Today’s SoCS prompt is to use a word ending in sty. First I thought of the word, fantasy, but that doesn’t work. I had to look up words that end in sty. The first one I liked was, “misty.” That lead me to the Misty Mountains and this story….
What have I gotten myself into? Elya wondered if she should just go back the way she came. But she couldn’t take another day, another night, at the Prancing Pony. She was too old to be working in a pub. If only her husband Dane were still alive, she would never have had to take that job. Her horse seemed to keep plodding along as if knowing something better lay ahead.
Elya had heard stories about a beautiful place called Rivendell. It was east of Bree, somewhere near the misty mountains. It sounded magical, a place with elves. She knew she never really belonged in Bree. If they really knew her mind, they would think her a witch. But she was just different. Swallowing with nothing to swallow, she let her horse lead the way. She had come to trust her beast and companion over the years. Would there be monsters along the road? Would they be there by nightfall? She nudged her friend further.
As darkness fell, she fought back the panic and found a place off the main road, almost a hideaway, under a willow tree for them to stop for the night. She ate the last of her bread and found cool water from a stream, then hummed quietly to herself needing to sleep, but too afraid. Somehow she drifted off.
The sunlight woke her and she gave thanks that she had not perished at some strange sword. She had kept the knife close and was glad she didn’t need it. Onward they went, eastward until they found a path off the road late in the afternoon. She didn’t know why she took it, something told her it was the way. After a time, a view opened up. The misty mountains were to her right. The air smelled different. The path had seemed to disappear, but there was something, a beam of light, directing her left. Just north of the mountains, the path became more twisty with rises and falls. She could barely see a path.
Elya dismounted and walked leading her horse. The sun was behind her now. She stumbled, then stood and took a breath. Light shown through the trees ahead. A few more steps, then she saw it, bathed in golden light. Rivendell! It had to be! Below her was a stream, and across the stream, paths that led up the hills to the beautiful castle doorways set among the waterfalls.
Would they accept her? Would they understand how much she longed to belong in a place of beauty and peace? She patted her horse and headed down to cross the stream.
You’ve probably heard “Misty Mountains Cold” droned by the dwarves in The Hobbit. Here’s an instrumental version on an ocarina:
For more info on Stream of Consciousness Saturday, visit our host, Linda Hill at: