CHAPTER 02 | THE MOST BEAUTIFUL NIGHTMARE

It's the sun that awakens me. Golden streams of light turn my eyelids pink, and I throw my arm over my face to block it out. In the process, however, my elbow manages to knock something off a table. The shattering of glass yanks me out of my sleepy stupor.

Jerking upright, I quickly blink the sleep out of my eyes for the source of the mess. On the ground, I find shards of green glass scattered in a pool of viscous liquid. The strong smell of herbs reaches my nose, and I frown. It has to be wiped up before it makes the wooden floor sticky—

I freeze.

My floor isn't wooden, it's carpeted. I most certainly do not have bottles of mysterious herb juice laying around either. Blood drains from my face as I look around the rest of the room which is nowhere near the likes of my apartment.

A huge array of weird and random trinkets litter the vicinity. Just one lookover reveals an army of full glass vials, discarded smoking pipes, stone bowls packed with herbs, half-melted candles, and a concerning number of broken buckets. The furniture looks like some sort of tree branches or roots were woven together to become functioning tables and shelves. Ivy climbs the walls, speared occasionally by mushrooms growing out of the same wood. Pressing my hand against the wall, it has the texture as a stripped tree trunk. I run my palm against it to where one of the shelves are and find it feels the same. It was as if this room and its furniture was somehow carved out of a tree.

I breathe out a laugh through my nose. What an interesting place for my little brain to dream up; this should be an interesting lucid dream.

I pull myself out of the bed and pause once more. My pajamas have disappeared in place for a long, green dress. Weird. I find slippers at the foot of the bed and move around the mess to explore further. Torn books, muddled maps, potted plants. A square-shaped mirror halfway hidden behind a tapestry startles me to a stop. What looks like me gapes back, and I have to make gestures at my reflection to make sure it really is me. Or at least I think it is? I can definitely see my features in the mirror—dark brown eyes, Italian nose, mole beneath my bottom lip—but I look… off. I can't place my finger on it exactly, but there's something amiss.

Again, weird.

A beautiful fern catches my attention, and I bend down to get a good glimpse of the plant. The stalks are tall and thin, and its ovular leaves are a stunning shade of green. Love has been put into this plant for it to grow so well indoors. My gaze drifts to a different fern beside it, and my smile fades. Most of its leaves are dried and crumpled, wilting in on itself and a push away from collapsing.

Before I can reach out and touch it, a loud rumbling noise thunders in the distance. I hurry to a window and peer out.

"What the hell?"

Massive rabbits the size of sheep spring into the clearing, tossing their heads and showing off their gigantic antlers. The harnesses they wear are tethered to a sleigh reminiscent to the ones you see huskies pulling through snow except on a much grander level. Riding the rabbit sleigh, however, is an old man dressed in a bundle of mismatched coats and a big hat full of feathers. The rabbits skid to a stop in front of the house, and the rider gets off and begins walking around like this is a completely normal thing to do.

I tilt my head in confusion, and the ivy crown draped on my head nearly falls off. This scene has a sense of déjà vu afoot. A giant rabbit sleigh with an old man on top? Haven't I seen this before?

The old man spots me through the window and stares. I stare back. He says something to himself and grins then decides to come inside. Not knowing what else to do with myself, I take a seat at the table and wait for him to join me. Normally when I speak to somebody in my dreams, the weirdness level kicks up a notch. Things ought to get interesting with a character like the rabbit man.

He walks into the house with a small smile and greets, "Good morning! It's a relief to find you awake and well after your long slumber." He pulls a leather pouch out from one of his many coat pockets and lays it on the table. "I'd actually been out collecting more medicine for an awakening potion, but I'll save these for another day." He pauses in thought. "That is if another day such as this comes, but I doubt it. This-this happening is quite unlike the others I've faced. Do you have any memory of what has happened?"

I can't help but grin a little at the sound of his voice. It's grandfatherly and whimsical sounding, similar to what a narrator of a children's movie is like. He's familiar, for sure.

