Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ella opened her eyes to stare up at the tree canopy above. It was a deep, dark green, full and lush and let only dappling sunlight through: it was very different to the sparse, autumnal trees that had been there when she last looked.

What, the fuck . Her heartbeat pounded painfully behind her eyes, as loud as a kick drum.

“What. The Hell. Was. That!”

She turned her head towards the noise, squinting into the filtered light. 

Right - the girl I was paired with.

The other girl was already standing and brushing twigs and leaves off of her jeans with short, irritated motions. 

Ella got to her feet slowly. Every limb felt heavy with a tiredness she hadn’t felt before she woke up on the forest floor. That was by far one of the worst trips she’d ever been on: it felt like falling through the air, upside down into the sun and drowning in air thick as molasses at the same time.   Her mind felt slow and sluggish, struggling to focus. There was a twig and several bits of broken leaves in the girl's dark brown hair which she plucked at with a growl.  Chloe, her name is Chloe . The thought came floating through the fog, and she seized it, the memory of stilted silence and snarky comments of the morning coming shortly after. 

 “You’re asking me?” She asked with a huff of laughter.

The other girl picked another leaf out of her previously artfully messy bun, but was now more just messy, with a squirm, flicking it away. “Well it wasn’t me, was it?” 

But Ella had already dismissed her because the trees no longer looked like they were half way through autumn. This isn’t right. Where’s the path? And the paper stuck to the tree. And wasn’t it a different tree? She looked at the tree suspiciously. Where are the bloody conkers?

“Where are the conkers?”

“What?”

“Just now. When we found that last clue, it was stuck on a conker tree, right? There were some conkers on the floor. Where are they?”

Chloe threw her hands up in the air. Ella snagged her backpack off the forest floor, checking her mandated compass they’d all been allocated for the course and smothered another yawn while Chloe started stropping off the way they’d come. Back to the last clue and start from there again? Not… the worst idea? She picked her way through the much thicker-than-five-minutes-ago forest floor, her feet dragging tiredly, and swallowed back an urge to panic. The trees looked different to the ones they’d been meandering through all morning. Most of those were half way through shedding their leaves already, or filled with the late red and oranges of autumn, if they were turning at all - there’d been a few evergreens around. Now? There weren't any fallen autumn leaves on the floor. All the trees were full of leaves in varying shades of green. I have a bad feeling about this . She took a deep breath in.

I’m imagining that the air smells different. That’s all.

Denial is not just a river in Egypt, Ella.

“I’m telling Mr Richards about your weird shit, Ella.” Chloe threatened, stomping angrily in front.

“Oh fuck off, I didn’t do anything.”

“You can’t just let off flash bangs around normal people! It’s not on!”

“A flash bang? What!” Ella laughed, short and unexpected, “This isn’t some Netflix teen drama. How would I get something like that?”

“Hell if I know.” Chloe muttered, finally at a lower volume, and then she continued walking through the woods with a determined purpose, footsteps heavy . “Never know with people like you.”

“I was trying to read the last clue, same as you. Then… I don’t know. Things got weird and I blacked out and ended up on the floor!”

“Whatever.”

“Does it smell different here to -”

“No, of course it doesn’t, shut up.”

Ella rolled her eyes. At least Chloe was the same annoying, judgemental princess she was this morning. She was still weaving her way around any fronds of plant life that dared intrude on her personal space.

“This isn’t right.”

Ella flicked a quick look at the other girl, but kept trying to get a look at the sky through the thick canopy above. Her phone said it was around twelve thirty, but it felt earlier now  - the light was colder, the sun didn’t seem to be where it was before her little trip to the floor.  Is that possible? How is that possible? How did I fall over? And where did all the signal go? Was it an urban myth that your phone used more battery looking for a signal? She eyed the low battery indicator warily, already warning her about the eight percent remaining.

“We’ve walked east for one hundred and twenty paces… we should definitely be at the last clue already. That’s exactly what we just did.”

“Hundred and twenty three,” Ella said absently, breathing out shakily.

Why are we not at the last clue?

She bit her lip and sank into a crouch.

You’re lost, that’s all. You got turned around, miscounted the paces. Work it out. Ella pulled the poorly photocopied, folded map out from her back pocket and spread it on the floor before her. It took a while but she tracked where they should be, and where they’d started, and looked around.

Where the fuck is that stream? She poked at it on the paper. They should be practically on top of it. We have gone massively wrong somewhere. Great. Well done.

“We should be close to that stream,” she pointed at the paper, “but I can’t hear it, or see it, up ahead.”

She fiddled with the hems on her long sleeve top, tracing the line of the stream as Chloe continued to consult her own map and compass, muttering about having a useless partner. She triple checked Ella’s workings for nearly five minutes before looking around with dawning horror. “Where the hell are we?” she screamed shrilly, causing Ella to wince. 

The forest wasn’t endless: if they kept walking east they’d get to the edge sooner or later, and by then it should be easy enough to spot the minibus at the starting point. In theory. She said as much to Chloe. She was not looking forward to returning to Mr Richards, the overseer for this assignment, empty handed and unable to complete a simple map-reader exercise, but that was a problem for later. 

Their walk after that was tense and quiet in a way different to earlier that morning. Ella walked lethargically and unenthusiastically, eating only half of her unappealing cheese spread, and soggy cucumber sandwich as she went, despite the loud, rumbling complaint of her stomach.  Just as  a precaution . She sipped her water slower, mindful that she was already down to half a bottle. The plastic crackled loudly in the quiet of the forest and some birds flew off in shock. When Chloe raised an eyebrow at her, Ella rolled her eyes.

“We’ve not seen anyone and…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t heard a siren or a plane, or people, or anything but birdsong since she woke up on the floor. As far as she knew, Chloe had exactly the same amount of phone signal as her: zero.

“Right.” Chloe agreed, without enthusiasm, as she checked her phone again, confirming Ella’s suspicion, and wrapped half a homemade chicken salad baguette back in its tin foil reluctantly and hooked her stainless steel water bottle back onto her bag without taking a sip.

Ella rubbed at her forehead as they went, trying to ease the pain behind her eyes and failing miserably. She started singing, in an effort to motivate her increasingly heavy feet. A very large, increasingly loud part desperately wanted to down some painkillers, sit down and take a nap. Instead, she kept walking stubbornly east. 

“Do, a deer, a female deer

Re, a drop of golden sun

Mi, a name, I call myself

Fa, a long, long way to run…”

By her guess, there should only be another half a mile of forest, maybe a mile at the absolute most, as long as she kept walking east.

Except , Ella thought, this clearly isn't Northpoint Woods . She didn’t bother to say it aloud.

“So, a needle pulling thread

La, a note to follow So

Ti, a drink with jam and bread -”

“Oh for God’s sake, now I’m thinking about jam toast!”

Ella canted her head in apology, of course now she was too. Thick, strawberry jam on a big, thick slice of toast big enough to be a doorstop. She licked her lips.

“You pick something then.”

Chloe, of course, went with Defying Gravity .

They  walked for well over a mile, trading songs, she was certain of it. Under normal circumstances a mile would take what? Twenty minutes at the most? Let’s say with the undergrowth, a maximum of forty minutes. But they walked until Ella was tripping over her own feet, forgetting to pick them up in a daze. The trees around them were still thick and plentiful, the canopy overhead still lush, and green, and filled with bird songs. There was no sign of the trees thinning out. It wasn’t fully dark, but the sun was low, low enough that she didn’t feel guilty about stopping. Her phone said it was nearly five in the evening. Her feet said they were done, sore from the pinch and rub of her boots. The sky… what she could see of it… the sky disagreed. Chloe stumbled on a tree root and Ella dropped her backpack to the ground.

“We have to to stop.” she said. To herself. To Chloe. To her feet. As the sun crept lower, the temperature had started to drop too: although that too, was different. It had been warmer than she expected it to be, this afternoon. For October, it was certainly… warm. A fire would be useful, if I can light one. Without setting the forest on fire.  She could just see the headlines now: ‘Youth Suspected of Arson in Forest’.

“Oh thank God.” Chloe huffed, and dropped her backpack to the floor right next to Ellas.

“Think we can get away with a fire?”

Chloe frowned, looking at the trees above and the shrubby floor. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“You’ve heard of forest fires, right?”

“So make it small and clear the area, dumb ass.”

“You want to grab some small sticks to help, or just bitch about it, princess?” 

Chloe sighed, but walked off, bending down to grab twigs and smaller sticks as she spotted them with a slightly disgruntled, disgusted look on her face as she did so. 

Ella fell to her knees, grateful to finally be off her feet, and started clearing a space on the floor of anything flammable: all the twigs and leaves she pushed to one side to consider for kindling, all the stones got pushed into a vague circle shape. Ella stuck her hand wrist deep into the front pocket of her backpack and felt cool relief blow away some of the sickly anxiety that had been rising in her throat as her fingers closed around the lighter at the bottom. As soon as the fire was going, Ella laid her head on her bag, and slept.

*

She scuffed away the remains of her pitiful fire, which had long since burnt out sometime overnight, given neither of them had stayed awake to tend it, humming one of the songs from Moana. They resumed the hike east again, both eager to get moving and work some of the night's chill from their limbs. She wasn’t usually a Disney fan, but the annoyed look Chloe cast her way as the other girl loudly ate her crisps from yesterday's lunch was worth it. Especially when she didn’t offer to share.

Last night's sleep on the hard forest floor had, unsurprisingly, not been particularly restful for all that Ella had enjoyed being off her feet and she was a little grumpy herself. The sleep she’d got had lessened the ache behind her eyes though, so it wasn’t entirely a loss.  She yawned into the back of her hand and started walking.

The highpoint of the morning was finding a small, flowing stream which they quickly made use of to refill their water bottles and wash their faces with. The water meandered in a similar direction to their own, until finally, the trees thinned and the forest stopped, revealing a wide open plain, filled with tall grass and rocky outcroppings. Suddenly the world felt much bigger than the woods they’d walked through previously, closeted by the trees and canopy. The stream drifted on, uncaring for the beautiful, bare landscape, meeting with a larger river further on.

“Shit shit -”

“Oh.” Ella said quietly, ignoring Chloe’s whispering, her eyes darting across the new, much bigger horizon and the completely foreign, very much not local, surroundings. “Fuck.”

“-shit SHIT SHIT! ” Chloe was shouting now, high pitched and panicky.

Ella agreed wholeheartedly. 

She turned in a full circle, seeing nothing but the tree line in one direction and the plains in the other. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck! What the hell am I supposed to do? Which direction were they supposed to go in? How did they get here? Where was ‘here’? Where were they?

She turned again, hoping to see something else but her frown only deepened. Looking like she knew where she was going was something she was experienced with, so she did that now. She strode forward into the long grass as if the eyes of her classmates or judgemental strangers bore down upon her. She kept her head high and just kept going, head blank, eyes blank. She knew Chloe was following because the girl was still periodically swearing at her phone, at Ella, at the world, behind her. Ella broke the facade only twice, checking her bearings (south, roughly). The sun was high, nearly overheard, when the grassland was abruptly interrupted by a wide, worn, dirt track.

“A road!” Chloe said excitedly, “Roads go somewhere!”

“Where’s all the tarmac?” Ella muttered, more to herself than anything. She was part annoyed, and part disappointed. They were more in the sticks than she thought. And then louder, to Chloe, she said, “This is not a road, unless you’re a horse.” 

Chloe flapped a hand dismissively. “It’s probably just used by dirt bikers or something.”

Ella raised a doubtful eyebrow at that: there were no tracks in this mud, and dirt bikes usually left some. Maybe this is farmland. A farmland where the tractors leave no tracks and that has a different season to everywhere else in the country. She was contradicting herself. But it would explain why she couldn’t see any house in sight. Doesn’t explain how you are in a completely different place to where you started though, does it? Ella ignored the voice. They might be hectares away from the farmhouse. She sunk to the ground, enjoying the respite it gave her feet. If her borrowed walking boots had pinched when she first put them on, that was nothing to what they felt like now. She hadn’t dared to take off the boots last night, caught between fear of having to run away from who-only-knows-what (her mind supplied lots of terrifying and bizarre options, from zombies, to wolves, to children of the corn) and not wanting to see the state of her feet. Her feet felt wet though. So either she’d had blisters, and they burst, or they’d rubbed the skin clean off and it was blood, or she really was sweating a lot . Her stomach rumbled, loudly, as she sipped her water. She took a second sip, mentally apologising to it, but it was all she had. She’d finished her sandwich not long after waking up in all of two bites.

She played noughts and crosses against herself, trying to avoid thinking too hard about anything, until Chloe had finished off her snack bar ( thanks for the non-existent offer! ) and they started walking again. Chloe unilaterally picked which direction to take the road, but it was a 50/50 choice and not something Ella could bring herself to care about. When the urge to think about their situation became too strong, she suggested they trade off songs again to fill the time: it wasn’t like they had anything else in common.

Some time later, when the sun was half way down the sky and she was starting to drag her feet, Ella paused. For the first time since yesterday, she could hear something new, she was sure of it. She tilted her head, trying to place which direction it was coming from, putting a hand out to stop Chloe from walking, hushing her with a short motion. 

“You hear that?”

The sound got louder, and clearer. It almost sounded like…

“Is that… horses?” 

Two horses, and their riders, crested a rise to their right. She stumbled backwards, casting out to grab Chloe by the sleeve, looking about for somewhere to hide and seeing only the road and short, shrubby clumps of grass. She cursed and forced her feet to stop, to turn and face the strangers. Horse riders are normally reasonable enough, if you don’t scare their horses, right? 

Two big, really big, horses. Were all horses this big? She’d only ever seen them on television. When the riders caught sight of them, they urged the horses to change direction and Ella resisted the urge to run again, still backing up another step with her hand gripping Chloe’s wrist but there was no point, nowhere to hide, and no time, and too soon the riders were slowing to a stop as they drew near, jumping off with ease. 

Whilst the obvious sight of inhabitation was a relief (she’d imagined some kind of multiverse during the walk, where she’d blinked herself into a weird uninhabited version of her own world) Ella watched the approaching figures warily. They were tall, very tall, at least six feet if she was being conservative with her guess, and broad shoulders in a way that usually meant male. Ella readjusted her guess the closer they got - are they nearly seven feet tall? How is that a thing? But their height was not the most daunting thing about them - they were almost too beautiful for words. They were twins, clearly, one looking identical to the other and both benefited from flawless, pale skin with not a single blemish or mole; perfect, straight, dark brows, strong, square jawlines and thick, long, straight dark chocolate brown hair. It was almost absurdly long - and it was that which snapped Ella out of her gaze. Most men she knew with long hair favoured top knots. But there was no doubt that these brothers had gotten all the good genes.

Chloe smiled in obvious relief at the sight of inhabitation, shaking off Ellas tight grip on her arm irritably.

“Hello.” Chloe said as they approached, smiling brightly. Ella glared at her, and then them suspiciously.

“Well met! I am Elladan and this is my brother, Elrohir, of Imladris.” The man on the left smiled, his voice accented and deep, gesturing to the road. “From where do you hail? Have you lost your travelling party?”

“No,” hedged Chloe, finally sounding cautious at their odd speech, but with obvious relief all the same, “but we’re a bit… lost.”

Ella laughed and tried to cover it quickly with a cough.

Chloe glared at her and continued. “We got turned around somehow in Northpoint Woods. We’re looking for Little Hatfield?”

The brothers shared a confused look. Elrohir shook his head slightly.

“We do not know it.” Elladan said, “And that is unusual. Are you from a new settlement?”

Chloe shook her head. “Been around for ages.”

Ella sighed and looked up and down the road. “Which way is it to the main road?”

There was nothing of note to be seen in either direction.

“You mean to travel the road alone?” said Elladan. Or at least, she assumed it was Elladan. He’d been on the left, hadn’t he? Or was that the other guy? Why did their names have to start with the same sound! “It would not be safe for you to do so unaccompanied and unarmed.”

“And,” She replied dryly, “I suppose we’d be safe with you.” 

“Of course. You have our word.” he said seriously.

“And where would we be going? You haven’t heard of our town, and you haven’t said where you’re going?”

“We are as close to our home as we are to the nearest town of men, and our father is more likely to know how to get you home.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘ of men’ ?” 

“Because Bree is settled by men?”

“What, no women live there?”

“Men as in your race.” he said slowly.

“.. you say that as if you aren’t guys.” Chloe said, taking a weary step backwards.

Ella scrubbed a tired hand over her eyes. “I’m not in the mood for whatever game you’re playing, I’m really not.”

“We are elves.”

Ella laughed.

It took her a few minutes to calm down. Chloe stared at her, wide eyed and uncomprehending the whole time. How is she not laughing? The whole situation was frankly ridiculous. They’d been wandering around in the woods for nearly two days, completely lost and without food. They were finally literally, if not figuratively, out of the woods, and frankly, more lost than ever, and now there were two men saying they were elves .

“Where’s Santa and his sleigh?” she finally asked, trying to suppress another giggle as she pointed to their horses. “They don’t look much like reindeer.”

Elrohir looked back at their horses and then back at Ella. “It’s not uncommon to not have met elves before -”

“You don’t say!”

“Although I don’t believe laughter is usually the first reaction.”

Ella held up a finger and turned around, looking out at the endless landscape and open air. She took a deep breath and tried to remind herself just how utterly screwed they were. She took another deep breath, ignoring the panic that tried to swell at the vastness of it. At the undercurrent of threat being alone with two men - two men who knew they were alone and lost. And another breath.

She turned around.

“Elves.”

“Yes?”

“Any questions, Chloe?” she asked, voice still pitched high as she resolutely pushed down another giggle.

Chloe was trying to communicate something with her stare, Ella was sure of it, but since she didn’t really know the girl that well she had no idea what she was trying to convey.

“How far are we from your town?” She asked, finally.

“By foot, I would judge perhaps three days, depending on the weather,” said Elladan.

“Then let's get going,” Chloe said decisively, “makes sense to go towards someone who might know, right?”

Ella edged closer to the other girl. “Go with the strange delusional men ?” She whispered quietly, “For three days? We can’t be that lost! It’s not possible!”

“Better the devil you know.” She whispered just as quietly back.

“We don’t know them!”

Chloe shrugged. “Got any better ideas?” 

Rock, hard place, me . Ella was torn. Neither of the options on the table sounded good: go with the strange, delusional men? Or wander alone in the wilderness… to potentially run into other strangers, or die of exposure?

She opened her mouth. Shut it again. The twins stood completely at ease, unerringly patient. Chloe took the opportunity to turn back to the two brothers, a tense smile on her face. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

The brothers shared a quiet, incomprehensible, conversation in what sounded vaguely like Welsh that appeared to be with the horses as well - and then both animals turned around without complaint. One brother led the way, walking next to them with a loose hold on their reins. Their saddles looked unlike what she’d seen on screens before: less bulky, somehow, and without as many bits and pieces as she thought there would be.

“I thought saddles were massive?”

“Massive?” Chloe scoffed, but she nodded towards the horses in front of them as she did so, “Those aren’t like any saddle I’ve seen before - I wouldn’t even call them a saddle, actually. There’s no stirrups, or straps. The horses don’t have bits - in their mouths - either.”

But it wasn’t the saddles, or anything else about the large horses that made her mouth dry up -  it was the swords across their backs; what looked like small, unstrung bows hanging from packs on the horse's rumps; the smaller knives that were hanging from their hips. 

“Weirdo horse riders. Armed weirdos. Did you see those swords?”

“They’re not real , Ella. They’re probably just cosplayers.”

Ella hummed, surprised. Not an unreasonable guess . “They sure look real, Chloe.”

“ They sure look real, Chloe. ” Chloe mimicked. “Chill out, Ella.”

She eyed the sheaths, worn and clearly well cared for, and told herself it was simply a brilliant make from Etsy. They’d follow them to their campaign base, or better yet, a village, and then be on their way. Chloe was clearly thinking along the same lines because she was muttering reassurances to herself.

“We’ll get to their place, call my dad to pick us up. Sorted.” 

Ella had a feeling it wasn’t going to be that simple.

Chapter Text

The tall, cosplaying twins stopped walking at dusk, leading them a small ways off the road to the shelter of a small grouping of trees. Ella automatically checked her phone, but a plain, black screen was all that stared back at her - the battery had finally given up. The sky, ablaze with high clouds cast in red that drifted lazily across the sky, was her only guess at the time. Chloe checked her phone as well and let out a loud, frustrated screech. She shook it a few times and groaned angrily. “Stupid thing just died!”

Ella’s stomach rumbled loudly and she rubbed it self consciously, feeling her cheeks heat up. The twins had shared out apples, chunks of bread, and dried meat as they walked in place of lunch, saying they wished to make good progress before nightfall (she’d resisted eating the core of the apple, just barely) but that had been hours and many miles ago.

“We have enough to share.” said Elladan, unpacking what looked like small golden biscuits wrapped in leaves, and more wrapped up in some kind of oilcloth from their saddle bags. He and his brother knelt on opposite sides of their small fire. Elrohir poured some water into an old camping kettle. “We will hunt some game tomorrow as well. I would like to be further from the Trollshaws first, however.” He offered two of the leaf-wrapped biscuits to the girls.

“Please.” Chloe nodded eagerly and sat down on the low flat stone they’d stopped near. “We only had our lunch with us yesterday.”

“You should always pack more than you need.” said Elladan, not unkindly, “Tea?”

Chloe nodded eagerly to that as well, and soon took the offered mug. Ella declined, and stared at Chloe in wide-eyed disbelief as she sipped the tea happily. She shook her head. She’d rather drink the water on its own than risk the tea, given that it was harder to hide additives in water than tea, especially as tired and thirsty as she was. 

“Next time I get forced onto some dumb orienteering lesson and somehow end up stranded in a totally different forest, with no phone signal, and no idea how I got there, I‘ll be sure to remember that.” Ella said irritably, breaking off a section of the biscuit. “Note to self: pack more food. Genius - why didn’t I think of that?” 

“Ella!”

“What? He’s blatantly not impressed we haven’t got anything useful in our packs. Like we did it on purpose.”

“How else does one start a journey, if not on purpose?”

“When it’s not? Like, bamf you’re not where you were before.”

Chloe continued to glare at her. 

“They’re trying to help us, leave your attitude out of it -”

“Oh fuck off -”

“Don’t tell me to -”

Elladan cleared his throat, loudly, interrupting them. “But you were in the woods, yes? Learning? You should have packed more knowing you would be in the wilds.”

“Did I say camping? No. A lesson, yes. I packed a lunch - well a sandwich -” Ella took another bite of the surprisingly filling biscuit to stop herself continuing that sentence. They didn’t need to know what her lunch consisted of, and why. Must be more tired than I thought if I’m rambling.

“You packed a spread sandwich -”

“Don’t judge my sandwich , princess. Not all of us have someone to make us healthy, well balanced, little packed lunches made for us. How’re old’re you anyway? Did it come with some motivational - ”

“What was the lesson?” Elrohir cut in quickly, ignoring his bristling brother, “I have not heard of that before. Oar-ee-en-tier-ing?”

He raised an eyebrow in question, and she read that as condescension in the dimming light.  Ella rubbed the bridge of her nose and took a breath as she forced herself to calm down. They’re cosplayers. They’re in character, they’re not mocking you . Chloe continued to glare at her. “You know, finding your way with a map and a compass, except this was some kind of weird mix of a scavenger hunt and orienteering? We had to find clues with bits of map on and stuff. It was only supposed to be a few hours. Like a team building kinda thing.” Ella fished her compass out from underneath her hoodie and watched it spin around idly, before it settled on north.

“May I?” Elrohir asked, gesturing to her compass.

She threw it over. “It’s just a cheap one.” 

“What are these letters?” 

“They’re just for the cardinal directions? You’re telling me you’ve not seen a compass before?” She shuffled over to where he stared intently at the compass in his hand. So we’re going mostly east, kinda, and north is that way,” she gestured, “The rest of it is only useful if you have a map and a sense of scale.”

“This is a wondrous thing. I have never seen anything like it.”

Ella stared at him, while he still looked incredulously at her cheap compass and eyed the prosthetic pointy ears, the flawless wig (she refused to believe that hair was real. It was too perfectly straight, and well.. perfect ) and she had to admit: he was good. He’s really committed to his cosplay thing , she thought. I can’t even see a joint on those ears. They must have cost a fortune? Maybe they have make-up professionals? Not to mention his skincare routine would probably sell for millions.

“You can borrow it if you want.”

He smiled and thanked her, and she hastily shuffled back over to Chloe and resumed eating. She was very hungry, and had to remind herself not to eat too fast. No point in tossing and turning all night with a stomach ache from indigestion as well as rocks in her back. She needed the recipe for these biscuits though: they tasted good, and were way more satiating than she’d expected for something that looked like a poor shortbread.

Ella took another careful sip of water (quarter of the bottle left: she needed to keep an eye out for another stream) and cast around for somewhere she could relieve herself in private. From the looks of Chloe’s awkward shifting around, that tea was making itself known as well. Ella caught her gaze with her own. She couldn’t put it off any longer, as she had been doing for what felt like at least a couple of hours. The twins never stopped to go, so she didn’t suggest it. Apparently Chloe had felt the same way.

There was an outcrop of fallen rocks that looked, sort of shaped like they might have once formed a small building, not too far away. Enough that they could pee in private.

The sun had nearly set now, but the rocks weren't far beyond the glow cast by the fire. She nodded to herself, made a decision, and stood up, dusting off her jeans.

“Back in a minute.” 

“We will come with you -”

“No! No!” She held her hands out, as if to quell their movements, “No! Thanks, but - No . I’m a big girl: I can pee all on my own and everything. Chloe?”

Elladan suddenly shifted, discomfort and realisation dawning in his gaze in equal measure, and a blush painted his cheeks an adorable shade of pink - but that could have been a trick of the light. Ella tried not to notice how pretty he was, how pretty both brothers were. Pretty isn’t even the right word. Pretty is insipid compared to these two.

“Yes, of course,” he said, not quite sputtering but not sounding completely unflustered either. 

Chloe and Ella relieved themselves as much and as quickly as possible, both muttering about leaves and toilet paper and steadfastly ignoring the other, before jogging back to their guides and the light of the fire eagerly.

“We are making good progress,” said one of the twins, “But it would be folly to travel at night when we don’t need to. We will camp here tonight.”

Ella wasn’t sure what to do with that sentence. Did he just mean in case they tripped? Of the danger to the horses? It wasn’t like there were going to be any drunken idiots nearby: they’d not seen another soul all day, nor any one at all aside from them.

“I can collect more wood?”

“That would be most helpful, thank you. Please do not go too far from the light of the fire.”

“Oh my God,” Chloe whispered fervently, “they are the most gorgeous guys I’ve ever seen.”

“Hmm?”

“I think a top knot would look better, right? Oh! And those cheekbones! And I’ve always liked shoulders and they both have very nice shoulders -”

Ella huffed a laugh and filled her arms with sticks as Chloe picked up a few twigs half-heartedly. There wasn’t much in the way of large logs nearby, but it didn’t take her long to gather an armful of sticks in various lengths, and some dry grass she thought might make useful kindling, which she stuffed in her pocket to save for any potential future fire she might need to build. 

“- And their names. I love that they’re unusual. No James or Bobby or Mark! Elladan , Elrohir .” Chloe rolled the “r’s” and sighed dramatically.

“You’re drooling.”

“Metaphorically, yes. You’re saying you don’t think they’re drop your pants gorgeous?”

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea to crush on two randoms we met in the middle of nowhere?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. Ella  dumped her armful of sticks unceremoniously in the area whichever-twin (she’d already gotten their names confused again, and was avoiding using them) had indicated. She could see the brothers nearby, rubbing down the horses with what looked like round brushes and… singing? Singing to horses. Is that a thing? She rubbed her arms where the various twigs had dug into her skin through the thin sleeves of her hoodie, knowing there were scratches there, and set off to collect another armful. 

As night fell, Ella admired the fire. It burnt hot, and nearly smokeless, and Elladan (Elrohir had used his name, helpfully) built it up so quickly and efficiently it looked like he’d been making them his entire life. How often do they play this game? Gotta learn that as well. No lighter! she thought to herself, as she tried to rub some of the ache out of her tired legs.  The boots, which had started off slightly loose on the heels, were now squeezing her swollen feet. She tried wiggling her toes, and winced. No way am I taking them off today. She eyed the brothers across the fire: sure, they seemed like Nice Guys but the worst ones usually did. No, best to keep the torture shoes on incase they needed to make a quick get away. Who knows, maybe my blood will soften the boots or something?

Ella sighed and willed herself to stay awake. Even with the aches of several days walking, it wasn’t enough to push back the call for sleep and whilst normally she would think, and think, and think on a problem until she was wide awake and objectively make bad decisions. Tonight… it was just too big. The trees, the weather, the dirt track road, the missing stream, the lack of phone signal, the strange accents. Where was the rest of their group? Where was the teacher? Where was the minibus? Her chest felt tight with the questions stuffed inside, so full she couldn’t hold a single one at a time. During the day it was easy enough to simply blank the whole situation, wall off the doubt and the panic and concentrate on one (pinching, painful) foot in front of the other. Ella drew her gaze away from the brothers, away from Chloe, away from the countryside and stared at the flames. The fire was hypnotic, holding her gaze and turning her thoughts to quiet static until she was jerking her head back up, not realising she’d been nodding off. Ella quickly looked over to the other girl, automatically checking she was there, for all that they weren’t friends. Chloe hadn’t moved an inch, fast asleep as she was with a dark green blanket from one of the brothers pulled up to neck, but tear tracks down her cheeks showed she wasn’t the only one struggling with the otherness of their situation. Ella pulled her own blanket over her shoulders, biting her cheek to focus on something other than the overwhelming fear that threatened to overtake everything when she didn’t pay attention.

“We will keep watch, Lady Ella,” said Elladan (she was assuming it was Elladan) from across the fire, ”you should sleep.”

Ella shook her head stubbornly.

“We will not harm you,” he said, sounding almost offended.

“That’s what they all say.” she muttered, pulling her own borrowed blanket tighter as a breeze blew cold air across her back. She leaned back against the fallen tree they’d chosen to use as part of their shelter, hoping the rough bark would wake her up. She searched the dark night sky, seeking out the few constellations she knew. It should have been easy - she only knew the bright ones and the sky was so clear and free of clouds it was easily one of the most beautiful night skies she’d ever seen, but for all the numerous stars on display, she couldn’t find any that looked familiar. She squinted harder. Where are you, saucepan? She huffed, annoyed, and tipped her head further back at an awkward angle, looking behind her.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” she said distractedly,

“You do not intend to sleep… like that? Do you?”

“Where’s that one that looks like a saucepan? I can’t find it.”

Maybe-Elladan walked slowly over, arms up in a peaceful gesture. 

“Saucepan?”

She pointed up, then waved her hands around in confusion. They’re not going to recognise nicknames, Ella! Think! “The Great Bear, I think? One of the Ursa’s?” She rubbed the heel of her hand into her forehead with a grimace. You know why you can’t find them, Ella. You’re not in Egypt, there’s no river here.

“I do not know those names.” said Elrohir, “but the stars shine bright tonight - there is Menelvagor now.” he smiled, pointing at one of the brighter stars in the blanket above, then he moved his finger, pointing to another sparkling, bright jewel closer to the horizon,  “And Eärendil ever shines on the horizon at this time.”

“I have no idea if I’m even remotely looking in the right place where you’re pointing,” she admitted, “but I swear I’ve not heard of them before.”

She tipped her head backwards onto the log and resumed searching the sky for anything familiar. There were so many stars that the sky looked alien to her. There was no light pollution, no plane lights. The stars themselves felt brighter, closer, more numerous than ever before.

Despite her best efforts to stay awake, at some point she failed because one moment, she was trying to remember if it was a giant M or a giant W that made up Cassiopeia, which led her to trying to remember if the Plough was the Major or Minor Ursa, and then the sun was just rising and her neck was painfully stiff from leaning back against the tree trunk behind her. She rubbed the aching muscles. Stupid to fall asleep, stupid to sleep like that. Double stupid. She turned bodily to Chloe rather than move her neck, but the other girl seemed safe and undisturbed, just stirring to awake herself. Elladan and Elrohir were talking quietly, breaking up the small camp with practised efficiency that seemed to speak of years of camping. Ella watched them enviously.

“Good morning.” Chloe said, yawning and then frowning as she sat up stiffly. She brushed some stones off her arm and pulled some strands of dry grass from her hair, looking thoroughly put out by their presence.

Ella motioned over to the outcrop of rocks they’d visited yesterday wordlessly and Chloe nodded.

When did the twins go? I mean, granted they could just whip it out pretty much go wherever, but still! The question was the least worrying item on an increasingly long list, however, so she set it aside. When they returned to what was left of the camp, one of the brothers passed out some dried fruit slices, a handful of nuts that looked a bit like peanuts, and some dark bread. Rye? Ella guessed absently. She took all of it gratefully and thanked them with genuine feeling, even as she pocketed the nuts and half the fruit slices for later. Just in case, she told herself. Chloe was either too trusting, or too hungry - Ella watched the other girl finish off the small breakfast quickly.

*

Ella tried to find a way of walking that didn’t make her feet pinch painfully in her boots, but it was no use. Her blisters had blisters, and their children had blisters, and so did their neighbours, and all their friends, she was sure of it. Maybe her feet were just two big blisters now? No feet, just blisters. Little mini blob blisters for the toes, one big blister for the foot, and maybe an extra blister cushion for the heel? What had started out as a temporary discomfort from borrowed boots that she’d just had to put up with, several days in, had turned into a fierce pledge to herself that she’d never wear them ever again, once they came off. If they could come off. Next time I’m just going to wear my Vans and be done with it. Screw whatever Mr Richards has to say on it, they can’t be worse than boots that don’t fit.

“I’ve never wanted a shower so badly in my life,” complained Chloe, walking by her side, “ ever .” 

“I can’t decide between no shoes ever again, or a three-hour long shower so hot it hurts.” Ella confessed, frowning down at her feet.

“I think a nice big bubble bath would be better. Like, tip in half a bottle of bubbles and just fill it up loads, so bubbles fall out when you get in kinda full.”

“No, no way. I’m not soaking in my own filth. Give me a hot shower any day.”

Chloe eyed her filthy nail beds with disdain. Her gel nail polish remained perfectly in place, but even Ella could see they were as dirty as her own. "Yeah, you might have a point. A shower and then the bubble bath!”

They daydreamed for a while, Elladan and Elrohir in front of them. Lunch ended up being the oddly filling biscuits they’d shared yesterday, which they called lembas. Ella sank to the ground with a groan before taking a bite. Her feet felt wet, again. She glared at the borrowed boots and gingerly loosened the laces a little.

“Are you well, Lady Ella?”

“Ella,” she corrected, “Yeah. Sore feet.”

“I have some healing supplies in my bag, if you need aid?”

“Painkillers?” she asked, hopefully.

“Pain killers? What is such a thing?”

“Not gonna break character to even give a girl some paracetamol, huh?”

He shook his head ruefully, “I do not know what you are talking about.”

She waved him off. “If I take these boots off now, I’ll never get them back on, and that will make us late to see your dad, right? I’ll be fine.” Ella took a bite of her biscuit and the twin (she wasn’t entirely sure which one she’d been speaking to) shook his head and returned to his brother, who was feeding the horses.

“Why don’t your boots fit?” Chloe asked, picking small bits of her biscuit off at a time.

“Because I had to borrow them, because Mr Richards said my trainers were ‘inappropriate footwear’.”

“Yeah but, seriously, how expensive are a pair of walking boots?”

“Yeah but, seriously,” she mocked, “shoes cost money. Money I don’t have spare. Do you even have a job?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Daddy says I need to focus on my education.”

“Of course he does.”

“Well you -

“There’s no need for you to ask stupid questions.”

“There’s -”

“Perhaps it is time to get going,” said one of the brothers loudly, “so we can make good progress before nightfall.”

Ella sighed and climbed carefully back to her feet, sucking in a breath through her teeth when the sides of the boots bit into her feet once more.

The twins walked fast. Long legs and no shortage of energy powered their strides, forcing both girls to walk quickly to keep up. As the afternoon waned, Ella found it harder to resist limping, except that both feet hurt equally so whenever she tried to ease off of one foot, the extra pressure on the other had her shifting her weight again just as quick. The brothers led them away from the road a ways as the sun crept down to the horizon, casting a brilliant golden glow into the sky on its descent. One brother mounted his horse, peeled off from their little walking group and disappeared into a small cropping of trees a short ways away, further back from the road.

“Elrohir is going to hunt down some extra food," Elladan explained when Chloe asked nervously where Elrohir was going, "we covered a lot of ground today, you both did well to keep up.”

Chloe beamed. Ella wondered if they were finally going to stop walking soon, and if going to get food meant that he was going to return with McDonalds.

“We will rest ‘til the morning light, and I will check your feet, Ella, if you will let me? They obviously pain you.”

Ella sighed almost automatically at the sincere look on the man's face. “Promise no jokes about how much they smell?”

Elladan smiled. “I promise - let us get a fire going, and then I will take a look.”

Elrohir and his horse reappeared just as Elladan was lighting their fire, having explained at Ella’s urging how to stack the sticks. Elrohir held up three limp rabbits triumphantly.

“Bunnies?” Chloe asked, her face falling. “You want us to eat cute little bunny rabbits? I have rabbits at home!”

Ella concurred – the idea of eating a rabbit would not ordinarily appeal but. The stomach wants what it wants , she thought ruefully, and her own rumbled.

“You do not eat rabbit in your town?”

“No!"

The men looked confused, shaking their heads. Elrohir dropped his bow and sword, sat down and pulled a slim dagger from his belt, and started to skin the rabbits right there, next to the fledgling fire.

“No!” Choe cried again, aghast.

“But we’re grateful for anything you’ve been able to catch,” Ella said, looking meaningfully at Chloe and trying to convey gratitude-fear-beware and ‘let’s not upset the huge blokes with sharp pointy weapons, shall we?’ with her eyes alone.

Elrohir watched them both for a minute before shaking his head and continuing to  field dress the first rabbit. Chloe let out a small yelp, which she covered with a hand over her mouth, quickly looking away.

This is dedicated cosplaying. Is all cosplaying this dedicated? Ella watched in fascinated horror as he quickly field dressed the three animals and speared pieces of the meat onto skewers Elladan had prepared from the sticks they’d collected. I wouldn't have mentioned it if they just wanted to break out a packet of sausages. But how would they have kept them cold? I guess that would have been a problem. Although vegan sausages would be alright, right? Like, no meat to spoil -

“Do you want me to check your feet before we eat, or after?”

Ella snapped back out of her musings to see Elladan (she was assuming it was Elladan) looking expectantly at her. 

“Let’s not spoil our dinner with the sight of my feet,” she said, shaking her head.

“Or the smell.” said Chloe, absently.

“Low blow! And I said no foot jokes!”

“You said no foot smell jokes to him,” she corrected, “And I have a nose too. I vote after dinner.”

“And I bet your feet smell like roses?”

“I’m not saying they don’t - but I’m not taking these boots off before we get to a bath, either.”

Ella rolled her eyes, but nodded in agreement. “After food?”

“As you wish.”

After the meat was ready (it was surprisingly greasy) and eaten eagerly by all, including 'but my pets" Chloe, Elladan walked out into the dark of the night with their water skins and the girls water bottles (the sun had set in a blaze of glory while the rabbit cooked) and returned not long after with each of them completely full.

“Didn’t want to show us your torch, huh?” Ella asked as he filled a small camping kettle.

“I’m an elf, there is no need for a torch,” he said, by way of explanation, “Let me see your feet, and I will do what I can. My father is a much more gifted healer than I, but I have learnt more than my brother here.”

Elrohir smiled good naturedly on the other side of the fire.

Ella reluctantly tugged the laces undone and eased each foot out of the boots with a grimace and sharp intake of breath. Even in the firelight, they looked as bad as they felt. The sides and her heels were rubbed raw and sporting several, now bleeding, blisters, and her smallest toes no longer resembled toes so much as… a red mess.

Elladan winced in sympathy and opened a small cloth satchel, pulling out squares of clean cloth, a small glass bottle, and a small metal tin. He soaked several of the cloth squares in water and added several drops of whatever was in the glass bottle, then smoothed them over her feet. 

“Oh," she sighed in relief, because whatever it was was taking the edge off of the pain.

“A tincture of my father's design. I will leave them for a moment to bring down the swelling, but then I must clean and dress the wounds. Do you think you could leave your boots off tonight?”

Doubt yawned loud and large in her chest. Was this a trick? She hesitated, then nodded. 

It wasn’t an experience she cared to repeat, having each raw patch of skin and blister cleaned and rubbed with salve, but as she wiggled her freed toes in the cooling night air, she was glad the boots were off for now. Just don’t tempt fate. They like to laugh. It looked like she’d had to go back on her earlier pledge to her feet to not put the boots back on though - she fancied walking through the fields and dirt in bare feet with open wounds even less.

“So are you the first aider for your… group?” she asked, as Elladan put away his small kit. “What is this stuff anyway? Did you just tip a jar from the shop into a blank tin? That’s pretty clever.”

“The tincture is from witch hazel, the salve chamomile and lemon. They have many beneficial properties, including some pain relief and the reduction of inflammation.”

“Seriously? Homemade? You’re not joking?”

“I feel your Little Hatfield is quite different to anywhere I have visited, Lady Ella.” he said, sounding bemused, “Your apothecary must be very well visited if nothing is made at home?” 

Against her cynical, and usually better, judgement, Ella found herself drifting off to sleep once again, enjoying the relief from her feet and wrapped up in the spare blanket next to the fire. 

*

“Are they kidding? Won’t we get swept away?” Chloe asked dubiously. Ella wholeheartedly agreed, but couldn't bring herself to voice it. The sight of the rushing water felt like it had taken every drop of moisture from her mouth with it. She stopped a few paces behind the rest of the group. When they’d set off, the brothers had offered to let her ride one of their horses but given that this was the most she’d ever seen of horse before now, nevermind trying to sit on one without falling off the second it moved, so she passed, awkwardly. She and Chloe passed the day with little to say to one another - the unusual situation had not bred any amazing new friendship. Chloe favoured walking closer to the brothers, making conversation and laughing altogether too often, in Ella’s opinion. I can’t believe she’s flirting with perfect strangers . Now they had arrived at what looked like a large ford, though it was bigger and faster running than any she’d seen before.

“It has not rained for several days: the water is not very high,” Elrohir had turned to back, noticing her reticence. Ella winced and forced herself to take a casual step forward, squashing her limping, awkward gait until she drew next to Chloe, “and the current is not strong here. You need only walk normally.”

Ella eyed the water as Elrohir led the horses across and sure enough, it wasn’t very deep. It barely made it halfway up shins, and the horses just calmly stepped through the water while he spoke to them. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if they’d needed to swim. Would they just leave me here? Is there a bridge somewhere? Would they meet me there? Ella eyed the water and reminded herself that it didn’t matter: it wasn’t deep enough to swim. Panicking and looking stupid would just cause trouble, and they still needed help to get home. What she needed to do was cross the river. The river which is not anywhere on the map.

With one brother already wet and waiting on the other side, and the other staring at them expectantly, Ella discarded the option of taking her boots off. Water was nasty: who knew what it could be hiding. No: better to keep her feet away from the bottom. Even if it meant soaking her feet and the inevitable discomfort that was going to follow.

Fake it til you make it! Ella took a deep breath and walked briskly through the water, forcing her head high as if she was not at all bothered, but also not breathing again until she joined Elrohir on the other side. 

Chloe remained where she was, on the other side of the river. She pouted at Elladan.

What is she playing at? Ella raised an eyebrow at the other girl, but Chloe ignored her and said something to him, fluttering her eyelashes like some damsel in distress, and then he was holding out a hand for her to hold as they crossed.

“You’re not subtle.” Ella muttered under her breath, when they all stood on the other side.

“Shut up.” Chloe replied, just as quietly, “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it.”

“We are nearly home.”

Relief flooded through Ella at the thought of finding out where they were. She had literally no clue how, or where, they were and she was trying very hard not to think about the worn photocopied map in her bag, the one that did not have the road they’d followed, or the grassland, or the large river, or the ford they’d just crossed, on it. Answers. We can get answers there. She forced her mind to other things, to tap out a beat and sing a song in her head, instead of thinking dangerous and confusing thoughts involving how they were not where they thought they were, or how it could have happened in no more than the blink of an eye.

The final leg of the journey seemed to pass in a dream to Ella, as she forced her mind not to dwell on anything more than one painful step and then another, and reciting line after line of the same song over and over. She couldn’t even get to the next verse and the sun still felt like it had been hours in the sky, while the ground remained unchanged; there were no landmarks to be sure of the time, just a tree lined path laid with white stones. It felt like an eternity and no time at all before civilization appeared. As they rounded another bend, a bridge appeared, crossing a deep and vast river below - the same they had crossed before, she guessed. As they stepped out of the treeline and up to the bridge, the view of the mountain valley made both girls pause. A feeling of tranquillity abounded in the valley before them and its peaceful aura washed over them like a wave of warmth.

Elladan and Elrohir started crossing the bridge without pause but Chloe and Ella stopped at its edge. The bridge was no wider than a small car, at best, with no walls either side. Not even a flimsy rope railing. The fast, crystal clear river flowed, dangerous and unforgiving, far below, with a waterfall not far away. For anyone who falls in, to fall straight off. Ella felt her mouth run dry and took an involuntary step backwards.

The girls shared a nervous glance, and followed.

Chapter Text

Elladan and Elrohir led them through a large set of double doors, and flagged down the first person they saw at an intersection of wood panelled corridors. Ella peered through a nearby window, hoping to see a catering van, or a props area, or even just a baggage area, but saw only a sharp drop. The brothers spoke quickly to the woman - in the lilting second language they used with each other - and then turned, nodded at the girls, and left.

The woman gestured to them to follow her in a different direction, further into the house and away from the windows to the cliff edge. She was dressed as strangely as the brothers, with the same otherworldly beauty that made her both hard to look at, and hard to look away from. Her hair was more deep russet brown in colour than chocolate, and held a slight wave as it fell in a perfect, healthy, waterfall to her waist, unadorned except for a middle braid that started at her forehead and continued to the nape of her neck.

She led them to a large bedroom (with possibly the biggest bed Ella had ever seen), bid them wait, and disappeared, without even leaving her name.

The woman returned perhaps ten minutes later, ten minutes during which Ella and Chloe stood awkwardly still and had a frantic, whispered conversation wondering what they were supposed to do. Ella tried to surreptitiously spot a join or seam in her wig, but it was as seamless as Elladan and Elrohirs, or she’d really grown her hair down to her hips. Ella resisted the urge to smooth down the mess of a ponytail on her own head as the woman tutted at the state of their clothes and seemed to check herself, because she shook her head, and tutted again.

“I am Glawaril, forgive me for forgetting, they said you are Chloe, and Ella?” she said, her voice lilting with the same accent as the twins, “I will see about getting you both something to eat, and a change of clothes. Goodness knows those ellon rarely pack anything other than dried meats, cheese and bread! Which of you would like to bathe first?”

“I need to be clean.” The other girl said, with no hesitation whatsoever, then she hesitated, “Will we, will we be able to get going soon after?”

Glawaril looked curious, but nodded, “I believe that is what Lords Elladan and Elrohir are attempting to facilitate now.”

She pushed the door open and led Chloe to a stool by a large, deep bathtub. It was some kind of bathroom, old fashioned but elegant.

What an elaborate set! Ella wandered in behind them in awe, touching the small marble countertop and wash basin on top.  Glawaril turned on some kind of contraption above the tub, which apparently functioned as a tap because water started to pour out of a smooth pipe decorated with leaves. She pointed to the handle she’d turned, “Just turn this back when you have enough water.” and then she shooed Ella out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“I will be back shortly.” she said, guiding Ella towards a small wooden desk with a high backed wooden chair, rather than the soft and very clean looking bed. She couldn’t blame the other woman really, especially when she looked down at the colour of her previously black jeans. She walked back out of the room, glancing back briefly at the door.

Ella took the weight off her feet gratefully, easing into the chair with a little groan as soon as she was alone and looked around the room properly. It was… a lot. Chloe’s cosplay theory could still be applied, she supposed but.... Wow . I assumed it was mostly people camping in woods with pretend swords. The ceilings were higher than average, with ornate coving all around. The large, plush looking bed ( will they mind much if I faceplant in it?)  had an equally impressive wooden foot and headboards, each decorated with intricately carved leaf and floral details. Even the desk she sat at, easily big enough for two in her opinion, wasn’t plain planks screwed together. She experimentally tried to lift it, and it didn't feel like MDF or some other kind of cheap particle board. It was heavy, very heavy, and held a solidness to it that spoke of solid wood, not cheap flatpack materials. Just how involved is this game? How are they paying for all this? The hearth looked real too - like it was meant for a real fire, and not a lightbulb. She listened for footsteps and, hearing none, darted over to look inside the chimney - which was real, and sooty. She wiped her blackened fingers on her already mucky jeans and sat back down.

“Oh, Toto,”  she whispered into the empty room. “I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.”

Just as she was trying to figure out if the floor was some kind of laminate or fancy vinyl tile, or real stone, Glawaril returned. The savoury aromas coming from the tray she carried made Ella’s mouth water.

“There is more, if you are still hungry afterwards. I thought you might favour speed over anything else.” Glawaril said, setting down the tray on the desk. Ella looked it over and grinned.

“Is that, is that homemade soup ? It smells amazing. ”

“Yes, of course.” Glawaril said, sounding amused. Ella wasn’t looking at her - she was already picking up the spoon. “I am going to find you both some spare dresses to change into -”

“Oh uh -”

Glawaril paused, tilting her head in question as Ella fumbled over a way to not sound ungrateful,

“Dresses are… I mean…,” Ella scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, “Could I borrow some leggings or something, instead? Like Elladan and Elrohir were wearing?”

The elf nodded, “Breeches? I will see if we have some in your size, yes.”

Once alone, Ella turned her attention to the bowl before her. Can’t remember the last time I had fresh soup . She didn’t care to think about it either. This was hot, and delicious and tasted like it might have been made with actual real tomatoes. There was what looked like fresh bread as well, fluffy and white inside when she broke apart the delightfully crispy crust. Definitely got the right end of this bargain! She could get clean with a full stomach for the sake of being dirty for a bit longer. There was a jug full of water and a cup on the tray as well, which she drank much of whilst barely pausing to breathe.

She pushed the chair back onto its back legs, leaning back with contentment. She slammed it back to the floor with a jolt when the door shut.

“Sorry, Lady Ella.” said Glawaril apologetically, as she deposited a dress, trousers and what looked like a long tunic on the bed.

“Not a lady.” the girl said, willing her heart rate back to normal. “That soup was really nice. Thanks.”

Glawaril nodded and then looked up at the door to the bathroom a second before Chloe opened the door, wrapped in a fabric towel and looking much cleaner, her skin scrubbed pink, though her eyes were red rimmed as well.

 “Lady Chloe - this blue dress should fit you well enough.” She indicated to a folding wooden screen that Ella had completely missed before, partly because she had no idea what it was for. Getting changed behind? Apparently. Isn’t that something from like, Jane Austen or something? Maybe Bridgerton?

Chloe took a few moments, either caught up in her own thoughts, or not quite following straight away, before nodding and disappearing behind the screen with the dress. Glawaril looked pointedly at Ella, and then the bathroom in a way that had Ella laughing as she followed the woman into the other room.

“I will change the bath water, and get yours started, Lady Ella; and then fetch you something to eat, Lady Chloe.”

“Still not a lady!” Ella called out, but the elf was already heading to the bathroom. She looked down at her walking boots instead, torn between desperately wanting to be rid of the horrid things, and not wanting to have to pull her feet out of them, but the sound of water in the tub and the thought of not being able to smell herself for the first time in days was too enticing to pass up, even for her feet.

*

Ella shifted uncomfortably in the borrowed clothes and wiggled her feet in the fresh bandages Glawaril had wrapped around them carefully, for all that Ella had awkwardly tried to wave her off. The fabric of the purple tunic felt odd against her skin, especially with the unusual undergarments they used instead of traditional bras and pants. But at least she wasn’t wearing a dress - though Chloe didn’t look uncomfortable in hers, despite the occasional fidget with waist. Either way, these players were taking the costumes a bit too seriously. Why couldn’t they have regular pants under the costumes, seriously? Who would know?

They waited nervously outside a large wooden door, where Glawaril had left them with nothing more than a smile, a nod, and a “He will call you when he is ready.”

Finally, the door opened and one of the brothers beckoned them inside, where two others waited. One man stood by a large window at the back of the room, who looked similar enough to the twins that Ella would place a good bet on them being related - he was as brain-falteringly beautiful as they, with the similar hair and eye shape, though the colour held more blue than grey; and another man with similar colouring of hair and eyes, but who held himself differently, and his hair was notably shorter, the tips of his ears not visible. His clothes, too, set him apart - he wore dark trousers and knee high boots, the laces wrapping around his legs, and a tunic and jerkin in greys and worn blacks. 

“Chloe, Ella, this is our father, Lord Elrond, and Adragil, of the Dunedain.”

The two girls murmured greetings, a little in awe. Like Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond was almost absurdly tall, and very regal looking in long dark blue and silver robes, with a circlet on his head. His hair fell half way down his back in a neat, glossy wave that would have been the envy of nearly every person Ella had ever met, herself included. His air was that of a leader, his face composed, and apparently he was a Lord in this campaign. His was just as arresting to look at as every other elf character they’d come across, for all that he felt older, his presence filling space in a way others didn’t. It was intimidating, and yet at the same time a timid hope bloomed in Ella’s chest that perhaps this was the man who organised this crazy, expensive, intensely detailed, game that they’d somehow stumbled into.

He gestured towards some seating around a large fire.

“My sons tell me they found you on the East-West road, and that you are lost.” he said without preamble, “Your home is this Little Hatfield ?”

Ella and Chloe shared a glance. Ella widened her eyes slightly, trying to silently urge the other girl to take the lead.

“Yes, sir.” Chloe said after a beat, smoothing the skirt of her dress as she sat down, “We’re not sure how we got so turned around, but we have, and we’d like to go home as soon as we can. My parents will be really worried about me. I’m sure they’ll come for me - us - really quick once I can call them.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ella, “I love how authentic this is, mostly, and I never knew there was all this out here, but could we please just use your phone?”

Elrond held up his hands in an entreating gesture. “I would have you returned to your homes as soon as possible as well. But Little Hatfield is not a place I have heard of: I have asked my advisors to check our maps, and Adragil is here to speak of what he knows of the settlements nearby, for he knows the realms of Men better than I.”

Adragil shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “There is nothing across our watched lands by that name. I cannot say with certainty beyond that.”

Elrond frowned, a small crease marring the skin between his brows. “Very well. As for your second request, if it is reasonable and within my power, I will supply it. What is a ‘fone’? You seem to have a different dialect of Westron to that that I am used to hearing: I have not heard of this before.”

Ella rolled her eyes. Seriously, they couldn’t break their characters for like, five minutes?

“Westron?” asked Chloe, “What are you talking about?”

“This is a cute bit,” said Ella, “Is that to get around any language things? Like, why make everyone learn some made up language when you can just call English whatever you want?”

“In-g-lish?” Elladan frowned from where he stood by the fireplace, “You are speaking Westron.”

“Whatever, mate.” Ella shook her head in annoyance, “I’m not playing.” 

“I get that you’re all having fun,” Chloe sniffed, wiping at her eyes angrily,  “and we weren’t part of the script, but I do just want to go home now. We didn’t agree to play. Please , can we just borrow a phone.”

“I do not have anything called a phone for you to borrow.” Elrond frowned.  “Why do you think we are playing a game?”

“Costumes, prosthetics, props,” Ella ticked off on her fingers, gesturing to her ears, “Character roles - you’ve even got a set!”

“This is not a game,” said Elrond, seriously, “What land do you hail from? What is the name of your sovereign or ruler?”

“England. Charles,” said Chloe, her voice wavering, “Please, I don’t want to play.”

“You are in Imladris, in Eriador. I am Lord here.” He looked back to the twins standing by the window. “My sons tell me you were not greatly injured, but perhaps exhaustion plays a part of this, for there is no England in Arda, not as long as I have known it. By all accounts you have walked far, so please, rest, and we will speak again soon with clearer minds after my advisors have rechecked our maps.”

Ella felt her heart sink. He thought they were tired and addled. Whilst he wasn’t wrong on the first count, he was definitely wrong on the second. She wasn’t delirious with exhaustion. But they were clearly being dismissed, because Elrohir led them to the door and showed them out.

“I’ll take you to the kitchens for some afternoon tea, and then perhaps you would like to look around before retiring early?”

Ella nodded, feeling numb and flicked a glance over at Chloe who looked just as dejected, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Still, a sandwich or something wouldn’t go amiss right now - the soup had been delicious, but the morning of the orienteering lesson seemed like a long, long time ago now, and she’d not eaten much since then. Never thought I’d miss a bowl of cheerios. Or a chippy tea. 

Except, the kitchens weren’t round the corner in a marquee or out of a food truck. Elrohir led them through several corridors, across a courtyard filled with mature trees and shrubs and flowers, and through a covered stone walkway that wouldn’t have gone amiss in Harry Potter’s Hogwarts set, before entering a large room whose walls seemed to be part of the rock.

“ These are your kitchens?” Ella said, staring openly. One side of the room was nearly filled with windows and long work tops, and double doors that stood open to what looked like another garden. Another wall had several hearths with fires burning brightly and pans suspended over them. In the middle of the room stood large, thick wooden tables, arranged into three rows. The wall closest to the door they’d entered from contained what looked like a very, very old oven, and it smelt deliciously like fresh bread. There was more to see further round, but Ella couldn’t see it all without obviously craning her neck.

“Yes,” said Elrohir as he weaved his way towards someone standing near the hearth fires, “The main kitchen at least. There are two more. Camaemben,” he said in greeting to the person soon by the fires, stirring a large pot. “could we trouble you for something to eat?”

Camaemben, it turned out, was also an elf. Is everybody an elf character here? I thought Dungeons and Dragons had like, Dragons and stuff . His hair was long as well, falling neatly down his back in gentle, dark brown waves that looked like they’d never seen a knot in their life. The front and sides were swept up and into a tidy half ponytail, secured with a series of ties white down the length.

“Of course,” Camaemben smiled, ushering them over to some stools by one of the large tables in the middle. “Wait here.”

They were handed a collection of plates in short order, and there wasn’t a strip of dried meat or fruit in sight. Where are they storing all this? Where are all the fridges? What’s the budget for this! A bowl of small berries, a small round of cheese, sliced apple, sticks of carrot and celery, and even a plate of biscuits were laid out before them. 

“Why won’t they let us have a phone?” Chloe murmured, as she picked edges of a biscuit to crumbs.

“Maybe they want to finish their campaign first.”

“How long is that going to take?”

Ella shrugged. Like I’m supposed to know that . “Dunno. Maybe they were making a long weekend of it?”

“So that would be. Today? It’s Sunday.”

“Best guess.” Ella sighed, finishing off her own biscuit. It was nice, kind of like a Nice, but less sweet. She reached for a second. “Good food though.”

Chloe tutted and smoothed her dress self consciously for the tenth time since they’d left the study, “They’re all so good looking,” she whispered, “I thought cosplayers were only weirdos.”

Ella snorted. “Just like only someone like me would do something crazy like let off some kind of explosion in the middle of a forest?” She stacked their empty plates and bowls and looked around for a sink, not wanting an answer.

“Hey, uh Ca-Calumn? Cameron? Um.”

The cook, chef, whoever he was, looked up from a pile of vegetables he was chopping with another player, another elf,  who’d arrived while they were eating. 

“Where can we wash these up? They were great, thanks. The soup was amazing earlier as well, actually. No Heinz here?”

“Please, leave them. We will be washing everything after we have prepared these vegetables anyway.”

“Uh, okay, thanks?”

“You are most welcome.”

Outside the large kitchen door they’d entered through, Glawaril stood waiting for them.

“Lord Elrond has bid me to show you some of the gardens, before you retire,if you would like to see them?”

Chloe smiled politely back and agreed, whilst Ella looked down at her feet forlornly. Soon, feet, soon you can rest. She was hoping to spy a green first aid kit box once they got here so she could find some antiseptic cream, or an entire box of plasters, but she’d seen nothing of the sort, other than the loose weave bandages wrapped around them now.

The gardens Glawaril showed them around were lovely, and varied. The town? The set? Was set within a valley that Ella was certain was nowhere near where they lived. There sure were a lot of people in this campaign, all going about their own storylines. And all elves! And was this place? I’m sure there’s no hills or mountains near us, not this many. It always came back to that. Where? How? When? There’s the Pennines, I guess. And the Peak District? But how did we get there? We just got to that last clue and it was like everything shifted.

Ella shoved the sense of growing dread down,  but it just settled like lead in her stomach. Don’t think about it now, Ella . She focussed on admiring the surroundings instead. The waterfalls that lined the valley were breathtaking, the rose garden beautiful and fragrant. The kitchen garden was filled with herbs and various fruit trees.  Glawaril even mentioned orchards and farms, further out in the valley (and conveniently out of sight). They really concentrated on world-building for this, she had to give it to them there.

Eventually, they looped back to the main house, Ella thought that her feet might fall off. She tried not to hobble. The soft, slipper-like shoes Glawaril had provided them with were more comfortable than the hiking boots, but not as nice as being barefoot would surely feel because her feet still chafed and rubbed against the fabric through the bandages, for all that they were very soft shoes. And she was fairly sure she’d gotten blood on them. 

“Lord Elrond mentioned you might like to retire early for the day,” Glawaril was saying as Ella wrenched her attention away from the gorgeous gazebo they stood under, looking over the magnificent valley below. The gazebo itself exuded a beautiful, timeless charm, evoking a sense of age and history, yet its almost flawless condition whispered of meticulous upkeep and dedicated upkeep. I bet whoever owns this makes a killer on weddings in the summer. “But it is up to you, of course. If you would like, I could perhaps show you to the Hall of Fire? I believe Lindir, one of our best musicians, was playing there earlier.” 

Chloe looked at her watch. “Could we call home? If I need to call my parents to pick me up: they’ll need time to get to… wherever we are. I’ll need a postcode too.”

“Call? Post code?” Glawaril asked. “Isn’t it quite far? I do not know what you mean.”

“Come on ,” Chloe groaned, “This is getting old now. There’s no one else here, it’s ok. Just pass us your phone and I’ll be really quick, I promise. I won’t tell anyone it was yours.”

Glawaril shook her head. “Peace, Lady Chloe. I don't have anything called a ‘phone’, I am sorry.”

Chloe threw her head back, frustrated. “Come on! I’ve got college on Monday! Tomorrow ! I’ve got homework due!”

“Col-edge?”

“We were hoping your game, campaign thing, would be finished by now,” Ella explained at Glawaril’s confused look, “It’s been a long few days for us and… we’re kinda over it. We didn’t sign up to this, we just stumbled into it. We just wanna get back.”

“There is no game,” Glawaril said, slowly, “Perhaps a rest would be best after all - I will see if the guest rooms are ready yet. if you would wait here?”

She turned, in a graceful whisper of fabric and soft footing, and left without waiting for a reply. Ella sat on a white stone bench that lined one of the gazebo’s sides. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this .

Chloe sat down next to her, a few inches too close for comfort. “Ella.”

“Yeah?” 

“I think this might be a cult or something. And we might be hostages.”

Ella raised her eyebrows and turned her head to look at the other girl, sliding back a little.“Say again?”

“We were obviously drugged and moved, somehow. Two guys just happen to find us, in the middle of nowhere, and offer to take us back to their place? And they don’t know what a phone is? It’s isolated. It’s hard to find. They don’t like technology. They’re trying to stop us from getting in touch with our parents.”

“Your parents,” Ella corrected automatically.  I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than my worst case scenario . She gestured back to the main house. “What do you wanna do?”

Chloe looked up and around, then, “We’re alone. We could just leave, back the way we came. There weren't that many people around, I bet we could sneak out before they even noticed.”

“To go where ? We’re lost, remember.”

“We can’t be that far from actual people. It’s not possible. We just need to pick a direction and stick to it: we’ll come to a road before we know it, and hitch a ride with the first car we see.”

“Because that sounds safe!”

“Safer than staying with this lot! What if all those weapons those brothers were carrying are real, like you said?”

Ella stared at Chloe: the girl was deadly serious. And Ella couldn’t fault her conclusions. Maybe they should just go, and find their own way back - running with nothing, not even water or a pound to their name was short sighted but… if they went back for their backpacks, the likelihood of being spotted went up. 

“Alright,” she agreed reluctantly, already lamenting leaving her bag in the room where they’d changed. 

“Let’s go!” Chloe stood abruptly, darting a look around, “Quickly! Maybe we can hide on that path we came in on somewhere.”

Not likely, Ella thought, but perhaps once they were out of sight, the… cosplayers… would lose interest and leave them alone. Maybe . Chloe was already hurrying off up the path that wound back up the hill towards the bridge they’d crossed on the way in.

Chapter Text

Sunset was not far away, the world readying itself for twilight in a blaze of glory. They were just metres away from the ford when the sound of hooves approaching made both girls spin around to check the path behind them. 

“Run!” cried Ella, seizing Chloe’s sleeve. She had no idea where they were going, but they were committed to escaping now. It was never good to be caught in the act. Chloe, frozen next to her, didn’t move. She pulled it hard, causing the girl to stumble, “Come on, Chloe!”

Chloe yanked her hand away and lifted her skirts to her knees. They sprinted hard, feet hitting the solid ground with little to soften the blows in their borrowed, soft soled slippers, and crashed into the icy cold water of the ford at the same time as someone shouted their names.

Chloe slipped in the water as it tugged at her borrowed dress where it fell long at the back. Ella tripped over Chloe and then they were both wet, stumbling over each other to get up in a tangle of limbs and fabric.

“Go, go, go, go go!” Ella shouted, even as she realised it was too late. Elladan and Elrohir, mounted on horseback, crossed the river and overtook them, circling back to block the path. The only way out was down and into the current of the unknown river - or back the way they’d come.

“Has something happened, why are you running away?” Asked one of the brothers, jumping down nimbly. 

“You can’t keep us here against our will!” Chloe shouted.

He held out his hands in a placating gesture. “Nor would we.”

“Then why won’t you give us a phone so we can get home!”

“If I knew what a phone was, I would surely give you one.”

Chloe screamed in frustration. “This is why I hate geeks!”

Ella rolled her eyes at that, but watched with interest as the dismounted brother only looked at the other girl in confusion. He didn’t even twitch, she marvelled.

“Geeks?”

Oh, they are very good. 

“Come on,” Chloe seethed, pulling on Ella’s arm, taking a wide path around the men and their horses, to where the water was deeper. “It can’t be that far ‘til we find someone with a phone.”

“You will likely only find danger if you choose to travel alone, especially so unarmed, and at night.”

“Enough already,” Chloe begged, “I’m so done with this!”

Ella bit her lip. They had a point. And… and she was starting to have a really bad feeling about this. Again. And it would be easy to prove this was all just a game, right?

“Take them off,” Ella said suddenly, “take the ears off.”

“Pardon?” The brothers shared an incredulous look.

“Ella, I don’t care if they want to keep their bloody costumes on -”

Ella interrupted her sharply. “We were at the last clue, and then we weren’t! In like, the blink of an eye. Down was up and up was down and it was like being squished through a hole the size of a pin in the universe and it was mental and then… this. Neither of us have any phone signal, at all. This whole time. The time of day was completely different to what it should be. This place isn’t just isolated, it’s nothing like any of the landscape within miles and miles of the orienteering course. There’s not just no technology, there wasn’t even an unused plug socket. They were cooking in like, bonfires. And they had proper old school ovens there with actual bread baking inside: they weren’t just for show. And the fruit they’ve got growing? That wouldn’t grow in Manchester, it’s not warm or sunny enough, I swear. These clothes, even? There’s no elastic, anywhere. Or zips! None of this fabric is… it’s not the usual kinda stuff, is it? And, and they all have pointy ears. And actual real long hair - I’ve not seen one badly done wig.”

“I don’t even know what your point is.” Chloe stamped her foot, splashing water, “Stop talking rubbish and let’s go.”

Ella turned back to the brother who was not sitting on a horse. She genuinely had no idea if it was Elladan or Elrohir, especially as the last of the day's sun disappeared, leaving them in increasingly dim twilight.

“Take the ears off.” she said softly. Make it not true, she added silently.

He frowned, “I cannot.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

He knelt down on one knee, the water lapping at his clothes, “We are Elves, Lady Chloe. I cannot.”

Ella took a slow step forward and reached out, waiting for him to stop her. He nodded slightly, just a small incline of his head. Ella stretched out her fingers and paused again, but when he made no motion to move she closed the last distance and lightly touched his ear. It felt like skin, soft and warm, not the cold, unyielding of plastic. She paused, waiting for him to stop her, but he sat perfectly still. She ran a finger down the other edge, feeling for a seam, then down the other side where it met his head. Feeling nothing of the sort, she gave it a gentle tug and then a sharp wiggle to see if there was any give.

“They’re real.” she whispered. 

Should have stood further away from the water, Ella realised, as it rushed up to meet her. The water served to revive her quickly though, as did the strong arm pulling her back up and out of the ford. She sat down on the hard ground, mind blank and her chest tight with panic.

“Are you alright?”

The brother that helped her out the water was squatting in front of her on the bank. Ella blinked quickly, trying to fight down the unwinding, spiralling feelings of lost-how-where as they grew and grew and grew.

“Are you Elladan or Elrohir?” she managed, swallowing down the urge to gulp down air.

“Elrohir.”

“You guys look really alike.”

“A common complaint. Are you alright?”

“You’re an elf.”

“Yes.”

“Elves aren’t real.”

“I can assure you we are.”

“I think I might be sick.” Chloe dropped next to her, face pale. She put her head between her knees and took a loud, noisy breath. 

Ella turned her gaze back towards Elrohir, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. She made a valiant effort to regain control of it, to calm herself down - stop being stupid, Ella! - but her attempts were thwarted as she once again caught sight of his intriguingly pointed ears. The ears that were very much real, and not fake, and not glued on. Despite being fully aware of what was happening, Ella found herself unable to stop the relentless onslaught of panic.

For the second time that day, she fainted. 

Chapter Text

When she finally woke up again, the room was shrouded in darkness. Her body felt cocooned, nestled in a bed that felt strangely foreign yet undeniably comforting, with blankets draped meticulously up to her chin. Gradually, she blinked her eyes open, her gaze caught by an unfamiliar ceiling. She could hear a faint chorus of melodic voices singing somewhere in the distance. She sat up slowly, looking around the room and captivated by the intricate details visible in the low light. There was a fireplace opposite her bed emitting a soft glow, casting flickering shadows across the room. Entranced by the mesmerising dance of the flames, she found herself transfixed, momentarily forgetting her own bewilderment.
Of course, until it all came rushing back in the way reality often does. 
The course. Chloe. The woods. The elves.

Ella slipped from the bed, wincing at the cold of the stone floor on her feet and then blushing when she realised that someone hadn’t only changed the bandages on her feet, but her clothes as well. She now wore a long dress that fell to her ankles and sleeves that were too long for her arms. It reminded her of an old-fashioned nightdress - thin and light fabric, and pleasantly soft against her skin. Who did that? Who changed her clothes? 
She padded awkwardly, hyper aware of her feet,  across to the door and poked her head out into the barely lit corridor. With no fire in the hallway, the only light came from the moon, shining in from a large, stained glass window further down. Patterns of flowers and stars cast down onto the wall and floor before it.

“Chloe?” she called out quietly. There was no reply. Ella looked up and down but found herself with very little to go on - and very little choice. She chose to walk towards light rather than darkness and headed towards the end of the corridor with the window. “Chloe?”

Somewhere nearby, a door opened. It sounded heavy. And then, with soundless footsteps, Glawaril appeared with a rustle of soft fabric and smiled brightly when she saw Ella.

“Ella, you’re awake! This is wonderful news. Come, it is warmer in your room, and you did get quite wet earlier.” 
Glawaril ushered her with wide arms and gentle movements back to her bedroom and to a small table and chairs that she hadn’t paid much attention to before.
“Wait here, I’ll get you some tea.”

Ella stared numbly after her. The panic that consumed her earlier at the ford was gone, leaving only an overwhelming, hollow feeling in its wake: like the immensity of it all had crashed through her and left her empty.
Elves.
Elves are real.
They don’t know what phones are.
They don’t know where we’re from.
Elves are real.

She pushed the thoughts aside and resumed staring at the fire until Glawaril returned with a tray filled with a bowl full of steaming soup, a large pot of tea, and even a slice of cake.
“I have never met a elfling who did not like cake. I thought you might like some too. ”
Ella nodded absently.
“Lord Elrond wished to know when you woke. I’ll go and fetch him while you eat, if that is alright?”

“Chloe - the girl I was with - where’s she?”

“Sleeping,” She gestured in the direction of the bed as she stepped back towards the door, “in the room next to this.”

“Oh.” But the elf was already gone. The soup did smell delicious, making her stomach grumble all the more loudly. Ella took a tentative sip. It tasted as good as it smelt and she ate it quickly. When was the last time I had fresh soup before today? And now I’ve had it twice in a day! Soup came in tins at home, and not the fancy, branded tins either.
The cake turned out to be carrot cake, and not as sweet as she remembered, but very tasty all the same. She focused on eating, on not thinking, on seeing only the flickering shapes and shadows cast by the fire, until there was a soft knock on the door.

“Hello?” she called out, “Glawaril?”

It wasn’t Glawaril. The door pushed open, and Lord Elrond entered the room. He stopped a little ways inside the door.
“Glawaril told me you were awake. I thought you might wish to speak, after what you said to my sons at the ford.”

Ella fiddled with her spoon. She was trying not to think about it all that much. She didn't want to feel the rising tide of uncontrollable panic wash over her again. When she didn’t reply, Elrond walked slowly over to the fire and stood by the mantlepiece.

Ella looked up, watching the elf as he stared into the flames.

“Long ago, one of my kind was sent back from the Halls of Mandos and Valinor to walk in Arda once more.”

“What,” she hesitated, wanting to stop the question - unable to not ask all the same, but he didn’t seem annoyed at the interruption, “what are the Halls of Mandos?”

“It is where the fëar, our souls, of my people may go after we die. Sometimes we are to be reincarnated and sent forth - usually, that is on to the other parts of Aman, our Blessed Land. The Halls are on the far shores of Valinor in Aman. But Glorfindel alone was sent back to the shores of Arda, here, at a time when he was gravely needed, though it was a great many years ago now.”
He looked over to her, his profile lit by the flames.
“Eru is wise, and nothing that happens is without purpose or his knowledge, not under these stars or the stars of your home. If he has seen fit to bring you here, we must trust that it is for a purpose.”
 
“Eru? Is he, is he your God? Like, um, your deity?”

“Yes. God is his name in your world?”

Ella shrugged. “There’s a lot of religions and not all of them have one God so,” she shrugged again, “...maybe?”

Ella pushed crumbs of cake around on her plate and listened to the fire until she felt panic start to build in her chest again.
“What do we do now?” she asked quietly, trying to quell it with information, “Are there people like us here? In Arda? How do we get back? Can we? Get back.”

“Indeed, the race of Men grows ever stronger. The nearest town is Bree -”

“Is that where we’re supposed to go? What’s it like?”

“You can go, if you wish. Likewise, you are welcome to stay until you are more used to this world. I sense it is… quite different, to yours.”

Ella thought about the lack of lights, and pants and bras. Hot showers. Television. Internet. Chocolate. Makeup. Deodorant. The quiet stillness of the countryside here with no cars or planes, or electricity pylons. No Netflix. No bass beats and no drum kits. She might never hear her favourite songs again, never - 
- she rubbed her eyes. 
Get a grip, Ella. “Yeah. It's a bit different.”

“Then stay for a time. There is a wizard that often visits here, Mithrandir is his name, that may have answers yet. When he next arrives, we shall seek his counsel. He once told me a story of two visitors from an unknown land, many years past, but I confess I do not remember the details.”

Ella raised her eyebrows at that. “Nothing?”

Elrond shook his head. “No, I thought it was a story, a flight of fancy,” he sighed, but smiled ruefully, “I remember they did return home in the end.”

Ella sighed. It sounded too good to be true: an offer to stay in a place with a comfortable bed and good food. The possibility of answers at some (undefined) point in the future. If something is too good to be true, it probably is, she reminded herself, nothing in life is free.
“When is he coming? Your wizard?”

“He arrives when he is wont to, he adheres to no fixed schedule. But he is a regular visitor.”

And we need to stay here to wait for said answers. Ella stared at the flames, annoyance and worry warring for precedence, feeling trapped by circumstance and unsure how to navigate the situation so unfamiliar and yet familiar. 

“Is there a place where we can get jobs? Here, or in Bree? What are the costs for staying here? Do we owe you money already? How much? How -”

“Our culture here is different from that of Men. You are welcome to stay as long as you need: I do not expect or need payment because there is no cost. If you wish, I will ask someone to let you help them in their duties here in Imladris, if you do not find something that draws your attention.”

Ella bit her lip and stared at the flames for a long time after Elrond left.

*

The sun had already risen when she abruptly awoke hours later, overcome by panic. She instinctively released her lip from between her teeth, unaware that she had been biting down on it. A scream seemed to be trapped in her throat as cold sweat clung to her nightdress and her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. It was just a dream. A bad dream. A horrific, terrible, no good bad dream. The details of the terror began to slip away with the arrival of daylight, fading like wisps of smoke. She struggled to recall whatever had caused such intense fear, but the remnants of the nightmare slipped from her grasp too quickly, leaving behind only the faint echo of crashing waves. Ella forced herself to take slow, deep breaths. I’m in bed, she reminded herself, repeatedly, using the sensation of the smooth sheets and the gentle breeze slipping through the slightly open windows to ground herself.

There was a pitcher and a bowl of water on the table by her bed, a change of clothes, and a small jar that, when she sniffed it, smelt and looked the same as the salve Elladan had used on her feet.  Ella washed quickly, the coldness of the water bringing her fully awake and clearing away the final wisps of nightmare, before dressing in the fresh tunic and leggings and opting to skip the soft slippers in favour of not ruining another pair. She went on into the corridor hesitantly and knocked on the door nearest hers softly.
“Chloe? Are you in there?”

Hearing a muffled reply that sounded affirmative, Ella pushed the door open a little, just enough to peer around, and found Chloe sitting in bed, eyes red and knees drawn to her chest.
“How am I going to get home? Where are we?” she asked quietly, voice scratchy.

“I talked to that Elrond guy some more, he said it’s called Arda. And this place is called Imladris.” Ella sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “There’s someone who comes here, Mythdear? Who might know more. Elrond says if it’s the will of their god, then we should trust it.”

Chloe flopped back into her bed with a sob. “Oh sweet fucking hell.” 

“Yeah.” Ella smirked. “He said we could stay here, or go to the nearest place with humans, a place called Bree?”

“Is Mythdear going there too?”

“It didn’t sound like it?”

Chloe pulled the covers up.
“I’m going to sleep for a while. I’m tired.”

Ella shrugged. “You sure? I don’t think the door locks, Chloe.”

“Just, leave me alone.”

Ella frowned but got up and went to the door. Chloe was too trusting, she’d decided. She went and got one of the small chairs by the window and placed it in front of the door as she backed out of it - anyone coming in would knock into it and wake her up with the noise, in theory. She walked down the corridors trying to remember the way to the stunningly pretty wedding gazebo, but ended up fairly lost within only a few turns and half guesses.

“Aha!”

“Shit!”

Elladan-or-Elrohir grinned widely, having jumped out from the courtyard she was walking alongside. 

“Ada asked me to check on you this morning, but you were already up.” he said, by way of greeting, “Have you eaten yet?”

Ella shook her head no, and willed her heart to slow down. Are all elves this sneaky? She hadn’t heard him coming. He needs a bell. They all need bells! How do they walk so quietly?

“Then come, let us make a nuisance of ourselves in the kitchen.” He held out his elbow in an expectant fashion, but Ella had never walked arm in arm with anyone before, and was not inclined to do so with a stranger now. She patted his arm awkwardly, and gestured onwards. 
“Which way?” 

Elladan-or-Elrohir led on without more than a split second pause while he dropped his arm. 

“So what time is it?”

“About nine o’clock.” he said amicably, “Your friend still sleeps.”

“You went in?”

“I knocked, there was no reply.” he gave her a sideways look, “I do not know how things are in your world, but here it would not be correct of me to enter a young woman’s bedroom without her knowledge.”

Ella hummed noncommittally, but they were at the kitchens. There was more activity there today, but Ella recognised the same elf that greeted them before when he came over to them with a smile.

“Elladan,” greeted Camaemben, “I have told your brother already, the biscuits are not ready yet.” Behind him, on one of the large counters, several trays of round biscuits were cooling on racks.

Elladan laughed, “I am not here for your best biscuits, Camaemben, I promise. Lady Ella and I are after any snack you may have left from breakfast.”

Camaemben eyed him suspiciously, but motioned them to wait and Ella heard him mutter to another elf nearby. “I don’t trust him. Watch the biscuits.”

Ella smirked up at him and he gave her what was clearly supposed to be an innocent look, even whilst subtly repositioning them closer to the biscuits. “It’s just Ella, Elladan, it’s weird being called a Lady.”

“As you wish.” he tilted his head, then canted it to the side in question. “What’s ‘wh-ire-d’?”

“It’s a word we use for when something is…, weird. Uh, strange? Not normal.” Elladan subtly stepped them a little closer again to the biscuits as she thought about her answer. “Strange is probably a good substitute. It’s strange being called a Lady. I’m not a person with a title, or a rank, or anything. I’m nobody. No one has ever called me Lady Ella before.”

“I have never met a single being who was nobody,” he said, edging them another half step closer to the cooling biscuits. “I apologise, I only meant to put you at ease.”

Camaemben returned, and they were more than halfway to the biscuits. He eyed them both suspiciously, but handed over a tray laden with food and a large pot of tea. It was the largest snack she’d ever seen and she felt her eyes widen of their own accord. Did these people have a never ending supply of food?

“Thanks!” she said, as he handed the tray over to Elladan. “That’s all… for us?”

“Only if you want to share it with this one.” Camaemben said, “He ate his fill at breakfast.”

“Alas I am saving myself for your biscuits, Camaemben.”

Camaemben shooed them away as Elladan juggled the tray into one hand and leaned across to the baked goods that were finally within reach. “Out, out of my kitchen!”

Elladan snagged two biscuits with a triumphant grin, then quickly adhered to the order, ushering Ella along all the way. Camaemben did nothing more than shout something in the other language they all seemed to share, but it only made Elladan laugh. He led them swiftly to another small courtyard, one they hadn’t seen yesterday, with a round, smooth wooden table and chairs set between rose bushes. It was very pretty. It was all very pretty. The garden was filled with roses: there were yellow roses climbing up the walls, bushes of beautiful pink roses, large shrubby pale peach roses with such soft looking petals she wanted to touch them to see if they felt the same. None of it looked like it had just been planted and was growing into place - it was years in the making, meticulously cared for and shaped and urged into place. She gazed around in awe as she sat down and gratefully accepted the cup of tea Elladan poured, a little sceptical. She wasn’t usually a tea drinker, but this was nothing like the tea she was used to - it wasn’t black, for a start. It was fragrant, and whilst not sweet, not bitter at all either. Elladan poured his own cup before passing her a stolen biscuit, pointing out the different items on the tray, “Strawberries… Honey nut cake… lavender and lemon muffins… ah! These are baked eggs with cheese. They’re very good.”

Quiches, she thought, looking at the egg and cheese bakes. She took a bite out of the biscuit first. 

“And this?”

“Spiced ginger biscuits.”

“They’re very pretty.” And they were: heart shaped, with lines spreading outwards from the centre. They went very well with the tea.

They ate in companionable silence as she tried to work out what she wanted to say. Elladan seemed not to mind the quiet. 

“What…” Ella sighed. “It’s about nine? What, what would you usually do now? I don’t want to take you away from whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.”

“Most mornings I would train with the other patrol guards in the morning, my brother also.” he said, stealing one of the small lavender and lemon muffins unashamedly.

“Can I uh, can I see? After breakfast.” she shrugged, “Don’t really know what to do with myself, to be honest. And I’d rather not think… too much. Y’know about… everything.”

*

Ella watched the elves training, fascinated by the scene before her. 
The elves began their training session with intricate set drills, each executing precise movements that seemed to flow seamlessly from one to the next. Each step, each strike, and each parry was practically a symphony of skill and discipline: it looked as much like a dance as it did a martial arts practice.

As the drills concluded, the elves formed pairs and assumed battle stances, anticipation palpable in the air. All with swords. Sharp, pointy, swords. Some of them grinned in friendly camaraderie, others stared at each other with a blend of focus and determination.

As the duels began, Elladan jogged over to where she stood, a mischievous smile lighting up his face and bringing out the blue in his grey eyes. The mischief was almost enough to distract her from the momentary distraction of having someone that beautiful turn their gaze to her. Almost.
 “Glorfindel says if you have time to watch, you have time to learn.”

“Learn what?” She said, giving herself a mental shake. She hopped down from her perch on the waist-high fence and let him lead her over to the straw covered floor of the practice area, a little ways from the duelling pairs. “Glorfindel? The sent-back bloke?”

“Ellon, he’s an elf.” said Elladan, amused.

“Still a bloke if he’s got -”

“He is also the captain of our guard.” Elladadon nodded behind her, ignoring her comment, to a very tall elf who was literally glowing. “Glorfindel, this is Ella.”

Glorfindel, the elven warrior Elrond had mentioned, was an unparalleled beauty that seemed to defy the laws of nature, Ella decided. His hair cascaded like a golden waterfall, falling to nearly his waist in soft, large waves. In the sun, they looked like threads of shimmering gold. A single row of delicate braids just below each temple pulled some of the golden hair away from his chiselled features, high cheekbones and straight, finely sculpted nose.

She tried not to gape, tried to avert her gaze - she had yet to see an elf who wasn’t unattainably good looking, but Glorfindel was celestial in his beauty. I think he might have broken my brain, she thought absently, then realised he was speaking.

“It is good to meet you, Lady Ella -”

“Just Ella.” she said, fixing her eyes, finally, on the floor, safe from a being who seemed to blur the lines between reality and the realm of myths just with his existence. Is it the sun, or is he actually glowing a little? She started to look up, and then quickly changed her mind.

“Ella,” Glorfindel inclined his head a little, sounding like he was trying not to smile. “Well met. Take this.” He held out a wooden stick shaped like one of their swords and passed another to Elladan, ignoring her choked off complaint, “And you, this. Ella, I want you to try to hit him.”

“I - what?”

Elladan grinned and changed to a wider stance, holding the wooden sword in a loose, casual grip. Ella forced herself to look up again, and at the sword-stick in her hand, and took a deep breath. Elves are just pretty. Get over it and focus, stupid girl. She’d adjusted to seeing Elladan and Elrohir, and was getting used to Glawaril. She could get used to this as well. And never look in a mirror ever again.

“Hit him.” Glorfindel reiterated, “I’d like to see what skill you have.”

“Oh, none.” she said easily, lifting one shoulder, “We don’t have swords where I’m from. Well, I mean we do? But no one fights with them now. Unless you count fencing…” She trailed off, aware she’d rambled. She shrugged again. “No skills.”

“Good, no bad habits. Now: hit Elladan.”

“I won’t be able to.”

“Try anyway.”

Ella sighed, faced Elladan straight on and tightened her grip around the wooden stick-sword. Stab or swing? She bit her lip. Stab them with the pointy end, right. Wise words, Arya. She lunged forward, holding the stick-sword out. Elladan side stepped without even raising his own.

“Again.”

Ella swung this time, swinging her arm out wide and aiming for the vague direction of Elladans neck, but he simply moved again, ducking back out of the arc of the swing.

“Keep trying,” said Glorfindel, “don’t stop.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, this time swinging the wooden sword across her body towards his stomach. Elladan dodged, and this time Ella didn’t bother waiting for Glorfindel to tell her to keep going. She stepped closer and tried again. And again. And again. A few minutes later her arm was sore, and Elladan had yet to even raise his own wooden sword. She rolled the makeshift weapon in her hands. A lot heavier than drumsticks, she thought wryly.

“Alright, that’s enough, thank you Ella.” Glorfindel said sincerely. “You held your temper well.”

Ella shrugged. “What was there to get angry about? Already knew I would be shit,” she rubbed her aching arm, and tucked the wooden stick/sword under her armpit, flexing her stiff fingers. “I suck, right?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and Ella played back that phrase and groaned. 

“It means ‘I’m not very good, right’?”

“I’ve yet to meet anyone who was good at something like this on their first attempt,” Glorfindel said, tugging the sword from under her arm. “And I have trained many.” He handed back the sword. “We need to work on your strength, but you lasted longer than I expected. Hold this out with your preferred arm until it drops, then swap.” 

Not like I have anything better to do, I suppose - no, don’t think about that - Elladan clapped her lightly on the shoulder, grinning, and the two elves walked off to rejoin the sparring and left Ella to hold out the training sword in front of her as instructed and daydream about drumming drills and the beatific smile every elf seemed to have.

When the guardsmen broke for lunch, Ella followed them at a distance to a large hall where several tables were laden with a variety of dishes, not all of which she could identify. She lurked at the edge of the group, hoping to grab something to eat unnoticed, but one of the twins (she still couldn’t tell them apart) found her and tugged her along to sit with him, his brother and a group of elves she assumed were his friends.
“How was your first lesson, Lady Ella?”

“Ella.” she corrected automatically, “And uh, good? I guess?”

“Can you move your arms?”

“Not sure,” she said honestly,

The elves around her laughed lightly, and the elf who’d asked her the question sliced off a thick slice of bread and put it onto her plate, while Elrohir served her a generous portion of stew. Ella nodded her thanks to them both and hoped the ache in her muscles wouldn’t translate to shaking hands. 

“Elladan and Elrohir started at the same time, and neither was willing to admit to being weaker than the other when doing their strengthening exercises. They both cried before they were done, on their first day and several more after that.”

Ella coughed, trying to hide a smirk but Elrohir just grinned widely. “I still maintain I held out longer.”

“Never! You cannot make up such lies, brother!”

“I have one second on you for our left arms, little brother. And two on the right!”

“Horse dung!”

Ella covered her mouth, trying to hide the laugh but everyone else round the table was laughing or rolling their eyes too.

“Don’t mind them,” stage-whispered the elf opposite, “They were both equally awful.”

Ella ducked her head down and let them bicker. It was nice, and if she forgot everything of the last few days she could almost pretend she was with people she actually knew. She focussed on eating her meal: thankfully her arms, weak as they felt, were not so wrung out that they stopped her from quickly eating her food. It was savoury, fresh, and absolutely delicious. The meat wasn’t even gristly, or chewy! I’m going to be so spoiled by the food here.

The conversation around her flowed and moved on whilst she ate, until she realised that Elrohir was saying her name and that she’d completely ignored him.

“-la, what would you like to do this afternoon? We will not be training for the full day today, so most will not return to the salle.”

She hadn’t thought that far ahead, and said as much. She was focussing very much on not thinking far ahead, and not thinking in general - since she’d awoken this morning she’d very much been thinking absolutely no further ahead than ‘right now’. 

“A tour, then.” said Elrohir, “You haven’t seen much of Imladris outside the main house. We will have to fetch Lady Chloe first - I know Glawaril has persuaded her to eat lunch and she has taken it to her room, so we will fetch her first.”

Ella swallowed back the distaste at the idea of spending more time with the other girl and plastered on a smile she hoped looked convincing. We’ve ended up here together, regardless of whether or not we like each other, right? And so, for the next few hours, Ella and Chloe were shown around the great buildings and the surrounding grounds, and it was a very good distraction for them both from the situation they’d ended up in, as long as they kept moving and talking and not thinking.

Ella thought it might be the most beautiful and brilliant place she’d ever been. There were waterfalls all around, and countless gardens of every description, high cliff faces and a winding river, and fields upon fields of crops and orchards. Gazebos and benches and little spots to enjoy the sun or stars were around every corner outside and inside alike, the library and music hall were both intimidating and amazing. A whole hall for communal music! A whole library! It was a library like none she’d seen before (not a well-worn paperback or plastic dust jacket in sight) and her fingers itched to explore the stacks, but one large blocker bought her back down to reality with a grounding, painful bump: for whatever reason they all understood each other speaking, the written language was a different matter altogether. She shook off the disappointment with a smile and gesture, dismissing the room like it was nothing.

By the time dusk fell, Ella was exhausted once again and both girls begged off dinner in favour of a bath and an early night.

Chapter Text

That night the nightmares returned. She was no stranger to bad dreams, the hazard of an overactive imagination, and this time, her body ached and her limbs were stiff from the rigorous workout Glorfindel had put them through, making everything feel heavy, and a deep sleep hard to resist. Twisted shapes haunted the edge of her sight as she blinked awake into the dark bedroom. Ominous shadows and the scent of smoke seemed to linger in the air, teasing her senses. She toyed with the thought of trying to go back to sleep for a while, hoping to ease the fatigue in her tired muscles, and lift the strange mix of feelings that sat like a weight on her chest.

However, the soft, silvery rays of the early dawn crept through her window, casting her room in a gentle glow while the dawn bird calls and songs were surprisingly effective, soothing her troubled emotions and keeping the gathering storm of a bad mood at bay, at least for now. 

Ella rolled out of bed with more energy than she expected to have, and then instantly regretted it: despite the morning sun, it was cool in her room and far from summer. A shiver started at her toes and worked its way all the way up to the nape of her neck as she hopped hastily to the changing screen. She hopped from foot to foot and dressed quickly in one of the sets of clothes Glawaril had furnished her with: another pair of leggings, dark blue and with the softness of something that was well worn. The cuffs were freshly hemmed, clearly having been worn by someone taller than her before. The tunic was much the same, except a light grey colour. The underwear (smallclothes, she reminded herself, Glawaril had called them smallclothes) were made of undyed linen. Where previously there had been some very plain and functional brief-style pants, and the odd version of a bra they used (it had ties at each side? Why?)  there was now a long length of fabric as well. 

“Thank you!” she whispered to the empty room. Glawaril didn’t even pause when she’d asked for something a little more supportive. Their default view on bras was apparently, that you didn’t need one, and then that if you wanted one, light support was alright, but any version of sports bra was not an option, elastic not being a thing here. Yesterday her own had been returned, smelling fresh once more but after the workout with the guard, it needed to be washed again and it lay in a pile on the floor in the bathroom, a reminder that she didn’t know how laundry was done here. 
Their version of a sports bra, in a world without elasticated fabrics, was what was before her now. She held the length of fabric up and pushed down the intimidation that having to do something new and probably physically awkward caused. A breast binding, suppose the name makes sense. Feels a bit fifty shades though, Ella smirked. The instructions seemed simple enough when the other elf woman had explained it. Now… she gulped. 
“You can do this.” she told herself. “Easy as pie.”

But what kind of pie? Her traitorous mind questioned. She frowned, straightened and started the process. 

Dawn was fully in the valley by the time she was happy with the result (her fourth attempt), but she slipped the tunic on happily, hastily brushed her teeth with the bizarre twig contraption Glawaril had introduced her to, and left the room before the morning got any further away from her, barefoot once again.

“What’re you so happy about?” Chloe said grumpily, smoothing down the front of her dress. This one was a soft pink colour, and suited her - not that Ella was going to admit that out loud.

“The girls,” she said conspiratorially, “are all strapped down now.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean I’ve got their version of a sports bra.”

“Why are you dressed like a guy, anyway?”

Ella looked down at her leggings and tunic, comparatively plain and much more androgenic than Chloe’s own choice for the day. “Because it doesn’t seem practical to be wearing a dress out in the training ground?”

“Why are you doing that? Are you screwing one of them already?”

“Are you… jealous?” Ella saw Chloe roll her eyes and couldn’t help continuing, “Of me? Or the supposed elf I’m apparently screwing?”

“I’m not into girls!”

“And I’m not having sex with anyone! I just want to keep busy.”

“Won’t be long, I bet.” Chloe muttered.

Ella bit her lip, forced air out of her nose and tried not to rise to the bait. She wasn’t sure where the rumours had started that she liked to sleep around, but started they had, and it was one of Chloe’s favourite insults. As if the number of people she had sex with had anything to do with anyone else in the first place. She wasn’t even sure if sex was her thing: she’d yet to be inclined towards anybody of any gender in that way.

“If you want me to show you how to do it properly, all you have to do is ask,” Ella said, as Chloe walked quickly in front of her with a stereotypical, passive aggressive shoulder brush. 

Chloe did a good impression of someone trying to walk casually, but she wasn’t that great of an actress: Ella could read the tension in her shoulders the whole way to the dining hall. She watched the other girl hasten to a table with some of the lady elves that she’d been speaking with yesterday and they welcomed her warmly. Ella looked around, hoping to see… well any face that she recognised would be a start. The flawless faces of all the elves in the room were strangers, however. She lingered in the doorway before deciding to grab something portable and head outside. 
“Pockets!” she muttered, looking down at her clothes and taking a bite of her purloined apple, “Why do they not have pockets?” 
It was one of those perfect green ones, her favourite, and so tart it was almost sour. The familiarity of it: the crisp bite, the sharpness of the flavour, the juice she wiped away from her chin, was comforting. At least this world has apples and they’re the same. How are they the same? Is this like Marvel Multiverse territory? Is it time travel? Or am I lying in a bed somewhere unconscious? The thoughts occupied her all the way down to the training area, where Glorfindel came out from the salle, carrying a large, round wooden board in his arms that looked like it should be heavy, but he carried it as if it was made of cardboard. “We didn’t put you off returning, yesterday? I would have thought you tired, in the least.”

“No,” she said brightly, tamping down on the fear she would be sent away, “you’ll have to do better than that.”

More elves came out after Glorfindel, with what she realised belatedly, were targets, and set them up in a straight row.

“Can I…. can I join in today too?”

Glorfindel shook his head, and Ella felt a bubble of disappointment swell and burst in her chest. “Not with this particular session,” he continued, “it would be remiss of me to let you throw knives when you do not even know how to hold one.”

“Oh, yeah, okay then.” She stopped at the fence around the training area, feeling awkward.

Glorfindel looked over at her with a small smile tugging up the edges of his mouth. “Come, you will not get there at all if you do not start with the basics now. We must all start at the beginning, Ella.”

Ella smiled a small smile in return, and quickly hastened over to the straw covered ground, where the other elves were lining up on the opposite side to the targets. Elladan and Elrohir waved merrily from their own positions, Glorfindel led her a little away from the firing line, further behind the elves, and produced the two small knives from somewhere on his person. 

Pockets? He has hidden pockets! She suddenly thought. Then dismissed it just as quickly. Can’t keep knives in pockets!  

“Are you going to make me hold them up all day?” she asked warily, as he held them out to her.

“Not yet,” he said, grinning impishly, “First, I’m going to teach you how to hold them.” He lifted them up a little more, “Take them.”

Ella did so cautiously, wrapping her fingers around the metal hilts. These knives were small, and all metal, unlike the swords she’d seen them practising with yesterday. She’d expected them to be heavy, but they sat lightly in her grip. 

“This is a dring manc… I think it would be called hammer hold, roughly translated,” he said, rearranging her fingers until she held it as she would a hammer. “It is better for heavier knives than those that we typically use here, but it is still useful for all beginners to know.”

Glorfindel, with a subtle gesture, directed Ella’s attention to a previously unnoticed target that had been strategically positioned behind her. It was positioned at a considerable distance from the area where the guards were showcasing their impressive acrobatic skills and skillfully hurling their knives at unbelievable speeds. Ella’s eyes widened in impressed shock, and she couldn’t help but wonder aloud, hoping for confirmation, “Tell me they’ve all been practising for years? And these aren’t like, your absolute beginners after six weeks of bootcamp.”

“Quite,” Glorfindel laughed, “Our most recent member of guard has been training with us for… oh about five hundred, or so? Less than six hundred, I’m certain. Almost.”

Ella’s jaw literally dropped as her thoughts came to a complete stop. “As in,” she said after a moment of five - five hundred- five hundred- five hundred - hundred, “five hundred or so years?”

“It would be an odd way to count months, would it not!”

“You’re… over five hundred years old. Lord Elrond said you came back but I thought he meant… as a baby…”

“Lord Elrond must have told you that Elves are immortal…” Glorfindel trailed off when she stared at him blankly and he looked almost sheepish, if such an expression could be applied to his features, “Ah well yes, surmise to say that yes, I am over five hundred years old. I believe the youngest elf in Imladris today is not long in her second millenia.”

She was aware that she was staring, but she was also trying to wrap her mind around the youngest person here being over 1000 years old. That these elves had been training for hundreds of years. What was even the point in trying? She could literally train for the rest of her life and still be lacking hundreds and hundreds of years experience and training - one thousand years old is young here. One thousand years is young and one thousand years ago the Magna Carta didn’t even exist yet in our world.

“Are you quite alright, Ella?”

Ella let out a short, high pitched noise in a rush of air. “Paradigm shift, hang on. My brain is melting.”

“Melti -”

“Not literally melting. It’s a turn of phrase.” She said it quickly, with an edge of hysteria. She took a deep breath and tried to swallow down the feeling. “It means you’ve turned my world upside down, changed my perspective, said something completely mental… I’m trying to understand a fundamental change in life. Never met immortal people before.”

Glorfindel looked torn between concern and amusement as she rambled on.

“If your brain has finished melting?” He asked, after several minutes of patient waiting. 

What’s a minute when you have millenia? “Sure.” she said faintly.

“Good. Show me dring manc again, bend your elbow - more, feet a little further apart. Bend that front knee. No, less than that.”
Ella let him adjust the angles as needed. He never lingered, keeping everything strictly perfunctory. 

“Now, keep your wrist stiff, move your hand back - keep your eyes on that target, not the knife -”

“Don’t watch the sharp thing coming towards my ear?”

“Exactly. Watch your target. This is a practice target - if you are throwing a knife outside of practice, it will be at an enemy. Eyes on your target.”

Ella huffed but resisted the urge to check she wasn’t close to cutting herself and stared fixedly at the target not more than two metres away.
 
“This is as far back as you want to go, any further won’t give you any more power. Now, when you are ready, swing your arm forward like this,” he pulled her arm through the motion, “and release the knife.”

Ella hummed and didn’t move. She could feel the cool metal in her hand, feel the weight of it, light as it was, remember the glint of the sharp edge. What if something goes wrong? What if I mess it up? What if it goes somewhere completely wrong? Can I throw it backwards from here? Can I throw it into my own foot? Can I -
She threw the knife, cutting off her own train of thought. It missed its target, falling considerably short, but she consoled herself with the thought that at least it went in the right direction, and didn’t go straight down into her foot.

“Good. Now, with the other hand.”

Ella repeated the throw, with slightly less hesitation, with the knife still gripped in her left hand. It fell even shorter than the first and was more off course as well.

Glorfindel retrieved the knives and handed them back. “Again.”

And so they fell into a pattern: throw, retrieve, repeat. Her arms were aching long before they finished, and as the sun neared its peak in the sky her efforts started deteriorating. When a throw barely touched the board, after having been hitting the board for over an hour (if not with consistent aim, or anywhere near the centre), Glorfindel called a halt to their practice.
Ella sighed with relief and he smiled.
“Will you be joining us this afternoon, Ella?”

“What are you doing this afternoon?” she asked warily, “I thought you didn’t train all day?”

“We do not on a daily basis, no. But today, it is circuits in the woods.” he said, innocently. Too innocently.

“Circuits?” Ella made a face on impulse, memories bleep tests and PE circuits flashing back into her mind, “Maybe another day?”

He dipped his head in agreement, still smiling, and secreted the knives back away on his person. The other guards were putting away the well-used targets and teasing each other. Ella watched them from a distance, the familiar knot of envy forming as she stood apart, separate, different, once again. A whole new world, and nothing has changed.

“Will you be back again tomorrow?” asked Elladan, catching her off guard, “Or has Glorfindel truly scared you off this time?”

“If I can move my arms, I’ll be back,” she promised, then added, “If that’s still… okay?”

Glorfindel nodded and patted her on the shoulder, then stepped back and turned to the main house. “I have a meeting with Lord Elrond to attend before our time this afternoon.”

The twins waved goodbye and ushered Ella along from either side, with the others leading the way, as they headed towards the stairs back to the dining hall. Her stomach rumbled in agreement.

Elrohir, grinning mischievously, brought up the topic of Ella asking Glorfindel about his age. Ella could sense the teasing tone in his voice, and the glint in his eyes was a familiar look she had seen on her foster-brothers' faces countless times, “I don’t know how things are in your world,” he said, “but here -”

“It’s impolite to ask an old elf his age.” Elladan carried on, “He’s so old I doubt even he remembers.”

Ella knew they were teasing her, or at least, she thought so. Or were they about to wrap a reprimand in niceties? Feeling a mix of confusion and uncertainty, Ella stumbled over her words to apologise,  “I.. Sorry. I can apologise?”

Uilossiel, one of the elves she had met the day before, tutted and glared at Elrohir. “That is unkind, Elrohir. It is not funny when she knows nothing about our ways.” She looked at Ella and smiled gently, “He is joking. It is not impolite. Although whether or not Glorfindel remembers how many years it has been since his begetting day is up for debate. I’d wager he has to think about it.”

“Begetting? What does -” Ella remembered what it meant, and blushed, and then got annoyed at herself for blushing as if she was some kind of child. Sex, it was just sex. “Elves don’t remember their birthdays? You remember the day your parents made you?”

“Trust me, it is odd to us that Men do not celebrate their begetting day.” she said knowingly.

“Go on,” goaded Elladan, “Ask.”

Ella shook her head stubbornly. She was desperately curious to know how old everyone was now, but she refused to rise to the bait, and she really didn’t want to think about all of their parents making them because then she’d end up thinking about Lord Elrond having sex and that was just weird.

*

Elrond tapped a finger on the small table between his chair and Glofindels. They sat on a small balcony off his private rooms, discussing matters of the settlement. 

“And why do you have one of the girls training with your guard, my friend?”

Glorfindel positively lounged in his seat, enjoying the sun on his face, completely nonplussed by the question. “She looked so very lost, watching. All lost children want to be found, do they not?” He turned to look at his friend sideways, “I do not believe she will be a threat, but I would like to keep an eye on our new arrivals where I can, all the same. Nor do you need to worry she will come to harm training with the guard.”

Elrond gave him a small, weary smile. “I did not mean to imply otherwise.” 

“I know, my friend.” Glorfindel reached over and patted Elrond’s arm.

“They are both barely more than children, and if their story is to be believed, completely new to the ways of this world. She and Chloe are under the care of my House until they can be returned home. It has been many years since I had to be so concerned with the so very young.” Long has it been since the laugh of any child had echoed through the fields here. And these are mortal children, practically women grown by their judgement. Elrond sighed and took a sip from his tea, falling deep into thought as they both looked out over the quiet valley. Glorfindel settled back too, lacing his hands behind his head.

“I find myself with evermore questions than answers as to why they are here.”

“You mean, other than your sons bringing them?”

“To Arda,” he clarified, “Even before the Changing of the World it was rare indeed to have travellers from far off, unknown lands appear. I can think of only one story of Mithrandirs about others from a completely different world to the known lands - if one is to even believe the truth of the tale.”

“Do you have reason to believe it is not true?”

“Mithrandir is a great teller of stories, is he not?” said Elrond, tilting his head to the side in silent askance. Glofindel nodded, smiling easily. “And this is one tale I know from nobody else. It took place far from here, in the depths of the Greenwood while Oropher was still uniting his peoples, and Thranduil still young. The scholar in me wishes for more… references.”

“And so we await the Istari for more details.”

“And so we wait.” Elrond echoed, refilling both their cups of tea from the nearly empty teapot. “And try to keep the two girls occupied, rather than spending long days thinking about their situation. Young Chloe has been taken under the wing of Thenidiel and Malthenniel, it seems for now at least, and Ella is training with your guards…” he sighed, and sipped his tea, “how much patience do we think they will have? I have sent scouts out to look for Mithrandir, but he is so rarely willing to be found.” 

Glorfindel did not reply, only a small frown creasing his forehead as he accepted the refilled cup.

***

The afternoon sun bathed the elven settlement in a warm, golden glow as she wandered leisurely through the grounds, retracing the paths she had explored on the previous day, trying to imprint locations in her head. 
Passing by the magnificent library, its grand stone archway adorned with intricate elven script, she couldn't help but wonder at the vast knowledge, the history and the stories, that might be contained inside. But she kept walking.
As she strolled past the kitchens, tantalising aromas wafted through the air.
Passing by the Hall of Fire, Ella felt a tinge of longing when she saw it dormant for the afternoon. Glawaril had mentioned several times already of previous times where musicians and poets would gather to weave tales and sing songs for hours and hours.
Retracing her steps to her own room, which she still couldn’t believe was hers for as long as she needed it, despite what Glawaril might have said, she appreciated the privacy and comfort it offered. The room was a veritable sanctuary and so unlike any room she’d ever slept in, let alone called her own, before. She lingered there for a time, rechecking her backpack and confirming her old clothes were still there, stuffed at the back of the wardrobe.
However, it was at the stone gazebo that Ella lost herself entirely. From this vantage point, it all unfurled before her like some kind of living tapestry. She gazed in awe at the cascading waterfalls, the crystal-clear streams flowing through emerald glades, and the elegant bridges arching over streams and rivers and dips in the land. Lush greenery embraced buildings, no concrete in sight anywhere. It was, she thought, not quite a town, it was too big, too sprawling…and it didn’t feel like a city either - not in any conventional sense. The elves had embraced the land rather than try to tame it, to force it down and hide it under stone and metal and tarmac. Instead all she saw was an intertwining of nature and craftsmanship, of working with the surroundings, rather than over them. 
She was hard pressed to know what to call it, really.
There was no post office, no bus stops, no supermarket or shops that she could see. There were no roads, or cars, no schools or housing estates, no skyscrapers of any height, no rows of terraces or big blocky warehouses. For the most part what she could see was… nature. Green, leaf-filled trees, orchards, fields of wheat and potatoes and other vegetables. Animals grazed in the distance, and paddocks were all next to large, open fields where the horses roamed at will. There were areas of smaller houses dotted the landscape, often clustered in groups, or charming, open semi circles around what looked like gardens, each seemingly positioned with careful, planned intent. One was around an area of water that could have been a pond, or a lake. Ella couldn’t tell from where she stood, breathless at the area's beauty. The main focal point of it all was the collection of majestic buildings behind her, rising elegantly up into the cliffside. They were linked together with flourishing gardens and winding paths; covered walkways, adorned with intricate carvings and ivy-clad arches, connected the buildings with a grace and artistic flair she’d never seen back home.
There’s nothing like this at home, she thought, remembering the dirty, plastic covered walkways around the nearest shopping area. Green with moss and stagnant water along the top, held up by chipped, black painted metal balustrades that were functional only, with not a single decorative thought spared.

She ended up picking a path down from the gazebo and following it down, down, down into the valley. A sense of curiosity and adventure propelled her forward, leading her deeper into the picturesque valley past smaller houses and orchards. She wandered until the landscape unfolded into vast fields of golden wheat. By the time she stopped, touching the sheafs tentatively, assuring herself they were real, and therefore this was real, the sun was well into its descent. But the reassurance that this (probably) wasn’t a dream didn’t bring her much solace.
It's too quiet, Ella decided. It’s the quiet that’s freaking me out. The elves talked, and sang, and made noise, yes, but no one was shouting angrily into a phone, or losing their temper. No groups of children pushed and shoved and joked with each other. There were no kids at all that she’d seen, come to think of it. There were no police sirens, no ambulances wails. No trains screaming past and no constant drone of any nearby motorway. No cars revving at traffic lights, or push bike bells ringing from the pavements. There were no late night let outs from clubs, nobody chatting, slightly drunk, as they hopped between bars,  no school playgrounds. It was just… quiet. She could hear the breeze playing through the wheat, the distant burbling of a stream nearby. If she concentrated, she thought she could hear the melodic rise and fall of some elves singing, perhaps in a field nearby: she could almost pick out the lilting melody. 

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re really not in Kansas anymore.” she whispered. 

It was time to go back , she knew it was. But still she lingered, slipping between the rows of swaying wheat. The breeze blew the sheaves gently and they moved in a captivating Mexican wave. The urge to push, to find out how safe she was here, beckoned. She thought of the lighter in her backpack, up in her borrowed bedroom. It would be useful to know just what it takes, she mused, as she took slow, deliberate steps to retrace the long, winding path and its many steps back up to the main houses. The elves had a sense of calm about them that she wasn’t used to: a stillness, perhaps; enigmatic and composed, yet quick to smile, kind by default. What made them that way? Was it their immortality? Their age? Or maybe they were just very good at hiding their emotions.

The sky was painted orange by the sunset, casting everything in the valley with a glow as she neared the final steps up to the main house, and she heard something she hadn’t heard in the days since the day of the orienteering lesson: shouting. 
Deep, male, voices. Shouting.
Ella hurried the rest of the way up the stone steps she’d been slowly tackling (with decreasing speed: her legs ached) and arrived at a wide courtyard that led directly to the horrendously narrow bridge and what she assumed was the main entrance to Imladris.

The usually empty courtyard was full of humans. Men, women and children all talking to each other, and the elves that had come to meet them. Some bore bandages wrapped around limbs, and one was being carried on a makeshift stretcher, bandage soaked in red wrapped around his leg: his companions were the ones shouting. She spied Lord Elrond talking to a particularly tall man dressed in dark greys and worn blacks, and who had a particularly long sword strapped to his waist. Glorfindel stood at Elrond's side, no trace of his usual, easy-going  smile on his face. 

Ella edged around the crowd and found Uilossiel standing guard one on of the other paths into, and out of, the courtyard. If her memory was right, it led, eventually, to one of the kitchen gardens… possibly. Or maybe it was the one that led the other way, towards the horses in the field?

“Ella! Good evening.”

“What’s going on,” she dipped her head towards the large group of humans in the courtyard, “with these guys - people?”

“Yrch attacked a group of travelling men on the road. Fortunately, some Dunedain were nearby and came to their aid, but they were attacked again. They’ve come here for the aid of our healers and to coordinate an attack on the remaining beasts - they were originally a training party, not seasoned fighters, so I understand.”

I mostly understood some of that… I think? Wasn’t Adragil one of those people?  “Is there anything I can do?”

Uilossiel spared her a quick, small smile and pointed over to another elf nearby. “Lindir will be coordinating. He speaks Westron, so he can tell you where you could lend aid.”

Skirting the edge of the courtyard, she made her way around the noisy group to the dark haired elf she’d been pointed towards. Drawing nearer, she caught snippets of their discussion, but the details eluded her because they spoke exclusively in their preferred language. As she approached, the elf exchanged words with Elrond, their expressions solemn and intent, and the latter nodded seriously and walked away with purpose in his steps.

“Um, hello, are you Lindir?”

Like all elves, Lindir stood tall, exuding a breathtaking beauty that seemed to be characteristic of all the elves. His long, flowing, mahogany coloured hair cascaded in gentle waves, gracefully reaching to a point under his shoulders. Adorned with intricate metal clips, two slender sections of hair framed his face, accentuating his ethereal features. He appeared no older than twenty-five to her, but what did that mean to an immortal? How would she ever be able to guess? He could be anywhere from twenty-five to what, a few hundred? A few thousand? Thankfully, arresting as he was, spending time among them was gradually tempering the mesmerising effect looking at them initially had. She was no longer as entranced as she was to begin with. Therefore, when he glanced her way and offered a courteous nod, she was aware enough to respond without an embarrassing delay.

“I am. Hello, Lady Ella.”

Ella swallowed back the automatic response of just Ella, thanks as not useful. “Can I uh, help with anything?”

“Do you know your way to the kitchens?”

Ella nodded confidently, a sure jerk of the head, whilst thinking it was more along the lines of ‘for the most part’..

“Tell Camaemben we have some thirty or so additional guests for the next several weeks at least, and that they will need refreshments as soon as he is able.”

“I can do that,” she agreed, “Where should we bring it? Here?”

“I’m not certain yet, I will send another with that information as soon as it is decided. Likely it will be some guest quarters, but it will perhaps be one of the smaller halls.”

“Alright, I’ll get on it.” She smiled her most confident smile and hurried up the smooth stone steps that led to the main house. She wasn’t sure if it was the quickest way to the kitchens, but it was the only way she was certain of. Every time someone had shown her to the kitchens so far, they’d started from this building. She decided against running - she’d yet to see any elf hurry anywhere - but she walked swiftly all the way. She pushed the heavy doors to the kitchen open and slipped inside.
“Camaemben?” she called out. The kitchen was abuzz with activity, yet none of the elves present looked familiar to her.

Camaemben's head popped up from behind a line of diligent elves engrossed in kneading dough. "Ella!" he exclaimed, a warm smile forming on his face. "What brings you to my kitchen this fine evening?"

“There’s a bunch of people - um, Men - in the courtyard, and Lindir wants you to know they need ‘refreshments’?” The air quotes were almost definitely pointless here, but really, why couldn’t they just say ‘something to eat? “And they’ll be staying for at least a few weeks? Maybe? But the ‘refreshments’ aren’t to go to the courtyard, he’s going to send someone else to tell you when he knows.”

“Very well,” Camaemben nodded, “Then we will make up trays and be ready to take them wherever we are bid.” He motioned her over as he walked over to a large cupboard set into the stone walls. “Come, you can help me. Take these trays over to that spare counter.”
He stacked several large wooden trays into her arms before grabbing twice as many for himself, and placed four of them in a row, leaving the remainder to one side..
“There are jars of conserve in the pantry, pick any on the front row and bring it here please. Then pick any of the dishes of fruits from that shelf.”

Ella did as she was bid, thankful to have something to do amidst the bustle of the busy kitchen. Always better if they don’t think I’m a lazy layabout - a lesson she’d learnt years ago - and more recently she found it was better to stay busy, to stop her thoughts drifting to the subject of how they got here, how they would get back, where this place was, how this place existed - stop. She picked out a jar of what she assumed was blackberry jam, if the colour was anything to go by (it did have a label, but it was in their language and she couldn’t even read the letters, never mind translate the text), and a bowl full of what looked like apricots.

“Divide the fruits amongst this half of the trays, and half the conserve.” He pointed to several small dishes that she recognised had held her own jam from her breakfast tray a few days prior, “Use those, please.”

It was easy work, really. Camaemben directed her with polite efficiency, but didn’t micromanage. She chose soft peaches for the second half of the trays, and then helped divide cold cuts of meat and cheese. Camaemben bought out a stored fruit cake from the pantry, saying that he knew several among the Dunedain who favoured it, so it couldn’t hurt, and then they set about making fresh savoury pastries with dough from the icebox. 

“Who are the Dunedain?” she asked, as she carefully cut the dough into rounds as he’d directed, “I met Adragil when we first got here - kinda - but I didn’t see him again and I thought maybe it was a title?”

“I believe Adragil simply happened to be here when Elladan and Elrohir brought you in, he left the next morning,” he said, “As to the Dunedain, they are Men of the West, descendents of the Númenóreans of old.” 

“I... don’t know what any of that means,” she said after a beat, “Good guys?”

“They are a good people, yes.”

As evening settled in, casting the world outside the large windows into darkness, another elf finally appeared to deliver the whereabouts of the new arrivals. Inside the kitchen, the clatter of dinner preparations echoed through the air while the dinner preparations were well under way. Camaemben swiftly filled the teapots with hot water and selected some comforting tea blends to steep.

The elf - someone she’d not met before - said something to her in the flowing, melodious language the elves often spoke when she wasn’t around. Ella looked at them in blank confusion.

Smiling kindly, Camaemben intervened with a translation, “She said they are in the guest lodgings.”

“Right… that’s near where me and Chloe are, yeah? I know where that is.”

“No, you are in Lord Elrond's guest quarters,” he corrected, “we keep a larger guest house for times such as this. Come, the savoury hand pastries will be finished by now. We will send these over and then I will get us something nice to eat, I think, after that.”

Always pays to help in the kitchen! Ella grinned, and worked a little faster with a renewed vigour, her stomach rumbling in agreement at the promise of food. They handed out the last of the trays to waiting elves only half an hour later, and Camaemben served them both a bowl of hot stew, complete with fresh dumplings, and a whole cake sat in the middle of the counter. Several other elves from the kitchen joined them, though most shook their heads apologetically when she tried to talk to them.
“Though a great many of us have learnt the tongue, Westron isn’t universally spoken here, I’m afraid,” apologised Camaemben.

Ella shrugged. “Don’t think you have to apologise for not speaking another language. One that your people don’t even use?”

Camaemben didn’t disagree, and they ate in companionable silence, with a few quiet conversations happening around the table. Ella ate quickly - lunch seemed an awfully long time ago now, not least to her appetite. As she slowed, enjoying the potatoes that she saved til last, she looked consideringly at her meal.
“What’s this called? Like, a meal at this time. In your language.”

“Dúvad.” said Camaemben, “For breakfast, we would say eriadwad. Are you interested in learning Sindarin?”

“Wouldn’t do any harm right?” Ella nodded, “Still waiting for that wizard guy.”

Chapter Text

The small hall in the west wing was unexpectedly full of a mass of children and teenagers. A dark-haired teenager caught sight of her peering cautiously, and slightly curiously, inside and lit up in relief. Ella toyed with the idea of pretending she hadn’t noticed them, but the stranger closed the distance, leaving her no choice.

“I need every bit of help I can get, if you are willing,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the whorling groups of running, hopping, skipping, laughing, and chatting children behind her, “I’m Gilraen, by the way. Are you Chloe, or Ella?”

“Ella,” she said automatically, taking another moment to study the stranger. She was a head taller than Ella, her raven hair meticulously woven into a single braid, a contrast to the elves who, she’d noticed, preferred their hair largely unbound. Her long, dark blue overdress gracefully swept just above her ankles, revealing sturdy, well-worn brown boots beneath.

“Well met, Ella. My apologies, you are both quite similar from a distance.”

“Don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t even the first time, though the elves hadn’t seemed to have the problem. Whilst Ella kept her hair shorter than Chloe, they were brunettes, both had similar builds and heights, although Ella was proud to say she was an inch taller than the other girl. “Help, with what, exactly?”

“The weather has been out of sorts for days, and the elves are not so used to mortal children as they are fond of them.”

“What does that mean?” Ella asked, bending down to pick up a crying young toddler that had wandered over to them, and bouncing them on her hip without thinking much about it. It was true, the weather had not been great - for nearly three days now, in fact. Elladan had mentioned it wasn’t unheard of for them to have a period of storms in spring, but that it was particularly late this year. Given that rain was almost the default weather setting for the North-West of England, she’d barely noticed.

“We’re bored,” complained one of the children behind Gilraen, “and she won’t let us go outside!”

Ella looked out of the nearest window - the rain was pelting against the glass pane, spurred on by a brisk wind, and the sky was filled with dark clouds as far as she could see.
“Have you looked outside? She’s got a point.” Ella said to the child, who huffed. “Run out of things to do inside, huh?”

“About a day ago. I heard there were two more mortal girls staying here, are you one?”

“I am a girl, and I am staying here,” Ella said cheekily, “I mean, unless there’s more? Don’t know. Yeah. Right, no movies to watch here. Uh… The elves here love music, do you?”

The eavesdroppers said yes, they did. Gilraen nodded, face belying her bemusement, since the question had been addressed to her.

Ella nodded, continuing to gently bounce the fussing toddler, “Ok, well, it’s fun to learn new songs, right? I could teach you songs from where I’m from, and then… you could teach me some of yours.”

“But you all have to sit down, in a circle,” Gilraen interjected. Excitement bubbled across the room at the prospect of new songs - and Ella overheard a few voices murmuring joyfully about performing them for their families later. Gilraen draped a long piece of fabric across her shoulder and skillfully fastened it with practised efficiency. “Pass me Lômiphêl, would you? If we’re lucky, I’ll be able to settle her for a nap.”

Trying to hide her eagerness at passing the squirming responsibility back, Ella gently returned the toddler she had been attending to and joined the circle of seated, eager, children. The delicateness of toddlers always made her slightly nervous.
“Alright, now, I think… first you guys are gonna have to show me how good you are, yeah? So we’ll start easy, and work up to the fun stuff, how does that sound?” Ella clapped her hands eagerly, “So, this is one that’s great for you littles. I’ll sing a line, and then you copy it. Ready? Rain rain go away.”

“Rain rain go away.”

“Come again another day,”

“Come again another day,”

“We want to go outside and play,”

“We want to go outside and play,”

“Rain rain go away!”

“Rain rain go away!”

“Brilliant! Wanna sing it all in one go? And then you guys can pick a song you know to teach me.”

A pair of rambunctious twins quickly shouted out which song they thought she should learn before the rest of them had even finished singing back the short chorus. After nearly five minutes of increasingly angry debate, Gilraen weighed in (she’d been walking circuits of the hall to ease Lômiphêl to sleep) and soon they were gleefully teaching her a simple walking song. 

And that was how the afternoon went - trading songs. Ella learnt a song about summer in return for a nursery rhyme, and a harvest song in exchange for the two verses she knew of ‘Drunken Sailor’.  Gilraen convinced some curious parents and carers to fetch them all some water and snacks when they stopped by to see what they were all up to, and after a snack break Ella tried to teach them the dance to a song called Cha Cha Slide with just her verbal accompaniment. 

“Do you know any more of those?” Gilraen asked, as the others in the hall broke off into chatter debating what to teach Ella next. 

“Dances?” Ella checked, waiting for Gilraen to nod before shrugging, “Yeah, I went to this musical theatre thing back home… which I can see does not translate. Yeah, I know a few.”

“Musical theatre?” Gilraen shook her head, amused. “No, that is not something I have encountered before. I have heard of theatre troupes before. Another day you will have to explain these more to me. Until then let us learn another, and tire them out a little more.”

Ella sipped her water and thought for a minute before making her decision. “You’re just going to have to trust me that the music is awesome, but the dance is just as brilliant on its own. It’s called Thriller.” she said to Gilraen, then cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted to be heard over the rising din, “Oi,  you lot! Get into three lines! And face me!”

*

“I heard you were babysitting today, why on earth would you do that?”

With an arched brow, Ella chose to finish chewing before lifting her gaze to where Chloe loomed above her. The disdain etched on Chloe's face did not escape her notice - it matched her tone.

“Gilraen is very… persuasive. And she asked for my help.”

“Yeah but… kids.” Chloe pretended to shudder. “No thanks.”

“They were fine, considering they’re not at home and the weather sucked.” Ella shrugged, “Not like I’m not used to hanging out with random kids. I taught them some songs, they taught me some songs, and then I taught them the Thriller dance.”

Chloe paused. “Thriller?”

“They were really good! Music is a big part of like… culture here. History. Gilraen was telling me it’s how they pass a lot of old history on, through songs and stuff.”

“How do you even know the Thriller dance? You weren’t in the show last year.”

“Shows suck. I was busy.” Ella said, rolling her eyes and ignoring the sting of jealousy that lingered at the memory. “I went to the rehearsals. Most of them, anyway.”

“Whatever. Teaching kids how to dance? Sounds like an awful afternoon, if you ask me -”

“Which I didn’t -”

“I spent the afternoon with those two elf women again, Thenidiel… and Malthenniel.” Chloe pronounced the unusual names carefully, “They showed me some of the dresses they’re working on-”

“Sounds fascinating,” Ella muttered into her water cup.

Chloe stopped talking with a huff and Ella snorted mid-sip. Ella was content to not have to make small talk, but as Chloe sighed again, she realised the other girl was not.

“Everyone here is in such good shape.”

Ella nodded. She had noticed. She wasn’t sure what the point of this was.

“How do you think they do it?”

“Do what?”

“Stay in shape! My aunt’s always telling me that carbs are bad, they go to our hips, but,” Chloe gestured to the tables around them - or perhaps the people, “like most of this is crammed with carbs.”

“Your hips are a bone, they can’t get fat.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ella.”

Ella took a large, obnoxious bite of pie. Ofcouse Chloe lived in a house where a food macro was a choice.

“Eat when you’re hungry,” she said when she’d finally finished her mouthful of pie, “stop when you’re full. Move more. Come join me in the mornings with the guard - Glorfindel will be happy to make you a sweaty, achy mess too.”

“He’s the tall blonde one? With those dreamy blue eyes?”

Ella rolled her eyes and nodded. Of course Chloe had the hots for Glorfindel.

“I don’t want to end up beefy,” Chloe said, shaking her head, “Getting sweaty with a bunch of soldiers doesn’t sound fun.”

Ella raised her eyebrows and grinned. Chloe grinned back, and they dissolved into giggles despite themselves.

“What about the rivers? You could go swimming.”

Chloe looked hopeful for a moment, but then her expression fell just as quickly.

“What? Why that face?”

“No swimming costume.”

“So?”  She said with a shrug , “Wear your undies.”

Chloe grimaced and tutted, but finally fell quiet, until a shadow fell over their plates. Chloe looked up first, letting out a small noise of surprise that caused Ella to immediately pay attention as well. A human boy, about their age or perhaps a year or two older, with dark, deep blue eyes, curly sandy brown hair, tan skin and attractive features. ‘Oh’ indeed. Ella snuck a sideways look to the other girl, who appeared to be speechless. 

"My apologies, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just wondering if my friends and I could sit with you? We are new here and a little... overwhelmed." he said, awkward but charming with it. Sure enough, two more human boys stood either side, looking sheepish. 

“No! Not at all!" Chloe said very quickly, barely glancing over for confirmation before gesturing at the seats in front of them. She blushed, smiling prettily as the boys sat down. “I’m Chloe. This is Ella.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ladies. This is Verrus and this is Palin,” he said, indicating left and right, “and my name is Orinan.”

“Nice to meet you too,” said Chloe sweetly. 

“You’re new here too? Did you arrive the other day with the others?” asked Ella, helping herself to another of the fresh bread rolls but keeping it untouched on her plate. She needed the right moment to secrete it away and that was now going to be more difficult. “Do you know Gilraen?”

All three boys nodded, but it was Orinan, their nominated speaker apparently, who answered. “We did - though none of us can claim to be Dunedain, we did arrive with them. I myself was unlucky enough to get caught in a skirmish with some rogues on the road earlier in my travels. I banded together with another smaller group on the way to Fornost for the early summer market - that’s where we all met - and then we were attacked by orcs in the middle of the night. If it hadn’t been for the Dunedain camping nearby that heard the fight, I do not think we would have lasted ‘till morning.”

“That sounds terrifying, how awful,” said Chloe sympathetically, “I’m glad you’re all okay!”

“As am I! We were fortunate to escape only with a few shallow cuts and bruises.” Orinan agreed with a bright smile, his companions nodding as well around mouthfuls of food. “I confess I have barely seen an elf before this,” said Orinan quietly, as he filled his own plate with food, “they keep themselves to themselves, more often than not.”

“They do?” asked Ella, curious. 

“Aye, is it not so where you hail from? I had assumed it was the same all over the world.”

“No, I mean, yes? I mean, we’re from far away too.” Ella shook her head, not sure how to or whether she even should admit to being from another place entirely, “The first time either of us saw an elf was when Elladan and Elrohir arrived at the road we were walking down.”

“They are quite intimidating, no?”

“Very,” said Chloe, though Ella wasn’t sure if intimidating was the right word, but she also couldn’t think of what the right word would be. Ethereal. Other-worldly. Ancient. Overwhelming. Chloe continued on, oblivious to the other girls' indecision, “They are so good at everything.”

“It is most infuriating.” Orinan agreed, still smiling openly, his eyes alight with good humour, “I am glad I am not the only one caught off guard by it, Chloe.”

Ella caught Palin’s eye across the table and grinned, not the only one to have noticed the flirting apparently.

They made small talk, very small talk given the small number of topics in common she and Chloe shared with the boys, until everyone was finished: Verrus and Palin even managed to get a word in themselves too, explaining that they were cousins and apprentice blacksmiths, looking for work in a forge. They travelled town to town with the seasonal markets at the moment, doing odd jobs and helping with anything that needed doing. It sounded fascinating to Ella - the idea that they had a skill that could pay for food and lodgings, and let them travel while they honed their skills. There weren’t many skills she could think of at home that would allow that - and that was seriously something she needed to think about. Especially with all the time she was burning stuck here - however this happened - she was pretty sure she couldn’t use ‘stranded in another world’ as an excuse on scholarship, job, or rent applications. Nothing to do about that now, forget about it.

“Well, I’m beat, nice to meet you all.” Ella didn't even have to fake the yawn that overtook her words as she stood, it was genuine. She’d slept badly and been up since before dawn, and the day since had been relentless, starting with her efforts at the training grounds (which were feeling pointless now that she knew they all had hundreds, even thousands, of years of practice), and then having been roped into singing and dancing all afternoon. She shouldn’t have been surprised that weariness was now, finally, pulling at her limbs. She turned to Chloe who was locked in what she liked to call ‘eye smexing’ with Orinan.  “Are you heading to bed too?”

Chloe's head shook gently, and a stray tendril of her dark brown hair danced and tangled with her eyelashes. With a distracted flick, she pulled it away. "No, I think I’ll stay, and talk a while longer," she replied with a hint of a smile. "’night."

Ella shrugged nonchalantly - it was quite early, especially by their standards back home, and she wasn’t exactly leaving the other girl alone - and waved goodnight.

Chapter Text

Ella’s days settled into a comforting routine: she would rise early, at least with the first light of dawn, sometimes earlier, and venture outside to savour the sunrise, or down to the kitchens to lend a hand doing whatever breakfast preparations she could. Afterwards, she tried not to make a nuisance of herself learning whatever she could with the guards' until they broke for the midday meal. Afternoons usually involved returning to kitchens or finding a spot in the serene gardens to recharge from all the earlier interactions. Despite her longing to explore the library, fear still held her back, imagining the worst outcome of being found there - and given the answer was “kick me out”, the idea of being alone in the wilderness stopped her from setting foot over the doorway, every time. She liked having a bed, and reliable meals here. So instead, she would walk past the doorway and wander through more of the enchanting gardens, exploring various paths and trails.

Occasionally, Gilraen would appear and persuade her to join in her activities. Gilraen's coercion skills were truly remarkable, making her a force to be reckoned with. Between them they’d organised the most restless, younger members of her charges into an impromptu dance group, just to keep them all busy and out of trouble. But just as often as not, Ella found herself alone. She told herself she was fine with it, that she didn’t care either way: it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to it. People went home to their families at the end of the day, in whatever world they were in, whether they were humans or elves thousands of years old, apparently. And family was the one thing she’d never had, not for as long as she could remember. Her first memory was of being alone, and it was a feeling as familiar as breathing now, nearly thirteen years later. 
Thinking about it never ended well. What wasn’t she wanted? Who was she? Even her name wasn’t her own. Wandering and alone at five years old, the story went that she hadn’t even known what she was called, or how she got to the beach. No one ever came looking for her. It doesn’t matter, she reminded herself. 

Sometimes, she and Chloe met outside their rooms on the way to breakfast and they walked down together. But talking with Chloe didn’t lessen the feeling of otherness - even before they ended up stranded in another world, they were hardly friends, and their bizarre situation hadn’t suddenly changed their life experiences, interests or personalities. Chloe was planning on university, had a dad who catered to her every wish, had friends she’d known since infant school… Ella… didn’t. Elladan and Elrohir bridged the gap between them effortlessly, never seeming to be without a joke, or story, no matter what. On the few occasions they they were not there, they’d split up almost as soon as they realised - Chloe sitting with Thenidiel and Malthenniel, who had been teaching her how to sew and weave, and enjoyed a good gossip just as much as Chloe did, while Ella drifted towards some of the guards, or elves she knew from the kitchen. 

“We are all quite keen to see what the little ones have been doing,” admitted Glawaril one morning, when Ella was following her through the corridors with a basket of laundry. Chloe remained behind, having not taken up the optional offer to join them. Ella, eager to not run out of clothes and not let the elves think they were taking advantage of their hospitality, insisted she at least helped with the small mountain of clothes, even if that meant just carrying a basket. Glawaril led her down to an area of the main buildings she’d not visited before - further, with walls carved from stone rather than built from wood.

“You know what they’re doing -” said Ella, perplexed, “Are we underground?”

“Yes, we routed a part of the river to serve our purposes long ago,” Glawaril explained, as they arrived at a large, wide space with high ceilings and lit by some method Ella couldn’t figure out. Sure enough, water burbled through the cavern somewhere nearby, which was busy with more elves than she usually saw in one place, outside of the guards training and the dining hall at meal times. The room was set up with several platforms, she could see six at least, with large wooden tubs of water that had already been filled by hand, or some kind of plumbing. Most of the tubs were already in use, but there was one with only a couple of other elves washing, and Glawaril angled them towards it.

“They’re dancing and singing,” Ella continued, returning to her previous topic. “You guys do it all the time, but y’know… better.”

Glawaril raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, I swear you guys fart and it smells of roses. Is there anything elves can't do perfectly?”

“What is a fart?”

“Oh,” Ella paused, trying to think of a phrase that would translate, “It’s slang for… a bottom burp? Which is also slang. Right... It means uh… flatulence?”

The elfs face lit up with a bright smile as she laughed fully. “Please, do say that to Lord Elrond or Glorfindel. I want to see their reaction to ‘rose flatulence, Ella!” she shook her head, “You really mustn’t think in such a way. Do not mistake years of practice or experience with perfection, hmm? The first time I stitched a hem, it was not straight by any stretch of the imagination. The first time I formed a clay pot for my market stall it fell to pieces, as did many of the subsequent ones, yes?”

“I notice you skipped the farts.” 

Glawaril smiled mischievously and set her basket on the raised platform next to them, gesturing for Ella to do the same. Ella looked around, and noticed that there were only women in the large chamber. And apparently women get stuck with the laundry here too? Damn, I thought they were supposed to be cool.

“Don’t worry, no ellon will come down here today - they will wash their clothes tomorrow, and so on.” 

Ella whipped her head back to her friend. Surprise must have been clearly written on her face because the elf continued on.

“We will be doing smallclothes today, it would not be proper for all and sundry to see such things, and vice versa. Here, watch me and copy.”

Glawaril dunked an underdress in the water, then grabbed a bar of what looked like soap from a small, open weave basket hanging off the side of the tall tub, and worked it into a lather on the fabric before putting it aside and grabbing a washing board from the basket. She propped it against the side with one hand and started scrubbing the dress up and down the ridges repeatedly, over and over, until she dunked it in the water again, shook it out and wrung it out, then repeated the process again. Ella watched, torn between awe and anxiety. This was going to be hard work: arguably harder than holding a sword up until her arms gave way. Once Glawaril was satisfied with what she saw, she rinsed and wrung out the dress several more times, explaining that she was making sure there was no soap left on the dress, then she folded it quickly into her basket and picked up the next item. Ella emptied her own laundry next to Glawaril’s pile and propped the board up first, putting a soap in easy reach.

“How often do we do this?” Ella said, after she’d washed two leggings and a tunic and worked up a sweat. She could feel it trickling down her lower back, and it tickled.

Glawaril reached over and patted her hand consolingly. “We come here weekly, but you do not need to if you do not wish to. My duties include your washing, and it is no hardship.”

“No, I can do this, I can help,” Ella insisted, “I’ll get better with practice, right?”

“Precisely,” Glawaril said, then eyed the leggings in the girls hand with a wince, “I would do those twice, they were particularly dirty after your session with the guards.” 

Ella started scrubbing the dirty leggings in earnest, and a little prejudice.

“Will you be coming to the hall tonight after the late meal?” 

“No. I usually don't.” Ella looked up from her board and looked at the elf curiously, “Why?”

“Gilraen has arranged for the children you’ve been teaching to perform. You did not know?”

“She mentioned something about a show, yeah, but they don’t need me for that.” Ella lifted a shoulder, hands still in the river, “They know all the moves by heart.”

“Ivorwen is greatly looking forward to it, and I heard Lindir will be coming.”

“Okay?”

“You truly are not coming?”

“It’s nothing to do with me?”

“You are their teacher!”

“Not really. Not like that. Why would their parents or families or whatever want me around when it’s their kids doing the stuff? I was just gonna turn in.”

Glawaril fixed her with a no-nonsense, searching stare that Ella found hard to break. Often, Ella would forget the vast millennia that separated them, but moments like these served as a stark reminder. Glawaril’s gaze felt like it held the weight and experience of age - for all she knew, it did, and it made her feel uncomfortable. She let out a quiet breath of relief when the elf looked away with a soft sigh.

"You should come, Lady Ella," Glawaril urged with a compelling tone. "Should I not find you there, I shall seek you out and ensure your presence. An evening in good company will work wonders for your soul, I promise you that, if nothing else."

My soul? Ella looked down at her chest, decidedly confused by the last comment, and stalled in her washing. “Wait, tonight? Glawaril I’m pretty sure all my clothes are like, here, bar the ones I’ve got on? And my paja- my nightclothes.”

“Your leggings and tunics are all here, yes,” she agreed, “But I am certain there is one dress in your wardrobe. And even if there is not - I will see that you have one. I would not let you be left so bereft as to only have the clothes on your back, Lady Ella!”

Ella blinked, caught unawares by the comment, and mumbled a slightly choked, “Thanks.” How many times have I only had those? She averted her gaze to the flowing river, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand.  The overwhelming urge to hug the elf, or worse, cry, threatened to overwhelm her, but she resisted in case she got pushed away, and Glawaril didn’t bring the matter up again, instead teaching her a simple song with a nice rhythm for washing.

By the time she was putting the last item of washed clothing into the basket, her arms felt as weak and flexible as a bundle of overcooked limp noodles, her back was a wall of intense, hot, blazing fire and the skin of her hands was red and sore.

“Come - we will make quick work of hanging these to dry, and then you can stay with us to relax after lunch.” Glawaril pulled Ella up and two of the nearby elves nodded agreeably, taking her folded wet clothes into their own baskets until all she was left with was empty and much lighter item to carry back. She lifted it's much easier weight gratefully, but couldn’t quite smother the groan that snuck out as she did so. “We plan to enjoy the sun, I think. Perhaps near some shade to save your skin. Ai, and don’t let me forget a salve for those hands!”

“The willow banks will be lovely today, Glawaril.” offered the red haired elf who’d taken most of her leggings. “Plenty of lighter shade, and the trees are very friendly.”

Ella blinked at the comment on tree friendliness, and let it slide. The sentience of trees was something she could ask about later. Food, and rest. In that order. Her stomach rumbled in agreement, making the elves laugh and begin the walk back to the main house. A few split off to some of the other homes further out in the valley, but many continued on with them. Glawaril shooed Ella off to the dining hall, with a promise to join her there shortly once the clothes were hung out to dry before a fire. 

Chapter Text

“Can I help you?” Ella grumbled, cracking her eyes open just enough to see who was blocking the sun and disturbing her quiet sunbathing on one of the little used balconies she’d found in the expansive buildings that made up the main house of Imladris. She’d relaxed with the women - elleth, she corrected herself - for a while, before their conversations had drifted into local matters, and friends and family members enough that she felt like she was intruding. She’d intended to go and help in the kitchens, but they’d been doing fancy bread, which looked quite complicated, and then she’d felt too self conscious to help in the kitchen and too embarrassed to go back to the willow banks. So she’d ended up here, sunbathing on a balcony, the itchy energy that had been fizzing under her skin quietened by her tiring morning.

“Why are you up here?” Elrohir asked, dropping down next to her at the edge of the balcony.

“Why are you up here?”

“Looking for you.” he returned, eyebrow raised. “You’re usually in the kitchens in the afternoon, but when I went to get some biscuits, Camaemben said he hadn’t seen you since earlier this morning.”

“You’re keeping tabs on me?”

“Nay, not so. You are young and under our care, we simply like to be aware of where you are.”

“Sounds like you’re keeping tabs on me.” she said, smirking, “Worried I’ll do something dumb?”

He shook his head, refusing to rise to the bait. Disappointed, Ella stared back up at the sky.
“They were doing stuff with fancy bread braiding, or something,” Ella said, waving a hand elaborately, “I didn’t want to get in the way. And it turns out laundry in my world and your world are very different. Yours is way more effort and I’m tired.”

“You, avoid braiding, no!” Elrohir said, knocking her shoulder teasingly. “That explains your hair!”

Ella kicked her legs where they hung over the edge and gave him a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was still quite envious of the elvish braids so many of them featured, and was starting to think that some of the styles were somehow significant, but couldn’t work out how to ask. She watched Chloe round a corner several stories below, walking with two others. It sounded faintly like they were singing.

Ella sighed. The truth was she was feeling out of sorts, tired, and overwhelmed by everything today - but how to say that to someone thousands of years older? Washing clothes was so different. Making bread was… probably not different, but there were no shops here to buy bread from. There was no easy way to switch off here - no television, no music she could blast into her ears, no book she could lose herself in. Ella kicked her legs again.

“Do you have bakeries?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, raising a brow in question, “why?”

“Was wondering where everyone got their bread from, or if everyone comes up here every time. Where is it?”

“Further down in the valley - for those that do not wish to eat in the main hall, or who reside further out. Our kitchens provide most of the bread and such, and will take it down in the morning, while Maeasseth prefers to create smaller batches of treats in her bakery, usually. This is a strange line of questioning, Ella.” 

“I’m just feeling… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“Longing for home, perhaps?”

“Not home really,” she scoffed, home implied she was welcome, had people or a place that was hers but… the culture shock of it all was hitting hard today. She wanted to pull on her headphones and listen to loud music and forget everything for a while. But she couldn’t. “I miss lots of things today, that’s all.”

“Like bakeries?”

“And washing machines.”

