her tongue; light bathing forests of green and reflected in waterfalls of melted snow dropping from virgin peaks.  Light that cast away darkness and filled empty space.  She swallowed and the strength of the fluid traced a path inside her, anchoring her, giving her body reality.

‘You will discover more if you will only open your eyes.’

She shuddered.  She was already receiving more information than she could comprehend.  How could she deal with more?  Despite her reluctance, her eyelids trembled, opening just enough for the colours of her surroundings to stun her into closing them again.  What had become of the distant stars and the cool darkness?  How could it have been filled with such vibrant shades?

‘It would probably have been easier for you had you returned to yourself at night,’ the voice murmured.  ‘Daylight seems to provide too powerful a spectacle for many to endure at first.  Take your time,’ it encouraged. ‘There is no rush.  We will await you no matter how long you require.’

We.  She turned the idea over.  We: more than one.  She listened for the presence of others, resting at a greater distance, shifting slightly as they watched her and she felt their eyes on her.  Who would be interested enough in her to remain still and silent for as long as the shadows shifted around her?  Who would wait for her? 

She opened her eyes cautiously, peeking through her lashes at the sights before her.  She was sheltered beneath towering trees – she could see the dappled light as bright sunbeams sliced down to the grassy bed where she rested, her head on someone’s lap. She caught glimpses of a bright blue sky between the fresh green of spring beeches, leaves unfurled to welcome the warmth of the lengthening days.  The crisp russet fall of autumn still littered the turf, but the leaves were pierced by the sweet scented azure haze of bluebells, not yet come into their full glory, but enough to imbue the air with their promise of perfume.  A small pool filled a basin of rock, water bubbling over eagerly to seek the small stream that meandered off between the smooth grey trunks.

‘I know this place.’  Her tongue felt numb in her mouth, unused to the work of manipulating sounds and turning them into language.

‘It is the place you chose,’ the voice informed her lovingly.

She moved slowly, propping herself on her elbow and turning to see who it was who had been waiting so patiently for her to awake.  He sat, easing his leg from its long immobility, but focusing on her face.  He was dark, his hair loose on his shoulders, waving slightly as it sprung away from his brow and his eyes, silver-grey, gleamed with a soft light.  He was young, she thought, and yet at the same time he had the look of the Eldar; those who had seen long ages as the world shifted round them.  And yet – he was the same love whose absence she had mourned throughout long ages. 

‘You are free,’ he told her as she caught her breath incredulously.  ‘The tale of Arda is ended and the Firstborn are freed from their bonds to explore beyond its circles as Ilúvatar intended.’  He reached out with a yearning so controlled that his hand shook as he touched his fingers to her cheek.  ‘And we are together at last.’

The heat of his gaze warmed her, bringing tingling life to a body that felt untested and she leaned her head towards his hand and turned slightly to press her lips to his palm. Her voice came tremulously, like a single leaf shivering in a sudden storm, as a world of memories, of need, of long waiting opened in a mind made whole again, and she sighed one word as if it were an offering, ‘Imrazor.’