"I don't remember how I got here at all," I answer with an honest shrug. "Do you know what happened?"

His brow furrows as he finally sits down across from me to get settled in. I must be in for quite the story; I wonder what my mind's dreamworld has conjured up this time.

"No, no I don't," he says. "I'd been tracking the path of a hedgehog who'd I'd nurtured back to health when I came to a pond south of the old Forest Road. The air then turned icy cold, and whispers started to murmur in the gales. Right then, a glowing portal of some kind appeared out of the hollow of a tree trunk, and you fell out of it. I ran to your side, but you were unconscious with a terrible fever. I took you back here for care at once; you've been asleep for two days. I fear your illness might have temporarily bogged your memory. But don't be scared—it should come back with time."

It takes a lot of willpower not to giggle at the tale. This is what my brain came up with? Really? Falling out of a magic tree portal in front of an old man obsessed with small, woodland creatures? Hell, who needs drugs when I get this sort of entertainment from my own imagination.

I force myself to maintain a stoic mask and ask, "What did the whispering winds say?"

The rabbit man's face hardens. "I believe they spoke of… a prophecy."

Of course they did! I press my hand against my mouth to cover my smile and close my eyes to hide the amusement twinkling in them. This is too good to be true.

"Oh my," I say, thanking my high school drama club for teaching me how to get away with basic acting skills. "What did the prophecy say?"

"May the powers of the earth protect those bound to save it. Do those words mean anything to you?"

God, that prophecy couldn't have been any vaguer even if it tried. Note to self: stop reading Warriors fanfiction so late into the night.

"I've never heard that phrase before," I say, uncovering my face. By now, my giggles have worn off; I should be able to stay calm unless something extremely bizarre goes down.

The rabbit man hums in thought and looks out the window to where his giant rabbits are grazing on the grass. "I see… Had you stayed asleep any longer, I was going to take you to Rivendell to seek the help of Lord Elrond."

I blink once. Then twice. Thrice, actually. I squint a little and lean forward, wondering if I heard him right as I ask, "Wait, did you say Rivendell and Lord Elrond?"

"Yes, I did. Do those names sound familiar to you?" His eyes scan me head-to-toe. "You do look a bit elvish in appearance, but you seem to be from the race of man. While rare, it's not unheard of to hear of men acquainting with elves. Perhaps you have ties to them?"

My head spins a little. Rivendell. Lord Elrond. This is Middle-earth? Okay, okay. At least I know a handful of information about the land my dream cast myself into. This makes things a lot more interesting for sure.

Suddenly, the rabbit man makes a lot more sense to me.

"Maybe?" I say, unsure. "What's your name, by the way? And, um, where are we exactly? I forgot to ask."

He chuckles, and his cheeks tint pink. "Sorry, I'd forgotten my manners. I'm called Radagast, Radagast the Brown. We're at my home in Rhosgobel on the western edges of Mirkwood."

Radagast the Brown, Radagast the Brown. He certainly does look like how I'd pictured the wizard after his introduction in The Hobbit movies. Nature-bound in both spirit and appearance; up close, I can find traces of animal- and plant-inspired pieces attached to him.

"What's your name, if you can remember?" he asks.

"I go by Sage."

"Sage," he repeats, testing my name with a half-smile. I personally don't think my name is special at all, but I guess it might interest someone who found me by watching me flop out of a tree similar to an ungraceful nut. "Well, Sage, you must be hungry after all your sleeping. Let me get you some lunch."

The day passes quickly for before Radagast knows it, the freshly risen sun has sunken in the horizon and lost its place to a black blanket strewn with glittery stars. He peers at the glowing moon as he walks the perimeter of his yard and loses himself in thought. After such an eventful day, he believes he deserves it so.