“You do not miss home, you only miss bakeries and… washing machines?”

Ella huffed and sat up on her elbows, fixing him with the sternest stare she dared. “It’s complicated. And I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Elrohir nodded agreeably, and Ella eased back down against the warmed stone, heart beating quickly in her chest. It was the first time she’d spoken to him in such a way, and part of her was ready to run, and another part ready to have a verbal fight. Instead, he sat quietly for a while with her, calm and still. She felt her heartbeat slow to normal again.

“Should you change your mind, I would be happy to listen," he said eventually, “You, and Chloe, are coping admirably well, but it is alright to not be alright. Expected, even.” 

Ella nodded, but didn’t reply. She wondered how they’d feel if they learnt nobody wanted her at home, if being an orphan in this world came with the same pitying looks and low-key suspicion she garnered in the other. If she’d become a problem, to solve or to fix, or to rid themselves of, more than a guest.

“I have been meaning to repay Elladan for balancing a bucket of water above my bathroom door,” Elrohir continued. Ella looked over to see the elf was smiling widely, eyes full of mischief, “would you like to help?”

“Is that… a good idea?”

“Yes, it’s a brilliant idea.”

“Is it?” 

“Yes! Come!” Elrohir jumped up nimbly and swiftly pulled her to her feet, which he eyed with confusion. “Do you ever wear boots for a whole day?”

Ella kicked her feet lightly against the stone. “Sure.”

He shook his head and carried on, tugging her gently along. “Now, the trick will be keeping him distracted while I get everything ready - that’s where you come in -”

“It is?”

“Yes - he will not suspect you - and I will spring the trap!” 

“This won’t hurt him, will it?” 

“No - well - unless you count his pride? Perhaps.”

Ella found herself smiling as well, caught by his infectious enthusiasm as he explained the prank he wanted to pull on his brother. Once assured, again, that it was harmless, she agreed to her part readily enough, promising to distract Elladan until later, when Elrohir would come back so she knew it was done. 

As they arrived back at the main courtyard, Elrohir nudged her towards the stables. “Elladan will be there, go, keep him busy until I come find you both.”

“But how do you know he’s there?” Ella asked, “How are you sure?”

“I am certain, Ella,” he said confidently, 

“Is it a twin thing?” She pushed, “Or an elf thing?”

“Go! It will take some time to get everything just-so.”

Ella shrugged and waved goodbye to the eager elf. The fearful part of her mind told her this was dangerous, this could be a trick, this could end in screams and shouts, or something worse, or she could end up with nowhere to live: but that part was small today. She was starting to trust the brothers, who never faltered in their behaviours, who were not… predictable, she’d not known they liked pranks for example until today but… consistent. 

So, she entered the stables. The building looked old, but well kept, in the same way as much of the rest of the buildings. It was made of grey and white stone, giving it a mottled effect, with a dark tiled roof and high thin windows under the shadow of the roof edge.

She hadn’t spent any time in stables before, except as a brief stop on the tour. Horses were not something she had any experience with at home - they were expensive, and required daily ongoing commitments, neither of which she was in a position to provide. They were more common here: she’d seen people out on horseback or using horses to pull carts and such, but she still had not had any need to use or even see one.

“Elladan?” she called out, opening the large stable door just enough to edge inside. She’d expected to see stalls like those in films but instead she was looking around in awe at a large empty space with high, vaulted ceilings. It smelt strongly of fresh hay that was thick under her feet.
 
“Over here, Ella,” Elladan called out calmly, from the opposite end, just outside the other stable doors, which stood wide open to a large paddock. He was brushing down a horse that she thought could be the same one he was riding when they first met… or it could just be another horse with the same vague colourings. “Are you alright?”

Ella eyed the huge horse warily and nodded, taking a wide circle around to reach the elf. “Yeah. Just not been down here before, and wondered what it was like. I thought stables had like, stalls and stuff?”

She’d been told several times that she lied too easily. She remained of the opinion that it wasn’t about ease, the trick was to always be telling the truth. From a certain point of view - thank you Star Wars.

“Some do, yes, but the horses in this one were all raised by us and are no danger to themselves here. We have guest stables as well, that building over there in fact,” he gestured towards a similar looking building that opened onto an adjoining paddock a little further down the path, “they have stalls inside.” 

Well.. what? Elf horses? Are they different from regular horses? Ella frowned, but nodded, eyeing the horse's ears speculatively.

“You are not used to horses.” 

“No, not really,” she admitted freely, “Never really… met one? Before. The first time I saw a real life one, in person, was when we met you guys.”

“Chloe is quite fond of Tinuial, one of our horses here. How is it that she has experience with horses, and you do not? Do you not live in the same town?”

Of course she’s already befriended a horse, as well as elleth and hot boys. Outwardly, Ella shrugged. “We live in the same town but we live very different lives. Where we’re from, horses are a luxury? They’re expensive to buy, and to keep, and then lessons are expensive, and you need all the gear… usually if your parents are into it, or were when they were younger, I think you’re more likely to do it but because it’s so goddamn expensive…” she trailed off, unsure of how much more to say, and shrugged again, “It’s just never… it’s just not a thing, for me.”

Elladan paused in his brushing and gestured her closer. “It is so, and not so, here. Horses are expensive, yes, and precious even, but learning how to care for them, how to ride, is a part of life here in Imladris, though not all have a horse of their own. Here, let me introduce you two properly,” He dropped the brush and led her to where the horse was idly eating from a conveniently placed bale of hay. “Beinhith, this is my friend Ella. Ella, this is Beinhith: he has been my faithful companion for several years now.”

Beinhith raised his head calmly and looked at Ella with one, large brown eye. 

“Hold out one hand, flat, so he can sniff it if he wants to.” Elladan said quietly. 

Ella, hesitantly, did so. “Hullo, Beinhith. Nice to see you again.”

Beinhith whuffed and sniffed at her hand, just as Elladan said he would. The horse nudged her hand gently, then went back to his hay. Ella let out a sigh of relief, causing the elf to smile.

“Come, let me show you how to brush. Horses must be brushed at least once a day, as well as at least after every ride. Beinhith here adores being brushed, and it is quite relaxing. Here - hold this. Now, brush down, always following the hair, never against it. Long strokes up here, on the body, but down the legs, shorter strokes are better.”

Ella followed the instructions and hesitantly started brushing Beinhith’s coat - it was jet black and shiny, reminding her of raven feathers, and unexpectedly soft where she’d expected it to be wiry. Elladan guided her through the entire process, fetching different brushes and demonstrating the different strokes she should use. Her initial nervousness faded, and didn’t come back even when another large horse, also raven black but with a white smudge on an ear instead of a nose, like Beinhith’s, wandered over and watched them closely for a time, before whickering and then wandering off again.
“Morcenedril, Elrohir’s steed,” Elladan explained, then with a wry smile continued, “they are twins, actually.”

Ella laughed quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. Elladan was introducing her to the intricate art of proper horse foot care when Elrohir made an appearance, completely straight faced. He held an apple out for Beinhith, who wasted no time in devouring it wholeheartedly in one bite.

“You spoil him, brother,” Elladan said, shaking his head.

“As if you did not bring him a snack when you came.” Elrohir replied, smirking.

“Just so. I did not say he did not deserve it.”

Morcenedril trotted over, snuffling at Elrohir’s cheeks. “Jealous, are we, my friend?” he laughed, but quickly pulled out a second apple from a small bag over his shoulder. “Come, we should head back up and change for dinner. I hear there are plans for music tonight, and I would very much like to hear something new again.”

“Are the young ones performing?” He turned to Ella, “Have you taught them something else?” Elladan asked eagerly, patting Beinhith on the rump as he tidied away the collection of brushes.

“Chloe too, I believe. Thenidiel and Malthenniel have persuaded her to sing for us this evening, a song from your home. Do you know what she is singing?”

Ella raised her eyebrows, surprised. “No, she didn’t mention it.” Unsurprising. “I think the kids are doing one of the dance’s I’ve shown them, but it’s nothing to do with me other than that.”

“And perhaps, after, you could sing something as well?”

“I’ll come, but I won’t sing. I wouldn’t even know what to sing, or dance,” She grinned, then added, “Not unless you want me to bust out something from TikTok.” 

She got a blank stare in return and she wished, briefly, for the internet. She hadn’t missed it too much, except for when boredom hit and she just wanted to scroll away a few hours, or first thing in the morning when she desperately wanted to mentally drift for a while. Or when she wanted to listen to some music. Okay, so maybe I’ve missed it a lot.

“Ai! You must come.” said Elladan, moving past the culture reference, “Support your friend and your little learners.“

Ella resisted the urge to point out that she and Chloe were not friends so much as unable to escape each other, or their situation, but just barely. She forced a smile onto her face. Maybe that does make us friends, sort of? And how to voice that she was not good enough to sing to a race of people who could all, apparently, sing perfectly? She missed music, home music, and had so far contented herself with tapping tunes out onto borrowed cups and mugs, tucked away in quiet corners where she wouldn’t interfere with the pitch perfect, melodic singing that so often sprung up spontaneously across Imladris, that seemed to constantly drift through windows and down corridors. The idea that Chloe was going to join in with the elves had Ella both happy the other girl was self confident enough to do so, and jealous that she was self confident enough to do so, and then annoyed at herself for both. 

The twins shared an inscrutable look, and Ella felt a small ball of panic fall into her stomach. Shit. Have I just offended them? Is this a thing? Am I like, supposed to sing? Is this some kind of unwritten rule thing? She could do it, if needed. It would be embarrassing, but she could fake the confidence if needed. Pick a short song well within her vocal range. Nominate someone else to sing immediately after… But then they were ushering her back up to the main house, Elrohir keen to get ready and she remembered why he was so keen to get Elladan to go back to his room, and grinned, hiding it behind a pretend yawn and covering it with a hand. After bidding them goodbye, she lingered in her doorway, straining her ears for something anything and then -

“HANAR!”
 
“Hanar?” Ella muttered, but quickly shut her door in case anyone came by and caught her grinning like a fool and lurking in the corridor. It sounded like it had worked, at least. She cast about in the small wardrobe for something fresh to change into, and found that as Glawaril had said, there was one dress there, and this one didn’t have the wide, drapey sleeves so many of the elves favoured, instead having balloon sleeves, and set about getting a bath started.

*

Ella carefully navigated the crowded space, her eyes darting around the room as she searched for anyone familiar. The sheer number of people overwhelmed her, and the room was filled with an array of faces, most of which belonged to exquisitely fair elves. They possessed perfect complexions, sculpted bone structures, and melodic laughs that filled the air. However, there were also small clusters of Dúnedain and a few other humans scattered among the elves.

While the humans here shared the same white, weather-beaten skin tones, the elves displayed a more diverse range of skin. Ella had been pleasantly surprised to see elves with various shades, from golden light brown tones to deep black. Most of them favoured the long, flowing hair that she had seen on the likes of Elladan and Glawaril, largely loose or sometimes braided in neat rows, but there were exceptions. Like Filiher, who had a cut more akin to a pretty, slashed bob than anything else she’d seen here, but the human haircut term didn’t seem to do it justice. Pretty is a term for humans, she thought, watching Orinan and his friends from a distance. 

She spied Orinan once more holding court amongst his friends. Ella's thoughts danced through a tapestry of synonyms as she tried to think of more ways to describe the elves she found herself amongst, as she circled out of the way. ‘Ethereal’ and ‘angelic’ were the first words that came to mind, but they still felt insufficient. It certainly seemed that whilst the Elf Effect was wearing off when she was with them in smaller groups, en masse they still had the ability to hold her spellbound with little more than their existence.

“Hello, Ella, how are you?” 

Ella jumped at her name as Uilossiel touched her arm. She’d started to pass by, not having recognised the guard since she wasn’t wearing her daily leggings, tunic and jerkin. Instead she wore a pale yellow dress that made her black hair gleam all the brighter for the contrast, with an coop-shaped neckline that was embroidered with small, red flowers, the same ones that also decorated her waist, before the fabric gathered and fell into a graceful, flowing skirt that just swept the edge of the floor.

Ella gave the elf a tight smile, trying not to let the relief show on her face and smooth over the fact she’d been too busy thinking of different ways to say ‘elves are really beautiful’ to notice her, and that she was thoroughly enamoured with her dress. “Yeah fine. How are you? You look very pretty.”

Uilossiel glanced down at her clothes and smiled brightly. “You think so? This is new and I have not worn it yet, I am hoping Filiher will like it.”

She knew Filiher, though not all well. She was quite private, as most of the elves were, but there was no way she wouldn’t think Uilossiel was absolutely stunning, so she nodded and agreed that she was sure she would.  As more guests arrived, several musicians started to play on a raised dais, and the talk in the room gradually quietened. Ella peered through the towering elves - quite difficult considering that there weren’t many of them under six feet tall - and saw that sure enough, Chloe and her two friends had joined the musicians on the small stage. 

Chloe smiled nervously, smoothed down her dress and spoke quietly with one of the two elleth she’d befriended. Ella wasn't entirely certain which was Malthenniel and which was Thenidiel, but both had the common dark brown hair of the elves, though one had darker hair than the other. Ella made her excuses to Uilossiel and edged a little closer, catching the other girl's eye when she was close enough and giving her a thumbs up. Chloe responded with a smile, though it was hard to tell if it was due to self-consciousness or embarrassment. 

Chloe nodded to the elf on her left, who was playing something that looked very similar to a violin. They started playing and Ella tried to place the tune, but before she figured it out, Chloe started singing. She’d been thrown off by the unusual instruments: usually this song started with a piano.

“I've been walking in the same way as I did
Missing out the cracks in the pavement
And turning my heel and strutting my feet -”

Ella felt her eyebrows raise, surprised. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting the other girl to sing, but it hadn’t been this.  Totally thought she’d go all out and sing something like Les Mis. 

“-Are the wonders of my world
Are the wonders of this world -”

Ella scanned the room and saw everyone watching the other girl with interest and smiles - there was something to be said about a land where mobile phones didn’t exist to distract people's attention. Even Lord Elrond, who they hadn't seen much of since their initial meeting. He stood with Glorfindel near the fire, smiling and talking quietly.

As Chloe completed her song, the room erupted into applause, and Ella joined in enthusiastically. Chloe grinned widely, her shoulders sinking in obvious relief. Nodding at one of her friends, the musician seamlessly transitioned into the song 'Chasing Pavements.' Ella wondered if she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming because it was a bizarre scene, watching pop songs be sung by creatures that didn’t exist not long ago. Ella sank back into the crowd until she was closer to the cooler air by the windows and shook her head as if to clear it. Did fever dreams last this long? I almost wish I hadn't gone down the rabbit-hole--and yet--and yet– Is this how Alice felt? Maybe Alice woke up here too.

“Will you sing later?” Elladan's sudden question startled Ella from her contemplative gaze out of the window.

“No,” she laughed, “One hundred percent, no.”

“That is a very strange way of saying no.”

“And you have an odd way of saying ‘hello Ella’ -”

“Hello, Ella -”

“Smartass.”

“Come, what must I do to convince you to sing for us as well?”

“Give me a bottle of wine?”

“Aren’t you still classed as a child?”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“Why do you need wine?”

“It’s been a hell of a ride, lately. I don’t want to sing.”

“But you can sing?”

“Yeah, I’m alright at it too,” she paused, moving her hand in a so-so gesture, “Probably not as good as all of you. And I really don’t want to sing on my own in front of a bunch of strangers.”

“Ah!” Elladan grinned, “Teach me, I will sing with you.”

Ella opened her mouth, shut it again, and blinked. “Maybe. But not today. Or tomorrow.” she added hastily when she saw Elladan about to speak again. “I’m just here because Glawaril threatened to drag me if I didn't come, she said the kids were going to do the dance I taught them.”

Elladan laughed at Ella's response, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I must admit, I am quite intrigued to hear you sing one day as well. I hear from Chloe that you two used to sing in the same… group? Together. She said you are quite good as well?"

Ella couldn't help but blush at the compliment, caught off guard by the unexpected interest in her singing. It made sense, she supposed, given that music was very woven with daily life here. 

“Another day,” she mumbled, and then the doors were opening to admit a double line of children and teenagers, bouncing up and down as they walked and grinning wildly as everyone turned to watch them get into position before the raised dais. Ella turned to Elladan and gestured him forward towards the crowd, “Come on, this will be good. They’ve worked really hard on this.”

Chapter Text

Elrond looked up briefly as the two mortal girls passed by outside, running slowly. Erestor, noticing his attention, paused in his checking of an inventory ledger. “They appear to be settling in, better than I expected,” Erestor admitted.
 
“Yes, so far," Elrond turned away from the window, returning to the task at hand. "However I worry that as we wait for Mithrandir that will not remain the case,” Thick, heavy tomes and ledgers sat open or waiting on the large wooden desk behind him as they calculated what they needed to procure and trade for in the upcoming season, along with any excess they could use for negotiations, in addition to gems and metals and crafts. He retook his seat next to Erestor; the desk was so wide it could comfortably sit at least three. He turned to a new page, listing their current levels of spices. “We will deal with that if it comes to pass, as we must. For now, I agree they seem content.”

“Where are they going?” Erestor asked, nodding in the direction they’d disappeared from view, “I do not think you would let them wander around completely without oversight.”

Elrond hummed in agreement, but did not not look up from his page. “Our people are curious enough that it would arguably not be needed, but one of the guards keeps them in sight whenever they leave the main house. They are still unknown to us in many ways, not least of all how they came to be so close to our borders, and far from their home. Our people's safety is my priority.”

“And you would not see two younglings come to harm, wandering beyond the safeties of Imladris, however unwittingly,” Erestor added, knowingly.

Elrond paused in his perusal, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Erestor knew him well. “Quite. They are probably going down to the south river. Young Chloe has taken to following that route.”

Erestor tilted his head in curiosity, his wavy, near black hair falling like a curtain as he did so, but moved on without posing another question. “The other girl taught the Dúnedain children an interesting song,” he said instead.

Elrond smiled, “Yes, I enjoyed that very much.”

“As did I. It was so very different from anything I have seen before! Will she show them any more?”

“I do not know, although I know Gilraen is keen for her to do so. But since the weather has brightened Ella is rarely to be found easily, or idle, and so I believe the request has not yet been made.”

“I know where she hides in the kitchen gardens,” Erestor said, his pale white skin fairly glowing in the sunlight, “She goes there to make drum beats on cups and mugs she borrows from the kitchens.”

“And yet Gilraen does not, so leave the girl to her peace - Gilraen will find her sooner or later, and it is not a matter we need interfere in.” Elrond held up a hand, forestalling his inevitable argument, “Enjoyable as we found the last dance.”

“She is very… busy.”

“She is,” Elrond said with an indulgent smile, “very young.”

Erestor nodded in agreement. “What does Camaemben say he requires?” he asked, nodding to the page Elrond had been checking.

“Nothing more than normal,” Elrond commented.

“Which is to say, more than he needs,” Erestor groused, “Did you hear his latest request?”

Elrond shook his head, trying to smother a smile at his old friend's regular complaints.

“Cinnamon, he wants more cinnamon! And saffron!” Erestor shook his head, “He is fortunate I know the dishes he creates are worth the extortionate amounts our trading partners charge for such items.”

He let the other elf make his point and carried on noting other spices they were falling short on. Most herbs they could grow themselves, but some of the spices they had not managed to cultivate here and so sought to trade for them. Unfortunately for Erestor, saffron milk cakes were delicious and popular of late, and cinnamon was a favoured flavour for many since well before they'd ever settled here.

Erestor sighed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "He has expensive tastes, that much is certain."

Elrond chuckled,  "That he does, but his skills are unmatched in the kitchen. Our guests and residents alike have come to expect nothing but the finest from him."

*

Ella woke just before the first rays of dawn fully graced the valley, her limbs entangled in the sheets. Her heart raced in her chest, pounding with fear and adrenaline, her breath coming in short gasps. It was the aftermath of a threat that existed only in her dreams, but knowing that didn’t seem to be helping.

“Not real,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “Not real.”

Gradually, as she continued to murmur the words like a protective mantra, her breathing steadied. She carefully unravelled herself from the sheets and slipped out of the high bed, wincing as her bare feet made contact with the cool, unforgiving touch of the stone floor and jolted her fully awake.

Peering out of the window, she watched as the soft, pre-dawn light crept across the sky. She sighed heavily, realising there was little point in pretending to herself that she was going to sleep any longer. Kitchens it is, then, Ella decided, and hastily donned a fresh set of clothes and gathered her hair into a haphazard approximation of a ponytail. She left her feet bare to the biting chill of the floor, to serve as a reminder that she was wide awake and no longer trapped with the monsters of her nightmares.

“You’re up early today,” Camaemben observed as she slipped into the kitchen, “Crack those eggs into a bowl, please.”

Ella followed Camaemben's instructions with precision, cracking a basketful of eggs into a large ceramic bowl in a rhythmic motion. As she worked, she listened to the elves around her engaging in their early morning chatter, although as most preferred Sindarin she only understood an occasional word or phrase. Instead she concentrated on absorbing the sounds and lyrical rhythm of the still unfamiliar language.

She moved on to finely slicing leeks, and then rolling out pastry under the careful direction of an elf she didn’t know the name of, but who was very particular about pastry, if that morning was anything to go by. She hadn’t seen him before, and his perfect, shoulder-length box braids and umber skin were memorable enough she was certain of it.  Ella watched as the elven chef demonstrated the art of creating delicate, leaf-shaped decorations for the pies they were preparing. The ornate patterns transformed the pies into almost-too-beautiful-to-eat works of art. Almost. 

The sun was fully above the horizon and considering its steady climb into the sky when she helped to take the last dish to the dining hall, after which she made her excuses and quickly ran back to her room to grab her boots. She’d tried attending training with the guards barefoot and been turned away already, so boots it was.

Chloe looked at her oddly as Ella sped to a halt in front of her, coming not from her room, but the corridors beyond. 

“Where’ve you been?”

“Helping with breakfast. Are you… looking for me?” Ella quickly opened her door and grabbed the boots, which she had left just inside.

“...No.” Chloe said quickly, “Is that a thing we’re supposed to do? Chores?”

“I just had some spare time. Don’t worry about it. Come on, there’s a thing I think you’ll like, actually.”

Ella gestured back the way she’d come, hopping to pull on stockings and boots, and Chloe followed with a shake of her head, fluffing her skirts where they’d gathered at her legs. “How did you have ‘spare time’ -”

“Air quotes? Really?” Ella interrupted.

“- at the crack of dawn?”

Ella shrugged. “Bad dream, couldn’t be bothered to go back to sleep. There’s no great conspiracy. Why, what did you think?” 

“You’re awfully close to those guards,” Chloe suggested, “Walk of shame?”

Ella rolled her eyes. “You’re awfully close to your two elves, princess.”

“They’re girls!”

“...and?”

“I like guys.”

Ella shrugged again.

“Wait, do you like girls?”

“I don’t not like girls.”

“I - you- what?”

Ella shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. 

Chloe shook her head and waved off the topic absently. “What was your dream about?”

“Why do you care again?”

“Jesus, Ella.” Chloe said, annoyed. “It’s so early for your shit.”

Ella paused whilst she considered any possible fallout and coming up with ‘I don’t have to care’, “Gigantic spider bigger than the sky,” she finally said, “they took down some Narnia streetlights… and… then a whole town built on a lake was set on fire from the sky, and these big grey monsters with Voldemort noses and with the worst toothbrushing regime known to man were like, swarming over land… not sure which one was worse, really.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah,” Ella said, resisting the urge to shrug again. They entered the hall and Ella pointed to a table she knew held the little pots of granola and yoghurt she’d carried up, “Come on, you’ll love these. They look just like the kind of thing those fancy granola and yoghurt adverts back home, right?”

Chloe agreed with enthusiasm, and they dug into their familiar breakfast with relish. 

Chloe put down her spoon with a sigh and sipped her new favourite fruity tea. “How much longer ‘til their wizard gets here, do you think?”

Ella, midway through biting into an apple, chewed quickly before responding. "No clue. No one's mentioned a date to me."

“How long can it be? Really? It’s been weeks already.”

Ella, who was thinking of the vastness of the empty open space they’d walked out into as they emerged from the woodlands, and the imposing height of the mountains that surrounded much of Imladris, frowned. There hadn’t been so much as a farm building in sight. Unlike their own world, where you could easily hop into a car and traverse hundreds of miles in mere hours, this place was limited to the speed of horses, from all that they’d learned so far. No bikes, no cars, no planes… not even a skateboard or a scooter. There was no easy way to run away- Stop thinking, El.

“-I really don’t want to go through that again here,” Chloe's voice broke through Ella's reverie, and Ella wondered just how much she’d zoned out, “I mean seriously sorting out fabric rags soaked in your own period blood is a new low -”

"What?" Ella spluttered, returning her attention to Chloe's conversation.

“I really want that wizard to get here and send us home before I have another period. It’s extra gross here, and painkillers are not as easy to come by. I have to like, drink a disgusting potion that is not as quick or as effective as a couple of strong pills from a blister pack. Do elves not get cramps?” Chloe looked to Ella for agreement and faltered, “You must have had at least one here by now?”

Ella grimaced in sympathy but shook her head, “Not had to deal with it yet.”

"But we've been here over a month," Chloe protested.

"Not had to deal with it yet, at all," Ella repeated, her embarrassment tempered by the amused indignation on Chloe's face.

“How - what - is that normal? You’re like, seventeen right?”

“It’s still within the ‘bounds of normal’ apparently,” Ella lifted a shoulder in casual dismissal, “What’re you doing later?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

Chloe stared at her for a long moment, and Ella wondered if the other girl was going to try and talk about it more, but she simply said she was jealous and drank some of her tea. “I’m working on something with Malthenniel this morning,” she continued after taking a sip, “and Orinan wanted to see me this afternoon, so, that.”

"Oh?" Ella playfully waggled her eyebrows, grateful for the silent agreement to ignore her body's refusal to do as was expected, "Did he now?"

Chloe blushed and looked around self consciously. Ella, feeling charitable, steered the conversation back to more comfortable territory, talking about patterns and threads. They lingered over their drinks and when they were finally finished, Ella eagerly set off for the training grounds. She was looking forward to expending the energy that felt like it was buzzing in her bones. Do not think about being trapped here. Ella grinned at Glorfindel as soon as she arrived. Do not. Do not care. Just keep moving. You are Dory. Ella snorted at herself and hid it with a cough at Glofindel’s curious glance. The training area was a hive of activity already, with numerous guards engaged in sparring sessions, their metal blades clanging and ringing in the crisp morning air. Glorfindel handed Ella a familiar long wooden practice sword and took up one for himself.

"You're going to learn how to parry today," he declared.

“I am?”

“Yes. Now, strike me.”

Ella hesitantly swung the practice sword toward the elf, but her effort was swiftly and expertly parried by Glorfindel. “Again, but lower. Aim for my midsection.”

She obeyed, directing her strike toward his middle. Once more, he deftly countered, offering slight variations in technique. Patiently, he stepped her through each move and then gradually took the offensive position for her to practise against. After a while, he exchanged himself for another guard, leaving Ella to continue her parry practice until her arm could hardly bear the weight of the wooden sword. Glorfindel returned and had her switch partners and arms, repeating the process until her other arm too grew fatigued.

She gazed down at her weary arms. “Not sure I can eat lunch, now.” she admitted forlornly. 

“Be grateful he hasn’t got you holding a sword out for endurance training again.” Midhiel advised, not unkindly. 

Ella shuddered at the thought. “But, we did that already?”

“And don’t be surprised when he makes you do it again. Conditioning and endurance are not exercises that can be checked off after a single day.” Midhiel took the two wooden swords and put them away, which Ella thanked them for profusely. “Glorfindel is being kind, letting you switch to different exercises each time.”

Ella thought about that for a while, but put it to the back of her mind when Gilraen (politely) cornered her after lunch. Ella had been trying not to think about how sore her arms felt, and debating the risk of possibly being thrown out for stepping into somewhere possibly forbidden. She really missed books, though. She missed reading and the escape stories could provide, purely mental as it was. That’s how the dark haired teen found her: dithering in a small, well lit nook around the corner from the library.

"Please come and distract them again," Gilraen implored, skipping any pleasantries or small talk. Ella couldn't help but admire her directness.

"What do you guys usually do with the younger kids?" Ella inquired. Because there was no way this was a new problem.

"Watch them go stir-crazy or get into progressively worse trouble as their recklessness escalates. Soon, they will be able to help with the first of the summer harvests, but until then, their lessons leave them with an undue amount of energy that would be better spent constructively.”

Ella rolled her eyes, thinking, Netflix, that's what you guys need. Or maybe just a ball. But, she had no electricity to offer, let alone a television, internet, or a Netflix account. Or a ball, come to think of it. The wheel was a thing here, but she had never seen anyone kicking a ball around. "Come on then, where is the rabble?"

Ella looked back over her shoulder to where the library lay, always just out of reach, and started considering what would be fun things she could try to teach the energetic youngsters.

Chapter Text

With the addition of 'teaching the kids Matilda' to her daily routine, Ella's days seemed to fly by in a whirlwind of deliberate activities. She was self-aware enough to know the amount of avoidance she was doing around thinking too long or hard about their situation was probably far from healthy, but also unmotivated to do anything about it. She focused on getting through each day, a practice she was well versed in, and not interested in anything else. Despite keeping herself busy, and despite the frequent nightmares that continued to disrupt her sleep, her restlessness grew with each passing day. Ella ignored the small voice in the back of her mind that said that was probably due to said avoidance.

However, as time passed, she and Chloe couldn't help but notice that the elves appeared content to wait for however long it took for Mithrandir to appear. Chloe became increasingly disheartened with every day that the wizard failed to make a miraculous appearance, and as her optimism waned, she got increasingly quiet, or short tempered, and often chose to sleep in and skip breakfast altogether. 

While Chloe withdrew and her morning routine disappeared into something that started early afternoon, Ella sought solace in participating even more enthusiastically, sometimes to the point of recklessness, in the daily guard training sessions. She threw herself into her role as a dance instructor and even practised her very tentative pronunciation of a few Sindarin words with Uilossiel and the twins. In an attempt to boost Chloe's spirits, Ella tried inviting her for morning jogs along the river, which the other girl had initiated  before, but her disinterest was obvious. Instead, when she did emerge from her room, Chloe often spent her days with Orinan and his friends or sometimes with Malthenniel and her friend, although Ella would rarely catch a glimpse of her. On the rare occasion she caught sight of her, she was nearly always wan, her eyes red-rimmed from tears that made Ella feel guilty.

Over two weeks passed, and Ella found herself once again standing outside Chloe's closed door in the morning. While the label "friends" might still be a bit too generous to describe their relationship, they had managed to find common, neutral ground. However, for the fourth time that week, Chloe chose to ignore Ella's knock. She tried one more time, rapping on the door with a jaunty rhythm.

Undeterred by the absence of response, Ella sighed and leaned against the doorframe. She had no intention of leaving Chloe alone in her room once again but she also didn’t want to barge in without being invited. Personal space was supposed to be personal.

"I know you're in there, Chloe," Ella called out, in what she hoped was a reassuring tone, rather than a threatening one, "I'll keep knocking until you open up, or you can save us both the headache and just let me in." 

Still, the door remained closed.

“I’m telling Elladan and Elrohir,” Ella warned the door, but her announcement was met with silence. She didn't necessarily like the idea of involving Elladan and Elrohir, but Chloe's despondency had reached a point where intervention might be necessary. That’s it, I’m getting one of them twins involved - underhand as it is to use a crush against her. She sighed and turned away from the door. Yet, just as she took her first step away from the door, it creaked open slightly, revealing a sliver of Chloe's puffy-eyed face. 

Well, I’ll be damned. "Look who finally decided to emerge," Ella quipped.

Chloe gave her a weak, humourless smile and opened the door a bit further, allowing Ella to step inside.  The room was dim, with shutters closed tight to block out the sunlight. Chloe's typically tidy space was now in disarray. Ella could see clothes thrown haphazardly over various pieces of furniture, a pile of presumably laundry on the floor, and the surface of her small table was covered in scattered sheafs of paper, each filled with what looked like sketches.

"Chloe, you've got to stop shutting yourself away and obsessing," Ella said with genuine concern. She approached Chloe, who was sitting on her bed, looking as if she hadn't slept well in days. “It’s not good for you.”

Chloe met her gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "I can't help it. I thought we'd be home by now. I keep thinking, what if we never get home? What if I forget what my dad looks like? My gran?"

Let’s not look too closely at my own list of my favourite pair of drumsticks, my softest hoodie and maybe Luke and Mikey if it’s just in my head. Ella sat down next to her sort-of friend and placed a comforting hand around Chloe's shoulders, only a little awkwardly. "We'll figure this out. Maybe, hopefully their wizard can just wave his wand, yeah? But ’till then, you can't isolate yourself like this. It's not good."

Chloe nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I know. It's just... hard."

Ella rubbed the girl’s shoulder gently, hoping it was making her feel better but not entirely sure if she was doing it right. “Try to keep busy. It helps time go faster, or it makes me think it does, anyway.”

Chloe sniffled, wiped her eyes, and managed a small smile. "Thanks, Ella. You're alright."

"The surprise pains me a little," Ella responded with a smile, attempting to lighten the mood. "Now, get up. I'm not leaving you here to wallow any more today."

“Go down without me, I don’t want you to miss your morning stuff down at the salle,” Chloe said, “I want to tidy up first, then have a bath and get changed.”

"Alright, if you're sure?"

With Chloe’s assurances following her out the door, Ella hurried the rest of the way to the dining hall, not entirely convinced by the rapid shift in the other girl's mood.

As she picked at her breakfast, she barely paid much attention to what she was eating. Come on, boys, where are you? Her impatience grew and she kept her gaze fixated on the imposing double doors, hoping to catch sight of either one, or both, of them soon. The specific arrival order didn't matter; she just needed to speak with one of them today.

Ella tapped out a tune distractedly on her water cup, until she saw one of the nearby elves giving her the elven equivalent of a side eye. She felt a flush of self-consciousness and let the spoon drop onto the table. Elladan finally entered the room, and he took the seat beside her without needing to even gesture. She managed to wait until he had filled his plate and even taken a bite, before speaking: an impressive display of patience, in her opinion.

“I think you need to check on Chloe, I’m worried about her.”

Elladan swallowed his food quickly and met her gaze. “What brings you to say this?”

"I think she's depressed," Ella said frankly, her expression serious - her brief chat with Chloe hadn’t particularly quelled her concerns, "I think she's feeling hopeless and despondent, and I think she needs someone other than me to talk to her."

"Why not you?" Elladan asked gently, his brow furrowing with genuine curiosity.

Ella shrugged. “I think she needs someone with more experience to talk to her. And, we’re not exactly best friends. We’re barely friends.”

"That's not what I meant," Elladan clarified, his tone serious as he focused on her. "If you're worried about Chloe, we'll take it seriously. I'll speak with her today and also request an audience with my father. He's experienced much and might offer her some peace or at least ease her mind."

“Thank you.” she said gratefully, and she meant it. 

“And you?” he inquired, “How are you faring?”

Ella thought back to earlier that morning, of choking back a scream and sitting bolt upright in her room. My brain is translating this trauma into nightmares, I get it, and it’s probably healthy? But could it just do it a little less bloody often? 
Of staring at the ceiling, as hours ticked by until the darkness gave way to the soft light of dawn. 
Of how rarely people actually cared for the answer to the questions they posed. 
“I’m dealing," she said simply.

“As you say.” Elladan held her gaze for a moment, then, his solemn demeanour shifted, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Ella relaxed as the weight of his attention eased. "I know that Glorfindel spent much of the evening yesterday crafting one of his infamous obstacle courses," Elladan's tone was light now, his eyes dancing with a playful glint. "Will you be joining us?"

"It's not like I have any other plans," she said cautiously, "why do you look so... like that?"

His grin widened and Ella regarded him suspiciously. What did I just agree to? 

*

Why. Why, why, why did I say yes to this? Ella lay flat on her back at the end of the course, gasping for breath. She’d flopped to the floor like a wet paper towel under the shade of some tall shrubs (they looked a bit like hydrangeas, but she wasn’t good enough at flowers to know if that was because they weren’t the same plant, or if it was because she was misremembering hydrangeas). A gentle breeze rustled through a nearby tree filled with blossoms. I bet Glorfindel is looking pleased with himself somewhere nearby, she mused. Her current priority was restoring oxygen to her lungs and not giving into the very real nausea threatening whatever remained in her stomach, however, not finding and glaring at the self-satisfied, ancient elf.

All the guards were considerably faster and more agile than her, and had waited at the finish line, cheering her on with what was either enthusiastic support or amusement, she couldn’t tell. But it meant there was quite the audience to witness her humiliation on the obstacle course of doom, and she couldn’t even console herself with the finish line being the only place she’d been spotted struggling, either. She’d seen a few Dúnedain part way around, and noticed Orinan hurrying along in the shadow of a covered walkway, although she didn’t think the boy had noticed her, for which she was grateful. All in all, her inability to match up to the high standards of the other guards had humiliated her repeatedly, and she now lay still, immobilised by sheer exhaustion, her limbs aching, her chest heaving as she counted each time she’d just been completely outclassed in comparison to the elves.

As it was she was quite close to the nearby path, despite being hidden by the shrubbery that lined it, and quiet enough to hear footsteps growing closer until she realised she was hearing Chloe walking, deep in conversation with Lord Elrond. A warm bubble welled up in her chest for Elladan having followed through his promise at breakfast.

“I imagine it has been a trying time,” Lord Elrond said  gently.

“Yes,” Chloe sighed wearily, “I keep thinking something terrible is going to happen at home and I’ll miss it, or something will happen here and my dad won’t know and I know it’s silly, but I just can’t help it.”

"Why do you harbour such apprehensions?"

“I mean, obviously I don’t know anything, but we got through to wherever this is somehow and the dreams are starting to freak me out. I mean, zombies at home? Time dilation? Don’t get me started on all the masses of gross, ugly grey things with swords and dragons.”

Ella felt her breath catch, her guilt weighing heavily in her stomach as she missed the other girl's response. She hadn't realised that Chloe was having nightmares too - had been too wrapped up in her own troubles and avoidance tactics to ask.

“Do you think you are dreaming of this land?” Elrond asked.

She heard Chloe pause, her steps hesitating on the stone pathway. “Maybe. It’s difficult to tell.”

"Would you be willing to describe these creatures to me? This realm harbours many malevolent beasts, although your own world seems to be less afflicted by such things, if there are some similar creatures it may help us understand how you got here."

“I suppose, not in the same way,” Chloe responded, her tone hesitant, “They had… really bad teeth, all sharp and yellow, and horrible grey skin, and squashed noses, or no noses they’re so flat? Their ears are pointed like yours. But there’s no such thing as them back home, not like real life things.”

Ella caught the sound of Elrond's footsteps halting, followed by Chloe's a moment later.

“Let us speak more about this after I have spoken to my advisors,” he said thoughtfully, “If you are dreaming of creatures you have never seen… I wonder if this is a warning? There are those among my people who have some prescience, and some of them receive that through dreams, perhaps the same is true of you. Visions otherwise would come from the Valar - perhaps they had how, or why, you were brought to this land, and they are communicating this way.”

Their voices faded as they ascended the steps toward the buildings above. Guilt settled heavily in Ella's stomach. She had been oblivious to Chloe's own nightmares, preoccupied with her own. Self absorbed, much, Ella? Was that what the sketches she’d glimpsed earlier were? Making sense of her dreams?

Elrohir's face appeared in her line of sight, momentarily blocking the expanse of clear blue sky and vibrant, plant life from her view and interrupting her thoughts. “Can you breathe now?”

Ella pushed herself up onto her elbows and let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, shut up.”

Elrohir laughed loudly and extended a hand, swiftly and easily pulling her to her feet.
"You did admirably!" he declared with a friendly pat on her shoulder, guiding her back toward where Glorfindel was waiting, looking quite pleased with himself as she’d known he would.

"You would do better next time," the blonde-haired elf remarked.

Ella shook her head, her performance still stinging, “I think I might die if I did it again today.”

"Not today, no," he agreed easily, eyes sparkling with amusement. "But next time. Remember, this was no one else's first time today."

Ella shrugged, still annoyed with herself and not in the mood to discuss it.

“Ah, don’t frown so, little one,” Elrohir teased, reaching for her hand and twirling her in a small circle.

"Little!" Ella sputtered, withdrawing her hand. Nobody called her little, she was a very respectable five feet and nine inches!

Elrohir grinned, clearly amused by her reaction. "Well, you are on the smaller side. We might have to plant you in the ground like a sapling!"

“How do you know you aren’t just abnormally tall? Why are you so tall?” she pointed at Glorfindel, who she would have put money on being nearly seven feet, if she had any to bet with, “You, especially!”

“Because we’re all tall,” Glorfindel chimed in, pushing away her pointing finger with a chuckle, “Yes, you’re right, Elrohir, let’s plant her!” The two elves advanced on her playfully, wide smiles adorning their faces.

“Glorfindel! You’re supposed to be too old for this!” Ella protested, looking around for support as she backed up a few steps.

“Which gardens do you think?” Elrohir mused thoughtfully, edging slowly closer.

Glorfindel hummed, looking contemplative. "How about the western one? The evening sun shines splendidly there at this time of year."

“Excellent idea!”

“Guys! Come on! You can’t plant me! I’m not an elf!”

Glorfindel erupted into hearty laughter. "Elves can't be planted either!"

Ella seized the opportunity afforded by their laughter and dashed up the narrow steps that had previously hemmed her in, climbing them two at a time despite the renewed burn in her tired legs. Realising that they hadn't pursued her, she gradually slowed her pace and cast a glance over her shoulder.

“Go wash up!”Glorfindel's amused voice called after her.  “And drink some water!”

*

The room was bathed in a soft glow from the fire that burned happily in the hearth, its flickering light casting dancing shadows on the room's rich tapestries and elegant furniture. Elrohir and Elladan were settled in for the evening in their father’s private chambers, as they often did in evenings not spent at social gatherings, with friends, or attending to matters of Imladris.

“You spoke with Chloe?” Elladan asked, breaking the quiet of the room, his hands still deftly fletching arrows.

Elrond looked up from his book, "I did," he confirmed, his gaze reflective. "She said something quite... disconcerting. I spoke with Glorfindel and Erestor at great length about it afterwards."

"Oh?" Elrohir looked up from the letter he was penning to his sister, Arwen, his interest piqued.

"Tell me, does Ella speak of having nightmares? Does she ever describe elements of our world that she hasn't encountered?"

The twins exchanged puzzled glances. Elladan took the lead in responding. "No, Adar, not as far as we are aware."

Elrond marked his place, set the book aside and leant back in his armchair, his gaze locked in thought. "Chloe has mentioned experiencing vivid nightmares, and described creatures that sounded very much like orcs and dragons. When I invited her to share her concerns with Erestor and myself, she described what sounded remarkably like dragonfire above a town near a lake—"

Elladan's eyebrows shot upward, his expression a blend of concern and curiosity. “You believe she is dreaming of… Smaug?”

"It's a plausible interpretation," Elrond acknowledged, his voice heavy with uncertainty. “She said there were no such things as dragons or the monsters she'd dreamt of where she came from.”

"Ai! How? What does that mean, Adar?"

"I cannot say," Elrond sighed, moving to interlace his fingers thoughtfully. "However, my instincts suggest that this is no mere coincidence. There seems to be a deliberate hand at play in their arrival, and Chloe's dreams might be a part of that intricate design."

“For good, or for ill?” Elrohir questioned.

Elrond sighed, “It has been a long time since the Valar intervened on this side of the sea, let us hope that this is the extent of it, and listen to whatever Chloe can tell us.”

“You believe it is the Valar?” Elladan's voice held a note of astonishment. “Adar -”

“I can think of no other being capable of such influence, not even the Istari have such powers.” Elrond sighed, then said heavily, “I am aware of the burden such a statement places on the young girl.”

“Perhaps the key is to keep her mind on other things, so she does not dwell on these dreams. If the descriptions are a coincidence, perhaps being busy will change them,” Elrohir suggested, his voice thoughtful. "Ella has been deliberately dedicating herself to various activities, and is relatively content—occasionally melancholic, of course, but that is to be expected."

“Chloe seems more prone to circular thoughts,” Elladan added, agreeing with his twin, “Encouraging her to engage with our people again and, return to her embroidery and sewing lessons, to talk about her feelings, and even her dreams if she is comfortable, could be beneficial."

"Avoidance doesn't equate to acceptance," Elrond asserted firmly, "for either of the girls. It won't aid them in the long run. I intend to request Thenidiel and Malthenniel to engage Chloe further, perhaps introduce her to their friends to widen her circle. But I would ask the same of you both regarding Ella: you interact with her daily at the training area. If she's willing, encourage her to talk about how she is feeling, rather than merely distracting her with jests and playful antics, though I appreciate your efforts in that regard. I'll also enlist Camaemben's help to prevent her from taking refuge in the kitchens excessively. Hopefully as you say, Chloe’s dreams will cease and any likeness she described was a passing coincidence. Time will tell us more."

The twins nodded in agreement, and the conversation settled, until Elrohir sealed his letter and stretched back in his chair.

“How are your remaining patients recovering? When I spoke with Adragil yesterday, he said you had finally permitted his bandages to be removed.”
Elrond hummed neutrally, not rising to the teasing tone, and replaced his bookmark once again. “Vance, one of the travellers, his wound has not knitted as well as I would like, but other than that yes, they are all doing well. I believe they are considering waiting until they can leave with the Dúnedain before returning to the road again themselves - and they are waiting on young Robben.”

“The young one with the broken ankle?”

Elrond nodded, “There is more to this line of questioning, son.”

Elrohir looked briefly guilty at being called out, but a spymaster he was not and subtle questioning was never his favourite game. “I…” He paused, considering how to phrase the thread of unease that was slowly unspooling. He felt a nudge of question-agreement-confidence from his brother more than he saw the expression on Elladans face. “The travellers who arrived with the Dúnedain are unknown to us. I am not wholly sure of all of their intentions.”

Elrond frowned, a crease marring his forehead, “You have seen something concerning?”

“It is more a… sense,” he said helplessly, “than a specific incident. That no one can vouch for their characters does not help my unease.”

“No one could vouch for the girls' characters, either,” 

“We travelled with them for days before arriving home,” Elladan pointed out, coming to his brother's aide, “we had time to gain an impression of them both.”

“It is perhaps nothing,” Elrohir said, “perhaps some of them are naturally furtive. Perhaps the one that has been talking to Chloe feels genuine affection for her. Perhaps there is another reason for that wound not healing other than it being reopened, or perhaps he is simply doing it accidentally -”

Elrond held up a hand, and Elrohir stopped, looking at his father expectantly.

“You are not the only one to voice a concern, nor the only one to hold such reservations. Adragil has cautioned that nearly all of these Men are unknown to his own, mere fortune bought them together. He has heard of the two blacksmith apprentices, but none of the others. Glorfindel has a similar feeling of unease, though he cannot put his finger on what, or who, is causing it. And nor has it gone unnoticed that one or two items have… disappeared. Perhaps they have been misplaced. Perhaps someone else's need in this moment is far greater, and the value of the missing items is a boon that will save them from worse fortune. Or perhaps not.”

Elrohir looked at his father consideringly. “You waited until we raised our own suspicions before voicing your own.”

“We have nothing more to our suspicions than unease and coincidences. I did not want to encourage any prejudice to your behaviour when it wasn’t warranted, and I caution you now still against doing so. They are simply strangers, much like Chloe and Ella.”

“But something is amiss.” 

“Something may be amiss,” Elrond allowed.

Chapter Text

Camaemben cast an inquisitive glance toward Ella as she strolled into the bustling kitchens after her usual meandering afternoon walk. Ella responded with a large, exuberant smile, a facade that she had wielded effectively in the past, despite her lingering confusion about the elf's look.

“Hello once again, Ella,” Camaemben greeted her with a warm tone, pausing from his duties.

“Hello.” She took a moment to survey the kitchen's atmosphere, which seemed quite as harmoniously busy as ever. Everything is fine - look, he looks calm. No one here looks like they’re avoiding anything.“Everything okay?”

"You're aware, Ella, that you needn't come here daily?" Camaemben's voice was cordial, his words carrying a gentle concern. “You are a guest here.”

“I know,” her brows drew together in confusion. Where is this coming from? “I like helping though.”

“And it is most welcome,” he affirmed earnestly, "however, you're not obligated to be here."

“Rii-ight,” Ella drawled, nodding and proceeding to wash her hands. She felt a small wave of relief at the return to the familiar routine. “I’m pretty used to helping in the kitchen. Would feel kinda weird not to do it.”

“You worked in a kitchen at home?”

