The Painting

For Neniel;

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The shock the elf gave me caused me to suffer of high fever for a week. I know not what did I say in my delirium but it was sufficient to give those around me in my campus alarm.

My poor laptop was immediately given the full blast treatment, the Surah Yassin was read thrice, and the offending picture was deleted. Tumeric powder mixed with 'enchanted' rice grains were sprinkled on Chrysta, and she smelt of some flower-smelling concoction, also sprinkled for protection for weeks afterward.

The forest surrounding the campus was immediately ordered to be thinned down several metres around to give more buffer zone.

Life went back to almost normal porpotion after that, but my more religious friends took greater care with me, and they gave me various advice on Quranic verses for the warding off evil spirits, syaitans and djinns.

It was getting a bit too embarassing when not only my lecturers, but even the Dean knew of it and called me to her office.

Well, even the Spirit World caught up with Information Technology apparently.

I got my laptop back, and I replaced it with a picture of Anka Eissman's Aredhel. I figured, hey, she's known to be dead even in Tolkien's world, Dark Elf for husband and Maglin for son or no. She couldn't do any harm, isn't she?

Or so I thought.

It was raining.The bed was so inviting I had apparently forgotten to recite the Quranic verses of warding, and I slept like nobody's business. I dreamed. It was raining where I was as well, and it was dark, very dark. There were trees of silver bark, and leaves of deepest green, I think. I heard the howls of a wolf, accompanied by the hootings of an owl, and I felt afraid. I don't know why my feet were rooted on the spot, for I was alone, and I did hear about some surviving tip is to stay put when lost. Then the there were thumping sounds associated with horses hooves, of which placed the cowboys inside my mind, but in mind screamed the one thought that I has; "No, NOT AGAIN!!!"

A black horse. An elf lady. Midnight tresses hooded in silver, as was the rest of her cloak. Aredhel. If it had been another time I would've admired those assuredly handmade garments and of course her gorgeous dress hemmed with flowery motifs. She wore handsome knee-length brown boots, probably soft leather favoured by all elves. Come to think of it, in my fear how I could've observed that is beyond me.

She didn't stop. She merely leaned down on her left and without a word grabbed my almost healed arm and placed me in front of her. I squawked a protest, but she silenced me.

"Shh, he will know," I sat up stunned in my seat, her left hand keeping me steady while her right hand held the reins.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to get away from the dream. But, in my cowardice I could do nothing but stay put and let myself be led like a cow through it all. Oh, to wake up and change the laptop wallpaper into something that would NEVER drag me into one nightmarish dream that ends up being surreal. I feverishly came up with a solution. A picture of a white fluffy kitten. I swore it a few times. It must seem mad to my captor, or capturess when I was muttering "white fluffy kitten" to myself, but squeezing my eyes shut willing myself to wake up, I simply didn't care.

How long was the ride, I know not. Something smells funny, though, but it does seem like the horse. Either that or I have peed myself during the ordeal.

"We stop here," I peeked from my hands which I had unconsciously buried my face in. The air smells musty, and it was kinda cold. Aredhel helped me down the horse, of which I executed somewhat gracefully, if you can call near falling on my ass that, and she went about starting a fire. I stood terrified.

"You're Aredhel," I said monotonously. She smiled at me and gestured to a log near the fire pit. I took that as an invitation, but it did not relax me one bit. My encounter with the read-head elleth still burned freshly in my mind, and I wasn't about to let myself be hurt this time. I looked at her. She looked expectantly at me. I looked back at the log, and the warm fire. Then I looked back at her. She gave an encouraging smile. I stared. It went on for a while, and finally she sighed.

"I will not harm you, child," she urged me gently, patting the log.

"That's what I thought the other one would too," my voice sounded small, and I hated myself for it. Her eyes took a subdued cast.

"It was not what she was supposed to do," she said grimly, "and for her part, I ask for your forgiveness." I held her gaze for for a while, trying to find in its depths any trace of malice, and found none. I warily waddled (hell, sitting on a saddle is painful, even in a dream) my way to her side, keeping a few inches of buffer zone.

"My name's Azira btw," I said belatedly remembering my manners. She nodded silently. "Uh, so..." I didn't know how to start. I have so many questions in my mind. "Since when do elves know IT and the Internet?"

She looked at me stumped. I felt like a fool. For all I know, she might still be in her age of her time and I'm somebody they summon or literally dropped off by the will of the Valar with a purpose 'unknown in the wisdom of Ea' written in one of those "How to NOT write a Mary Sue" essays by purists. Then she laughed, her laughter trinkling in the chilly air, reminding me of those Christmas jingles. Only prettier.

"Isn't a picture still a picture and is worth a thousand words?" she asked me smiling broadly. Now I truly felt like a fool.

"uhm, yea but uh, why my wallpaper and my laptop?"

"Because you're one of those who listens," she replied gravely. "Not many believe in the old ways anymore."

"Oh, before I forget, aren't you supposed to, ah, um, be, you know..." how do you not offend anyone by asking them aren't they supposed to be dead?