After several long hours of conversation, Radagast learned much about the young woman he'd found from the tree. Sage is younger than what he'd assumed, having lived but a short 19 years compared to his… well, he lost track a long time ago. Her memory is speckled, missing gaps of important information vital to understanding where she's come from. He hasn't a clue where her home might be, either. Her speaking pattern is strange, and her reactions to what he's said are even stranger. She'll be surprised for a moment, but then recognition will flash in her gaze for but a second until she falls quiet and dances around his questions of her understanding what he says. He suspects she remembers more than what she lets on, but he won't press until she confesses herself. The most he's accomplished is agreeing to get her to visit the tree by the pond in the following morning.

The flutter of wings sends his gaze skyward, and the messenger hawk he'd sent out days ago comes to rest on his outstretched arm. He unties the letter bound to the bird's leg, and the hawk soars out into the night. Adjusting the envelope so its seal catches the moonlight, he finds the wax impressed with the stamp of a wizard.

"Old friend, it's unlike you to write back so quickly," Radagast muses to himself, his grin thin and disturbed. "What news have you brought me?"

He reads the letter, and the wizard's uneasy smile vanishes. Gandalf's written words haunt his conscience. He'd been the one to send the message Saruman wanted to meet him only for the White Wizard to attempt his murder.

The night's clouds drift through the sky and obscure the moon. Radagast loses the ability to read, unable to make out the letter in the dark. He gazes at the sky and swallows the bile in his throat. Was this too a sign that Middle-earth will be attacked by forces of the dark? Radagast fears the answer.

I feel as if I've talked more in a single day than all the other days I've walked combined. Maybe it's the introvert in me, but being sat down and interrogated by what's supposed to be a fictional character about the whereabouts of my origins is not what I'd call fun. The whole day was spent going back-and-forth with Radagast trying to coax my 'forgotten' memory out of me while I asked him innocent enough questions to figure out which time period I'm in during my Middle-earth stay. From what I've gathered, I'm years past the plot of The Hobbit, but I'm unsure if I'm anywhere near the time of Lord of the Rings. Hopefully, it's close; I'd love to see it.

The next morning, I follow Ragadast out to his rabbit sleigh with a bundle of carrots in my arms. All the beasts turn their heads toward me at once, and their noses twitch in apprehension. A shiver runs down my spine as I eye their insanely large teeth. There's a reason rabbits aren't supposed to be the size of sheep.

"They're friendly," Radagast reassures, chuckling at my expression, "but do keep your fingers tucked in."

"Friendly, huh?" I mutter under my breath. I shouldn't be complaining, though; I was the one with the bright idea to ask the wizard to feed them.

Not wanting to take a chance of having my fingers gnawed off, I toss the rabbits their carrots and back off as they demolish them. Dream or no dream, absolute carnage isn't on my to-do list. I narrow my eyes some as I take in the scene around me. This dream has been awfully long and ridiculously vivid. If I wasn't so curious of what's to happen next, I would've pinched myself hours ago to wake up and get on with my life.

The rabbit nearest to me finishes its carrot first, and it hops near me. I stand still with wide eyes as it sniffs my flat, open palms. Its hot breath makes my clammy hands all the more sweaty, and its whiskers scratch my exposed forearms. The whole sensation feels awfully real.

Radagast looks away from where he's preparing the sleigh and over to me. His eyes bulge. "Sage, you shouldn't—"

The rabbit bites me. Radagast's warning disappears beneath the volume of my surprised shriek. I fly back and gape at my injury, horrified by how the pierced skin oozes blood and trickles down my hand. No, it's not the pain that frightens me, nor is it the sight of my own blood. What terrifies me to the core is how I can feel pain in my dream. My lucid dream which, now that I think about it, I have little control of outside of my own actions.

Radagast comes to my side and grasps my hand in his, analyzing the bite wound. His hand is calloused and wrinkly, made gritty to the touch since dirt coats his fingers. This level of detail feels too realistic, as well.

My head grows light, and I croak, "I need to sit down."

"Alright, alright," Radagast says, his words quick and worried as he helps lower me onto the grass. "Keep still, I need to get you bandages."