“Oh yeah,” Ella quickly scrubbed her hands with the soap and dried them. She forced her voice to sound casual, unaffected, “Best way to secure yourself a meal at work back home is to work in a kitchen. No one cares how old a pot washer is, not really. Not so long as you’re fast, reliable and good at scrubbing.” 

Ella noticed bemused glances exchanged between Filiher and another elf in the kitchen, who appeared somewhat mystified by her words. Camaemben nodded agreeably, but looked a little confused. “You can wash the pots if you’d like.”

“No no,” she laughed, “I consider chopping and peeling vegetables to be a step up.”

Filiher, who often worked with Ella in the kitchen, gave a bemused shake of her head. Ella resisted the urge to roll her eyes - sometimes they didn’t hide their ‘ah, the young’ thoughts very well. 

“Good evening, Ella.” Filiher greeted her with a smile.

“Hullo Filiher, alright?”

The other elf shook her head, still not used to her phrasing. After a slow start - apparently she had an accent that Filiher took a while to get to grips with - Filiher began conversing with ease. Given that they all sounded very posh, she wasn’t sure whether or not she should take offence. Filiher was one of the few elves in the kitchen who was fluent in Westron, and had been paired with Ella after she kept returning to the kitchen. After learning she and Uilossiel were together, Ella often talked about her morning with the guards.

“Yes, thank you. Are you ready to be defeated once again?” She handed Ella a kitchen knife, and a bowl of courgettes. She had her own bowl waiting at her elbow already. 

Ella grinned. “Seventh times a charm!”

Working in the kitchen meant she, as often as not, ate in the kitchen with the other elves once all the dishes were out rather than going up to the dining hall. It was why she liked helping - she’d never met a chef that forgot to feed the kitchen staff (at least most of the time). However, until Camaemben, Ella had also never encountered a chef who managed to keep their cool throughout an entire shift. Still waiting for that shoe to drop - it always does. She’d been expecting it all evening, given the odd, brief, conversation they’d when she first arrived at the kitchen, but he had remained calm as ever, until just over halfway through the dinner preparations, when he came and Camaemben shooed her away, a flicker of agitation colouring his voice as he urged her to leave.

“Lord Elrond has been accusing me of hiding you away,” he clarified in response to her affronted look, “Please, go clean up for dinner and eat in the dining hall this evening.” he ushered her to the door, “If only so that he doesn’t keep nagging me tomorrow!”

Ella let herself be pushed along until the doors swung quietly shut behind her, mind caught on what he’d said. Nagging elves, she thought, I can’t imagine Lord Elrond nagging! The cooler air of the corridor felt invigorating after the bustling warmth of the kitchen in full swing, but it did nothing to stop the mental image of a dignified, elegant elf dressed in a granny hair wrap, with a cane and old man trousers pulled half way up to his chest. She giggled all the way back to her room, despite the thread of anxiety Camaemben’s behaviour had pulled free.

“Lady Ella!” Glawaril greeted her enthusiastically, balancing a dress over one arm as she closed Chloe's door behind her.

Banging my head against a wall is almost definitely weird here. Nearly everyone had dropped the made up title, except for Glawaril, and a few other holdouts. “Still just Ella, Glawaril,” she muttered, “makes me feel so weird being called a Lady.”

“Of course, Lady Ella,” Glawaril replied with utmost politeness, "and that is precisely why I'll persist."

She always replies in the same way. Ella rubbed her forehead and smiled ruefully. “What can I do to make you stop?”

“Accept it.” Glawaril's tone was gentle, and she gestured toward Ella's door. “Are you coming to change for dinner?”

“Yeah? I guess,” Ella said, opening the door, “I mean, Camaemben sort of implied I have to.”

Inside her bedroom, the fire in the hearth burned low, casting a warm glow across the room's wooden furnishings. Glawaril placed the dress she held on one of the chairs, quickly lit candles from a taper and stoked the fire to a brighter flame with practised efficiency. Ella watched it all carefully as she did every time, learning what she might need to know, and remembering to say thank you.

“Will you be taking a bath?” Glawaril asked.

Ella pinched her tunic and gave it a tentative sniff. “Do I need to? Didn’t think I had time.”

"A quick wash will suffice, but you will need to wash your hair tomorrow, if you ask me." Glawaril advised.

“Which I didn’t,” Ella retorted cheekily, earning her an indignant huff from Glawaril.

“Impertinent.”

“Fussy.”

Glawaril shook her head playfully, then motioned toward the changing screen near the small wooden wardrobe. "I'll select an outfit for you, and we'll deal with that hair situation so it doesn't resemble a bird's nest. Meanwhile, change out of those clothes whilst I fetch you some water, smelly child.”

“Glawaril!”

“Go!”

Ella laughed and did as she was bid, stepping behind the slender wooden panels and discarding her tunic and leggings. Glawaril held out a bowl of warm water for her to take shortly after. Behind the screen, a small table held soap and a washcloth. Ella dipped the cloth into the water, lathered it with the lavender-scented soap, and began scrubbing her skin thoroughly.

“Don’t forget behind your ears!”

“I’m not actually a child! I do know how to wash!”

Glawaril's melodious laughter echoed from the vicinity of the wardrobe, prompting Ella to shake her head. She’d found that Glawaril had a good sense of humour, and they got on quite well, for all that it was completely bizarre to have a maid. Glawaril had shared how she volunteered to help them upon their arrival, after the twins informed Lord Elrond that they spoke only in Westron. It wasn't uncommon for elves to know Westron, but fluency wasn't widespread, as Ella had found. However, Glawaril was adept at it due to her travels with her husband in her youth, which the raven haired elf admitted when pressed on the subject. She had frequented markets at Fornost and Bree and beyond, sometimes even travelling alone with the travelling caravans of artisans, so learnt the language through necessity. Of course, that was six hundred years ago. Totally normal. Except that Dick Whittington was actually alive back then! The age of the people, elves, around her was still almost incomprehensible - especially when most of them acted more like teenagers than most of the actual teenagers she knew at home.

Glawaril passed an outfit (of course she picked a dress!) over the screen, causing Ella to let out an involuntary sigh upon seeing it. Glawaril, with her heightened hearing, caught the sound.

"Wearing a dress for the evening won't harm you, Lady Ella,” she said reassuringly, “all the other ladies there will be in dresses.”

“But how do you run in a dress?” Ella muttered.

“It’s a skill you can learn,” 

Ella pulled on the first layer. Its long sleeves were cut slim to her wrists and the fabric was a rich, dark green. The dress fell to her ankles, loose from the hips but not flared like a skater dress she might wear back in her world.

“Do you just… lift it up? As you run?” She asked as she pulled on the second layer. This was a much paler green, and she had to admit it complimented the dark bottle green of the under dress nicely. Sleeveless in contrast to the one underneath, it boasted a modest scoop neckline and a slim sash to cinch around her waist. It’s not… terrible, she reflected, looking down at it, for all that I never would have picked this at home. Ever. Stepping out from behind the screen, she twirled at Glawaril's gesture.

"You look lovely," Glawaril complimented. "Now have a seat, and I'll tame your hair."

Ella rolled her eyes and did as she was told, wondering what state her hair was in. Given her morning grappling with the techniques of deflecting an opponent's advances and taking them down, her hair might have seen better days. And that was even before her afternoon stroll that led her through a thicket of wild blackberries and a lengthy stint in a bustling kitchen. "How bad is it?" she asked, grimacing.

“I will refrain from commenting.” Glawaril replied tactfully, “but perhaps now is a good time to mention my Ivorwen is very skilled with fixing -”

“Glawaril!”

The elf tutted and undid the hasty knot Ella had fashioned earlier to keep her hair out of her face. Combing through snarls with a wide-toothed, smooth wooden comb gently. “You could tie it differently, Ella. It would hold better in a different style, even with your lessons with the guards.”

Ella responded with a deliberately nonchalant shrug, her muscles tensing as she felt the comb skim close to her ears. She knew the way she wore it left much to be desired, but it was quick and easy to do, kept it out of her face and kept most of her ears covered up, and that was all she cared about. She hated the looks she got when people noticed the scars on them, and elves had better eyesight than anyone she’d ever met. “Maybe.” She said reluctantly.

Glawaril finished combing out the last of the knots and started quickly twisting a small section a short way back from her forehead. Ella felt her shoulders tighten involuntarily.

“You wish to keep them covered, yes?” Glawaril inquired softly.

Ella nodded mutely, pressing her hands into the sides of the chair. Apparently she wasn’t as subtle as she thought she was. What did Mikey say? Subtle as a brick? Guess he was right.

“The scars are not as noticeable as you think, Lady Ella,” Glawaril continued, confirming Ella’s suspicion as she began to expertly part off another section, her fingers working nimbly, “and there are none here who would judge or think less of you because of them.”

Ella remained silent. The topic was one she shied away from, a subject she preferred to avoid entirely, even in her thoughts. If she thought too much about it, about what happened, she started to remember it, to remember the hot, slick feeling of blood sliding down her neck; the burning pain in her ears from where the knife had cut - Ella rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands until her vision whited out. Glawaril recreated the braid on the other side without another comment, then gathered both sections and secured them neatly at the nape of Ella's neck.

“There, that should suffice," Glawaril declared.

Ella offered the elf what she hoped was a heartfelt expression of gratitude before standing self-consciously and finally succumbing to the urge to smooth down the hair over her ears. “Dinner, then.” She said resignedly.

Glawaril's lips curled in an amused smile. "It is much the same as breakfast, Lady Ella, but savoured in the evening hours."

“I know that, I just,” Ella rolled her eyes, “haven’t been for a while. I like helping in the kitchen better. Less people, less noise.”

A soft chuckle escaped Glawaril. “I don’t think elves have ever been accused of noise before.”

“You are hardly quiet people.”  Ella countered with a huff, prompting Glawaril to offer a gentle tut before guiding her towards the door.

“‘Noise’ implies a certain level of… Uncouthness.”

“It does not!”

“Perhaps not in your culture, or your dialect,” Glawaril conceded, “But it does in Westron.”

Ella gasped at the elf as she passed her into the hallway. “Don’t! You’ll make me think I’ve been insulting people left, right, and centre!”

Glawaril laughed and shooed her on. “Off you go! You will be late otherwise, and your tardiness will become the talk of the evening."

“Surely you’ve got better gossip.”

“What is better than the two mysterious children who appeared from nowhere under the wing of Lords Elladan and Elrohir?”

Ella gaped, making the elf smile beautifully in return.

Shaking her head with an affectionate grin, Ella turned and quickened her pace. Her bare feet whispered silently against the stone floor. She paused briefly, looking down at her feet. She really was cutting it fine however, and the overdress covered them for the most part anyway, so she kept going. It wasn’t like anyone seemed to be bothered by her preference for bare feet anyway: it’d started as a bit of a necessity when her feet were sore after several days of wearing the borrowed, ill-fitting walking boots. Over time, it had evolved into a reassuring habit - the feel of the grass, or stone, or straw,  under her toes was grounding and reminded her of the tangibility of this crazy new life she was apparently living.

As she pushed through one of the heavy doors, the subtle grandeur of the dining hall unfolded before her once again making her do a double take. The tables teemed with elves, the atmosphere bustling with activity. Amidst the crowd, Elrohir (she’d finally learnt to consistently tell them apart) waved her over. Surprisingly, she spied Chloe sitting next to him. In the days since she’d started emerging again from her room, the other girl had preferred to spend her time with Orinan, or occasionally the two elvish women she’d befriended, rather than Ella.

“Ella!” he said warmly, “So you do still know where we eat our evening meal!”

“Ha ha.” Ella rolled her eyes and smirked. Settling into a seat across from Elrohir, next to Elladan, she grappled with the skirts in an attempt to sit down comfortably without getting tangled up and falling over or flashing everyone.

“Good evening, Ella.”

Startled, Ella's eyes widened. She hadn’t noticed Lord Elrond when she approached the table.
“Hi.” she replied, her voice slightly higher than usual.

“Chloe was just telling me about the elvish songs she has been learning,” he said, politely moving past her obvious surprise, although she heard Elladan stifle a snicker. “How are you getting on?”

Wonder if he’d take bruise counts as a learning record? She was still so glaringly inadequate compared to the elves in the guard, it didn’t seem worth mentioning. Let’s not remind him that I’m pretty much a waste of space. Her kitchen duties were an attempt to stay occupied on her part, rather than out of any need in the kitchen, too. If anything, she was probably a hindrance.

"Um, yeah, all good," she replied awkwardly, her discomfort not quite hidden and she knew it. "And you?"

He inclined his head. “I am well, thank you. I have not seen you around Imladris for some days now, and admit I was curious. Camaemben does not let many into his kitchen.”

“That’s because they pinch biscuits,” she blurted out reflexively, then winced.

Elrohir chuckled, and a faint smile graced Elrond's lips. "Indeed."

Seated beside Elrohir on the opposite side of the table, Ella could see that Chloe wore a different style of dress to her own, with a lower cut to the neckline that also featured decorative embroidered roses: she looked very pretty, the style suiting her well and the colour highlighted the blue of her eyes. Chloe had taken to styling her hair after elven women as well, transforming her long, mocha brown tresses into smooth, perfect waves.

Chloe blended seamlessly amongst the elves, as if she truly belonged there. On the other hand, she was increasingly conscious of her bare feet under the table and her more modestly braided hair. She tugged at her sleeves and fiddled with the bodice of her dress. You’ve never fit in before, why the hell should you care now? She mentally admonished herself, and tried to shake off the growing feeling of isolation. She made a joke, plastered on a smile, and deflected the conversation back to Chloe, who flicked her hair and effortlessly seized the spotlight, picking up the conversation and garnering the attention of Lord Elrond, and Elladan and Elrohir, in a heartbeat. 

You don’t fit here. Ella shoved the thought down, lest it show on her face. She slid into the conversation, wanted or not, with a sardonic grin. She missed her friends, few and distant as they were. Luke would revel in the dramatic costumes and the exquisite hair, and Mikey would find the whole situation just as bizarre as she did, keeping up a running, crude, commentary throughout. I do not care, this is just now. This is not forever. This is just today and I cannot, do not, care about tomorrow.

Chapter Text

It took a few attempts, but Gilraen managed to coax Ella into skipping her training with the guards on one particularly warm morning in favour of helping their little troupe of dancers perfect their routine. The air hung heavy with humidity, thick and close even outdoors. Gathering within one of the smaller reception rooms (still bigger than the school gym), they threw open all available windows, hoping for any hint of a breeze.

“We’re to help with the harvest later today as well,” Gilraen explained, “but we thought we’d showcase the dance afterward.”

“Last minute practice,” Ella said with understanding, “I hear you.”

Soon, Ella would be recruited for the harvest as well— Filiher had mentioned that nearly every able and available hand would be. However, only elves were out all day - humans, as far as Ella could understand, were all waiting for the heat of the day to pass before starting - leaving several long hours to fill.

“You guys know what you’re doing, yeah? So let’s polish it up. Show me what you’ve got, from the beginning. Ready? One, two, three, four -” Ella pointed at Sam, the young boy they’d decided on as their ‘Bruce’. As she reached 'three,' he beamed, and on 'four,' he drew a deep breath, just as they had practised.

“Whoa
Never again will she get the best of me
Never again will she take away my freedom
And we won't forget the day we fought
For the right to be a little bit naughty -”

Ella gestured to the rest, and they quickly got into position as Sam sang the next verse. As he began the second, they sprang into action right on cue, not quite synchronised but utterly enthusiastic, causing Ella to exchange a triumphant grin with Gilraen. They looked very good.

“We are revolting children
Living in revolting times
We sing revolting songs -”

Ella pulled Gilraen along with a laugh, slotting them seamlessly into the back row to dance along. Since Gilraen had not escaped the lessons either, she knew the dance as well as the rest and was grinning just as widely. On a nearby bench, Aravie jumped up just in time for the group to finish their ensemble lines. She was taking the lines Ella was pretty sure Hortensia sang - with a slight tweak. They’d abandoned the "hockey stick" term after a long-winded explanation that meandered through sports, contacts versus non-contact, the different types of hockey, the over prevalence of male-dominated sports in media (which had really gone over their heads), until they eventually landed on "training stick" for a touch of cultural familiarity.

“We'll become a screaming horde!” Aravie cried out loudly, “Take out your training stick, and use it as a sword!”  In a rather extra fashion, she executed a flip, then resumed her dance, keeping up with the song.

By the time they finished the song, everyone was laughing. Proud smiles graced everyone's faces, and Gilraen enveloped Ella in a warm hug. “I wish Arathorn were here, this would make him laugh!”

“Your brother?” Ella inquired.

Gilraen chuckled. “Oh no, he's one of my... very good friends.”

Ella ushered the group toward cups of water, eyeing Gilraen curiously.  “With a tone like that? Just good friends?”

Gilraen's cheeks flushed, but she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “I am only twenty-one, but I already know I would spend my life with him, if he asked.”

“You sound so… certain.”

“As one should be, of such things. Don’t you think so?”

Ella nodded in agreement but -

“I don’t think I could.”

“What? Fall in love?” Gilraen laughed, and pulled the younger girl in a one-armed hug as they walked behind their charges. “You are very young.”

“That’s what the elves say.”

“About love?” Gilraen asked incredulously.

“About everything! I’m guessing it applies to love, too.”

“I've heard tales of enduring elven love matches,” Gilraen confessed, “but have yet to witness one. Some have fallen in love over centuries, others in the space of single battle, fighting side by side. Some even fall in love in the breath of a single moment.”

“You’re still quite young, there's still time to see one yet.” Ella retorted with a playful grin, and Gilraen bumped her shoulder.

“Come, let us get some refreshments and head out to the fields. I think your friend Chloe will be joining us as well - I know Lord Erestor wanted everyone on hand to pick the berries at their peak.”

*

Ella hummed softly as she carefully picked berries from her row. Even though the sun was still hot, blazing down on her borrowed wide-brimmed hat, it was hard not to enjoy the afternoon. She’d waved goodbye to Gilraen, Aravie, Sam and the others on arrival, as they were doing some of the lower fields while she was directed to one further along. Nearby elves exchanged joyful Sindarin songs, the kind of happiness that felt infectious, even if she barely understood a word.

Her gaze shifted toward Chloe, who appeared lost in thought, hand suspended over a plump berry. “Earth to Chloe... are you with us?”

Startled, Chloe jumped. “Oh, I was just... thinking.”

“Can only do one thing at a time, huh?”

Chloe's withering stare could have sliced through steel as she turned away.

Whoops. After all these weeks, she’d thought Chloe was getting used to her but apparently not. I do not care, she reminded herself,  re-centering her focus back on filling the final basket and taking it up to the waiting cart. 
Chloe joined her a few moments later, also finished.

“Apparently after a harvest day they like to go down to that little pool off the river?” Chloe said, without preamble, “You know, the one with the springs?”

“Okay?” Ella knew her face looked as confused as she felt because Chloe rolled her eyes at her.

“You coming? I don’t want to go on my own.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it -”

“Come on, just for a bit? It’s really hot.” She didn’t wait for a response, tugging Ella along in the direction of the small pool further up stream.

Ella wrestled with how to respond, letting herself be pulled along in the meantime. On the one hand, yes it was very hot, almost oppressively so having been out in it most of the afternoon. On the other - it wasn’t like she was going to get in the water.

“Planning on skinny dipping?”

“No,” Chloe scoffed, “I’ve been working on something with Malthenniel.”

“Well, what do elves swim in? Why did you need to work on something?”

“I’m not going to swim in my pants, Ella. Gross.”

I thought that’s basically what swimwear was but made from like, stretchy something? She pulled her arm free of the other girl's grasp. “And why can’t you go on your own?”

“Because I don’t want to be the only - oh my god!”

Ella nearly collided with Chloe. “Chlo - what!”

“Oh my god.” Chloe gasped, hastily slapping a hand over her eyes, then revealing them, then covering them again.

Sidestepping around her, Ella let out a half-choked exclamation, swiftly clamping her eyes shut. Turning around and taking a few steps backward, she cautiously reopened them.

“Why are they all naked, Chloe!”

“I don't know!” Chloe's face was as crimson as Ella's was, and she sounded mortified. “I - why would they - I thought they’d have their - their smallclothes on or whatever!”

“Details are important, always get the details!”

They hurried back the way that they came, only slowing when they saw Orinan and his friends, Verrus and Palin, approaching from the fields.

“What’s got you two running off in such a hurry? The pool is in the opposite direction.” Orinan said, laughing.

“Everyone is naked!”

Orinan looked at his friends, bemused.  “How else are they supposed to swim? In their clothes?”

“A - I - not naked!”

Amused, Verrus, Palin, and Orinan agreed to the girls' request for an alternative swimming spot - with their clothes on. They settled on another part of the stream in the opposite direction to cool off. From a small fabric bag on her shoulder, Chloe produced a dark, custom-made swimsuit that, while leaving nothing to the imagination (not that a swimsuit back home did either, really), resembled swimwear they were familiar with. It was all in one, sleeveless, ending in fitted shorts instead of briefs. It was a clever design.

“That’s really clever, Chloe.” she admitted reluctantly, when the other girl stepped out from behind the scant shrub cover where she had changed.

“Thanks,” said Chloe, smiling, “Malthenniel helped me with it. We just finished it yesterday.”

“Alright, guys, you can turn around!”

Orinan stripped down to his breeches, with Verrus and Palin following suit soon after with amused shrugs. They jumped in with enthusiastic whoops and big splashes. Chloe dived in with a smooth and practised motion. Ella perched at the water's edge, submerging her feet into the cool water. It felt wonderful.

“Aren’t you coming in?” Chloe said, treading water with ease. Orinan and Palin were trying to catch Verrus and dunk him under.

“Don’t fancy it.”

This isn’t so bad. The water was refreshing in the heat, and the river here was calm and placid except for where she swished her feet through the crystal clear water and drifted off into a daydream.

“You must join us, it’s lovely!” 

Ella jolted, taken by surprise as Orinan suddenly appeared behind her, using a forceful nudge to push her forward and laughing loudly. She threw her weight backwards in a panic. “No! I don’t want to!”

“Come on,” he cajoled, pushing again. “It’s fun! One of us will get you some spare clothes, don’t worry!”

“Yeah come on Ella,” called Chloe from the water playfully, “Don’t be a spoil sport!” 

“No! Stop!” she shouted vehemently, “No! I mean it, fuck off!” 

But the bank was wet from their play, and she was sliding on the slick grass. Orinan was stronger than he looked. Desperate, she tried to scramble to her feet, meaning to run off or at least get some space between her and the water, but all she managed to do was end up overbalancing and tip into the water quicker. Orinan let out a triumphant cry and Ella’s head went under the water as Verrus quickly dunked her with another laugh. Panic seized her as she inadvertently inhaled water. She struggled, gasping for air, desperately trying to regain control but slipping under again, coughing and spluttering trying to get back to the bank - Verrus had gone to pull Orinan into the river, and Palin was chasing Chloe. 

“Shit - Ella - can you not swim?” Chloe sounded torn between shock and laughter. Ella imagined she looked a bit like a drowned rat.

Ella shot Chloe a fierce glare, her anger blazing through the haze of wet coughs. Seriously, how much water did I swallow? “Why would I be able to swim!” she retorted, her voice strained. “Who was gonna pay for my lessons? Or teach me?”

Chloe's expression faltered, regret flashing in her eyes. As Verrus and Palin began swimming over and Orinan's concern became evident, Ella internally berated herself for saying it at all. Averting her gaze, she tried to convince herself that the water dripping down her cheeks was just from her drenched hair, warmed by the sun. She was absolutely not crying over this. Chloe started to swim over, her voice worried.

“Ella - “ 

“Forget it. Enjoy your swim.” Ella's voice was thick with frustration as she spun on her heel and strode back up the path, not bothering to look back once as she marched through the fields. Stop crying. It doesn’t matter. When she was sure she was clear of anyone and everyone, she paused and scrubbed furiously at her face.

*

Aside from a few curious looks, no one stopped her fast walk back to her room.  She shut her door with a quiet thud and leaned against it, drawing a shaky breath as her fingers scrubbed away at her eyes and the moisture on her cheeks. Stop. Crying. It was stupid to be upset about it. She was fine. It was a stupid joke and really, who couldn’t swim? Only little kids were afraid of water, and Ella hadn’t been little for years. Crying doesn’t help anything, she berated herself, stop it!

“Get a grip.” she whispered harshly, her voice hoarse from coughing up water. She closed her eyes, swallowing back a wave of fear that threatened to the sting of tears, pushing back the memory of the water closing in all around her. She dug her nails into her palms until they bit into the skin, and forced herself to take a deep breath. “Stop it, stupid girl. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

And another breath.

And another. Shouldn’t have gone down to the river. With a determined motion, Ella pushed away from the door, ridding herself of the damp clothing and tossing them into the empty bathtub to deal with later, with a mixture of annoyance and revulsion. She briskly dried off her skin using a towel from the drying rack by the hearth. As she eyed her remaining dress with disdain, a sigh escaped her lips, and she tugged it over her head. All her leggings and tunics were due to be washed now.

A soft knock echoed through the room. Ella's heart skipped a beat, and she ceased all movement, her ears straining to catch any further sounds. Maybe I can pretend to not be here.

The knocking came again, louder this time, and more assertive. “Ella?”

She recognized the voice – Elrohir. Or possibly Elladan, but she was near certain it wasn’t. She was torn between opening the door to the friendly elf, or hiding until he gave up and went away. Experience told her that if she could wait them out, they’d give up. People always did. If they ask twice, they want to know. It was her rule for understanding if people wanted an answer to the greeting ‘alright?’ when she was younger.

“Ella? Are you alright? I can hear that you’re inside. Please, open the door?” Elrohir knocked a third time, more insistently, whilst she was still deciding what to do. Damnit. Ella debated for a moment longer, then reluctantly conceded defeat. 

Slowly, Ella approached the door. She smoothed her wet hair self consciously down over her ears and hovered tentatively above the handle. Her hand lingered over it, not touching it. She must have stood there indecisively for a brief eternity before she finally turned the handle and opened the door, part of her hoping that Elrohir had already left, and part of her hoping he hadn’t.

He stood patiently waiting a step back from the door. She studied his feet first, unable to look up to his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, his voice gentle but laden with concern. “I’ve been told by three different people that you ran back here. They mentioned you looked upset?”

“Didn’t run.” she murmured, finally lifting her eyes up to meet his, and finding genuine worry in his eyes looking back at her.

“You are upset.” he said, “You have been crying.”

“It’s nothing,” Ella shook off his worry and tried to smile. It felt weak and tremulous though, and he didn’t look convinced. “it’s over,” she added.

He held her gaze. His expression, soft and compassionate, reminded her of the way Luke would look at her when she arrived, usually unexpectedly and on the run.

“Come,” Elrohir beckoned, his voice inviting, “if it is nothing then you won’t mind sharing the tale over biscuits.”

“Biscuits?” Ella's curiosity was piqued, and she felt a glimmer of enthusiasm at the prospect of a snack. She glanced around Elrohir, looking for any signs of treats.

“Not yet,” he said, leading her down the corridor, “But I’m  willing to bet Camaemben will not be able to say no if you ask him nicely.”

Despite herself, a laugh bubbled out of Ella at Elrohir's playful eyebrow waggle. She couldn't help but smile as he responded with a wider grin.

Sure enough, Camaemben could not say no when she asked him, with saccharine sweetness, for a small plate of shortbread biscuits and a pot of tea for the two of them. In fact, he caved so quickly she suspected it may have been a set up, because the tea was already steeping. Elrohir took the tray off her hands, deftly avoiding her question on the matter, and led them to a pair of shaded benches out of the late afternoon sun.

“Would you like to talk about whatever upset you so?” he enquired as they settled onto the benches, “Is it related to your wet hair?”

Ella touched her hair with the tips of her fingers. The shoulders of her dress were damp where it hung still loose and wet around her shoulders. I must look like a sight, she realised, a twinge of self-consciousness worming its way into her thoughts. There was nothing like the presence of elves, and their perfect, pre-filtered appearances to compare oneself against. Despite the heat of the day, Elrohir and all the other elves she’d seen looked barely bothered by the weather, with nary a sweaty armpit or damp hairline to be seen with their almost unnatural composure: a contrast to the slight sheen of sweat that she could feel clinging to her skin and beading at the back of her neck and down her spine.

Ella offered a casual shrug in response to Elrohir's question and busied herself with taking a cautious bite of a biscuit, chewing it slowly as if each bite contained the secret to avoiding the conversation. She was learning, however, that what might seem like a stalling tactic to her was a barely noticeable delay to an elf’s perception of time. While she mulled over what to say, Elrohir simply made up his tea to his preference and watched the tranquil garden, completely nonplussed. Ella pulled her knees up to her chest and watched the garden with him.

The minutes stretched on, during which all Elrohir did was to calmly pour them both fresh cups of tea and eat another biscuit. Ella felt herself contracting into a tighter ball, her knees pressed closer to her chest until finally, she found herself blurting out, in one rush of outward breath, “It’s stupid.”

Elrohir hummed softly, his gaze fixing on her with curiosity.

Ella hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of her dress in a mixture of both nerves and determination to speak. “It’s my fault: I can’t swim.” She bit down on her lower lip, dragging her teeth over it harshly, the pain grounding her and anchoring her thoughts before releasing it, “They didn’t know.”

Elrohir's expression softened. “Who?”

“Chloe, Orinan, the others.” Ella mumbled, her gaze fixing on a nearby flower bed filled with what looked like foxglove. A bee landed lazily on one of the flowers, drawing her attention. “They were playing in the river. Orinan pushed me in.”

Elrohir's eyebrows creased in concern. "Did you let him?"

“No. Yes? I -” Ella's words stumbled as she recalled the slick mud under her feet, the force of the water rushing up over her head, engulfing her. A shiver of fear raced down her spine and her breath hitched. She blinked rapidly fighting back the fear that threatened to consume her words and prick her eyes with tears. “I didn’t let him. I said no, I tried to stop - But I should have tried harder, or done something else. I shouldn’t have even gone with them in the first place.  And then I was in the water and, and they were laughing and by the time I was at the bank again they were sorry and I just overreacted -”

“Ella,” Elrohir interjected firmly, his voice resonating with conviction, “you said no. That should have been the end of it. Do not make excuses for him.”

“But -”

“There are no ‘buts’ in this, Ella,” he asserted, his tone unwavering. “It is only natural that you would be frightened if you are unable to swim. That is a valid reaction. I will speak with them - Chloe and Orinan, yes?”

“No!” She whipped her head round to face him, unease twisting her stomach into a tight knot, “I just want to forget about it.”

The elf held her gaze for a moment. “As you wish.”

“I do, I do wish.”

“Should you wish to learn, you need only ask.” he said carefully, passing her the plate of remaining biscuits, of which he had eaten the large majority. “I'm not implying that you should or must learn, but the option is there, should you want it.”

She mustered a half-hearted nod, appreciating the sentiment even if she knew she wouldn't take him up on the offer. People had tried to teach her a few times, and it never worked out. Her fear always outlasted their patience. She didn’t like being in water, the feel of it as it ate up her skin and pulled her down, the sound of it rushing up over her ears, covering her eyes…  it felt like that was how it would always be. Every time the coldness crept up her legs and up her back and inevitably over her head - she shivered involuntarily. No, water was not her element.

*

She perched on top of a wooden board that floated upon a calm expanse of water. She steadfastly ignored the sound of the gentle water lapping against the edges of the makeshift raft. She gazed upward, at the sky above, filled with so many, countless, bright stars the sky was awash with their beauty. But their beauty just underscored her isolation. She knew if she looked around, she’d see the remains of their boat. Unanswered questions swirled around her thoughts. Whose boat was it? Was it hers? Who’d steered it? Who were they? Who else had been with her? What happened to them? What happened to it? Why was she on a boat? Why was she in the water at all? The questions filled her up until they overflowed, so she returned to staring at the stars.

As the minutes passed, the water's demeanour shifted. It started to wash over the board and tilt it to and fro on waves. The trance-like state she had fallen into was jolted by the sudden rocking of the raft. Panic flared in her chest as her balance faltered, and with a sudden wave, she tumbled from her perch and into the icy grasp of the water. The cold shock of it left her gasping, her hands scrambling to regain purchase on the slippery wood, but with each desperate attempt to grasp it, a new wave knocked it out of her grasp and knocked the board further from her reach.

Dread tightened her chest as the waves intensified, carrying her further from the faint outline of the wooden board. Her head slipped under the water and she struggled to the surface again, again, again. She was so tired, the cold water sapping the energy from her limbs as she desperately pushed to the surface once more, only to have a new wave knock her back under. The comforting night sky disappeared, replaced with murky depths, holding her captive. She found herself twisted and tossed, caught in a tumultuous current and buffeted by the water, her lungs burned - 

Ella awoke with a gasp, her eyes snapping open, her heart racing as she was yanked from the clutches of the water. Desperate breaths filled her lungs as she clung to the sheets of her bed, rubbing her fingers over the fabric. “Imladris,” she whispered, her voice quivering, trying to reassure herself in the silence of the room, “I’m on land. I’m not in the water.”

She was dry, not counting a cold sweat. She was in a bed, on the ground. These were fabric sheets beneath her, not wood. Drawing shaky breaths, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pressed her palms against the mattress. She felt the cold of the water lingering on her skin even as she felt the warm breeze through her window, the slick of the wet wood as well as the smooth weave of fabric. 
"It's just a dream," she whispered again. She felt dizzy with the disconnection, wide awake with terror and exhausted all at once, until the first fingertips of dawn crept through her window and she fell back into a restless slumber.

*

On a day when the sky shone another clear, crystal blue, Glawaril and Ella trod the familiar path that led down into the area that Ella fondly called ‘the laundry cave’. Glawaril's observant gaze lingered on Ella's worn features enough that she found herself wishing for a good concealer and maybe a baseball cap. She hadn’t wished for make up overly much since their abrupt arrival wherever ‘here’ was, but right now she sorely wanted some to hide the telltale signs of fatigue etched under her eyes.

“You look tired today,” Glawaril said gently.

Ella, burdened by the weight of her laundry basket, let out an involuntary huff in response. “Charming,” she retorted, not fully hiding the sarcasm as she adjusted her grip on one of the basket handles.

Glawaril's lips curved into a knowing smile, her empathy palpable. "Oh, hush," she chided playfully. "I only mean to say that you need not help with this if you wish to rest after—"

"After what?" Ella's voice was sharp, tinged with defensiveness.

“Elrohir mentioned -”

"Of course he did!" Ella's anger flared, her frustration evident. "I told him to forget about it! Nothing happened."

“Lady Ella -”

“No, Glawaril, no,” Ella shook her head, her voice tinged with bitterness. “I just wanna do my washing so I’ve got clean leggings, and I don’t need you to do it for me, or to talk about my feelings, or whatever.”

The elleth’s brows creased into a small frown, but she nodded in acquiescence.

"Why do you not wish for me to do your laundry?" Glawaril's quiet question broke through the silence, her voice soft and sincere. "Lord Elrond has asked me to help you. Lady Chloe is content to do so—"

Ella scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Chloe is used to having someone do her chores for her. I’d rather not get used to something that I shouldn’t. Besides, the chores still have to get done, all we’ve done is what, triple your work? Why should you have to do it all?”

“Because I have offered.” Glawaril responded simply, her gaze unwavering as she stood her ground.

“It’s just…. strange. Like you’re my servant or something.”

Glawaril paused, letting Ella's words hang in the air. “Why is that odd? As you say, these things must be done.”

“Servants - I don’t - we don’t,” Ella furrowed her brow, grappling with the cultural divide. What to say to that? Every time I think I’ve got the hang of elves! 

“You do not have servants in your culture, or is it a role with negative connotations?”

Ella nodded.

Understanding gleamed in Glawaril's eyes, her expression sympathetic as she hummed thoughtfully. “It is not the way of the elves: I am content as I am, and feel no strive to change anything. When I was younger, as I have spoken of before, I was filled with wanderlust and travelled across much of Arda until I was sated. Now, I am content to complete the tasks at hand, to do my part within the Last Homely House, to return to my home with Ivoren each night. If that changes, I know I am welcome to leave, or perhaps try something new. I am not thought of less for my role. Should I wish, I may have my say in any part of the running of Imladris.”

“Really?” Ella asked sceptically, as they set down their baskets by a free tub, “What if you wanted to… do something radical?”

“Like?”

“I don’t know! Humour me.”

“Very well,” Glawaril passed over a block of what Ella thought of as laundry soap, and took her time again, considering a reply. “Lord Elrond is kind, and fair. Should I have a radical and unheard of proposition for the running of Imladris I am certain he would hear me out. But, if it was so radical as to be unwanted, or unwelcome, it would not come to pass. I am one voice in a chorus, and we must all work together to sing in harmony.”

“But Lord Elrond isn’t in the chorus, is he?”

"No, he is not," Glawaril confirmed calmly. "Yet, I don't resent him for that. Leadership comes with its own burdens and challenges, more so than it does simple joys."

“Do you understand now why you can let me help you?” Glawaril asked after a time, her voice carrying a note of encouragement. "I understand your desire for self-sufficiency, Lady Ella. It's an admirable quality, and I don't wish to diminish it. However, it's important to recognize that accepting help doesn't equate to losing your independence. In our community, we believe in supporting one another because, as you've seen, there's strength in unity."

Ella scrubbed her leggings, thoughts swirling like the frothy water in the tub. Someone taking care of her, even in such a simple manner as laundry, felt so foreign and exotic and like something she could never admit to wanting. A pipe dream. She had grown up fending for herself, moving from one placement to another and she was used to independence, to relying only on herself. She carried these traits like armour because if she never needed anyone, it was so much harder to be let down.
"It's just... hard. I don’t want you doing all my stuff for me though - I don’t need you to.” I don’t need anyone, she added. “I like being able to look after myself.”

Glawaril nodded understandingly, her hands gently kneading the fabric in the wash. "Change can be unsettling, and you have had more change than I can imagine with your arrival here. It's natural to cling to what's familiar. But sometimes, embracing change allows us to grow and find a deeper understanding of ourselves and those around us."

“That sounds really deep for you asking me to let you do my laundry.” Ella said, pausing her scrubbing and finally looked at Glawaril, "I just don't want to be a burden to anyone. That’s a vibe I don’t need here.”

Glawaril's face softened with a reassuring smile. "You are not a burden, Lady Ella, I can assure you of that.”

Chapter Text

Elladan knocked on the door to his brother's quarters, and gave him a gentle mental nudge to the bargain: they were running late. There was a muffled noise that sounded very much like a laugh, and then Elrohir appeared, sliding through a barely open door and still slipping on his last shoe.

“Camaemben’s day off?” Elladan asked knowingly.

Elrohir had the good grace to blush but didn’t deign to answer. Elrohir and Camaemben had been taking each other to bed for nearly a thousand years, but still refused to admit to being anything more. The temptation to tease grew to a roaring flame that Elladan tamped down on with sheer force of will, and only because he had other matters to discuss, and they were running late.

“Glorfindel is going to have us cleaning the armoury at this rate, brother,” Elladan continued, hastening away from the closed door.

“You do not have to wait on me,” Elrohir said, matching his stride.

“And yet here I am.” 

“Yet here you are,” Elrohir agreed.

Ritual greetings exchanged, they walked through the buildings quickly, their path well trodden over the years. Their quarters remained in the main residential wing of the main building, tucked away behind the public rooms and guest suites. 

“Father has told Camaemben to not let Ella hide in the kitchens so often,” 

“Ah, that’s why she suddenly appeared at dinner again! Before, or after, the incident at the river?”

“Before,” he said with a grimace, “that was unfortunate timing.”

Elladan nodded in agreement, “Glawaril tried to talk with her about it. Ella was unimpressed you had shared her account,” he warned.

“Are you going to encourage her into mischief as retaliation?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a grin, “whilst I agree no secret was betrayed, she was under a different impression. Something is needed to clear the air between you, a suitable prank will do nicely, since I do not think our guest will tell you precisely what she thinks of you right now.”

Elrohir fixed him with a mock glare, a smile teased the edges of his mouth and betraying the depth of his ire. “Are you going to give me a warning?”

“This is your warning, brother.”

Elrohir nodded in agreement as they stepped into the dining hall. They had abandoned their usual quiet breakfast routine, often enjoyed alone, occasionally with each other or their father, ever since they arrived with their new, wayward companions. Elladan couldn't help but think that perhaps they should have anticipated something unusual when their father sent them off with scarcely half a morning's notice, cryptically mentioning a premonition of odd occurrences in the Trollshaws. Yet, even with that hint, discovering two lost girls wandering in the wild, clad in nothing more than the strange clothes on their backs and carrying peculiar waterskins, surpassed even the most eccentric scenarios Elladan could have envisioned. Well, maybe not the most bizarre, but certainly beyond the realms of reasonable conjecture.

The bustle and activity of the hall in the midst of breakfast greeted them a little louder than normal, given how late they were today. They usually joined the early risers and other guardsmen who ate before training - and the two girls, of course. Elladan had originally suspected that Chloe was dragging Ella out of bed, given how tired the other girl often looked, but Chloe had refuted the idea, saying she was used to getting up early because she had to go down to a nearby stable every day to care for her horse, a mare called Diesel, but she had no idea why Ella rose so early, just that the other girl was was often up even before her. 

Both girls were sitting in their customary spots this season: by the central windows. Chloe’s hair was dark, mahogany brown with softer, ash tones highlighted in the morning sun, contrasted against the red tones the sun brought out in her companions, for all that both looked the same colour at first glance. Both were nearly finished with their meals as Elladan and Elrohir joined them in the empty seats. 

Elrohir looked at Ella warily, although he hid it well enough that Elladan doubted anyone but he, and perhaps their sister, would have noticed. 

“Morning,” said Ella, a touch gleefully. Elladan watched with a similar feeling as a thread of wariness stiffened his brother's shoulders.

“Good morning Ella, Chloe,” he replied, taking a seat and helping himself to tea as Elrohir subtly checked the remaining chair for boobytraps. “I see this morning finds you well?”

“Well enough,” Ella said agreeably, quickly standing as she finished off the last of her dish, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Elladan felt the wryness-resignation from his brother and suppressed a grin. He sent a flicker of confirmation-relaxed-acceptance back because, yes, he had pre-agreed with the girl to bring his brother down to breakfast to be  sure he was occupied until training and no, he was not concerned. 

“And you, Chloe? How are you?” 

Chloe took a moment to reply, always more considerate in her answers than her friend. “Yes, thank you. I’m hoping to complete the design on a new sash for one of my dresses today - it’ll be the first I’ve worked through completely on my own.”

“Your dedication is paying off,” Elrohir noted, “you will have to show me when you’re finished.”

“Oh I don’t know,” she said bashfully, “I’m sure it’ll be nothing compared to what some of your embroiderers can do,”

“Comparison is the thief of joy,” Elladan pointed out, helping himself to a bowl of cooked oats and milk and a large drizzle of honey, 

Chloe looked up at him sharply, “That’s a saying from back home, too,”

“It’s true no matter the land,” said Elrohir, “it will steal your satisfaction and leave you wanting: the same is true of elves, and all creatures, I imagine.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Chloe sighed, “By the way, have you heard from that person we needed?”

“Mithrandir?” Elrohir said, “No not yet, father mentioned that he hasn’t heard back from two of the scouts yet so mayhaps one of them is with him now. Mithrandir can be quite… distracting.”

Chloe’s face fell in disappointment for a moment, but then brightened again as she looked beyond them, presumably towards the doors. Elladan twisted in his seat to glimpse at what made her brighten so quickly and frowned when he saw Orinan, one of the unknown guests that had arrived after the orc attack nearby. Orinan was waving happily at the girl, gesturing for her to join him outside of the dining room. Chloe was already hastening out of her seat, a smile on her features before Elladan could think of a reason to try and delay her: and really, he had no reason to. Despite his own misgivings and despite having confirmation that others felt similarly, the boy had done nothing wrong. 

“I was hoping to catch you this morning,” Orinan said quietly when Chloe fairly bounced on buoyant steps over to where he stood in the doorway, “your minders don’t mind you leaving?”

Elladan kept his back to the door, fairly bristling at the tone of the boy's voice. Most Men forgot just how good the hearing of elves was, and whispering metres away in the doorway wasn’t even classed as trying to be quiet.

“They’re not my minders, Ori,” Chloe tutted,

“They act like them,” 

“Ori please, Elladan and Elrohir are just kind -”

“If you say so,” Orinan sighed, put upon and frustrated, then seemed to catch himself with a breath, “come, I wanted to walk with you through a garden that blooms the best in the morning, or so I am told.”

Elrohir caught his eye as he refilled their waters, equally displeased. Chloe had no family here to watch out for her, to counsel her on such matters, or to warn potential suitors of the punishment for mistreating a daughter, niece, or sister. “I am tempted to intervene,” Elrohir murmured.

“She would not thank you for it.”

“She is young—”

“Precisely my point. She is young and mortal, and so is he. It is natural she is interested in him.” Elladan dipped his head from side to side, “Or it is a delayed response to the trauma of finding herself somewhere unknown with no way home.”

The hubbub of the dining hall enveloped them as the morning sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the polished wooden surfaces.

Elrohir finally broke the quiet. "Do you think Orinan has genuine feelings for her, or is this merely an infatuation born out of curiosity?"

“Who can say?” Elladan countered, “I asked Father the same question, and he pointed out that we can only hope for the former, while keeping a closer eye on them together.” 

Elrohir sighed, “That is so very sensible.”

*

“You wanna talk about it?” Chloe asked, her question hanging in the air as they flopped down in the shade of the elegant white gazebo that overlooked the valley, still catching their breath. The soothing whispers of a breeze played softly through intricately designed carved wooden chimes that hadn’t been there when they were first brought to Imladris.

Ella shifted her gaze from the intricate patterns of the gazebo's roof, rolling her head to face the other girl with an eyebrow raised in question.

“About what you said this morning?” Chloe clarified, sounding unimpressed, “Your latest crazy dream?”

Ella turned away from Chloe, eyes tracking the wood struts and joists as she thought about how to reply. Lethargy pulled at her limbs, a consequence of training, running, and the restless sleep that preceded it all. Last night's dream, though not as harrowing as some, lingered in her thoughts. On a scale of nightmares that ranged from  ‘Resident Evil inspired’, to ‘naked in class’ it was fairly tame, a familiar narrative of rejection and disappointment. She’d dreamed Lord Elrond got bored with her presence, uninteresting and plainly human as it was, and told her to leave straight away, without even time to pack her bag. And when she didn’t get out of the house fast enough, Elladan and Elrohir got incredibly angry, and told her how disappointed they were at her pitiful attempts at guard practice as they marched her out to the open road, and then left her there.

“Kinda unoriginal and nothing new,” she replied eventually, “I just had to find a new place to live with zero notice.”

"That's unoriginal?" Chloe questioned, a note of awkwardness in her voice.

"You forget that I'm in care back home already?"

"Oh, right," she mumbled apologetically, “sorry.”

“That I’m in care, or that you forgot, Princess?” she quipped.

“Ella.”

Waving her hand dismissively, “What about you? How do you know when your dreams are from their like, God things?”

Chloe frowned and sighed, “It’s… hard to say. Some of them just… resonate, I guess. They’re just so ‘other’ I know they’re not from my head.” 

Right, not drowning in an ocean or being told to find a new place to sleep, or weird mashups of dumb stuff I’ve seen, Ella rolled her eyes at the roof above them.

“Orinan says if the elves are benefiting from them, I should be getting something in return,” she continued quietly, “but that feels a bit rich given they’re feeding and clothing us right now.”

“Tricky line to walk,” Ella remarked, “Have they gained anything, really? Or did you dream of a rainbow and a leprechaun’s pot of gold and tell them where to find it?”

“No,” she laughed, “there never seems to be anything more than fighting and death,”

Ella shrugged, feeling the solid stone under her back, “I... kinda think that that just comes under ‘good guest’ behaviour. You know, we sleep and eat for free, and you let them know if you dream about them being murdered. But, I dunno. Maybe this is a cult and a pyramid scheme and we’re just too brainwashed to see it. Could go either way.”

“I really have no idea if you’re joking or not.”

“Me either. Scary, right?”

They lay in silence for a while, and Ella considered the idea of having a nap. In the shade of the gazebo it was warm, but not uncomfortably hot. The sounds of the surrounding valley were familiar and comforting, even the occasional shrill trill of the louder birds. The recent relentless onslaught of dreams had left her tired enough she sometimes thought about sleeping during the day, since she didn’t rest much at night. But that would mean questions on why she was sleeping during the day, and she was really trying to stay under the radar. Just ten minutes, just this one time. She shut her eyes against the afternoon light.

Chloe's voice shattered the tranquil quiet, jolting Ella back to full wakefulness. "You were joking, right?"