"Oh, that was a long time ago even in elven life, Mandos has released me since," she spoke as if it was a natural thing to ask. Oh, ok.

"Btw, listen? I've stopped seeing filmy mists in the shadows, a long time ago, and am VERY happy for it. No large-eyed toyols, no furry HUGE djinns, no red-eyed monsters. I don't hear no weird cackling, laughter, whispers, chains clinking, et cetera no more, and I don't intend to. The red-head did tell me something about going across the sea, but I can't. I simply can't. I know you probably need help or something but I'm sorry, ok? I'm not brave. I'm not even that smart. I'm just...me, and I can't help you." I'm babbling, and I knew it.

"Those who still see are old and frail, and terribly old-fashioned. They cannot do what the Straight Way will ask of them." Old-fahioned? That, coming from millions-old elf? Good grief!

"Saes, please listen to our need."

"You're supposed to be in Aman, happily living peaceful lives, what happened? Hell, assuming old Tolky was right in stating that LOTR was the history long forgotten of the world, why now? What happened?" Aredhel stared into the heart of the fire with eyes of memories past by, and she answered me in an enthralling story-voice.

"Long ago, as you well know, the world was filled with magic and enchantment. The Valars walked with the first and secondborn, there were wars between both gods and their charges, and their messangers, the Istar gave guidance to the races or in your current age, species.

Then, the elves, as you have read took the ship to Valinor, the Straight way of which there is no return. Then Men were left to rule with the wisdom of Aragorn Telecontar, and all was well. At least, when we left them.

However, some remnants of magic still remained. Some, as you well know, landed in your land, though you seem to be of the peoples not known back then. The Harads ended un in Middle east, the men of the West all over the world, the race of dwarf and hobbits dissapeared, and the world was astray again for the race of men forgot that they were once one, and fought with each other always.

You see, some elves stayed behind for the love of their home, and their feas turned to spirits known as guardians and beloved by men, while the Atari, the dark elves turned to darkness. The elven guardians bequethed some magic into some few men and their families the ability to see and hear, like you once did, so that should anything happen, we could come to your aid, and likewise. Some time among your forefathers, they were counted as elf-friend, and we are in need of your aid."

It was hard to imagine, being in this position. A 19-year-old law student, being asked by a magical being to aid her in a quest to save the paintings, or something like that. Bloody brilliant.

"What do you want?" I said finally.

"We seek peace. We seek release from painful memories, whatever essence is it left in this world."

"You ask for something happy to remember you by," something clicked in my mind. "You're not exactly the real Aredhel, aren't you? You're just a memory in this painting. She smiled faintly.

"We are not truly gone, our sorrows and joy, our greatest accomplishments and follies, all still here. It is usually in the minds of those who believe in us, but it serves our purposes to meet within this painting."

"You want a happy ending." Uncannily, I suppose she did look kinda like Avril Lavinge.

"No, a happy remembrance."

"Then what is that nonsense the red-head was talking about the sea then?"

"Because you will have to take the Straight road to make it," then she seemed startled, as if she was wincing from some onslaught of the mind. She hastily stood up and gripped my shoulders gently, "He is coming, you must leave. Remember, if you have any questions, choose your pictures wisely. You may also come back to this picture by leaving it as your wallpaper with your laptop on, if you have any more questions to ask."

"I will," I replied rather dazzedly.

"Good." She pulled me upright and sang an elvish song, while pressing something in my hand.

"Hey, is he, Eol?"

I woke up sweating and I glanced to my wristwatch, 4.a.m. on the dot. I remembered that Aredhel pushed something in my palm, and I slowly uncurled my hand.

It was a lovely yellow tulip, impossible to grow in the tropical climate of Malaysia.

A gift to convince me I wasn't crazy.

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A/N = Ok, a little background check. We are basically Southeast Asian Malays, and we are more or less devout Muslims. We believe truly that the supernatural exists. Even the Christians have enough sense to acknowledge it after seeing it with their own eyes for a while, and the Indians, well, they probably are experts of these things. Technically, we have our own network, usually consisting of Ustazs (those learned in religious affairs), and sometimes bomohs (witch-men/shaman/whatever you call them) to deal with supernatural encounters.

Some say when the Kuala Lumpur City Center, formerly the highest building in the world was built, the 44th floor was inexplainably haunted. All the appliances seemed to have 'assembled' themselves when the workers left the equipment to be dealt with the next day overnight. Then the office pens, pencils, and paper flew about. Lights turned on and off on its own will. Several persons were known to have stayed in the lift for hours without realizing it, and some has heard laughter, the kind that makes your hair stand on its ends without any known source. It took the Ustaz Harun Din, one of the greatest Ustazs in the country himself to persuade them to leave the building and live in the forest allocated for them, and some to the sea.

Either way, this story is extremely fused with what you might call eccentricities of the Malay culture and Islamic religion unique to Southeast Asia. I hope you liked it!