I glare at my bitten hand as he disappears. This can't be real. I have to be imagining the powerful ache the bite is giving me, I have to be. This is a dream. A terrifyingly realistic dream. I mean, Radagast says I came here by tumbling out of a tree for God's sake! If I were to be warped to Middle-earth, surely I would've had a more epic entrance.

Radagast comes back with a dark glass bottle and a roll of bandages. "This will sting, but it'll keep your wound clean," he warns as he prepares the disinfectant.

"Nice rhyme," I say, unable to help myself.

He exhales a laugh from his nose. "It's a good trait to have humor in a situation like this."

"How else am I supposed to cope with— ow!"

I hiss as a sharp stinging sensation burns my hand raw. Radagast mutters an apology and sets the bottle of disinfectant down to wrap my hand. Once he finishes, he tucks the supplies into his coat and I wonder how much random crap he has stored up in there.

"I'll inspect it again tonight for infection, but you should be fine," he says. He sticks out his hand and helps me to my feet. "Are you ready to go to the tree?"

I look at my treated wound, and a stone sinks into the pit of my stomach. If this is real… no, that's stupid. This isn't real, but I still want to see this magic tree or whatever that got me here. "Ready when you are."

We climb onto the rabbit sleigh, and Radagast warns, "Hold tight."

If only I haven't recently sustained a hand injury. I keep my snark to myself and hold onto the railing with my good hand in a death grip. As soon as I latch on, Radagast cracks the reins with a shout reminiscent of Aang's 'yip-yip!' and all hell breaks loose. The rabbits leap forward at once and speed into the forest with zero fear whatsoever. The world blasts by us at a breakneck pace as the sleigh skids across the ground and nearly crashes into trees and shrubs alike.

Needless to say, I scream.

"Shouldn't do that!" Radagast shouts over the roar of the whirling world around us. "You'll attract unwanted company!"

I clamp my mouth shut and resist the urge to cry. Why couldn't he have said that earlier?

A lifetime later, the chomp-happy rabbits slow to a stop and Radagast calls my name to open my eyes. Doing so, a gasp leaves my throat. Calling the clearing a simple pond is a disgrace. Out here in the middle of the woods, it's a piece of fairytale landscape come to life. A fantastical meadow enclosed by natural walls of solid oak trees lies before us. Sunshine scatters through the green canopies and casts dapples of light onto the forest floor. Wildflowers and ferns speckle the ground, all surrounding a crystal clear pool whose bottom I can see without a problem.

Radagast says, "That oak tree across the pool is the one you came from."

I hop off the sleigh and walk slowly towards the oak, knowing exactly which one it is without having to see where he points. It's a beautiful tree easily several centuries old, yet it is perfectly healthy. The bark is a deep brown, and its large, green leaves rustle in the wind. Moss grows on the thick branches reaching for the sky, some patches hanging down like draping curtains. The beauty of the oak might be one of a kind, but it fails to show any signs of magic possibly hinting it holds the door to another world.

I reach out and trace my fingers on the trunk. A unique cooling feeling spreads across the tips of my fingers where I touch it. Curious, I press my good hand flat against the bark. The cooling feels seeps into my palm, and when I pull back, I can't see anything there. I press my palm flat against the tree again and close my eyes, concentrating on the coolness sinking into my skin.

"Hello, child."

I flinch, startled by the voice's sudden appearance. The voice is deep, sure, but it sounds distinctly feminine and un-Radagast-like. I glance over my shoulder at the wizard to see if he's reacted any, but he's busy tending to his rabbits.

"H-hello?" I stammer, wondering if my sanity has finally collapsed in on itself.

"There's no need to fear, child," the woman says, her tone smooth and rich and all-around pleasant to listen to. "Is this your first time listening to a voice of nature?"

Okay, I've officially lost it. A tree is talking to me, and I'm actually responding as I whisper, "Yeah? Are you, are you the tree?"

"Yes, I am." I can tell she's withholding a laugh. "You're quite strange, child, even for a dryad."

I echo, dumbfounded, "A dryad?"

"Oh? Have you injured your head as well as your hand? I sense no disturbance, but I shouldn't assume such things."