“Didn’t take you for the anxious type,” Ella murmured, trying to regain the peace from a moment ago. High maintenance, yes, but not anxious, she added silently, and then felt guilty for it, so she added aloud, “Yeah. I mean that doesn’t mean it isn’t but I think somehow pouffing us into a place so far from home there are other species and landscapes it is probably a bit advanced for the usual cult stuff. I think. Maybe.” She cast around for a change of subject, “So, ‘Orinan says’ huh? You guys are sure pally.”
 
Chloe laughed, “‘Pally’ - are you nine or ninety -” 

“Oh shut up -”

“Orinan is just… so sweet, and kind, and thoughtful, and so easy to talk to, and doesn’t he kind of remind you of Harry Styles?”

“Harry Sty-” Ella burst out laughing, “no, no he doesn’t and is that a good thing?”

“You don’t think Harry is fit?”

“Not my type -”

“Well let’s come back to that later, bloody hell,”

“Let’s not. So you think Orinan is pretty and a good talker?”

Chloe made a noise of agreement, sitting up and crossing her legs to face Ella. “We’ve been stuck here for so long, and everything is so weird and Orinan makes all the weirdness seem… less. I feel like he gets me. I can forget for a while all the crap and everything we’re missing and about my dad and my gran when I’m with him,” 

“You want to… talk about it?” Ella asked awkwardly, “the missing stuff?”

Chloe traced invisible patterns on the stone floor. “Don’t you?”

“It’s different for me,” Ella said, her eyes still closed, “not so much to miss. I miss my best friends, but they live in Birmingham now so I don’t see them much anyway.”

“You have friends?” Chloe said, but she cringed when Ella opened her eyes to glare at her. “Right, sorry. It’s automatic.”

“Eh, I give you at least as much shit. Fair’s fair. Yeah, I have friends, shockingly. Luke and Mikey.” 

“I miss my gran, and my dad. We had another massive fight just before I left that morning and I just keep playing it over and over in my head.”

“That’s a sure fire way to make yourself miserable.”

Chloe sniffed, “Yeah, it is. So stupid now - we were fighting about where I should go for uni, and now I’ve missed the application date anyway and it just seems stupid.”

Ella tensed. She’d been consciously trying to not think about the time falling away like sand in an egg timer because as soon as they got back she’d be almost straight away thrown into the rest of life without the guardrails. If they didn’t get back soon, she was going to lose valuable time that she could have spent working and saving, time to write scholarship applications and the many forms for every other application totally missed… I’m going to be absolutely fucked. She grinned. “On the upside, when we get back, you can tell him that.”

“Yeah,” Chloe said thoughtfully, “I will. I don’t think he’ll like it: he’s got this path set out for me and -” she huffed, suddenly quiet. “Yeah.” she said again.

Ella got the impression Chloe's dad was either overbearing, overprotective or both, but given that as far as she was aware, Chloe’s mum had left some years ago they were also very close. Overly complicated family relationships - one thing I don’t have to worry about. But the thought came with a pang of jealousy.

“Is that why you’re taking the random combination of subjects?” She’d always been vaguely amused to see Chloe rushing from the art department up to their shared maths class, the two rooms were about as far from each other as they could get at their college.

Chloe’s shoulders fell. “Yeah. I wanted to focus on art with some drama… Dad wanted me to keep my options open and come around to his plan for me to be a lawyer, like him. Eventually we agreed on a halfway house of Art, Maths and History, and I could keep doing the youth theatre instead.”

Ella’s nose wrinkled in distaste. The idea of someone making such a big decision for her rankled. “Why does he get a say again? It’s your life.”

Chloe shook her head, “He loves me and he cares about me? He was worried I wouldn’t get anywhere if I did art, that it would be difficult to break into - whereas Law, he can open doors for me, get me an internship over the summer breaks, probably get me a position after my degree…” she shrugged helplessly, “I get what he’s saying. It would be easier.”

“But would you be happy?”

“Life isn’t always that simple.”

“Wow,” Ella sat up in one quick motion, looking at the other girl incredulously, “that’s… I mean that’s true but honestly I didn’t think -”

“What’s new?”

Ella mock-glared. “I figured a spoiled princess like you didn’t have to think like that, you know, like the rest of us plebs.”

“I’m not a spoiled princess, for God's sake.” Chloe groaned, sounding tired rather than angry, “I hate it when you say that.”

Ella held up her fingers, counting off each point, “Your dad is a lawyer, you live in a big fancy house on the most expensive road in town, you have a horse, your dad is paying for your driving lessons and got you a car and insured it when you turned eighteen, you don’t even have a job -”

“You’re jealous.” Chloe said shrewdly.

“Who wouldn’t be!” Ella admitted, “and I’m pissed at you for moaning about it. I have to tick a special box on applications, which should in theory give me extra bursary money, but like that will solve all my problems?”

Chloe flopped back to the floor, Ella following, and they lay side by side in silence until,

“I can’t apologise for my life, and I shouldn’t have to. But I don’t think you want my pity, either.”

Ella blinked, staring at the ceiling in something like shock as she mentally begrudgingly revised some of her opinions on the other girl. When the lack of conversation started to feel awkward, Ella fidgeted.

“So, Harry Styles?”

“Yeah,” Chloe laughed a little, “I can’t believe you don’t see it. Or that you don’t fancy him back home too,” she paused, then said, “Orinan felt really terrible about pulling you into the water.”

“Told you I don’t want to talk about that anymore.”

Ella held her breath, expecting a biting comment about her inability to swim, and her floundering panic in the river, but Chloe only nodded silently. The slightly tense peace of the gazebo was interrupted by the approach of light footsteps. Orinan emerged into view, a warm smile gracing his features.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he greeted, his eyes lingering on Chloe with a gentle fondness. “Chloe, would you care for a stroll in the gardens? The afternoon sunlight is particularly enchanting."

Chloe hesitated, her eyes flickering between Orinan and Ella. Ella remained quiet, watching the dynamics unfold.

"That sounds lovely, Orinan," Chloe finally replied, a shy smile playing on her lips. "Ella, I’ll talk to you later?"

"Sure. Enjoy your walk."

Orinan stood up, offering a hand to Chloe. She took it gracefully, and they started to walk away from the gazebo, heads bent together to talk, leaving Ella alone.

As they strolled through the gardens, Orinan's animated conversation and Chloe's occasional laughter drifted back to Ella's ears that only emphasised the empty gazebo around her. Well, you can’t just lay here feeling sorry for yourself, she mentally rebuked, go make yourself useful or something. 

She meandered along cobblestone paths, wooden walkways and smooth stepping stones, surrounded by vibrant flowers and ancient trees, hoping to see Gilraen. While wandering through a secluded area, and still with no sight of Gilraen, sudden footsteps nearby caught her attention. Turning, she saw a figure approaching—another one of the humans who had found refuge accompanying the Dúnedain. The man appeared slightly disoriented, glancing around as if searching for someone.

"Chloe?" he queried, his eyes falling on Ella.

Ella sighed inwardly, a touch of frustration tugging at her. "No, I'm Ella. Chloe's not here at the moment."

The man's expression mirrored her own. "Ah, sorry. You two look alike. My mistake."

"It happens," Ella replied with a half-smile, dismissing the awkward encounter. If you’re really not paying attention to much more than us being human and brunettes, it happens, but she kept the comment to herself. The man nodded and quickly disappeared the same way he’d arrived.

Ella shook off the odd encounter and let her restless feet guide her. She ended up on the way to the main entry courtyard before too long: the sheer drop of the narrow bridge still enchanted and terrified her in equal measure. She ambled through, somewhat aimlessly meandering towards the main building until her eyes caught sight of an elf, dressed in the common style of a scout, clearly having just returned and striding purposefully towards the doors. He wore long, soft boots, laced up and over his knees, slim trousers of dark brown and a deep green tunic over a lighter green shirt, a hooded cloak a similar colour to his tunic clasped at his throat. Glawaril had said something about calling the trousers hose but that just made her laugh and think of them all in fishnets.

The elf noticed Ella and offered a polite nod, but continued on his way. He wasn’t anyone she knew from the guards, and, intrigued by his air of determination, Ella decided to follow discreetly, her curiosity getting the better of her. The elf's path led toward the heart of Imladris, and Ella wondered if he had important news to deliver, or if he was just desperate for a snack, or a sleep, or both. Maybe she’d end up awkwardly stood outside of his home or something. Hello Elrond, yes I can explain why one of your people wants to file a restraining order against me, I wasn’t stalking honestly…

As they neared a majestic fountain at the centre of one of the internal courtyards, Ella spotted Glorfindel and Elrond engaged in conversation. The elf she had been tailing approached them and, with a respectful bow, began speaking in quiet, but not secretive, tones.

Ella hesitated, lingering beside a tapestry that she suddenly found fascinating just inside the shadowed, wide open gallery that ran the length of the space. She caught fragments of the conversation and the name Mithrandir made her heart speed up - that was the mysterious wizard they needed! Lord Elrond had mentioned looking for him, right? Have they found him?

When the elf finished relaying his information he gave a quick bow and left in a different direction. Glorfindel turned and, unexpectedly, locked eyes with Ella. His gaze, piercing yet not unkind, held a silent question. Ella shifted uncomfortably and flushed. Oh shit. Scratching her head nervously she closed the distance between them and took a deep breath, trying to look respectful despite knowing she'd just been caught eavesdropping.
“He found Mithrandir?” she asked, not bothering to hide the fact that she’d overheard.

"Not yet," said Glorfindel, "our scouts continue their efforts, and we are passing word to those we know to cross paths with him.”

Elrond extended a hand in a calming gesture. "Mithrandir is a wanderer, but we will come across him soon enough."

Easy to say when you’re immortal, I bet, Ella thought. It sounded like a lot of hopes and smoke messages to her.

Chapter Text

The valley was still wrapped in the early light of dawn as Ella found herself sitting quietly on the narrow stone bridge, swinging her legs back and forth. The sight of the valley at dawn still took her breath away. She could almost tell herself she was here so early for the view, and not running away from the shadows in her room. The cool, refreshing, morning air worked like a balm, calming the echoes of her dreams and pressing the lingering fear in her chest away. She sat there until dawn finished painting the sky and then she rose, turning away from the mesmerising scene to make her way back toward the impressive sprawl of buildings behind her that crept up to and into the mountainside. Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered Orinan's abrupt appearance as he emerged in a hurry from the bottom of a staircase by a junction of corridors, like a spectre stepping from the shadows.

"Hello Orinan," she greeted, a touch surprised, watching him curiously.

Startled, he jumped slightly, "Good morning, Ch- Ella," he replied, his gaze flickering with an odd mix of emotions. She’d have said looked almost guilty ordinarily. “I have to meet someone, bye.” 
His swift farewell left Ella vaguely amused and a little suspicious, but she brushed it aside. It was no more suspect than her own early start, and he was going the wrong way for having left Chloe’s room, so there was no fun to be had asking how the other girl’s night had gone.

Arriving at the other girl's door, Ella knocked out her favourite quick knocking tune. 

"Come in!" Chloe’s voice called from the other side.

"Morning," Ella greeted with a tired yawn, flopping down on the end of Chloe’s unmade bed.

A lopsided smile graced Chloe’s face as she looked Ella over. “Are you even dressed for the day?”

Ella glanced down at her customary tunic and leggings. Rude. "Yes?"

Chloe rolled her eyes teasingly and settled behind her on the bed. “At least let me sort out your hair. I can braid it from here,” she said, touching the sides of Ella's forehead, “and join it at the back.”

“Nothing too fancy.” Ella cautioned, her gaze flickering toward Chloe's intricate hairstyle.  “Is that… it starts in one and ends in another? How long did that even take?”

Chloe smiled, pleased, and nodded. “It’s a dutch braid around the top and then I’ve fishtailed it for the length. Takes an age, though. I’m just going to plait yours, and tie them together at the back.” Her deft fingers weaved through Ella’s hair. "Up early again?" 

Ella traced absent patterns on the rumpled bedding. "Yeah, the usual."

“Want to talk about it?”

Fire, burning through the sky and scorching a village built on a lake and through the fire she’d tumbled down, down and through to horrible, deformed creatures screeching and shouting, baying for blood fighting against their enemies. The ground wet underfoot, slick with blood and insides and mud - 
Ella rubbed her palms into her eyes, trying to stop her mind recalling the images. “No. Just the usual dragons, fire and brimstone kind of stuff. Felt a bit like that old film with one of the Batmans before he was Batman?”

Chloe looked at her blankly while Ella tried to flip through a mental back catalogue of films she’d seen. “You know…  he did a few. Before the Twilight guy? And before that he did a dragon one?”

“I’m never going to get this, you know.”

IMDB. We can add IMDB to the list of things I miss, Ella lamented silently, and forced herself to move on. “Well, that dragon film and then that morphed into some kind of… monster horde thing.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you watched too many horror movies as a child?”

“Course not,” Ella snorted.

“They should have,” Chloe muttered, “Monsters like creatures, or monsters like zombies?”

"Creature monsters, I think. Thousands of them, all flat-nosed, grey-skinned, yellow-eyed, salivating, fanged… things."

Chloe nodded sympathetically. “That’s gross.” 

“They’re just dreams, Chloe.”  Ella responded with a casual shrug, not wanting to dwell on them any more, “How did you sleep?”

“Nothing so interesting. We got back, but no one noticed I was gone and they thought I’d had some kind of mental break… but that feels pretty normal. I doubt that the Valar sent me that one.” Chloe said, tying a length of cord around the braid to secure it. The conversation shifted, moving on to Chloe’s latest embroidery project, and how she missed her horse, as she finished getting ready for the day herself. Ella enjoyed the chance to lay mostly still, trying not to move at all: everything ached. Not just a muscle ache, but a weary, full body ache that dived right down into her bones. So, she lay still, and Chloe bustled about and tidied away her hair things until she suddenly paused and touched her ear, a hint of concern crossing her face. "Crap! Where's my earring?"

Ella blinked, glancing at Chloe's ears, which usually sported a pair of small huggie hoop earrings. "You've lost one?"

Chloe searched the bed and the surrounding area. "I had them on when I went to bed, I know I did."

Ella joined the search, quickly getting down onto the floor to look under the bed. "Maybe it fell off while you were getting changed?"

Chloe quickly went over to the pile of discarded night clothes, “No, it’s not here either,” she said, “They were a gift from my dad. I can’t have lost one!”

Ella hadn’t given them more than a passing thought before this, but she felt the ache in the other girl's voice in her own chest enough to say, “We’ll find it, come on we can search the whole room easily enough.”

It was Chloe that found it, fallen under the desk and hidden in the shadow of one of the wooden legs. “Oh thank God,” she said with relief as she clipped it back in place, “I don’t think Glawaril understood piercings, when she first asked about these.”

Ella led the way out into the hall with a yawn, eager to be on the way to breakfast, “What’s there to understand?”

“She couldn’t understand ‘why we would willingly poke holes in our body to put metal through,’" Chloe quoted, giving her a sidelong glance, “would have been easier if you had any, you know. ‘It’s totally normal’ would have been more convincing if you at least had your ears done. Why don’t you have your ears done? Would’ve thought that was your thing.”

“Because…”

“Come on,”

Ella rolled her eyes. Nope. Not making this easy for her.  “Because…”

“All that angst and rage you emit on the daily, I just figured rebelling with piercings or tattoos was appealing.”

“One - once again you are forgetting that no one ever really cared, so nothing to rebel against,” she ticked the items off on her fingers, “two - stereotype, much? Three - not big on anything sharp near my ears. Four - seriously you’re trying to tell me that your standard, one hole in each lobe, is your act of 'rebellion'?“

“No, and, air quotes really?” Chloe huffed, “I… you’re missing the point.”

“Obviously this is my failing,” Ella snarked, but the scent of freshly baked apple turnovers caught the attention of both of them as soon as they entered the big dining hall, ending the conversation. Ella made a beeline for them, ignoring the twins beckoning from a nearby table until she had filled a plate with the irresistible pastries. 

Breakfast was lively, filled with laughter and jokes, as it often was when the two brothers were around. Elrohir seemed to have forgiven her for the prank she’d arranged with Elladan’s blessing, or at least his silence. She hadn’t done anything too drastic, not wanting to chance making him angry, but she would bet he’d been slightly irked by her prank. 

“Funny problem I had recently,” Elrohir said, eating a slice of apple. 

“Oh?” Ella asked,

“Yes, all my soaps spontaneously became covered in some kind of lacquer.”

Chloe giggled incredulously, which sounded much more convincing than Ella’s repeated, “Oh?”
And Elrond said they can’t read thoughts!  “So does that uh, happen a lot here? Things spontaneously getting… covered… in  stuff?”

Do not look at Elladan, do not look at Elladan, do not look at Elladan.

“It’s not a common occurrence,” said Elladan, sounding like he was trying to swallow a chuckle.

“But it happens?” asked Chloe in laughing disbelief.

Ella looked up and risked a look at Elrohir, who was looking back at her with a raised eyebrow and half a smile curling at the edges of his lips. He reminded her of Mikey. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Ella?”

She took a long drink of water, trying to swallow back the smile she was hiding poorly behind the cup. “No?”

Elrohir held her gaze as Elladan cleared his throat. Hold! Hold! Ella didn’t finish her drawn out drink until he smirked and looked at his brother pointedly. “Do you?”

“Are you joining us today, Ella?” asked Elladan, ignoring his twin as he rose from his seat.

She wanted to say no. It felt like something inside the core of her was tired, the buzzing, relentless itch beneath her skin felt drained and still. It was why she’d sat outside and waited for the sun, rather than go down to the kitchens to help prepare breakfast. If I’m so tired I drop with exhaustion, will I still dream? Could exhaustion even stave off dreams? Is that a thing? Can a brain be too tired to dream? She was really tired of seeing monsters and water and blood and fire.

“Yeah, sure.” she said, not able to hide the lack of enthusiasm from her tone. The prospect of facing the whole day felt daunting. 

It was Elladan’s turn to raise a perfect brow, the mirror of his twin. She waved him off and glanced at her plate, “I need to finish these turnovers first.”

Elladan's smirk remained, gesturing with the half-eaten turnover in hand as he replied. "Remember, you said yes," He took a bite from the pastry, chewing to give a suitable dramatic pause, then continued, "Glorfindel mentioned something about the obstacle course."

Ella put her head in her hands and groaned.

The final turnover held her attention for a while longer. She took her time, savouring each delectable bite, fully aware that these treats wouldn't grace the table again for quite some time. She was still slightly blown away that money wasn’t a thing while they were wards of Lord Elrond and residents of Imladris. Human towns, like the ones she’d heard mentioned of Bree and Fornost, apparently used currency and bartering and Orinan had already mentioned exchanges like trade and payment.
She turned over the last pastry in her hands. The layering to make these took an age - Camaemben, like all elves she’d met so far - had no shortage of patience, but he rotated what he had everyone spend their time on. And layered pastry? Not a daily task.

Chloe left not long after Elladan, so Ella licked her fingers clean without an ounce of regret. She did need to get moving though, if she wanted to join in with the guards properly.

Ella finished her glass of water in a few quick gulps and pushed her chair back from the table. The chair legs scraped against the floor, a sharp sound that echoed briefly in the spacious dining area and made several of those nearby wince, including herself. She tidied away her plate, her movements precise and careful, pretending each movement was to the cadence of an intricate dance rather than because she was feeling sleepy and clumsy.

As she made her way outside the lush greenery, distant waterfalls and the clear, crisp air of the valley wrapped her. She stepped out onto the path that led down to the training grounds, the stones cool beneath her thin boots, and the vibrant colours of the landscape woke her up more than the turnovers had. Or maybe that’s the sugar from the apples kicking in, she wondered, then was distracted by trying to remember how processed sugar was made until a particularly loud bird sang nearby, reminding her she was on her way somewhere.

“Ai, mellon nin! Come, tell us what troubles you so.”

Caught off guard by the familiar voice, Ella paused in her tracks, a surge of curiosity compelling her back a step, because that sounded remarkably like Malthenniel. Sure enough, at the end of the path that led a ways off her own, she spotted the familiar trio of Malthenniel, Thenidiel and Chloe.  Although intrigued - Chloe seemed fine to her just ten minutes ago - Ella resisted the urge to pry further. She wouldn’t have even noticed them if she was on her way with her usual enthusiasm. She lingered a moment longer, unable to walk away, but guilt reminded her that she was definitely being nosey at this point, and she resumed her path down to the guards training area with quick steps, away from the small gazebo where Chloe sought comfort from her new companions.

*

It was a beautifully warm evening, and the large doors and windows were all thrown open, inviting a soft breeze and the light of the evening sun into the large dining hall. Ella settled onto the bench beside Chloe for the evening meal with a small groan from her protesting muscles. On the one hand she’d had the invigorating, post-exercise high coursing through her earlier, but on the other she now had the tenderness in her arms and legs of well-worked muscles, as well as the tiredness from the bad nights sleep. She could practically hear her bed calling for her to try again at sleeping.

"Orinan and I found a gorgeous little rose garden today," Chloe greeted, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes.  She looked perfectly well, and Ella didn’t want to mention what she’d accidentally witnessed earlier.

“Oh?” Ella reached for a pitcher of water, her curiosity piqued. “More gorgeous than all the other gardens?” She took a deliberate sip from her cup, feeling the coolness of the water quench her thirst and hide some of her bemused smile.

Chloe responded with a dry look, reaching for the pitcher herself.  “It really was! It was all in full bloom and there were so many of them! I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Has she never been to a garden centre? No, no don’t say it, Ella. She maintained a friendly smile, amused by Chloe's enthusiasm. “Okay? You going to elaborate on this rose garden?”

A faint blush tinted Chloe's cheeks. “It was very romantic -” she said in a hushed tone.

“In the gorgeous little rose garden -”

The dining hall was still relatively quiet. Chloe glanced around, but there was nobody sitting nearby and no prying ears particularly close. “Nothing, really,” she admitted with a shy smile.

What an oversell this was! Ella thought, trying not to laugh, motioning for the other girl to continue as she  eagerly began to eat. Glorfindel had not, in fact, made them run another obstacle course so soon after the last one. Instead he had them practising hand to hand fighting - and for Ella, learning how to fall. She was pretty sure her bruises had bruises, and there was an uncomfortable tightness to her side where she didn’t even know she was supposed to have muscles, but apparently she’d probably pulled one there. The lesson had left her feeling too queasy to bother with lunch, and now she was ravenous. Her stomach had been growing increasingly loud for the last hour, despite raiding the small stash of extra food she kept hidden in her wardrobe.

"It was just… incredibly romantic, way nicer than any of the guys back home would be,” Chloe continued, her voice a mixture of excitement and sentiment. “Orinan really opened up, and then said he'd like to court me." She paused, allowing the gravity of her words to settle in. "You know, like dating here, right? We talked for ages about places we’ve been, about how I’m hopefully going travelling in a couple of years,” Chloe's fingers toyed with the utensils on the table as she continued, her blush deepening with each word, “and he gave me this purple rose. Look!"

Chloe spun the bloom’s stem between her fingers where it was resting in a spare goblet. The rose was undeniably beautiful, Ella could see that much. A light purple, like lavender flowers, with an abundance of more petals than a stereotypical rose back home. It was as though multiple miniature roses were nestled within the heart of the blossom, enveloped by layers of delicate petals.

“It’s… very nice?” Ella agreed, between bites. Personally she’d never been overly bothered by flowers, but there was no point denying the flowers' beauty, even to wind the other girl up. Wow, I must be more done in than I thought.

Chloe's gaze remained on her own meal, inspecting the food on her plate with her fork, “And I know soon - hopefully, soon -  we’ll be home, and it’d be dumb to get involved with someone, but… ”

Chloe's voice trailed off, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. A knowing grin tugged at Ella's lips.

“‘But’ as in you need to get some? Or as in you want the lovey dovey connection stuff?”

Chloe's blush deepened, and her eyes darted around as she laughed nervously. “Ella!”

Ella grinned gleefully at the awkward glances the other girl cast around them, “Own it either way, Chloe."

Chloe ignored the comment, opting to focus on picking out the capers from her dish. 

"Well?"

Chloe looked up, her cheeks still flushed pink. "Both?" she admitted with a sheepish grin.

*

A few days later, Ella sat on a small stone bench, hidden in her favourite corner of the garden near the main kitchen, her legs crossed and two different sized cups upended in front of her, practising double rolls. Or noise-making, as her last roommates had called it. It was one of her favourite spots because it was full of tall, fragrant plants that sent a fresh burst of scent whenever a breeze blew. There was some kind of mint, some kind chives, a big bush of thyme, and lots of lavender all in her immediate vicinity, and more further on. The mint especially helped hide her away, tall and wild as it was in big, raised planters made of smooth white stone. Exactly one part of a perfect mojito. Shame about the rum, and the soda. Apart from wine, no one really mentioned alcohol at all - and they’d barely let her have wine - citing her age, and not caring what the human equivalent was. Uilossiel had mentioned a tavern a few times - so drinking alcohol was presumably a pastime here, if not in the same way it was back home. Can elves even get drunk? She’d never seen anyone remotely tipsy, although that was assuming the symptoms were the same. She filed that away to ask someone later. Maybe they just talked even more poetically after one too many, in which case she had a few suspects.

As she practised, still commiserating not having any real instrument she could play, though she’d been watching many of the elves who played lutes with interest, the monotony swelled and grew no matter how hard or how fast she hit the cups. She sighed, stacking the cups to one side, and lay back on the bench. She gazed up at the massive expanse of blue sky, adorned with wisps of perfect, drifting cotton candy clouds and not a single plane.  

The serene atmosphere wrapped around her like a cosy blanket, and she found herself drifting into a half-awake, dreamlike state. She was very prone to drowsing off in quiet moments lately, now she had so little to do - and so little sleep. She lay still, not quite daydreaming, not quite not, until voices nearby started to grow louder, the sound of footsteps on stone and rustling fabric rousing her again. Ella raised her head slightly, peering out from behind the flowers that concealed her. 

Orinan was walking backwards, doing some kind of jig, making Chloe laugh, before regaining her hand and they strolled arm in arm down the quiet path through the herb gardens, their laughter travelling on the fragrant breeze.
“I still do not understand how you can so willingly stay with no end in sight. It would chafe me.”

Chloe shook her head, “They’ve been really nice to us.”

Orinan's tone turned more contemplative, carrying a touch of warning. "You'll see soon enough. Ask too many questions? Go against their way? Refuse to let them control your lives? They will treat you like children. Have they not started already?"

Chloe's voice sounded uneasy, “I suppose you could see it that way,” she worried her lip between her teeth, “but we know nothing of this - this… part of the world. Without their help, we might still be lost.”

“You would have found your way to Bree, I am sure of it, Lady Chloe. You are very resourceful.”

“And you are being deliberately charming.”

Her attempt at refuting his charm was met with a playful grin and a chaste kiss on her cheek. "True enough."

“Chloe!”

Ella ducked down out of sight quickly, and Orinan sprang backwards, looking towards the direction of the call. Elladan and Elrohir appeared, moving with a light grace that contrasted with the awkwardness that now sat in Orinan and Chloe.

A mix of guilt and curiosity churned within Ella’s stomach, but she listened in on their conversation. 

“Hey,” Chloe greeted, sounding puzzled, “everything okay?”

“Our father and Erestor would like to speak with you, if you have time today.”

“Of course, sure, no problem,” 

There was a long, stilted pause and Ella wished she could see what was going on, but she dared not risk being caught deliberately eavesdropping and if she poked her head up knowing her luck, she’d be seen.

“Uh, now?” Chloe checked, when the silence continued to stretch on.

“Perhaps that would be best - while everything is still fresh in mind.”

What’s that supposed to mean? But the other girl was already agreeing.

“I will escort you back, then,” said Orinan, who did well (Ella thought) to not sound completely put out by the interruption.

“As will we: we are heading that way as well.”

Ella waited until the sound of their footsteps faded away before standing up and looking after the group. Bet that was fun. 

Chapter Text

“Tell me why, again?” Ella asked, exasperated, as she trailed a few steps behind Chloe who was striding ahead, keen to see her as-good-as-boyfriend. Ella’s eyes darted anxiously toward the sun that was gradually sinking towards the horizon as she realised just how far they had ventured from the warm lights of the main house, despite the length of the summer days.

Chloe turned, her impatience clear as she motioned for Ella to catch up. "He says the view up there is really good."

“Funny time to look at a view, if you ask me.” Ella said sceptically, apprehension tightening in her chest. 

“I didn’t. I didn’t ask you to come at all, remember?” 

A sigh escaped Ella's lips as she quickened her pace to join Chloe. She couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that this was a terrible idea. "I'm coming because this sounds dodgy as fuck."

“Or romantic!” Chloe countered. “He’s going to think it’s so weird when you turn up too.”

Ella shook her head, both frustrated and concerned at Chloe's naiveté, but she wouldn’t let her venture into… whatever this was, alone. They began to ascend a steady slope together, a tense silence hanging in the air between them instead of the calm truce since the incident at the river. “If this is just him being sappy, I’ll make a swift exit. Trust me. I have no desire to see you two making out. But, up near the woods? At sunset? Down a quiet, little used path? Sounds more dodgy than behind the bike sheds. There’s a ton of horror movies that start just like this! The girl that splits off always dies first!”

Chloe rolled her eyes and groaned in annoyance. “You are so paranoid.”

“You’re not paranoid enough. You barely know this guy and yet you’re willing to meet him, alone, away from other people, and it’s going to be dark soon. Even in our world, that’s stupid. Especially in our world!”

“This isn’t Bridgerton, Ella. I don’t need a chaperone to meet a boy!”

Ella's eyes rolled heavenward as they continued their climb. The setting sun cast long shadows across their path until they finally crested the hill and saw Orinan standing at the top. Chloe rushed forward to embrace him in a very un-Bridgerton like manner, and Ella hung back, her discomfort growing. She wasn’t even sure why she’d come, but it felt like bad form to let the only person she knew here do something stupid totally alone. If they start groping each other, I’m bailing. And washing my eyes with soap, or something.

Chloe pulled away from the embrace, her gaze expectant. "What must I see, then?"

Orinan pointed across the land eagerly, in the opposite direction of Imladris. “This.”

Chloe blinked. “Yes, and?”

“Opportunity, adventure! We could go together.”

“It’s very pretty, but I don’t see adventure, Ori.” Chloe squinted at the distant horizon. “I see no hot water. No kitchen. No bed. No way home: my home isn’t out there, we’ve talked about this.”

Orinan's excitement didn't waver, his determination evident. “We could find Mithrandir on our own. A wizard of the standing he is described as cannot be too hard to track down when one is actually looking properly.”

Ella felt her eyebrows shoot up to somewhere closer to her hairline. Just how much has Chloe been sharing with this guy?

Chloe considered that. “I guess that’s an idea.” she said quietly, sounding like she was being drawn in by Orinan’s proposal. Ella’s stomach tightened.

“First, we could go to Bree: it is close and we could get everything we need for a journey there, easy enough. There is a travelling market due soon as well, if I am not mistaken. Perhaps that will draw the wizard near? And if there is no word there, next would be Fornost, it is larger and -”

Ella stepped out of the shadow of the trees she’d been lurking under, her resolve overriding her initial reluctance. No way is he abducting her! She couldn't stand by and let Chloe be swept away by Orinan's enthusiasm! “Come off it, Chloe. You want to wander in the wild following the rumour of a wizard, hoping to track him down?”

“Oh, hello, Ella.”  Orinan greeted, a touch of irritation in his tone. Ella ignored him.

“We know that Mithrandir comes here. Elrond is confident he will come this way again - he’s sent out messages to the other Elven realms and scouts! When you’re lost, the best thing you can do is stay still, right? Same applies here.”

“That only applies if you don’t know where you’re going,” Orinan said confidently, with not a small amount of patronisation laced through his tone, “And I do -”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure -”

“- Chloe, trust me. Let’s go. We can decide where to go on after Fornost when we learn what there is to learn -”

“Like a big fat nothing?”

“Why are you here?”

“To stop her from doing something stupid – like run off with the first pretty boy she’s met here, one she barely knows, with nothing more than the dress on her back -”

Chloe shook her head, her unease evident as she edged away from him. “I don’t know, Ori - how would we get there?”

“We’d walk, our feet can surely take it -”

“It took us days to get just here, Chloe!” Ella interrupted, “And you hated it!”

“Be quiet!” Orinan's sharp command startled Ella, his anger palpable. He glared at Ella, fierce and angry in a way she hadn’t expected. Keen, much. She could tell from the look of Chloe’s face that she was wavering, her previous enthusiasm now replaced by uncertainty - that this wasn’t what she thought tonight was about.

Chloe's gaze darted between Orinan, the ‘adventure’, and Ella. She didn’t look like she was excited for the trip. Girl does have some sense, who knew?  Stepping forward, Ella gestured for Chloe. “C’mon, let’s go back. I’ll grab some biscuits from the secret stash in the kitchen.”

Orinan’s arm flashed out and grabbed Chloe’s wrist. “Come with me.”

Chloe recoiled, pulling her arm away, trying to tug it free. “Let go, Ori!”

“Hey!” Ella shouted, “She said let go!” 

Ella closed the distance between them swiftly, her heart pounding in her ears as Chloe managed to wrench her arm out of his grip. Ella pushed him backwards. “Back off!”

“You couldn’t just let this be easy, could you, Chloe?” Orinan sighed, his tone a mixture of frustration and disappointment. “And what are you even doing here?”

“I told you your play was dung, Orinan.” A low, male voice called out from the other side of the small clearing.

Who the hell is this? Ella's attention snapped toward the new arrival, a man she vaguely recognised from around Imladris. He stood at a medium height, his hair an unkempt mop that hung messily around his face. A poorly maintained short beard, threaded with a few  scattered grey hairs clung to his chin, but his colouring was similar to that of many of the humans staying with the elves, white and weather-worn. He approached them in a boisterous manner, arms spread wide as if inviting them into his presence. He looked like trouble. Ella's instincts screamed danger, and her body tensed in response.

“It was a good idea, Vance.” Orinan insisted defensively, tension threading through his shoulders and pulling them taut. Ella watched the pair warily.

“Not worked, has it?” He stopped a pace short of where Ella and Chloe stood, themselves a little apart from Orinan. Ella was tingling with the urge to flee, her muscles coiled like a spring, ready to break into a sprint away from what was clearly an escalating situation. Yet, Chloe's expression of betrayal kept her anchored, her arms hanging limply at her sides. The newcomer, Vance, scrutinised both girls, his judgmental gaze sweeping over them before he let out a disdainful noise and sucked his teeth. Chloe retreated another step, and Ella followed suit.

“Now, girls, I’m gonna have to insist you come with us.”

Ella's lips twisted into a snide smile. “I’m gonna have to insist on saying no.” 

Abruptly, Ella's world spun as a punch to her head landed with shocking force. Pain radiated through her skull, and she stumbled. Faster than he looks, she thought dazedly, immediately falling to the floor. A metallic taste filled her mouth and she realised her lip was split but she couldn't quite coordinate her hand up to her face to check. Her vision swam as she struggled to regain her bearings, the ringing in her ears muffling the commotion around her. Amidst the disorientation, Chloe's scream pierced through, the raw terror in the other girl’s voice slicing through the confusion and forcing Ella back to reality. 

Pushing through the haze, Ella rolled onto her side, wincing as she fought off a wave of dizziness. She spotted the other girl being forcibly led away by Orinan. She was screaming at him but he had both arms wrapped around her in a bear hold, lifting her legs off the ground. Ella's heart raced with adrenaline. Legs, she remembered. Glorfindel had urged her repeatedly during training: go for an opponent’s legs if on the ground.

Vance has legs. They were next to her, in fact. Without further hesitation, she lunged forward, grabbing his legs and yanking them toward her. She grinned in satisfaction and felt warm blood between her teeth as he tumbled to the ground. 

Vance grunted as he fell and bit out a curse, but her ears were still ringing too loudly to make it out - or her brain was still ricocheting around too much to make sense of it. He lurched toward her and she scrambled backward, her heart pounding. The movement made her stomach roil.

“C’mere!”

Ella kicked out, her boot connecting with his cheek, albeit with less power than she had hoped. He grabbed the boot, catching her by surprise, and pulled her with a force that sent her sprawling again. 

“We only need the dreamer. There’s no way he’d pay for a worthless thing like you.”

Panic surged through Ella as Vance's fingers closed around her throat, cutting off her air supply. She threw her hands out, desperately trying to find something anything to grab on to as he squeezed but there was nothing there - 
- she flung her hands back up, clawing at his face, his neck, trying to reach his eyes, her thoughts a jumble of fear and survival -
- she didn’t have the reach - her mind full of white noise and air I need air -

And suddenly, he was gone. Ella gasped, the rush of air filling her lungs as her body trembled. Her mind raced, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. Shaking, she shuffled backward until she was up on her elbows, the ground beneath her skin was littered with small pebbles, tiny sharp stones, and grass, all digging into her skin. She craned her neck, tense and -

Elrohir and Elladan now stood over Vance, their sharp swords poised threateningly at his throat. 

She looked over to where she’d last seen Chloe, but the trees were empty. 

“Chloe,” Ella managed to croak, her voice raspy and painful. She pushed through the discomfort and climbed unsteadily to her feet, wincing at the pain that shot through her body. Nausea threatened to climb all the way up her throat and she muttered, “Orinan took Chloe. That way,” before clamping her jaws shut in a desperate bid to not be sick.

Elladan nodded curtly, to her or his brother she didn’t know, and took off at once in the direction she had pointed. Ella rubbed her throat gingerly and grimaced.

“Are you alright?” Elrohir asked, concern evident in his voice although he didn’t turn around, his sword unwavering from where he held it to Vance’s neck. Vance glared at them with hatred, but kept perfectly still. A small line of blood fell down his throat from where he’d shifted too much already and scratches marred his cheek and forehead.

“Been better,” she forced out, trying to take stock of everything but losing track of which body part she was thinking about as the thought formed. Her lip was split. Her throat throbbed painfully in time with her heartbeat. Every breath made it hurt. The whole world kept tilting like an disturbed water jug and not being sick was taking up the majority of her focus. But she wasn’t dead. Vance’s reminder of just what she wasn’t fizzed through her mind, reconfirming a lifetime of similar lessons, a world away. Don’t be a bother. Don’t need help. “I’ll be fine.”
She shivered, her body trembling as the adrenaline wore off.

Elrohir nodded slightly, his gaze unwavering from Vance. "And you? What do you have to say for yourself? Choose your words wisely."

“There’s a good price for your Gods-blessed girl - we weren’t gonna hurt her. This one got in the way.”

“You were trying to kill her.”

The man's nonchalant shrug belied the severity of his actions, his posture a mixture of arrogance and recklessness. “Girls are cheap, ain’t they?“

Ella felt a surge of annoyance at his dismissive attitude. Am I annoyed I’m not even worth a ransom these days? she wondered, for all that she didn’t disagree with them, it still irked her. She rubbed her arms, her skin prickling with a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. The ground felt unsteady beneath her, and she struggled to make sense of her racing thoughts. Rude. Least the ground could do is to stay still. Shock, she realised dimly, was taking its toll but she had no idea what to do with that thought. 

“I can have him held in a cell in Imladris and trialled by Elvish law, or I can question him, escort him to our borders and turn him loose, and notify the nearest settlements of his deeds. You will not be welcomed here again.” he addressed the last part to Vance.

“Never wanna see him again, thanks.” Ella said, her voice rasping. She swallowed, and winced, a reactive yelp only heightening the pain. Ella tried a small, shallow breath through her nose instead. “Seems like if you take him to Imladris, I might.”

"Very well, then.“ He ordered Vance to his feet, his sword a constant reminder of the consequences he faced. 
As Vance moved, Ella took that as a signal to move as well, but moving her feet felt complicated. Her legs shook and the world swayed around her. She closed her eyes against the bile rising in her throat, clenching her teeth together hard. Don’t be sick. Don’t pass out. Don’t be sick don’t pass out DON’T be sick - 

Footsteps and a quiet conversation she couldn’t understand made her open them again: Elladan and Chloe were back, the elf’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. Chloe sniffed and wiped her eyes as they came into the clearing where everyone else stood.

“Take them home, brother. I will see to it that this one does not dare to darken our borders again.” Elrohir said quietly in English. Westron, Ella corrected herself, which then made her giggle and she smothered it with a hand over her mouth.

Elladan nodded and glared fiercely at the human being held at sword point. Then he gestured for Ella to join him, his eyes shifting to look at her carefully, frowning, and steered her with a hand on her shoulder. The whirlwind of absurdity from moments ago plummeted into a well of despair, swallowing her previous mood in an instant. Just how much trouble am I in? Too much to bother with? No Gods in this head, just us chickens.

As they made their way back to Imladris, the journey seemed to blur into an elusive dream for Ella. She couldn’t remember anything about the distance at all, except for the ache in her neck, her cheek, her lip; the urge to vomit; the wavering ground that was possibly entirely in her head, and a tumultuous mix of anger and self-disgust. She was angry that she wasn’t even worth a ransom, and hated that she was angry about it. She was also certain that her luck was about to run out. She’d not caused the trouble, but that never mattered back home either. She’d been there. She’d been involved - it had never mattered before whether it was her fault or not: it’s always easier to make the outsider the scapegoat, consciously or not. The threat of tears welled up until she bit her cheek. When has crying ever helped anything? 

As it was, she didn’t notice the elves conversing quietly in Sindarin most of the way back. Nor did she notice that she’d acquired a thick blanket pulled tight around her shoulders. When they finally arrived at the healing rooms in Imladris, she barely noticed Elrond pointing towards a bed, his gaze earnest, and Chloe being led away by Glorfindel, their hushed conversation washing over her.

“- here?”

Reality snapped back into focus and Ella blinked up at the elven healer. She tried to gather her scattered thoughts and a thin thread of focus. “What?”

“I need to check your neck, and your head, can you sit down here, please?” he repeated patiently, “Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

Ella tried to take stock of how she felt, but everything had an odd distant quality to it. Like she was far away,  watching herself from a distance. She managed to climb onto the bed in the same way she’d managed to walk back. Nausea churned in her stomach, a hot and sour sensation that made her gag. 

The furrowed frown on Elrond's brow deepened.

“Won’t be sick, promise,” she assured him quickly, “no mess.” 

“That was not my concern,” he responded quietly, “I am going to touch your neck, Ella.”

He talked her through what he was doing, demeanour calm, his cool fingers probing gently at the wounds and marks on her skin. But it was like it was happening to someone else, like she wasn’t wholly connected to her body. Her gaze drifted, staring into nothing at a point off the top of the door frame, deliberately refusing to think about what happened except for when she remembered that she was this person, here, and this was happening now, and then she just watched the deepening crease between Elrond's brows warily. When he stepped back, he sighed.

She braced herself. Here it comes. 

“You will need to sleep here, Ella, where we can keep an eye on you through the night,” Elrond advised, “That concussion is no trifling matter. We will have to wake you, periodically.”

The urge to protest surged within her, but Elrond's preemptive raised hand silenced any objections. She sensed the anticipation of what else he had to say, and her body tensed as if waiting for a blow.

“I will have Glawaril bring you something to change into and some soup, if you can manage it. I can apply a balm for the bruising to your throat and cheek, and give you something for the pain, but it will likely hurt for some days.”

Ella shifted uneasily on the bed, understanding that Elrond was nice, and trying to cushion the impending harsh news with kindness. But he only rubbed a spicy smelling balm on the skin of her throat, making her wince from the touch and the extended suspense before her punishment. The scent of it made her want to sneeze. Ella didn’t dare breathe wrong, waiting to hear the rest of her fate, but he merely left with a small nod. 

Stay or go? Stay or go? If she left now, she could just hold the nice memories of her time here. If she stayed for what was to come, that would sour them, for certain. She eyed the door, and the open, floor to ceiling window that led to an open herb  garden.
Stay or go?

She slipped from the bed on wobbly legs, waiting out the white that overtook her vision and swallowing down the urge to be sick. If they come while I’m at the window, I’m getting air.

No one came.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t raining when she and Chloe had walked up the hill to meet Orinan, but at some point between Then and Now, it had started and now the ground was slick with mud under her feet as she hastened through the garden paths of Imladris out to… anywhere. Her mind still felt fuzzy, but she was no longer falling down an adrenaline slope at least. She had a fresh surge of it now, fueling her desire to escape. She stumbled through the night's shadows until she emerged at a path she realised with relief led to the valley below. It would be easier to hide in the valley than on the path they’d originally arrived on. The tears she’d refused earlier were falling, she could feel their heat on her cheeks through the chill of the rain.

“Ella!”

Her heart jumped into her throat as she paused, hearing the shout. She thought if she just left, they’d leave her alone. Were they more angry than she’d thought? Should she have waited until they got the first bout out of their systems, and then left? She started running. You’ve committed to this now. If you run fast enough, they’ll give up. A part of her mind reminded her that she’d never run away from an elf before, so she wasn’t entirely sure how well this would hold up, but panic had always served her better. She skidded down the last verge in favour of the steps and picked a direction at random in the dark.

Her lungs were burning, and her throat felt like it was fire, branded by Vance’s fingers earlier, and bile bubbled in her stomach like a threat.

She kept running.

They shouted again. She knew whoever it was was gaining. She kept running.

They stopped her with a solid grip on her arm, which quickly turned to both arms. She tried to wiggle and twist, hoping the rain would help.

“Ella, stop, please! What is wrong? Why are you running?”

Ella stopped struggling. She stood still, hopelessly torn between what she thought she should do, and what she wanted to do. Her head hurt. Tears streamed, hot and fast, down her cheeks as she bit her lip. She dragged it through her teeth.
“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Elladan shook his head, the rain flattening his hair to his head.

Ella shrugged. She didn’t know either. It never mattered before. Her thoughts scattered. “Sorry.”

“Please, let us go home,” Elladan said, “and get dry.”

Ella shook her head. She might be confused but she knew this home wasn’t for the likes of her. Certainly not a home full of immortal, beautiful elves. It was for people with family, people who mattered and Ella, her whole life had never fallen into either category. Even would-be kidnappers were pointing it out.

“I didn’t help Chloe,” she said pleadingly, “but I did try, I promise. I did try.”

“I know,” Elladan frowned, “you were very brave.”

“I’m j-just in the way,” she hiccuped, wiping her wet face on an equally wet sleeve. The rain fell in thick sheets, making it hard to tell what were tears and what had fallen from the sky anyway.

“Never. What would make you say such a thing?”

Ella shook her head and unsuccessfully tried to stifle a sob that fought its way to the surface. “I’m always in the way and screwing up, Chloe is blessed by your Gods and I, I just got caught up in it. I couldn’t even help her. Third wheel. Spare part. Ex-extra mouth to feed.”

“Ella, no,” he said, and shook his head seriously, “we have slighted you greatly if we have given you that impression. That is not the case. Please, come home.”

Ella laughed darkly. “Stop calling it home, Elladan. It’s your home. I c-can stay with your fathers leave. I’m not an elf. I'm not important. I’m just…” she shrugged, feeling helplessness swell up in her chest like a tidal wave and crest, falling as fresh tears. 

“He would never make you leave, Ella.” Elladan stepped closer cautiously, as if he were approaching an animal likely to flee, “Your race, your status… These are not things that are important to my father. He cares about your heart, your intent… nothing else.” Elladan shook his head slightly, “It would pain him to hear you think otherwise.”

“Sorry.”

“It is not something you need to apologise for.”

“Sorry.”

Elladan looped an arm around her shoulders, confident she would no longer bolt. “Nethig, let us go get you warm. Glawaril is almost beside herself. There are not even stars out this night, nor the moon to light your way. I take that as an omen you should not travel now. Even the sky cries at your leaving! Come back to Imladris and let us see if your thoughts are still so dark with the light of the morning.”

She wanted him to be right, wanted to not have been wrong this whole time, wanted to feel like she had a home for the first time in longer than she could remember. She started to lean into his arm, seeking comfort in the simple, friendly touch, then rocked back on her heels, denying it. This might still be a trick - a dirty trick, but she would be the fool that had fallen for it. She nodded instead, scrubbed her face one more time. Elladan sighed in relief, and guided them back through the downpour, walking in silence, but not once removing the arm he kept wrapped around her shoulders, holding her close to his side.

*

Glawaril entered the room, softly shutting the door behind her, drawing Ella’s attention back from the mid-distance she didn’t remember staring into. Elladan had wrapped her in such a thick and heavy blanket she wasn’t sure she could move, but he sat calmly by her bed anyway, presumably to stop her making another break for the window, even if she felt like she could fall asleep at any moment.

The elf looked at her sadly, walking over quickly with a bowl of water and a cloth, a nightdress and towel draped over her arm. “You have had quite the adventure, Lady Ella.”