It sounds like an insult, but the worry in the tree-lady's voice is genuine. "No, my head's fine. What do you mean that I'm a dryad? Last time I checked, I'm a human."

"A human, hm? I believe you mean men. Dryads may appear similar to men, yes, but they're distinct in their presence. Humans aren't bound to nature, not like your kind. Even elves are closer to us than men. Were men able to communicate with the spirits of nature such as dryads, Middle-earth would be much more different."

I fall silent as I stare hard at the oak tree. A dryad? Aren't those tree nymphs? I've seen the term around the Internet a time or two when Googling mythology for school assignments, but I'm certain they don't exist in Middle-earth.

"I thought dryads didn't exist." Not on Earth nor Middle-earth.

"Oh, but they do. Dryads are a rare and forgotten species, undocumented by most since their population is small. But like the ents, dryads are children of Yavanna. While ents were borne to be shepherds of the forests, dryads were to be their healers to tend to them in times of strife and darkness."

So I'm an off-brand ent? Awesome. "Where are the other dryads then?"

"I do not know. Dryads may exist, but that is mostly through legend; only those who've lived long know they have once walked the lands of Middle-earth. Many of my kind suspect the dryads disappeared into the Old Forest where they grew so still for the peace was so great there they turned into nature itself. You're the first dryad to be found in, why, I don't even know how long."

So many questions pop into my mind. Why the Old Forest? Do dryads really turn into plants? If so, what type of plants? Trees? Do they get to choose what tree they turn into? Also, what does the tree-lady mean by 'her kind'? Can all plants talk? If I concentrate hard enough, can I have a spiritual awakening with the grass I'm standing on? Does the grass have feelings?

I want to ask all of these and more, but the tree gives a great yawn and turns me quiet. "Forgive me, child. I haven't been awakened for quite some time now, and my stamina for speaking has drained largely because of it."

"Can other trees answer my questions?" I press.

"Some may, some may not. Younger trees will not have the answers of the elderly, and those who have lived as long as I exhaust quickly when woken."

I frown. "How long do you need to sleep for before you're ready to talk again?"

"Ah, one, maybe two or three."

"Two or three what?"

"Years, my child."

"Years?" I cry out in surprise, my volume raising on accident. Radagast's confused stare burns into my back, though I ignore him to say, "Oh my God, okay. Before you go back to sleep for years, I need to know something: how did I get here? And"—I gulp—"is this a dream?"

The tree's speaking pace slows as she drifts into sleep and murmurs, "I do not have the answer to that, my child. Whichever forces brought you here... have a mighty power…. This is not… a dream… You're here… to…" A deafening silence rings in my ears, and the statement for my purpose is lost to the wind.

I stumble backward, not realizing I had stepped so close to the tree and set both my hands upon it. The stinging sensation from the bite has stopped. Confused, I unwrap the bandage just to find my hand back in its natural state as if it were never bitten at all. I get swept in a daze as I walk back to Radagast and show him my hand.

"I spoke to the tree," I say, feeling as if my mind has disconnected from my body and my voice was far, far away. "The oak's spirit told me I'm a dryad. She also told me I was sent here for a reason, but she didn't say what. She fell asleep before she could get it out." I press my hand against my forehead. "Hey, does it feel hot in here to you? I think the trees are blocking the wind."

Radagast's hand replaces mine, and he says, "Your fever's returned. We must go back and get your medicine."

I wobble a little as the wizard guides me to his rabbit sleigh, and my words slur as I say, "And then what?"

Far, far away, he answers, "We prepare to go to Rivendell."

Rivendell. Lord Elrond. Radagast. Middle-earth. Elves. Ents. Dryads.

I see the brilliant greenery of the gorgeous meadow, and then I see darkness.

Author's Note

Hi, everyone! I hope you've enjoyed the chapter because I had a lot of fun writing it. I forgot to mention it in the first chapter's A/N, but TDTD combines canon material from both the books and movies, but the plot mostly follows the movies.

Reviews, follows, and favorites are much appreciated~