Ella nodded, but couldn’t find the energy to move, let alone fight the nonsense title. 

 “Let us get you dry and changed. Thank you, Elladan.”

She was peripherally aware of the other elf leaving. Why wasn’t she being sent away yet? Did they want the clothes back? I don’t understand, can’t they just do it already? The nightdress confused her. Why did she need one? Or was Elladan telling the truth? She watched in a haze as Glawaril assisted her in removing her boots, stockings, and the rest of her clothes. The process was awkward, and at one point, Ella nearly toppled over trying to coordinate her limbs. A soft apology slipped from her lips, but Glawaril was quick to calm her, guiding her into a wobbly stand and helping her into the nightdress. She dried off Ella’s hair and combed out the tangles with unhurried movements while the heat of embarrassment faded from Ellas cheeks.

“Come, sit up in the bed and I will draw the covers up.” Glawaril said kindly when she was finished, and then gently guided Ella to do so when she only continued to stare into nothing, “Do you want to talk?”

Ella sighed, her hands absently moving from her cut lip to her throat. She sat propped up by the headboard of the bed, feeling the warmth cast by the nearby fire. Did they want more information about looking out for Chloe before they sent her away? Or was this like in police dramas where you had to repeat your story over and over to get caught out? “Not much to say.”

“I beg to differ.”
 
“Sounded dodgy, so I went along,” She paused but Glawaril only waited patiently. Sighing, she continued, “Orinan asked Chloe to come meet him at sunset on the ridge by the woods. He wanted her to run away with him, to find Mithrandir together. He got upset when Chloe didn’t wanna to go,” her voice wavered, and she knew she was possibly piecing things together disjointedly, but she couldn’t piece it together any smoother,  “and then another guy had a really good punch. They wanted the money for getting Chloe some place. Orinan took Chloe away and then Elladan and Elrohir turned up, and we came here…”

Glawaril's sigh was a soft murmur, and she moved the wash basin, wringing out the cloth. She wiped it gently down one side of Ella’s skin, wiping away traces of dirt and weariness from her face. “You are a good friend.” she stated, her tone warm with genuine appreciation.

“Should've stopped her from going in the first place.”

“Such is the benefit of hindsight,” said the elf, “It must have all been quite frightening.”

Ella shrugged, then winced. “Wasn’t much time to be scared, Glawaril.”

Liar, she thought to herself, you were plenty scared. The memory of Vance's hands around her throat brought an involuntary shudder at the echo of remembered terror. She was surprised she hadn’t done something mortifyingly embarrassing like pee herself, thinking back on it.

“Are you frightened now? Of them coming back?” Glawaril paused from where she’d been slowly cleaning the dirt from under Ellas' nails, her tone empathetic. “Is that why you ran away?”

“No. It’s over. I get that.” Ella breathed out shakily, “I’m fine. Sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Glawaril's question sounded so genuine it hurt.

Was this a test? Ella ticked off options. “Not stopping her? Messing up? Not stopping Orinan, or the other guy? Wasting the twins time? Wasting Elrond's time? Your time?”

Glawaril's response was firm. “You are not at fault -”

“It’s always my fault -”

“That is not so here.” Glawaril asserted. “That is not the case now. There is only a lesson for the future, perhaps - to ask for help, or confide in your elders - but there is no blame being laid at your feet.”

Ella blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall all over again, and stared at the fire.

“It would be alright if you weren’t okay,” Glawaril continued, soft and compassionate, “No one would think less of you.”

“I’m just tired.” 

Glawaril hummed a quiet, noncommittal sound and continued on quietly until Lord Elrond returned, bringing a bowl of soup and cup of water in on a tray. He put the tray on a small table that sat between Ella’s bed and another, unoccupied, bed. “Camaemben says this is one of your favourite soups,” he said warmly, “Carrot, I believe. If you can eat a little, I think it would help.”

Ella smiled, though it felt a bit thin and thanked him even as she was confused by his return. She’d expected… anyone else. Surely he has better things to do? Unless this is finally it. Something must have shown on her face because his lips quirked up in a small smile of his own. “I am a healer first, leader second.”

She attempted to eat the soup: but each swallow hurt too much to manage much more than half, and her stomach threatened to finally rebel completely at the thought of more. Her eyelids drooped, the weight of the day finally catching up with her. Glawaril, who’d been keeping up a steady stream of light gossip, took the bowl away and put it back on the small table, ushering her down the bed. “Sleep, Ella.”

*

The first light of dawn had yet to grace the horizon when Midhiel came back to relay the results of their pursuit of Orinan, the young man who had attempted to abduct Chloe. Elrond delegated the responsibility of waking and assessing Ella's concussion to Amdirfael and joined Glorfindel in the office of the guard captain.

“He was heading towards the East Road,” Glorfindel summarised for Midhiel as Elrond closed the door, looking at the pair in question.

“Elrohir escorted Vance there earlier.” Elrond added. He disliked the thought that the two conspirators may have joined back up again so quickly.

“Lelyaro continued on to Bree to notify them, although the season's caron bangath caravan has started to arrive. It will be much busier than normal.” said Midhiel.

“I take it this… Vance… did not have much information to give?”

“Other than the price of fifteen gold coins for the capture of Chloe alive,” Glorfindel said, unrolling a large map onto his desk, “he spoke of a meeting point near Thabad, on the North-South road.”

Fifteen gold coins was a high sum for one girl; it was not surprising that with a bounty like that posted there were people looking for her. How did they know what she looked like? Her name? Her dreams? Was it fate or coincidence that had led them to her here? He voiced his concerns to Glorfindel, who grimaced and nodded.

“I would guess at Orinan being the source, but we will increase patrols, and I propose we send a pair out to find this meeting point.”

Elrond studied the map spread out on the desk, his eyes tracking down until he found the area Glorfindel was proposing. “No, speak with Telconhor. See if he would be willing to have their Rangers out that way - it would be a less unusual sight. I would like to hide our involvement if we can, until we can confirm whether or not Vance or Orinan knew of Chloe and her dreams before arriving here.”

“They will need someone swift, and discreet. It will cause a delay.”

“Whoever posted the bounty will have to keep a look out or have some other way of being reached from the arranged meeting place, if they are not there themselves, until the bounty is filled.” Elrond said, “I do not think that will be a problem, because we know Chloe will be safe here.”

"We should consider the broader implications," Glorfindel mused, his gaze lingering on the map. "If Vance and Orinan are part of a larger network their knowledge of Chloe’s dreams may have been shared, or it soon will be. It would be my preference to post a guard with her at all times."

“Agreed - Midhiel, would you be so kind as to draw up a rota from tomorrow?”

They nodded and excused themselves. The room fell into a silence as both elves contemplated the threads unspooling before them. How tangled was the web going to be when it was finished? Elrond's thoughts briefly drifted to Ella, their other unexpected guest, and he wondered if it were possible she too was going to be endangered by the unfolding drama.

Chapter Text

When Ella next awoke, the soft light of the healing rooms greeted her.  She blinked slowly up at the ceiling from under the soft cocoon of  warm and heavy blankets, feeling drowsy - Elrond had insisted on waking her frequently throughout the night. That had at least seemed to keep any bad dreams away, but it left her feeling groggy, and there was a dull, persistent ache in her head and stinging pain in her lip. Ella shifted, and contemplated going back to sleep to escape everything beyond the wall of blankets for a little while longer. Who knew when she was going to sleep in a bed again after this?

Unfortunately she had not woken up on her own - and the voices that had disturbed her were insistent. Ella's curiosity piqued: it sounded like Gilraen and Lord Elrond were having an argument in hushed voices. But… Why would she be arguing? Isn’t he in charge? And why here? She’d never heard Elrond argue before: were they arguing about what to do with her? Her breath hitched: he mentioned being a leader the night before, was this the punishment she knew would come? Was Gilraen recommending places for her to go? Or was she supposed to go with her, and she didn’t want her to? The voices stopped.

“Ella, how are you feeling?” asked Lord Elrond, his voice calm and quiet, now next to her bedside.

She considered pretending to be asleep, but her stomach rumbled. She sighed softly and propped herself up on her elbows to look at Lord Elrond, with more bravado than she felt. “Like I woke up a lot last night.” 

He smiled softly. “I’d like you to try eating something, if you are hungry, and I need to check the bruising to your neck and apply the balm again.” 

He offered her a cup of water which she sipped gratefully shifting against the headboard to get more comfortable. The cool water soothed some of the fire in her throat. Even after all these weeks, the water still tasted oddly sweet - something she was especially thankful for today.

Gilraen lingered in the doorway until Lord Elrond's gaze briefly met hers and he stepped back, allowing her to approach. Her dark brown hair was swept up into a practical braid that fell down the middle of her back and a pink flush highlighted her suntanned skin. She frowned as she approached, but her eyes held sadness, not anger.

“I’m sorry, Ella.” she said earnestly, not offering any further explanation and leaving Ella feeling… quite at a loss. And slightly terrified. What’s going to happen to me?

“What for?” she asked around the lump in her throat.

“We brought Orinan and Vance here in good faith,” she explained, sounding torn between frustration and pleading, “we believed their story at face value, to your cost. I cannot change what happened, but we will change how we offer aid to others in the future.”

Ella shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“The danger we bore with us was to the whole of Imladris. The elves here foster our upcoming chieftains for a time after they reach adulthood,” Gilraen shook her head, “my future children, Valar willing. We endanger our own survival with trust so easily won. We will not have it. Telconhor has already sent out riders to our home and people abroad to tell them no more will we bring strangers to Imladris, whatever aid they seek.”

Ella shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, for all that she gathered the anger in the woman's voice was not directed at her. She was angry for her friends, her family, and her future family: so were those in charge. Ella was more familiar with this kind of thing being directed at her, rather than getting an apology. She felt even more wrong-footed when Gilraen admitted she was there to say goodbye: they were planning on leaving, to return to their villages in time to help with the last of their own harvests and winter preparations. Ella couldn’t help but wonder about the abrupt decision - was it their own choice? Or were they being asked to leave? And if anyone would do the same to her, despite what Elladan had said.

Ella watched as Gilraen left the healing room, leaving her alone with Lord Elrond who had, at some point, left and returned with food again. Ella still found it hard to reconcile the role of a leader of a city also being a doctor and also filling the role of waiter, but roles here were different. He offered her a tray with a plate of fruit slices and a bowl of what looked like porridge. She eyed the food for a moment before slowly reaching out to take a piece of fruit, her fingers brushing the soft skin of an apple.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Lord Elrond nodded with another warm smile. "You're welcome, Ella.”

As she ate, Lord Elrond checked the bruises on her neck and cheek, his touch gentle and practised. The balm he applied was as soothing and spicy smelling as she remembered from last night. She didn’t understand it still - his presence was comforting, and calm, but she didn’t know why - he was just a man, or at least he looked like one. A very tall one, with unusually long hair and a weird combination of a young face and ancient eyes, but a warm feeling spread through her neck, deeper than the balm. She looked up at the elf in confusion as he replied. “You’re healing well. Further rest, nothing strenuous for at least a week, and you will recover fully.”

"Lord Elrond," she began, her voice still a little shaky, "I'm sorry for the trouble we've caused. I never meant for any of this to happen."

Lord Elrond's expression remained compassionate as he replied, "Ella, you had no way of knowing the truth of the situation. There is no punishment or reprimand waiting for you.”

Ella nodded reluctantly. If something is too good to be true…

*

It took another full day before Ella was finally granted her freedom from the healing ward, under stern instructions to not do anything too strenuous for another few days. She stood amidst the bustling courtyard, her eyes fixed on the departing figures of the Dúnedain. She was sad to see many of them leave, especially the ones she’d been teaching dance routines, and returned the parting hugs just as tightly. 

“I hope we will meet again some day, Ella,” Gilraen said hopefully as she released Ella, "I’m sure you have more songs we could trade."

Of all the people in their little dance group, Gilraen's departure stung the most. Ella smiled her brightest smile, forcing the feelings of loss and it’s not fair down with ruthless practice, because the likelihood was that she would never see her again, if they succeeded in getting home. But out loud she said, “I would love that.”

Gilraen smiled and stepped back, joining the last of her people with a final wave goodbye as they began filing out of the courtyard in good spirits. She could hear a couple of the children near the centre singing ‘Revolting Children’ and grinned despite herself.

Chloe and several elves from Imladris, including Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor, had joined her in saying their farewells. As the Dúnedain party receded from view, Ella's attention shifted to Elladan and Elrohir, who had parted from their father to approach her.

“Ai, that is a sad smile.”

“Goodbyes suck.” 

The two elves shared a bemused look at the phrase.

“We had an idea -”

“That might lift your spirits.”

Ella gestured for them to continue, even as they herded her out of the courtyard and away from the main house.

“We thought you might like to join us -”

“In a prank -

“Just a small one, a harmless bit of fun -”

“In retribution for a slight against our names -”

“What do you say?”

A distraction would be good, it’s not like there’s not much else I can do for now. She rubbed at her still bruised neck absently. The prospect of participating in a prank would definitely be a very welcome diversion. “Who?” 

“Lindir.”

“Lindir? What’d he do?”

“He accused us of swapping out his hair cleanser with tomato juice.”

“...Did you?”

“No! What would be the point? A prank should be amusing, no?”

Ella took his point. Tomato juice was a little random. But if it wasn’t them, who did it? “So… what are we doing?”

Elladan grinned. “Chickens.”

“What…” Ella shook her head, trying to guess their idea. Nope, no clue. “What? Chickens? What does that mean?”

The twins were leading her, it seemed, on a very circuitous route to where some of the chickens were kept. There were several coups across Imladris, but there was one not far from the kitchens and if she had to guess, that was where they were going.

“We’re going to fill his bathroom with chickens.”

The very absurdity of the idea ignited a laugh that snuck up and out in a rush, spurred by the infectious, gleeful expression on Elrohir's face, a near mirror of his brothers but with a slightly more manic gleam.

“How many chickens are we talking about?”

“All of them, from the nearest coup at least.”

A hint of worry about potential repercussions crossed Ella's mind. She was on thin ice already, she had to be despite Elrond's assurances, after everything that happened with Chloe and Orinan, and if they were using the ones near the kitchen… “Wait, does Camaemben know? Will he get angry?”

“Camaemben is fully supportive so long as we do not upset his chickens -”

“Upset chickens don’t lay eggs, apparently -”

The twins' plan became clearer as they approached the chicken coop and Ella's laughter mingled with the conversation as they explained the details. Their excitement was catching, and she was happy to take the chance to escape the shadow that lingered over her mood lately.

*

Hidden away in a small gazebo nestled on the edge of the house right next to the mountainside, Ella found herself still in the easy company of Elladan and Elrohir, having set up their prank to perfection. They had taken up strategic positions within what they had assured her was easy (human) hearing distance from Lindir's rooms. While they waited, they had begun telling  a tale of their mischievous younger sister's quest for revenge against Camaemben, and Ella couldn’t stop herself from laughing in disbelief. Their younger sibling, Arwen, had been very unimpressed at the now head cook for making her eat broad beans, her least favourite of all beans.

They told the story of their sister's prank as they lay on the sun warmed stone floor. The warm, golden rays played across Ella’s skin, helping to ease the melancholy that Gilraen’s sudden departure, and the horrible events with Orinan and his accomplice, had stirred up.

“How many did she do?” Ella asked in amused disbelief.

“Six!”

Ella giggled, her imagination painting a vivid image of the tall elf covered in white flour. “How did she get it inside? How did no one see it?”

“She fashioned some very thin stakes to hold the top of the baguette in place,” Elladan's voice carried no small hint of amusement, as he explained the intricacies of their sister's plan with enthusiastic hand gestures, “and even left a layer of bread just inside so that the first slice did not reveal anything. She funnelled the flour inside through that.”

Ella marvelled at their sister's creativity and commitment to the cause, “That is… dedicated.” 

Elrohir agreed. “We learnt early not to cross our little sister. She is… imaginative.” He said proudly.

“It’s always the younger ones you have to watch out for,” Ella nodded, full of understanding, “It’s the same back where we’re from.”

She realised her mistake a second too late: she’d avoided mentioning any family, or much detail at all, so far. Now she had piqued their curiosity, she could see it in their faces.

 “You have younger siblings too? Brothers, or sisters?”

“Both, well, neither.” She said, correcting herself with a shake of her head, then added reluctantly, “It depends where I’m living - I’m in care at home so, sometimes placements change.”

“How is it both, and neither? What is a placement?”

“Sometimes foster families have children of their own, or there are other foster kids there, so when I’ve lived in some places I sort of get siblings by default. But then I get moved, or… leave, and I have none again.” Ella stared up at a particularly wispy cloud, it looked like a ball of candy floss, and fiddled with a hem on her sleeve absently. She already knew fostering was different here, and she’d tried to avoid the subject. “Mostly I don’t really keep in touch, but I did with Luke and Mikey. We met at a group home when I was like, eight? Might have been seven.”

“Do you know what happened to your parents?”

She heard Elrohir hit Elladan out of her line of sight. “You do not have to speak of it, Ella.”

Ella kept her eyes on the cloud and felt the old anger at her nameless parents bubble up in her chest. Anger at them for leaving her. Angry at herself for forgetting them.  Angry at always leaving, or being left, angry at never having that stability everyone else took for granted. Anger at never being able to trust anything would last. Anger at herself, knowing there was a sizable chip on each shoulder from a lifetime of it all. “Nothing to say. After five years or so they decided they didn't want me, and I don’t remember them. The end.”

The words "I’m sorry" slipped from Elladans lips, sincerity clear in his voice. 

Ella's breath caught as she felt the weight of it, and yet it did nothing to ease the roiling bubble in her chest. "I don’t want your pity," she retorted bitterly.

The tense silence that followed was heavy. She felt vulnerable as the moment hung in the air, like her chance of staying somewhere with a bed, and food, was a delicate thread being stretched to its limits by her attitude. And if it broke, it would be all her fault, just like always.

She got up abruptly.

“Ella -”

She walked swiftly out of the small gazebo. “I hope your prank works out,” she said over her shoulder, refusing to look back. She pushed the tears threatening to escape back, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

*

The first time the tall, dark-haired being with porcelain skin literally walked into her dream, she had rightly assumed she was asleep and wrongly assumed he wasn’t real. She spent the whole dream quizzing him with random questions while she walked round and round the music room from school, which he tolerated and answered with many of his own.

The second time, she was more inclined to believe him, especially after he pulled them into a different place, a beautiful place beside a huge river, buildings nestled amongst tall, silver trees sprawling out behind them.

Mairon's appearance in her dream for the third time was as seamless as a gentle ripple in a calm pond, his lithe form finding a seat beside her on the sandy dune. His attire mimicked the same kind of style that the elves of Imladris wore, with a tunic, shirt and leggings reminiscent of those worn by the twins. His hair cascaded down his shoulders, dancing in the sea breeze. The ethereal beauty of his appearance, juxtaposed against the Earth beach setting; its grey sky, cold, dark sea, lacklustre sand; created a surreal yet oddly comforting contrast. It was too unbelievable to be real, so she must be dreaming again.
 
Ella's gaze, focused on the crashing waves below, was interrupted by his voice, smooth as velvet. "What has you so troubled today, little swan?"

She sighed softly, her chin finding a resting place on her knees. The rhythmic sound of the ocean waves seemed to synchronise with the rhythm of her thoughts. The water wasn’t scary as long as she wasn’t in it. “Nothing.” 

“If you wish to not speak of it, simply say so. Lying adds little value in this instance.”

His gentle admonishment sounded more wise than condescending, and she kind of liked the addition of ‘in this instance’ but when glanced at him, her eyes narrowing in a mock glare, he was looking out at the ocean. It was an odd thing, this presence in her dreams, this Mairon who it seemed could read her like an open book. She fiddled with some spiky marram grass next to her, fidgeting with it as she tried to divert her thoughts. She liked him, or at least, she liked the decreased number of bad dreams, but he was intensely curious, and she didn’t want to think about home right now.

“How populated is this world?” The question slipped from her lips as she grabbed a train of thought and ran with it. The vastness of Middle-earth intrigued her, and the tales Elladan had shared of his sister in another elven realm did nothing to lessen that curiosity. The reverse, in fact. Were all elven realms run like Imladris? Were they all the same size? Was the landscape the same all over? Did they have deserts? Lots of oceans? Inland seas?

“I can only show you places I have been, and not all of those exist today,” he said, the response measured, “but come, I can show them to you still. That is what dreams are for.” He rose gracefully and offered her a hand. An invitation for escape, for an adventure. “I will show you Eregion, a place I lived and worked in many, many years ago.”

Ella reached up and grabbed his hand, using it to pull herself up and finding herself smiling, unguarded and genuine, for what felt like the first time in days. A holiday in my head, without even books! “How will we get there?” she asked excitedly.

He returned her smile, “Close your eyes for a moment.”

She felt a shift in the air the moment her eyelids blocked out the world. She waited, impatiently, a heartbeat, a breath, and then -

“Wow,” she exclaimed breathlessly, her voice tinged with awe.  The vibrant city sprawling out before her was a masterpiece, its elegance surpassed anything she had ever seen before, and it was certainly very different to Imladris. “Is this place real?”

“Not any more.” 

Ella met his gaze but couldn’t decipher the emotion she saw there. “Oh.”

They stood on a balcony, easily thirty stories up, overlooking the most beautiful city she’d ever seen. It made the meandering buildings of Imladris look like a rural village. The building, and many of the others she could see, were made of some kind of white stone that was somehow clean. Do they scale the wall somehow and wash it? In the city below them, wide, white walkways linked various buildings and parts of the city with graceful arcs and gentle curves. Trees and greenspaces were everywhere, breaking up the elegant buildings and breathing life into the area. Further away, a huge port stretched out into a wide, quiet river.

“This is Ost-in-Edhil, the primary city of Eregion.”

“It’s beautiful.” Ella's admiration was palpable as she soaked in the magnificence of the city. “You lived here?”

“Long ago, in the Second Age.”

She raised a brow at him. “You know that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

He huffed, small and dignified, slightly put out. “Are the elves in Imladris keeping you ignorant on purpose or are they just lazy - no, do not answer that -“ he shook his head, “We are currently in the year 2928 of the Third Age. The Second Age was approximately 3,440 years long. The First Age is… a little harder to quantify. Around 600 years passed, after the first time the sun sailed across the sky, but there was also a great number of years before that but time was measured differently then.” Mairon stepped up to the elegant balcony railing and leant against it, the morning sun shining brightly on his face.

“But how long is a year? Is it the same as one of mine? Why was it measured differ- wait, did you say ‘before’? Before the sun?”

“Yes.”

As Ella's mind grappled with the span of millennia, she took that comment and cordoned it off in her brain, not even trying to understand it. She could live with trying to comprehend a being being older than the modern world, but being old enough to have lived through the pyramids being built -

“Can we circle back to that another day? How long is a year? Are you like, old? Are there young elves? Are elves born old or are they born like babies are born?”

“Three hundred and sixty five days. There are comparatively young elves, I imagine, yes.” Mairon turned to give her a small, teasing, smile. “And yes, I suppose you could say I was quite old, little swan. But no, elves are not ‘born old’ they are born from their mothers in much the same way as children of the race of Men.”

“Okay, noted. But how old are you?”

“Old enough that time is of little consequence.”

What does that even mean? She rolled her eyes at the enigmatic dream walker and focused instead on convincing him to show her around some of the beautiful city.

*

The sun hung high in a brilliant, cloudless blue sky, after a morning that had heated up quickly, promising a hot summer day from early on. Ella and Chloe found themselves seated in the cool of the dining hall, picking at small plates of lunch. 

“Pool?” Chloe asked, breaking the silence, “We don’t have to go in,” she added quickly, “ just cool our feet. I’m so sticky.”

Ella nodded, eager for anything that would relieve some of the stifling heat of the day. They wandered slowly down the meandering stone steps and pathways that led them to the small lake the elves favoured for their naked swims. An awkward silence hung heavy between them, and had done since the evening with Orinan, and Vance, and everything that happened after. Ella wasn’t sure why it was there, or how to fix it, or if Chloe had even noticed.

As they arrived at the bank, the water was still and quiet. Probably not for long. The elves had no concept of office hours and Ella would bet that the river would be busy with visitors sooner rather than later. Chloe sank down, toeing her soft soled slippers off and sinking them into the water with a sigh of contentment that echoed Ella's own as she also dipped her feet beneath the surface, although she had foregone shoes to begin with.

“Thank you.”

Ella cocked her head, raising a brow in question. 

“For the other day.”

Understanding dawned, a tangle of emotions unravelling within her. “Hardly going to let you get abducted right in front of me, Chlo. That’d be a real shitty thing to do.”

“Still—”

“You’re welcome.” Ella said, cutting her off. “Surprised you haven’t got a bodyguard after all that.” 

Chloe's groan held a mixture of exasperation and resignation. “Glorfindel suggested I needed one all day, every day. Can you even imagine? I had to talk him down! But still any time I want to go much further than like, this pool? I’ll have someone with me. Even when I go swimming!”

Ella couldn't suppress the smile at the other girl's obvious discomfort. “That’s not so bad,” she reasoned, “when do you go further than that?”

“Not the point - would you like it?”

“Well, no,” Ella conceded, “but I’m not the one that was nearly kidnapped for a ransom either.”

Chloe frowned and kicked the water harder, splashing them both. Ella rolled her eyes and drove both her legs in one big kick to return the favour, then flopped backwards onto the soft grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, a tapestry of blue that seemed to stretch on endlessly. After a moment's hesitation, Chloe joined her with a huff. Ella lay quietly, content to bask in the sun before being forced back into the shade. She drifted on the soothing sound of a nearby bird song until, amidst the stillness, Chloe asked tentatively, “Are you still having nightmares?” 

It was Ellas turn to sigh. “Not so much the last couple of days. Maybe that means my brain is finally processing the whole ‘fell into another world’ trauma? That’s good, right?”

“What are you dreaming about instead?”

“Chocolate. Had one really good dream about chocolate last night. There was a fountain of it and a wheelbarrow full of marshmallows and cookies and fruit and oh it was-”

“Ella! Now all I can think about is chocolate. God I miss chocolate.”

She hadn’t dreamed about chocolate, but having a dreamwalker that apparently kept the nightmares at bay when he visited was still a new and weird experience and she wasn’t sure how to talk about it either. What if it was somehow against the law and she got thrown out? What if it was impossible and she was going insane?  “White or milk? Or dark?”

“Mil - well, sort of - well…”

“Indecisive, much?”

“Alright, if I tell you this, you can’t tell anyone when we get home.” Chloe propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at the other girl seriously, the sun lighting her hair like a halo. Ella gestured for her to go on, heavily resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I really like Milky Bars. They’re my favourite.”

Ella's laughter echoed across the water. She pulled her legs out of the water and sat cross legged to face the other girl, incredulous. “You’re worried about your mates finding out that? Why?”

“It’s hardly the coolest chocolate, is it? It’s for little kids!”

“There’s cool chocolate? There’s a list?”

“Don’t be stupid, there’s no list,” Chloe said dismissively.

“Enquiring minds want to know,” Ella laughed, “If I need to lie, I need details!”

“Sod off.” Chloe said, picking at the grass, expression pulled into a frown.

“I always liked those Kinder Eggs.” Ella confessed, trying to bridge the gap, “Bit of chocolate, a little toy. Seemed like a no brainer to me.”

“Looser.” Chloe said, laughing.

“Says The Milky Bar Kid!”

*

Elrond strode purposefully through the tranquil corridors of Imladris, his thoughts centred on the events involving two of the men who’d arrived with the Dúnedain, and the two guests in his care. Many things made sense in hindsight - such was the benefit of it. Could he have prevented it? Should he have taken stronger precautions against his guests? The idea chafed him: this was the last homely house, not a palace or a Great House from the times of Gondolin and the great Elven realms from so many years ago. It was a refuge, a safe haven for those that sought it.
But how to discern those who sought it out of need, and those who sought to take advantage?  Elrond rubbed a hand over his forehead and sighed. Shadows were growing over the world again. Greater oversight would have to be made in future, when any arrived whom they did not know: how there was not a worse  outcome from the previous events was largely down to luck. Still, the thought saddened him.

As he passed through a secluded hallway, he spotted the elf he’d been looking for. "Glawaril," Elrond's voice was calm and clear, "may I have a moment of your time?"

She paused in her walk, her dark hair and pale skin illuminated by the sun streaming through high windows. "Of course, my lord. How may I assist you?"

"I know both girls must have much on their minds, given their arrival alone, and now the incident with Vance and Orinan… but there is a matter I wanted to raise with you,”  

She nodded in agreement. "Indeed, my lord. It has not been an easy transition for them, and you know how Chloe is burdened."

He had observed the two of them closely in the days that had passed since the attempted kidnapping, trying to gauge their emotional state after the addition of their latest experience to that of already being lost in an unfamiliar land. Elrond paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He did not want to unconsciously bias her answer. "When Ella was staying in the healing ward, I noticed she was had several nightmares throughout the night before we awoke her to check on her concussion,"

Glawaril's expression shifted, her brows furrowing. "Nightmares?"

Elrond nodded, "When she woke she didn’t appear to remember anything,” he shook his head, forestalling an immediate reply, “It's not uncommon for one who has experienced trauma to be haunted by bad dreams, however… I wanted to ask, have you noticed anything before now?"

“Nothing that I considered worrying. Are you concerned she is troubled in the same way as Chloe?” Glawaril asked, concern clear in her voice, “She prefers to rise early, but I assumed it was from habit, and she has not mentioned ill dreams to me during our times together. She likes to join me in small chores and tasks and such where chatter is often idle.”

“And Chloe, does she speak of her dreams to you?”

“Not often: she is closer to Malthenniel and Thenidiel and has found it easier to open up to them, even before after all that happened that night.”

Elrond smiled politely and nodded in acknowledgment, allowing her to resume the tasks she had likely been in the middle of when he interrupted her for his own musings. The simplest answer was often the correct one, Elrond reminded himself, his thoughts turning inward once again. His own experience reminded him that jumping to conclusions rarely led to clear answers, let alone correct ones. If Glawaril, nor his sons, suspected any touch of the Valar on Ella’s sleep, then perhaps all was well with the second mysteriously lost girl and he was worrying needlessly. She had suffered a terrifying experience, and nightmares were to be expected. But still, the concern lodged itself there, at the edge of his mind.

Chapter Text

Mairon and Ella sat nestled amidst a sea of tall grass, almost engulfed by the fronds that reached up way over even the dreamwalker’s head. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the dream landscape as they watched a slow stream meander by on its long journey to a distant sea. Somewhere in the grasses, crickets chirped softly. It was a very peaceful place, wherever it was: it was nowhere she’d ever been back on Earth, that’s for sure.

“Why don’t you visit Chloe as well?” Ella's fingers danced over a stalk of grass, tying tiny knots as she mulled over their conversation. Mairon's presence provided her with a sanctuary from the bad dreams, but it also left her feeling confused, and guilty.

“Not everyone can be reached in dreams, little swan.” He replied, not turning his head from his gaze into the distance, “If she is touched by the Valar as you say Lord Elrond has mentioned, that could be why.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair.” Ella muttered.

“The world would be a very different place, if it were truly fair, would it not?” He said, measured and considerate, as always.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Ella sighed, “I feel guilty though. She seems really stressed about it all.”

Mairon hummed thoughtfully, which she took as permission to continue.

Ella leaned back, the cool grass brushing against her skin, lost in thought. "She's been acting different since that thing with Orinan," she said, “she waits for me before breakfast all the time now - I used to always get up before her but now sometimes I like, sleep in - thanks by the way - and she’s always waiting for me. She never goes down without me. Like she’s scared to be alone.”

“Could she not simply be grateful that you saved her life?” Mairon turned to regard her thoughtfully, his eyes reflective. “Or perhaps she feels comfort when near others: the echoes of danger can reverberate long after the peril has passed.”

Ella's fingers absentmindedly twirled a strand of grass as she considered his words. "So you're saying that even after the danger's gone, the fear can still stick around?"

Mairon inclined his head slightly. "Indeed, much like an echo in a canyon, the memory of danger can reverberate, casting shadows over the present. It is a reminder of vulnerability and a yearning for reassurance, for safety. It affects behaviour long after the inciting incident has passed."

"I guess I never really thought about it that way. Makes sense, though." Ella sighed, the weight of the revelation settling on her shoulders with a new guilt-ridden thought. “I didn’t though,” she admitted hesitantly, “save her life. That was Elladan and Elrohir, I was just getting nearly killed on the floor, like a useless lump.”

“You did not think that engagement through.” Mairon agreed, his tone turning instructive once again, as it had every other time he’d said something similar, “You must learn to think beyond the immediate moment, little swan. Your engagement with Orinan and Vance was impulsive, and poorly thought out. Do not be so foolish if such an encounter happens again.”

"I know, I know,” her shoulders sagged, “you've told me that before."

His gaze held a mix of amusement and seriousness. "Repetition is often the path to learning, child. To truly anticipate your enemy's moves, you must think many steps ahead."

"Alright, alright, I'll try and remember next time the shit hits the fan.“ She rolled her eyes, a hint of exasperation mingling with fondness, “But Glorfindel isn’t really teaching me that kinda stuff. He’s teaching me how to wield a sword, how to punch, that kind of thing,” she added, “Not like, strategy or whatever. And I don’t think you have chess here.”

“Yes well, I’m sure Lord Glorfindel would not like yet another child of Man to be truly strategic in their thinking - he will not want to increase the threat of your kind.”

Ella frowned. “I don’t think -”

“And that is the problem, child.” He stood abruptly, but then offered her a hand to pull her up. “The dawn approaches, and so too must you return to the waking world. We will talk about this more next time. Must I remind you not to mention this to your elven friends? Dreamwalkers and the elves of Imladris are not… always on best terms.”

Ella opened her mouth to defend Glorfindel, to ask why dreamwalkers and elves didn’t get along, was he not an elf? The enchanting landscape began to blur, its vibrant details gradually giving way to a hazy fog, and she could feel herself waking, like a push from behind that had her overbalancing, falling to the ground -

Ella's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the soft morning light filtering through her window. Mairon’s words echoed around her head as a light morning breeze blew in through the window, fluttering the soft white curtains she’d forgotten to fully close last night.

*

There was something entirely disconcerting about hearing the lyrics of what sounded remarkably like Somebody to Love in the gardens of a world where music was everywhere, but many instruments, and electricity, were not. Ella followed the sound until she found Chloe teaching her two friends the vocals and practising herself under the shade of a dark wooden pergola that something like a honeysuckle had twined around most of to great effect. 

“All the songs in all the world and you went with that one?” Ella asked incredulously, when they finished.

Chloe gave her an annoyed look. “What’s wrong with it? We did it at that choir show last year.”

“Exactly,” she muttered, “you’ve got two stunning soprano’s right there, you could at least do Defying Gravity if you want to.”

“I’m still trying to remember all the lyrics to that one,” Chloe huffed, gesturing to some sheafs of paper with patches of tiny writing, “but I can remember this one now.”

“You just want the words, yeah? I’ll write them while you practise.” Ella nodded a greeting at the two elf women and helped herself to the papers and small almost-pencil beside them.

“You are more than welcome to join us,” offered Thenidiel, “it would be lovely to hear you sing as well.”

A part of her was tempted. It would be nice, but…. The elves still intimidated her. What if she messed up? What if she missed a note? What if she drew too much attention and then something bad happened? She needed to stay in the background.
“It’s fine, I’ll just get the words down for Chloe. You want any more while I’m here?”

Chloe eyed her sceptically. “How many can you remember?”

Ella grinned proudly. “I have a knack for songs.” 

“Do Hallelujah after?”

“What, you hoping for a revival of X-Factor or something when we get back?”

“Shut up and write?”

“Yes ma’am!”

She wrote as small as she could with the unfamiliar pencil, wary of the lack of stationery shops and cheap paper. She managed to squeeze ‘My favourite things’ onto the last third as well, remembering their first days in the strange wood. She waved the filled paper, “All done, maestro. You guys gonna do another performance soon?”

“I think so. Not tonight though, maybe in a few days?” she looked at Malthenniel in question,

“Perhaps, though at least a week I would say - we will need to talk to Líriel, I think. She has been talking of wanting to play something new - and she will never have heard this before.”

Obviously, Ella thought, but managed to keep it to herself and bid them a quick goodbye, already having decided she’d rather the bustle and organised chaos of the kitchens. She took the long route, revelling in the breeze and blue sky of a perfect summer day, and started to murmur the first tune that came into her mind. She was still singing ‘Good life’ when she was idling by the chickens, who did seem to cluck louder at her this time. Mind you, I did help move them all last time, she thought with a grin. Could chickens hold grudges? They certainly seemed to have memories.

“Is that something you are practising to share one evening?” 

Ella screamed, then clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. She had not noticed Ivorwen knelt down beside the open gate into the coop until he spoke, nor had she spent a lot of time with Glawaril’s partner.

“What’re you doing down there?” 

“I am hanging the new gate,” he said, “so, were you?”

Ella knelt next to him and admired the details on the carved wood rather than answer. It was a collection of swirls and circles in different lengths, some as tiny as a fingernail, others the length of the gate - they reminded her of fern leaves. She traced one of them gently with the pad of a finger. “One evening, maybe. This is amazing, Ivorwen. Did something happen to the old gate?”

“Only that I tired of looking at it - it is now doing perfectly well in its new home, as the entrance to a herb garden near the bakery.” He gave her a smile that was all amusement and indulgence, pulling up more at the left than the right. “But not one evening soon, I take it?”

“Correct!” Ella said, standing up quickly and clapping her hands on her thighs, “I heard Chloe practising with her friends just now, that’s going to be great when they’re finished. They’re going to work with one of their musician friends on an accompaniment as well.”

“I’m sure it will be wonderful - the songs from your home are so different from what we are used to!” He stood gracefully and reached into a small box set beside the gate, pulling out a small vial and a cloth, “What if you sang for a smaller group? The bigger halls used to intimidate me when I was young and lived far away from here.”

“I’m not scared of performing,” she shrugged, “I just don’t… like the attention. A smaller place would be worse, really.”

He tipped his head to one side in question, reminding her of Mairon. 

“I know it’s weird,” she shrugged again walking backwards as she resumed her trek towards the kitchens, “Chloe is better suited to the solo-artist gig, so don’t miss it, yeah?” 

*

Ella's room was still dark when she jolted upright in her bed, her body drenched in sweat, heart pounding like it was attempting to escape her chest. A scream was lodged in her throat, trying to break free, but she slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling the sound into a low, keening whimper. Lingering remnants of her dream, a horrifying amalgamation of blood and animal smells, clung to her senses like an eerie aftertaste of terror. 

“Not real.” she murmured, taking a shuddering breath, “You’re being stupid, El.”

As the surge of panic abated, she collapsed back onto the soft mattress, her mind wrestling with the disturbing images that still played out before her eyes. Each blink, each second she let her eyes fall shut - she forced her eyes wide open and willed herself to find calm, to think of nothing except… colour and white noise…
But the dream persisted, gnawing at her.

Mairon had visited in her dreams nearly every night for the past week, and she’d enjoyed the solace, and the rest, that his presence had brought with it, but not that night. She felt a pang of resentment at him for that, an irrational emotion she recognised but struggled to stop, and then felt guilty for it. He must have an actual life somewhere, when he’s awake - and looking after some girl with a penchant for crazy dreams is not his job. She was nobody, and he owed her nothing.

A rustling outside, the whisper of a breeze through the bushes, pricked her senses, sending a fresh surge of adrenaline-laced anxiety through her veins. Not even the moon lit the ground, and the darkness of her room felt suffocating, intensifying her unease. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them with her palms so hard she saw white, instead of blood and broken elves, and wished for her dream walking friend. She missed the soothing lull of his voice and the reassuring weight of his presence and his dry responses.

When dawn finally cast her room in a soft light and banished the night, Ella found herself waiting by Chloe's door. It was the first time in days she was up first. She’d spent the better part of the early morning hours trying to decide if it was an old Silent Hill game or one of the Resident Evil films to blame, wrapped up in an extra blanket from the chest of drawers in her room to ward off the phantom chill the dream left behind. Fatigue draped over her now like a heavy shroud and she yawned, listening to the other girl pottering about in the room behind the door.

Ella heard the foreshadowing sound of Chloe’s emergence well before the door creaked open: the walls here were simple, and not designed for sound insulation. Shoes slipping on, a tune being hummed, the increasing volume as she walked closer to the doorway - and Ella pushed off the wall she’d been leaning against as the door handle moved.

"Well, you look awful," Chloe remarked, her tone a mixture of teasing and genuine worry when she finished shutting her door and her eyes fell on Ella.

Ella rubbed a hand over her face. She tried to think of something suitably derisive to say back, but her brain betrayed her, foggy and slow. 

“My brain thought of a new way to process the drama,” Ella finally replied, her attempt at humour falling flat amidst her fatigue.

Chloe’s face softened sympathetically. “Want to talk about it on the way to breakfast?”

Ella's stomach twisted with nausea at the mere thought of food after the vivid bloodshed. Chloe seemed to sense her discomfort, and she gestured towards the corridor leading to the communal dining hall. Her voice held a gentle coaxing tone. “Come on, at least get some tea. Did this one have Voldemort’s kids in it too?”

“Yeah, but some of the guards got roles too,” She recounted everything from the mutated, giant, wolves and the elves she’d gotten to know in the guard, to the haunting images of the woods drenched in blood, desperate to get the images out and gone from her head.  “I get the twisted animals - I’ve seen enough apocalypse movies to know they must have been in one of those,” she said, as she poured a cup of hot water rather than tea, “and it does kind of make sense that there’s people I know in it? But what dark and twisted part of my brain paired them together?”

Chloe looked perplexed. “I have no idea,” she said unhelpfully, spreading jam on a piece of bread, “maybe you need to lay off learning to use swords and stuff. Maybe you need to like, rest, and do calm stuff. I don’t even get why you want to do it.”

“I don’t want them to think I’m a flake - I already had to sit out when I hit my head -”

“You were concussed!” Chloe's response held a hint of exasperation.

Ella's argument faltered, but she continued on regardless. “I felt almost fine the next day!”

“They’re super strong elves who’ve been doing this for like, actually ever.” Chloe countered, “They’re not going to miss you for a day or two - aren’t you kinda in the way anyway? Take a duvet day or something.”

Ella's lips twitched into a rueful smile. “Thanks for the pep talk,”  she muttered dryly, gathering her hair into a loose half-ponytail.

Chloe rolled her eyes dramatically, “Says the person that dreamed about blood, guts, and gore, and people being murdered in the woods on her way down to learn how to kill people herself.”

I do not need to see Midhiel or Sírben dead again, thank you brain! Ella dug her palms into her eyes, willing the remembered image Chloe’s reminder had just brought back to the forefront of her mind to go away.

When Ella finally removed her hands, Chloe was enjoying her strawberry jam-covered bread, seemingly unaffected by the graphic conversation. The sight of the vibrant colour made Ella's stomach churn uncomfortably. She pushed her chair back with a screech against the floor, standing abruptly.
“I’m gonna go.” 

She walked swiftly to the double doors, willing the unease in her stomach to calm and the yearning need for fresh air and space urging her forward. Even the idea of grabbing an apple or a handful of nuts to stow away in her backpack seemed unappealing in the wake of her unsettling dreams.

“Duvet day!” Chloe's voice trailed after her.

Ella waved a dismissive hand without looking back, her focus solely on the courtyard ahead. Stepping out into the crisp morning air, she descended the steps, her thoughts racing as she tried to banish Chloe's remark about being in the way from her mind. It wasn't as if she hadn't considered it before. She was, in fact, excellent at listing all of her many, many faults and insecurities - and she was also excellent at pretending they didn’t exist. It doesn’t matter, you don’t need to care, you can’t care. No one else tended to care anyway, so why get upset about it? 

The training salle courtyard stretched before her, the familiar expanse covered in straw as always. It was early yet, and only a handful of elves were present, engaging in light sparring. The sound of their banter and the clashing of weapons filled the air as Ella approached.

Her internal dialogue was interrupted when Elladan broke away from a conversation with Midhiel and Sírben, making guilt stir in her stomach. A grin lit up his features as he spotted her. 

“We’re working hand to hand this morning,” Elladan informed her, waving her off when she tried to apologise for her interruption, “They are finished, simply checking in before patrol. You,” Elladan pointed to a spot in front of him for her to stand on, “are going to learn how to dodge and punch.”

“I know how to punch!” she said indignantly, “We did this already.”

He raised an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. "Remind me."

She widened her stance with a huff, "Where am I hitting?" 

Elladan held up his hand and pointed to it, “Just here.”

Ella threw her punch quickly, pulling back and smacking it into his palm. He whipped his other hand up and flicked her on the head.

“Ow!”

“Dodge,” he reminded her, his tone patient, "What if I hit you harder? What if I had a weapon?" He stepped closer, adjusting her stance by nudging her legs further apart and realigning her foot. "Pull your hand back a little more. There. And remember to watch your opponent." Stepping back, he held his hand up again. "Hit me again."

She hesitated, then threw out another punch, skipping back as quickly as she could to escape the range of his retaliating hand. She’d seen him move faster just stealing cookies from the kitchen. He’s going easy on me, she thought, torn between gratitude and annoyance.

“Better. Now show me the other arm.”

Ella did as she was told, and Elladan's corrections came repeatedly, each accompanied by a flick to her head when her movements weren't fast enough. He motioned for her to stop after a while. “Your right side is stronger than your left.”

"I'm right-handed," Ella replied with a casual shrug, as if the information was obvious. "This isn't new information. You can’t force me into being ambidextrous like all of you just by being confused about it."

Elladan hummed thoughtfully, beginning to walk away. “Practise those punches until I tell you to stop,” he said over his shoulder, “just with your left hand for the time being.”

Ella watched him go. It was a boring routine, but she found the repetition of it allowed her to focus just enough on the actions to stop her thinking about last night's haunting dreams, and yet was easy enough that it wasn’t difficult with the tiredness that pulled at the edges of her mind. 

*

By the time they were finished her arms felt like lead weights that were also made of very wobbly jelly. The drills had been relentless – a succession of punches, dodging, combining the two, and then sprint circuits Elladan had them run around the edge of the salle. So many circuits, she thought, groaning aloud as she walked along the stone path up to the main building as her legs reminded her how they felt too. Now it felt like each limb was in a battle, trying to outdo how tired her foggy brain felt after the exceptionally early start. I should be better at this by now, she chided herself. But the aches and the soreness did, at least, achieve one thing: she was so preoccupied with them, she wasn’t thinking about last night's nightmare.

A glance upwards revealed a sky mottled with darker and thicker clouds than the warmth in the air suggested, and she could see darker clouds amassing on the horizon. She’d promised Elladan that she would eat some lunch and drink plenty of water before doing anything else, under threats of more circuits tomorrow, so she slipped into the dining hall just after the noon bell chimed and wasted no time in heading straight for a table with a pitcher of water, the earlier nausea forgotten amidst her thirst. 

“You look worse,”  Chloe said, her nose wrinkling as she settled into her seat after Ella finished off her second cup of water. “How is that possible?”

A wry smile tugged at Ella's lips, "Alright there, Chloe?"

"I was going to go for a jog, but they think it’s a bad idea." She sounded equally disappointed and frustrated as she helped herself to a colourful assortment of vegetables and a few delicate slices of cheese, "Lord Elrond thinks it will storm later."

Ella nodded slowly, not following. “Does Lord Elrond do embroidery?”

"I had tea with him,” she said dismissively, then carried on, her voice laced with both bewilderment and frustration as she shook her head, “How can he even know it’s going to storm?"

“Why do you have such a problem with it?”

Chloe stabbed at her plate, her irritation manifesting in the clinking of utensils, "Everyone around here always looks so perfect, and have you noticed how slim they all are? I need to up my game."

Ella quirked an eyebrow upward at that, thinking that the girl had a perfect silhouette. But this was a conversation they’d had already, and she knew Chloe wouldn’t be dissuaded from the notion that she needed to be… somehow less.

Leaning back slightly, Ella's gaze drifted towards the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that nearly filled one of the walls, eying the darkening sky warily.. She leant back further, tracing the size of the darkening clouds… and regretted it when she overbalanced and tumbled to the floor. She scrambled back onto the seat, cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as some of nearby elves reacted with a range of curious glances and amused chuckles. Chloe smirked into her salad.

Coughing to clear the air, Ella's feigned nonchalance and tried to move the topic on, which she guessed would fool precisely no one, given the look Chloe was giving her. "So… what are you doing this afternoon?"

Chloe's response was unexpectedly straightforward, her tone solemn, "Wash my hair." 

When Ella only looked at her incredulously she elaborated, her voice tinged with a hint of pleading, "It takes an age to get it to dry right with no hair dryer and I can’t half arse it, not here. What’re you going to do? Please tell me it involves washing."

Ella rolled her eyes but inwardly cringed. Did she smell that bad? “Yes,” she replied defensively, “then I might check out the library. Want to come?”

Chloe shook her head without hesitation, and then was convincing enough in her argument that Ella ended up agreeing to let Chloe drag her to one of the smaller halls that evening after dinner, instead. 

After the split to pursue their afternoons, true to Lord Elrond's prediction, the humidity brought with it an almighty storm to finally clear the air. Rain had been falling all afternoon, with a spectacular crash of thunder announcing its arrival a couple of hours before the late meal. Dúvad, Ella reminded herself. It was one of only a handful of Sindarin words she’d learnt, so it was hard to forget… Really should learn a few more words, she reminded herself. It was easy to get complacent when nearly everyone she interacted with spoke the same language as her… somehow. And how was that possible, anyway? Slang and colloquialisms didn’t match, but everything else did? Forget it Ella, it’s like Alice said - it’s not strange, weird, off, nor crazy, this reality is just different from ours. She tried to recite the various words, mostly nouns, she’d heard earlier rather than think about how weird language was, or the bloody battle in her dream had taken place during a storm just like this. You are not scared of storms, Ella. It’s just a bit of rain and a bit of noise, and it was just a stupid dream. Plenty of horror movies and battle scenes happen in storms.

The storm settled Chloe’s mood, thankfully, and the other girl arrived at her door just as Ella was fighting with her hair into some semblance of a style. Glawaril had been called away a while ago, quite urgently from what Ella could tell, so she was trying to tame it and think of a way to fashion it up out of her face in a way that wasn’t a ponytail, or a half ponytail, and rapidly running out of patience to do so. She groaned angrily at the mirror, Chloe’s words earlier only added to her frustration at the reflection glaring back at her. The elves really did always look inhumanly perfect - which did make sense, since they weren’t human, but it only accentuated her own sense of inadequacy rather than providing a measure of comfort.

The knock was a welcome distraction.

“What do you think?” Chloe asked excitedly, twirling elegantly in a perfect ballerina circle. Her dress fanned out, catching the air gracefully and her hair fell in perfect, lustrous waves down her back. They both spent more time outdoors here than at home, and it showed in Chloe’s hair and suntanned skin. Several tiny, neat braids started at her temples and cinched together with a slender leather strip that formed a delicate bow at the nape of her neck. Further braids hung loosely amidst the waves, giving the impression, to Ella at least, of some seriously elaborate preparation.

Ella's appreciation was genuine and immediate, her lips curving into a smile, "You look gorgeous."

Chloe's fingers fussed with the skirts of her dress then moved up to fluff her hair. “You think?”

“Yes. Who’s it for?” Ella asked.

Chloe took the brush from Ella and swatted her hand away gently, forcing Ella to drop the handful of hair she’d been preparing to wrap a tie around into a defeated ponytail. “Don’t know what you mean?” 

"I mean," she said playfully, "you just spent all afternoon perfecting that look and were lamenting how perfect elves look at lunch, so..."

The girl behind her huffed, “Merilimben,” she murmured, after a long, drawn out moment of silent debate.

Surprise flickered across Ella's features, her smile widening, "Oh, him? Really?"

“You know him?”

“I know of him. He’s… got a forge? Or he works in one anyway. Further down, right? Near the little bakery.”

“He’s a blacksmith,” Chloe confirmed, nimbly twisting two portions of hair either side of Ellas parting round her fingertips, “He knows Thenidiel, and, wow.” She pulled the twists together at the back of Ellas head and quickly secured them with one of the ties from the table. Ella had a very small collection of hair items: one longer length of thin black leather for a ponytail,  and two shorter ones, for braids, both gifted from Glawaril in their first days here. She’d not needed anything else, preferring simpler styles. Although, twisting back to look at Chloe, it would be nice to look that pretty sometimes.

“And this is all for the… wow?”

“Yes. The elves all look perfect when they roll out of bed so I need to put in more effort if I want him to notice me.”

“So you can roll in bed with him -”

“Ella!” Chloe interrupted indignantly.

Amusement danced in Ella's eyes, her retort teasing. “You know he’s probably thousands of years older than you? I mean there’s experience and then there’s older than London.”

“I’d rather have ‘experienced’ than a confused fumble.”

Ella snorted, letting Chloe pull her up excitedly and lead the way whilst regaling her with detailed descriptions of Merilimben's muscles, hair, eyes, impeccable grooming and flawless style.

The dining hall was much busier than normal, and there were a lot of animated conversations, but almost exclusively in Sindarin. Ella's earlier resolution to improve her knowledge of the language echoed in her mind.  A sense of excitement hung in the air, but Ella didn’t have a clue why - no one had been this excited at breakfast, or lunch, or at training. When she asked Chloe, she didn’t know either - and she was too busy keeping an eye out for the guy that she was hoping to impress to care overmuch either. 

The evening's transition into the music hall seemed almost seamless. Once they were all starting to move into one of the smaller music halls, glasses of wine appeared. When both girls got a small glass each they grinned at each other reflexively - only a handful of times since their arrival here had they been allowed alcohol, although many of the elves had it daily, and there was often decanters and chilled flasks filled with it on the dining tables. They followed the flow of elves into the room until Elladan appeared at Chloe’s elbow and ushered her forward. Ella raised her eyebrows in question, but was more than happy to stay out of the way and drink the wine.

At the centre of it all stood Glorfindel, his presence commanding attention as he graced the small stage typically reserved for performers. He wore a long set of robes in a pale, summer green with a low neck collar trimmed in gold. Whorls and swirls in gold and cream, and tiny little pearls decorated them from shoulder to shoulder and his hair fell in perfect waves down to his waist. Ella stared openly, wine forgotten: he smiled radiantly, his beautiful face lighting up with honest happiness. It suited him. And drove home Chloe’s earlier point. Where were the people that wrote the dictionary? They need to take a look at elves - at Glorfindel - and rewrite the definitions of beautiful and perfect and every other synonym.

“Let us raise our glasses to Lady Chloe,” Glorfindel said, his voice ringing out across the room, raising his own glass, “Without her warning, this day would surely have ended with a much darker tale. Because of her, a patrol was forewarned and forearmed against an attempted ambush.”

Ella moved to stand beside Uilossiel, watching as Chloe smiled self consciously but gratefully, her cheeks tinted with a soft blush. A collective clinking of glasses and jubilant cheers enveloped the room, making her blush harder.

Behind Glorfindel, an elf started a fast tune on a flute, and soon there was a small band playing, and elves dancing merrily. Filiher quickly appeared at Uilossiel’s side, pulling her into the fray with a wide smile. Ella  spotted Merilimben twirling Chloe around like the others and smiled at the sight, even as something twisted up into a knot somewhere between her chest and her stomach.  

Jealousy is not a good look, Ella, she said to herself, as she slipped between groups, flashing smiles and jokes whenever anyone looked her way, you can’t be jealous that she saved the day, just like you can’t be jealous that she's worth a ransom, and you are not. She edged towards the periphery of the room, her movements practised and familiar, navigating the throng with ease. The thought did little to soothe the green headed monster that reared its head in her gut. Nor did finishing the wine provide the comfort she’d hoped it would. She was just a stupid human amidst beings of ethereal beauty and ageless wisdom, amongst people blessed with visions from Gods. She was in a whole new world, and yet she was just as useless and separate from everybody else as she always had been. I don’t care, she reminded herself, ruthlessly squashing everything down, I do not, cannot, care. 

Chapter Text

“Where is everybody today?” Ella asked, basking in the warmth of the summer sun, even early in the morning it was, while she tried to copy a stretch Midhiel was doing. They were kneeling on the soft grass on the grounds beside the salle, bending backwards like some kind of advanced yoga pose without a hint of effort darkening their brown skin, whilst Ella grunted and couldn’t manage even half of the same flexibility they were demonstrating with ease.

Midhiel’s attention was focused on their own stretch, eventually replying, “Between the double patrols, and those resting…” Midhiel didn’t even glance around, stretching their fingers until they clasped the heel of their soft boots lightly, “we have less here training this morning.“

The discrepancy in their flexibility was stark, a fact that Ella acknowledged with a mix of frustration and amusement as she grunted and struggled, her body resisting any deepening of the graceful bend being demonstrated in front of her.

“Double patrols?” Ella asked curiously.

“Yes,” they said simply. 

Ella rolled her eyes in exasperation. “What does that mean? Why?”

“Lady Chloe’s… what is the translation? Vision? True dream? Coming just in time to save us was a boon.” Midhiel explained. They sat cross-legged on the soft grass, their movements fluid and graceful. “Between the rain and wind of the storm, we would have been caught unawares without the forewarning. More orcs than we have seen in some years are coming down from the mountains, roaming ever closer to our borders, and many are travelling with wargs. We are largely sheltered and protected by our location, but we must clear the other areas as well. We cannot rely on interventions from the Valar.”

Ella allowed herself to slump backward, abandoning her attempts at the stretch. She ignored the elf’s amused laughter as they bought their legs out from under them, and flipped them over their head with a fluid grace that belied their strength and underlined how they very much were not human.

“Can I still join you all today?” Ella asked, trying not to sound too tentative. With Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel all away this time, she wasn’t wholly sure of her welcome. As Chloe had said, she was likely more of a hindrance to these sessions than anything and she had nothing to offer in return. Nothing new there.

“I thought you already were?” Midhiel stood, their long black hair falling neatly to frame their face, braided neatly at the temples in three tight rows. They gestured for Ella to rise and join in the new movement.
“Come, try this stretch with me.”

Midhiel made it all look incredibly easy, and Ella was torn between envy and awe, but the elf was patient as they guided her through a variety of different options of anything that was simply beyond her ability.  The other guards joined in as well, their proficiency evident even if not all of them could quite match Midhiel's mastery. As the rest of the guards straightened out of a final handstand, Midhiel let go of Ellas legs, letting the girl drop her legs gratefully to the floor. That is going to hurt soon, she thought, rolling her shoulders.

“Blade work next,” Midhiel declared easily, not a hint of strain in their voice, or flush to their cheeks, “pair up. Ella, you will work on strength conditioning today.”

Her stomach dropped, anxiety pooling in its wake. “You mean, holding the sticks?”

Midhiel's correction was gentle but firm, “I mean holding one of the training swords, a heavier one than you usually work with,” they nodded, gaze steady and assertive, “One arm at a time, until it drops, and then two handed in front of you, holding the sword vertically, until it drops. If there is time after that, I have a circuit we will all do together.” 

She watched as the other guards paired off and began their practice, the rhythm of metal on metal punctuating the atmosphere. Swallowing her doubts, Ella shifted the sword's grip to her right hand and raised it, attempting to mimic the posture Midhiel had described. The strain was immediate, the unfamiliar, and heavier, weight tugging at her muscles. Far heavier than drumsticks. She gritted her teeth, determined to hold on as long as possible, but it was a losing battle. As seconds turned into moments, her arm trembled. With a sigh of frustration, her arm sagged, and the training sword fell to the ground. It could have been one minute, or five - Ella wasn't sure. The only thing she was sure of was that she might be setting new records for the shortest amount of time managing the challenge.

Midhiel's expression remained impassive as they nodded in acknowledgment from their nearby sparring position. "Good effort. Now the other arm."

Ella nodded, not managing to hold in her grimace. Her fingers tightened around the hilt, and she gritted her teeth. It felt like no time at all this time before her arm was quivering and it was quickly just stubborn determination to make it through just another breath that enabled her to keep the makeshift sword aloft. Yet, as the seconds ticked on, her grip faltered completely, and the sword fell to the ground once more.

Midhiel's praise was tinged with encouragement, their voice a reassuring presence, "You're making progress, Ella. It's not about how long you can hold it right away. It's about building strength over time."

Ella wasn’t so sure, but she likely hadn’t wiped the disappointed look off her face fast enough, so it was nice of Midhiel to try to make her feel better.

“When you are ready, begin the third exercise,” they reminded her, returning to their own practice. 

Ella wasn’t certain, but she thought she counted ten breaths before her muscles screamed in protest after starting the final position. The hilt simply slid through her fingers in the end, unable to grip it any more. Please let there be no arm work in the circuit, Ella prayed to the sky. 

*

The days flowed by, but she didn’t see the twins, or Glorfindel. Their sudden absence disrupted what had become a comforting routine, jolting her senses.  It was a reminder that she’d gotten a little too cosy, a little too relaxed, a little too off her guard. 

Between Chloe’s new obsession with the blacksmith, and his current project, and Glawaril’s discussions about Ivorwen's departure. Ella found herself unexpectedly invited on the upcoming excursion to a nearby town called Bree, for what sounded like the Middle-Earth version of a makers market. They better be famous for cheese with a name like that. 

They were both curious about the world beyond the borders of Imladris, but Chloe had been hesitant, especially after learning Merilimben wasn’t going. Depending on her mood, Ella put it down to either her recent encounter with Vance still haunting her thoughts - or she was thinking she might have better luck with the blacksmith with slightly less people around.

The sun was barely up, its golden rays just starting to paint the world with honey golden warmth. Despite the early hour, the air was already starting to heat up, promising a hot day of travel ahead. Ella found herself hoisting her bag onto her shoulder outside Chloe’s just-closed bedroom door, angry and disappointed. Why are you surprised she’s let you down? Of course she’s not going to come. She sighed, a short and huffy sigh of resignation, and made her way quickly outside.

The courtyard as various elves of Imladris prepared to start the journey to the market that would be stopping outside of Bree.  The air hummed with anticipation, filled with the promise of trade, and the atmosphere was filled with melodic laughter and chatter. Ella couldn't help but feel a pang of excitement as she joined the bustling scene, even as she tried to brace herself to be turned away now it was just her.

Glawaril looked up from securing her horse and greeted Ella with a smile. "Are you excited to explore and learn more about the lands here?"

Ella returned the smile, her eyes bright with enthusiasm and rising hope. “Yeah! Don’t get me wrong, Imladris is beautiful, but I do kinda wanna see… more. So um, Chloe’s changed her mind?”

Glawaril nodded, “I feared as much.”

Ella fidgeted with the strap on her shoulder. “So… is it still alright if I come?”

“Why would it not?” The elf looked baffled, and Ella resisted the urge to hug her. Uilossiel leaned over from where she was already mounted on her own horse.

"Keep your senses sharp, and do not wander off.”

“I’m not a toddler,” Ella replied indignantly.

“As you say.”

Glawaril waved off the guard, “She will be with Ivorwen and I -”

“Not a child -”

“- and we will keep an eye on her,” the elf continued, ignoring Ella with an amused smile.

The trip to Bree was a stark contrast to their previous journey with Elladan and Elrohir on foot. They’d slept on the bare ground with only a borrowed blanket to sleep under. Now, every night she had the luxury of a bedroll, a soft blanket (and a spare), and there was always a fire and hot tea. On her first nights here, the stars in the sky were so foreign it was frightening, the nights quiet and stilted, not knowing how much further it was, or what was waiting for them. But this time, they were filled with songs and stories beneath the stars that no longer seemed daunting in its strangeness. The weather, too, was onside, offering dry days and clear nights that were perfect for travelling. She didn’t even have to worry about having a bad dream - at her first mention of travel Mairon had promised to visit and keep her nightmares at bay and she was unreservedly grateful to the strange being who was rapidly becoming her most reliable friend. 

Most of the elves rode on horseback, their figures graceful against the backdrop of the rolling countryside. Two carts laden with goods for trade trundled along behind them, driven by those who preferred to remain on solid ground. His long, thick black hair, woven into thin dreads, swayed gently with each movement, giving him an air of effortless coolness - helped by the fact that he and all the other elves didn’t appear to sweat, whilst Ella could feel it beading down her spine.

“Are there any short elves?” Ella couldn’t help but ask, her gaze drifting upward to take in Ivorwen's towering form. Glawaril, his considerably tall wife, observed them with a hint of amusement from her perch on horseback.  Ella felt positively small, dwarfed by his impressive height. He has to be about seven feet tall! 

Ivorwen turned away from the road and looked at her as he considered the question. “What do you consider short?”

She thought about this for a moment. She wasn’t generally accused of being short - but that was before she found herself amongst people who never came shorter than six feet. Maybe she was short in this world? “Shorter than me?”

“Not many,” Ivorwen replied thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping over her. “But there are not many young elves in this land anymore, and that is when our people are most likely to be under your height.”

“Huh,” Ella mused, her curiosity piqued. “Do you guys like, grow forever? Just really slow, like trees? Do you just grow up, or can you grow out too?”

“No, once we reach our majority most are finished with their physical growth,” he paused, then added with a smile, “we are not akin to trees, young Ella.”

“I know, I know, you don’t get planted - Glorfindel already told me,” she waved him off, sticking out her tongue at his loud laugh, “So you’re like humans - men - then? We grow ‘til we’re like, eighteen or so? And then that’s it.”

“Elves are not considered adults until their one hundredth begetting day,” Ivorwen corrected gently, shaking his head. “Eighteen is childhood.”

“Eighteen is alcohol, and voting, and driving licences,” she retorted with a laugh, “and I was really looking forward to… well to some of that.”

He glanced at her but she shook her head and flapped a hand at him, “Ignore me.”

Riding alongside Ivorwen felt comfortable and she quickly liked riding next to him. He was talkative but not overbearing, and he patiently entertained her many questions whenever they popped into her head as they meandered down the road. He was also an amazing baritone, as she discovered when he and Glawaril joined in with a long ballad that someone ahead of their group started to sing.

They heard the market long before they saw it, several days, many stories, and many times through ‘500 miles’ later. The previously quiet road filled with the indistinct murmur of many voices mingling together, bangs and crashes and shouts and the sizzling of food over fires only became clearer as they drew nearer. When it came into view a colourful array of stalls was still being erected. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices, the low-level constant noise of many accents and dialects blurring together, and the vibrant energy of people. 

“It’s not on yet?” Ella asked, as they continued past many of the unopened stalls.

“Not yet, tomorrow morning will be the first official day,” Ivorwen said, “the travelling caravan that makes up the main host likes to set up camp and settle in first - travel is hard, and does not always leave much time for all to make new wares.”

Ella didn’t think their travel had been hard, and muttered as much, only to be bestowed with an indulgent look from the bonded elf. It left her with the sudden slightly unsettling realisation that she was probably being coddled. Is travelling with elves like going first class while everyone else rides economy? Today, she wasn't going to care. She could see a group of whom she was pretty sure were dwarves, given the descriptions Mairon had made. And humans. So many humans! She’d seen so few since the day of the orienteering class. It was almost disorientating to see people of her height - and some considerably shorter - again.

As they strolled through the yet-to-be-fully-settled market, Ella's eyes widened in wonder at the diversity of beings around her. The rhythmic clanging of a blacksmith's hammered somewhere nearby, a group of lively humans haggled over brightly coloured fabrics and beings of various shapes and sizes bustled about, animated and eager. A small group of dwarves (but musicians, not miners) were playing fiddles, pipes and two small round drums, something jaunty and quick that had gathered a crowd already.

Ivorwen watched Ella's fascination with a sideward glance as she took it all in. There were richly woven tapestries, gleaming jewellery, exotic spices, blown glass bowls and bottles and ornaments, and finely crafted instruments. The air was alive with the aroma of roasting meats, the sizzling of vegetables, and the tantalising scent of baked goods. It was so different to Imladris, so much louder and fuller and yet still so very different to any market she’d ever been to before. There wasn’t a cigarette butt to be seen, for a start.

He drew the horses up next to the other cart and Ella quickly pitched in carrying what she could wherever she was directed. The elves were selling glass jars filled with honey and jams, pieces of jewellery and finely made buttons, but by far the wind chimes were her favourite. Tamantan was hanging them carefully, he hadn’t bought many, but he hoped to sell what he had. Two were metal, hollow tubes of different lengths hanging from thin woven strings. One, the best one in Ella’s opinion, was made of blown glass. It was fragile in a delicate way, but that only made it more beautiful. Ivorwen carefully unpacked his carvings - he had bought a variety of makes with him, including several toys, wooden horses and dogs and little birds; carefully sanded cutlery and bowls, and even a bird house, which he wasn’t sure would be sold but displayed all the same.

Glawaril came and mustered her into helping with dinner,
“It’ll be early to bed for all those who wish to sleep,” she explained as she collected a basket full of fresh baked warm breads drizzled with honey and chopped nuts, “but first, there is trade to be done.”

“How come?” Ella asked, hurrying along next to her, “we’ve got plenty left? I swear it looked like there was enough for twice as many people.” In fact she was certain they had enough dried goods to comfortably make their way back to Imladris left. 

“Tradition,” Glawaril offered, “especially as we have joined the market here rather than travelling with the caravan. It helps rebuild old relationships, start new ones -”

Ella watched two dour older dwarf women turn their backs on Glawaril and she as they approached. So did another middle-aged human couple. They don’t seem to think so. But the elf didn’t falter in the slightest, simply nodding in acceptance and moving to the next group, of what looked like a family, who were more than happy to exchange words and stories, and they traded some of their breads for what looked like homemade, grated potato hash browns and smelt delicious. They did this four more times, meeting two groups of humans, one pair of dwarves, and two elves, brothers apparently, who were known travellers to Glawaril and she greeted them warmly, promising to return with Ivorwen before long.

By the time they looped back to their area of the camp, they had no bread and instead the baskets were filled with the potato hash browns, rolls of bread baked with olives and cheese, a jar of what looked suspiciously like maple syrup and another of something green. She fell asleep listening to Glawaril recount one of the first times she’d travelled with a market caravan, much like this one, and how odd she’d found it to see people asleep with their eyes closed. 

That night she dreamed with Mairon, and delighted in telling him about all the different people she’d finally seen. Mairon listened attentively as she recounted it all, from dwarves with their sturdy builds and lengthy beards to the humans of various appearances and with clothes so different to what she was used to. On the one hand, she’d known she was in another world - but also, she’d mentally boxed Imladris and elves off as a law unto themselves - she hadn’t quite thought that humans would be so different too. 

When she woke the next morning, it was to find that she was one of the last to wake. Glawaril was sitting nearby, sitting between Ivorwens legs and leaning back against his chest while he murmured something too quiet to hear. Ella rubbed her eyes as she sat up with a yawn. 
“Ah, there you are.” Glawaril said, noticing her movement.

“Here I am,” Ella agreed, “what time’s it?”

“Dawn passed perhaps two hours ago,” she replied, standing gracefully from Ivorwen’s embrace with a lingering touch to his arm, “the market will be opening soon. Would you like something to eat?”

Ella tied her bedroll awkwardly, although faster than she’d done it the first morning, and folded the extra blanket carefully on top. A warm breeze carried the mouthwatering scent of something cooking nearby over and her stomach rumbled. “Is there any goin’?”

Glawaril’s response was to hand her a small plate with some dried meat, fresh flatbread slathered with what smelt like honey and sprinkled with tiny seeds, and a handful of fat blackberries that they’d gathered on the final approach to Bree yesterday, gesturing her over to one of the felled tree trunks that bordered their camps fire.

“Ta,” Ella smiled, scooping up the berries quickly, “So, is there anything you need me to do?”

“Your only task is to enjoy yourself,” she reminded her, as she had done several times, “though Ivorwen and I have been thinking of some tips to guide your day, if you would hear them.”

“I definitely would.”

“Well then,“ Glawaril sat elegantly on the log next to her, her long skirts stirring loose dirt, “let us start with my favourites, if you will indulge me, and then I will go over what to look for, and what to avoid.”

Ella didn’t have the heart to point out that not only did she have no money, she had nothing to trade either. She watched idly as people of Bree, already trailing out of the town’s gates, to those who had apparently slept on the road when the few inns in Bree were quickly filled, starting to gather in small groups, awaiting some go ahead or signal. Glawaril told her about the sticky buns from a baker with a shop in Bree, they only baked them for market days and festival days and were sure to sell out quickly; and an artist who usually set up a stall near the far edges, where it was quieter, but who painted stunning landscapes of the sea and rivers; she had spotted one of her favourite weavers as well, and urged Ella to see the beautiful patterns they wove into being. There was a long list before Ella finished the last of her breakfast and she had to hold up her hands in defeat.

“Stop, Glawaril, stop,” she said as she laughed, “I’ll never remember any more!”

The elf tugged the plate from her hands and waved her off with a happy smile.

Ella couldn't contain her enthusiasm, darting from stall to stall as they opened, examining the wares with unbridled curiosity. She made a beeline for the bakers pop up and watched the queue form with interest: the smell wafting from the stall mouthwatering. Better than freshly baked, warm Krispy Kreme’s! She idled, people watching and making up unbelievable brief histories for those in the queue, before deciding to move on. She’d also spotted Uilossiel lingering nearby and wanted to test her theory.
Either Glarwaril gave her the exact same list or she is wasting her day following me. She couldn’t decide how she felt about it. Partly annoyed, definitely. Partly glad not to be totally alone. Which I will not be admitting. Partly amused. But Uilossiel discreetly kept watch from a distance, and she was subtle about it, so Ella decided not to notice that the elf seemed to always only be a stall away. 

Most of the sellers were welcoming, even when she deliberately kept her hands to herself to make it abundantly clear she was not stealing or buying, the old saying of look with your eyes ringing loudly in her head. But even then, they greeted her with smiles and most were happy sharing stories about their wares and their travels. The artist who stayed to the far edge of the market turned out to be an elf, with hip length, raven black hair, willow green eyes and pale skin. Not many others had strayed as far as his stand and she ended up fascinated by his stories of walking the coasts, painting anything that made him pause. Her favourite was one of a storm, the sky a deep grey and the sea a tumultuous danger beneath it, painted in shades of deep blue-green she’d never seen before, with frothing white crowns atop massive, cresting waves. She stared at it for ages, caught by the frozen moment he’d painted with forked lightning cutting open the sky, until a loudly gossiping pair of older men, their hair grey and combed over, where it was there at all, distracted her and she murmured goodbye with an embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

The local townspeople were less friendly. As Ella wandered back into the busier end of the market, she knew who the locals were by the way they looked at her sideways. She noticed some mothers pulling their children closer, as if wary of the unfamiliar presence in their midst. Which is ridiculous given the givens. The locals were humans for the most part, but there were more races here than that. She was expecting to blend more than she was, instead it felt like there was a neon sign above her head saying ‘stranger’.
When it happened for the seventh time she walked back to where Uilossel trailed behind her with a frown to equal her own.

“Ok, what am I doing wrong?”

Uilossel sighed, almost imperceptibly, and Ella thought briefly that she was going to be put off, to be told she was imagining it, but after a pause, the elf said: “They are whispering about your clothes.”

Ella looked down at her slightly travel-stained outfit, which was breeches, a short-sleeved undershirt and a tunic. It was what she wore the majority of the time, and hadn’t caused much of a fuss before now.
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked defensively, rubbing self-consciously at a mud stain on her arm.

“You are clearly not a man,”

“You say the nicest things -”

“And yet you are dressing like one,”

“Boobs do not require a dress -” She didn’t stamp her foot, but it was a near thing.

“Your hair is largely unbound -”

“Nor do they require a bobble –”

“You walk around unchaperoned and came in the company of elves,”

“Clearly crimes -”

Uilossel fixed her with a steady look. “Elves are not… we are more… fluid in our understanding. Our culture values other attributes. The culture and societies of Men are different.”

Ella caught the eye of someone skirting around them as they looked away, walking faster. She resisted the urge to stomp her foot again even as she felt a hot flush bred of anger and embarrassment creep up her neck. Even here I stand out, even here I’m the odd one out.
“I’m not getting changed. I didn’t even bring a dress. It’s not practical.”

Uilossel raised a perfectly shaped brow. She wore one of her dresses today, but Ella had seen her in trousers and shirts in the guard colours before. The dress was shorter at the front than the back, falling just below her knees, with long sleeves that finished in a triangle over her wrists. She wore a half corset style belt that tied at the front and had several small pouches attached to it, whose contents still remained a mystery. Ella thought it was one of the coolest outfits she’d ever seen.

“You have had… however….  many centuries of practice,” Ella said, waving her hand dismissively, “doesn't count. So, I'm going to be getting side eyed and shunned as long as I dress like this?”

“It’s likely, but not a certainty. That you are in the company of elves is likely not helping. We have retreated from much of the world and in our absence, suspicion and rumour grow.” She looked out over the increasing crowds walking along the stalls, “Be that as it may, do you wish me to walk with you? They would likely glare just as much at me instead.”

Ella's frustration lingered, and whilst she could acknowledge the practicality of what Uilossiel was saying, she didn’t like it. She glanced around at the wary glances and hushed conversations, she sighed. I do not need it getting back to Chloe that I wanted a babysitter of my own!

"No," she muttered, tugging at the hem of her tunic in a futile attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. "I don’t know them. I don’t care."

Uilossiel offered a worried smile. "Very well."

With a resigned nod, Ella began to explore again. She’d seen everything Glarwaril had recommended and now she was hoping to go with the flow of people to see what she’d missed. The market buzzed with activity, but her attention was now divided between the colourful displays and the whispered comments around her, even as she repeated to herself that she didn’t care. She wove between groups, sliding into gaps and dodging around bottlenecks to see as much as she could and to avoid any lingering looks. The market had lost some of its shine however, and she almost wished Chloe had come so she could moan about gender roles in old fashioned societies to someone who knew what jeans and feminism and mascara were.

Shouting suddenly erupted nearby, mixed sounds of anger and surprise crashing objects echoing through the crowded makeshift street. Startled, Ella turned toward the noises, her eyes widening as she caught sight of a street brawl unfolding in front of one of the small pop up pubs. Holy shit, bar fight?

It looked like there were two groups, but it was difficult to tell. The chaotic scene drew the attention of nearly everyone nearby as they quickly gathered to stare and gossip; including the nearby musicians who faltered in their playing to watch. She spotted Uilossiel on the other side of the commotion, looking like she wanted to intervene. Ella edged away from the fight, slipping backwards smoothly as others walked towards the fight until she was somewhere she’d not been to before, backing out of the dark, narrow alley between the stalls into the shadowed space between the wall and the stalls that surrounded Bree and not, as she’d thought, closer to the camp from last night.
“Prat,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She tried to quickly reorient herself without needing to go back towards the flying glass, broken bottles and raging tempers and had an idea of nipping round behind the stalls, where it was sure to be quieter.

Looks like I’m not the only one with the same idea.

Ella didn’t pay whomever it was much attention, striding deeper into the shadows and steadfastly ignoring the niggling, annoying feelings - things like doubt and fear and should you be walking to where it’s darker?
Except it sounded like they were getting closer, rapidly. She looked over her shoulder as she tried to catch a glimpse of where she was through another gap in the stalls but all she could see was another group turning into the space, fanning out to stand three abreast.
Both groups were striding  towards her with long gaits and determined faces. 

That’s not good. 

The new group closed in swiftly and she ran back towards the wall, eyes darting between the two groups closing her in. The man at the front of the group, broad shouldered and scowling, directed the others with low, gruff orders she could barely hear over the nearby brawl and its audience.

Ella spun on her heel and, giving up all pretence, sprinted towards the next gap. She heard the heavy footfalls of pursuit. She didn’t have much else to try other than outrunning the group. She screamed Uilossiel’s name. And then Glawaril’s, heaving great breaths between each. She opened her mouth to screech another when fingers grabbed the edge of her tunic and yanked, sending her sprawling backward. She kicked out, hard and fast, and missed completely. A heavy knee quickly forced her face into the muddy ground and her hands were tied roughly behind her back.

“That’ll be enough noise from you, girl.” He shoved what looked like a rough ball of fabric rags into her mouth and what tasted like disgusting dirty socks into her mouth, and tied another strip over it.

She squirmed and the knee dug hard enough into her back to give her pause.
“Where’s that elf gone that was with her?”

“Can’t see it.”

Panic flared fresh in Ella’s chest.

The man behind her stood, hauling Ella roughly to her feet at the same time. 

“Let’s get out of here before it comes back.”

There was aborted yell behind Ella, and the man before her eyes widened,

“Boss -”

Glawaril landed behind him and gripped him in a hold around the throat that had him gasping and twisting futilely until his eyes lolled. Ella tried to pull her hands free of the rope but only felt the bite of it into her skin. 

“Let her go.” Uilossiel ordered behind her. She felt the kidnapper behind her hesitate. “We have chosen not to kill any of you, so far. We can make a different choice.”

I hope I’m that bad ass one day. She felt a push hard enough to have her stumbling forward, off balanced by her hands behind her back.

Glawaril helped her to her feet and quickly freed her hands as Uilossiel glared at the unknown man's back as he ran away. Ella pulled out fabric with disgust and spat on the ground a few times to clear her mouth. “Are we going to go after him?”
 
“No,” she said reluctantly, “I would rather stay near you, after this. He is one man, but there may be others still hiding in plain sight. I will question this one before taking them to Bree’s sheriffs,” she nudged the nearest unconscious body at her feet. “I know you have been having fun, but I would appreciate you going back to our camp, at least until that is done.”

Part of her wanted to say no. She wasn’t frightened, she didn’t care, she wasn’t bothered by any of this.  And another part of her wanted to be around people she knew would not hurt her. The latter won, despite the niggling doubt whispering in her ear that they would think she was a weak pathetic little girl. She nodded, letting Glawaril lead her away.

“I didn’t know you were so… cool,” Ella said as they wound their way quickly through the market.

“I know enough of your phrases to think I might be offended by your surprise,” Glawaril said lightly, a slight tugging at her lips betraying her. Ella refused to fall for it.

“You act like you’re so… so calm all the time and then you literally drop out of the sky and take out that dude like, like some kind of superhero.”

“You are… welcome? I did not understand much of what you just said.”

“Yes, thank you - I mean obviously thank you, but just, yeah. That was cool. And uh, thanks.”

“Thanks are not necessary, but you are welcome. Come, we will get you some tea.” The elf looked at her closely as she swiftly led the way with sure steps. “I don’t think you are feeling it yet, and the tea will help when you do.”

When her hands started to shake, she was already sitting down, tea warming in a kettle on the fire and a blanket around her shoulders. Somewhere in the market, someone dropped something heavy with a loud CLANG and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“What did they want?” Ella asked when Uilossiel returned, not long after Glawaril placed a steaming mug of tea in her trembling hands.

“They heard of a brown-haired girl among the elves who is blessed by the Valar, and wanted the bounty.”

Chloe, she thought. She said as much out loud.

“That is what I assume,” the guard looked around and then sat next to Ella, “it is uncommon enough to have a mortal child in our midst they must not have thought there could be more than one.”

Ella glared angrily at her tea. “What’s going to happen now?”

Uilossiel nodded her head from side to side. “It is up to you, I think. They are not so organised that they could outmatch even two of us, and we have enough guards here to spare myself and one more to escort you back to Imladris early. Or I can stay near you, you can enjoy your time here as planned with a little more caution, and we will all return together.”

“Option two. I like option two,” Ella said quickly, “please.”

Chapter Text

The air of Glorfindel's office exuded an uncommon air of tension as Elrond entered. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall, arched windows, casting elongated shadows across the room. The golden rays illuminated the smooth, carved wooden furniture, highlighting its intricate decoration along its edges.

Uilossiel, stood beside the desk still in her travelling cloak, dusty from the road, seemed to be in the process of leaving. Her expression was one of seriousness and concern as she acknowledged Elrond's arrival and made her exit with the same, single, swift nod. The heavy wooden door creaked softly as it closed, leaving him alone with the guard captain.

“What has happened?” he asked without preamble, “It must be grave to have you summoning me from my teaching of Nemirdor.” He had been quite surprised to feel the quiet but persistent request earlier, given most knew he was spending that time with his young apprentice going over herb law.

Glorfindel gestured to the wide, rounded wooden chair opposite his desk, its polished surface gleaming under the diffused light of the windows. “Uilossiel was just updating me on what occurred at Bree. You will not like it.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow in question, his gaze sweeping over the well ordered bookshelves and well-rolled maps.

“A group of Men attempted to kidnap Ella, mistaking her for Chloe. It was averted, and there was no further trouble but,” Glorfindel sighed wearily, “it concerns me greatly. Have you had any word of Mithrandir?" 

“None other than rumour that he is in the north west, visiting the periain.” Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ella - she is well?”

“Shaken at the time but fine now, all told.”

 “Did they learn anything more?”

“No, Uilossel judged there was no further threat after the initial attempt, and preferred to keep a closer eye on the girl. She learnt they were looking for a brown-haired, mortal girl, travelling with elves.”

“That does describe Chloe,” Elrond said thoughtfully, catching Glorfindel's gaze with his own, “it is vague enough to unfortunately also describe Ella.”

“Their information is incomplete, at least. Chloe changed her mind only shortly before leaving.”

“But who told them she was going originally?” Elrond steepled his fingers as he thought, an old habit, “Am I to hold our people suspect? I see no motive, no gain. To what end, for what purpose? I will not hold our own under suspicion without evidence. Something else is at work.”

“I agree, I cannot see how she could have upset anyone in the time she has been here, let alone for them to take such action. I will let Chloe’s guards know of what has occurred, but I am of a mind to not change the boundaries we have put in place.” 

Glorfindel's determined gaze met Elrond's own and he nodded in agreement. 

“If we limit her freedom she may chafe against it, and I sense nothing now. The lingering feeling of concern I felt before has not returned since Vance and Orinan left.” Elrond smiled ruefully, “The next time my sons bring home lost children, remind me to send them on to Círdan, or Galadriel perhaps.”

Glorfindel laughed lightly, “Did you not send them both out on the road? Some might say you put your sons in their path.”

“And on may that path continue next time, to another door.” He said it in jest, they both knew it: he would never send away another in need, especially ones so young and free of any blame. “Otherwise I hope it went as well as ever?”

“From what I have heard so far, yes. Tamantan sold all of his wind chimes, I know that much, and Ivorwen most of his wares. Uilossel mentioned that that lavender honey you are fond of went on the first day,”

“That reminds me, I must make sure we have some for our stores as well, and I should check what we have for wounds -”

“I think if you wished for an extra jar, she would not begrudge you one,” Glorfindel said with a smile that threatened to become a laugh,

“I am not the only one who has come to enjoy that particular honey,” Elrond defended, “I couldn’t take it all.”

Glorfindel didn’t disagree but the slight eye roll Elrond caught before the other elf ducked his head with a chuckle suggested Glorfindel had been on the receiving end of one too many of late, likely from Ella who, he’d noticed, was quite fond of such mannerisms. 

*

Nearly two weeks after returning from the market at Bree, Ella was finally starting to feel like herself again. Or I have buried more drama for my psyche to deal with later, she thought, because she’d kept herself busy: during the travel time back to Imladris she’d pushed Uilossel to teach her something every evening, and as soon as they’d returned home she’d thrown herself back into training with the rest of the guards. For the second time since arriving in this place, she’d ended up in the dirt and needing to be saved, like some bedraggled damsel in distress. She was determined there wasn’t going to be a third time.

Most of the elven guards were more aloof than Elladan and Elrohir, and less approachable than Uillossel. However reluctant they were to socialise candidly with her, they were all friendly enough, and willing to impart skills and share advice when she asked - or set her to strength and stamina tasks. She was fairly sure some of them had set side bets on how red they could make her face during circuits, and how long she could manage the sword-holding challenge.

But her consistency paid off when, with a sense of exhilaration, Ella realised she could hit a target consistently with a throwing knife - just so long as the target, and she, was perfectly still while she lined up the throw. When the final knife thumped into the target, she jumped up and down in excitement, her grin wide and happy.
“I did it!”

“You did,” said Uilossiel, not hiding her bemusement as she gestured for Ella to retrieve the knives, “you were still in doubt after the first nine?”

Ella's breathless excitement lingered as she retrieved the knives, tugging them free from the target with a determined huff. Her shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, “Each one still feels mostly like a fluke.”

“You do not give yourself enough credit.”

“Maybe you give me too much.” Ella tugged the last knife free and replaced it in the small holster. 

“Again, then.” Uilossiel commanded simply.

Ella accepted the challenge, her fingers wrapping around a familiar hilt, and shifted her feet. She aimed slowly, then let the knife fly. It sliced through the air with precision and the impact resounded with a gratifying thud as the blade found its mark. Ella exhaled, a sense of satisfaction flowing through her veins. One down, nine to go. She lined up the next throw and stared intensely at the target, trying to block out the chatter of the others training nearby.

“I heard they’re tracking Lady Chloe,”  Edwendir said, as he dodged a swift kick to his face from Sírben, “that they want to know why the Valar are interested in her, and they want to take her as a prize to the Necromancer.”

Ella threw the next knife slightly wide and huffed an annoyed breath. Now not trying to ignore the others at all - they were talking about Chloe, after all, and apparently people were still confusing the pair of them if Bree was anything to go by. It wasn’t a mistake people made back home, and it still amused and annoyed her in equal measure. But still, gossip about Chloe was going to be useful for her, because if bad things come in threes, she was due one more.

“And they think a few extra trolls and wargs will break us?” Sírben was saying, sounded almost offended as he spun from a block and took his own offensive.

“I’m happy to rid the world of as many of them as we can,”  Edwendir said, “Let them throw themselves at us and save us the trouble of hunting them.”

“Next, Ella,” Uilossiel reminded her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, lining up the next throw, “what’s the Necromancer? Is Chloe in danger?”

“It is nothing you need to concern yourself with, and Chloe is safe in Imladris, yes.”

That wasn’t condescending at all, and also not the question I asked, Ella thought with no small amount of annoyance. She toyed with the idea of calling the guard on it, but decided against it. Hundreds, maybe thousands of years to my seventeen, she huffed out a breath. Sometimes she forgot they were all so much older, given all the elves had an ageless quality to their perfect appearances, and then one said something like that. She threw the next knife and pictured Vance’s face.

*

Camaemben regarded Ella with a measured gaze, his scrutiny lingering as she finished washing her hands ahead of helping with the dinner preparations for the sixth day in a row. The large stone room echoed with the clatter of pots and pans, the aroma of spices and cooking food mingling in the air. Shafts of golden sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting warm pools of light on the worn flagstone floor. She imagined a cat would be very happy here, sprawling out on the warm stone in the sunshine.

“Didn’t Glorfindel make you all run his beloved obstacle course today?” he asked curiously.

Ella's hands stilled for a moment as she dried her hands on a nearby towel, her expression pained as she recalled the gruelling training session. “Unfortunately.”

It was the first time she’d seen Glorfindel, and the first time he’d run training since he left to shore up the patrols, and he’d set them off at a punishing pace, pushing to finish the obstacle course as fast as possible - and the devil of an elf had even modified two sections of it, so it wasn’t exactly as it last was. Just when she’d expected the floor to be there, it wasn’t. A thick, gloopy mud pit was there instead. She might never get the mud stains out of her trousers - the stains stretched up well past her knees from the surprise mud pit he’d created. Considering the high she’d left training on after her throwing knife achievement the day before, today felt like an all new low.

Camaemben gestured over to the area in front of him, where balls of dough were neatly lined up and waiting for the first pair of hands to be free. The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air, mingling with the savory scents of simmering stews and roasting meats that wafted from the nearby hearth. 

“Kneed these with me. You are not tired?”

Ella accepted the invitation, her hands finding their rhythm in the familiar task. “I’m not actually a little kid, you know: I can do more than one activity a day without needing a nap and everything,” she said, rolling her eyes good naturedly, “I’m better off being of use here, rather than being a lump in my room.”

“You are precisely a ‘little kid’ in elven terms,” he argued, ignoring Ellas protest as she muttered that she also was not an elf or a little kid, “What about your friend, Chloe? We could arrange some tea in the meantime if you wish to spend time with her?”

“She’s busy.” Ella said shortly, the mention of Chloe brought with it a wash of conflicting emotions. She knew Chloe had a lot going on, especially when you took into account the prophetic dreams and learned that there was a price on her head for them, and that there were multiple people willing to kidnap her not far away. But Chloe had often been engrossed in her own activities lately, disappearing into a whirlwind of new connections and engagements, including her budding friendship Merilimben…Ella rarely saw her after breakfast since returning from the ill-fated market trip. Whatever friendship they’d started to develop had halted in favour of shinier, more enchanting friendships with elves. I don’t care, she thought, I do not, cannot, care. She grinned cheekily, instead. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I am simply mindful of Lord Elrond nagging me again.”

“Is he likely to?”

“Possibly not,” Camaemben briefly paused in his work, thinking, “he has been preoccupied with the borders as of late.”

“Just enjoy the extra pair of hands then, Camaemben. I promise to disappear if I - if it - becomes…” Ella floundered, trying to think of a phrase that didn’t involve ‘pain in the arse’ until she settled on, “troublesome.”

Their conversation moved into more casual topics and she focused on the dough she was trying to knead to the same standard as the experienced elf next to her, watching his fingers and palms. She avoided thinking about the many times before now that the tide had turned, the wind had shifted, and she was left on the outside. About how that often it started out just like this: a little comment, the feeling of being just a little off balance; being looked at for half a second too long, of having more questions asked.

At least at home, she had a direction she could go in, knew which buses would get her how far, how much money she needed. She knew how much cash she had and how far it could get her, where she could crash until a better idea came to her. Here she would just be alone, in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to go, with whatever wargs and trolls were nearby and whatever she could fit into her old backpack.

If that’s what they want, I don’t have to care. Mairon will help me if I ask. The thought of her dreamwalking friend warmed her: maybe she wasn’t entirely alone. But still, it was becoming clear she should take a break from the kitchen, let herself fall from the front of notice for a while: it was far better to be in the background than the foreground, in her experience. The red shirts always die first, but the other extras on the Enterprise often lived another day.

*

Ella trudged along the worn dirt path, her old, soft jeans gathering dust from the countryside trail. Her trainers, the faded white ones with a split in the heel that made them useless in rain, had let in an uncomfortable sharp stone and it dug into the side of her foot. The detail struck her as odd, because she also knew she was dreaming: Mairon was walking beside her. While she wore a plain red jumper to match her jeans and the world she remembered, he wore clothes that were more likely to be seen in Imladris than nearby Bolton. A knee-length tunic with the narrow, v-shaped neckline and narrow sleeves in a deep blue, belted with a fabric sash stitched with gold thread, darker trousers underneath and high, flat boots.

“What’s over the mountains from Imladris?” Ella asked abruptly, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. They weren’t even in sight of the mountains today, but the question had been gnawing at her mind. They weren’t even in the same world as Imladris - they were in the countryside from back home.

Mairon offered a casual shrug as they navigated through the tangles of a blackberry bush, his expression thoughtful despite the nonchalant gesture. "Ruins and forest," he replied, his frown deepening as he disentangled himself from the thistles that reached out for his fine clothes. "Why do you ask?"

Ella kept her eyes focused on the ground in front of them and slouched deliberately, “If I have to leave, I need to know which way to go.”

They were in one of her dreams today, walking between thick hedgerows from somewhere she’d visited once, but couldn’t quite remember. In her memory there was a trodden, dirt path between them, which they followed now. The air was alive with the chirping of birds and the gentle hum of bees as they flitted from flower to flower amongst the thick, blackberry laden hedgerows. Butterflies danced lazily along the white daisies that littered the edge of the path. She wasn’t sure where they were walking to but it didn’t matter because this wasn’t real and if it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter. 

“You are leaving Imladris?” Mairon's voice held a mix of surprise and curiosity, his footsteps coming to a halt.

Ella met his gaze, tilting her head up to do so, “No, I said if I have to.” 

When he didn’t start walking again, she turned to see what he was doing. He was looking at her with a contemplative gaze on his ethereally beautiful face, his hair still perfectly in place, parted down the centre and held back from his face by way of thin sections, separated by tiny, yellow gold metal beads.

“If you are leaving in the summer months,” he finally responded, sounding thoughtful, “cross the mountains and keep east until you reach a great river, then follow it south. Keep the mountains on your right, and do not enter the forest. If you are leaving before the spring thaw or after the autumn harvest, go back the way you came, to the Bruinen crossing and follow that south instead until you reach the tall ruins amidst a large crossing. Tell me when you leave and I will find you eventually, either way.”

The practicality of his advice was comforting, but it was the last of his statements that made her stomach dance with butterflies of its own. “You mean it?” she whispered.

Mairon's smile was rare, a fleeting expression that graced his features and lit them up with a light so beautiful it was almost painful to look at. “I cannot have my little swan wandering lost in a land not her own.”

She resisted the impulse to hug him, respecting the distance he usually maintained, but only just. Instead, she thanked him with heartfelt sincerity and she hoped he understood. She shoved her hands into her pockets, provided by the magic of dreamscapes because here she was wearing her favourite pair of soft jeans.

He waved her off, then tilted his head to the side in what she recognised now as curiosity. “Why are you asking this?”

“I… feel like I’m maybe overstaying my welcome,” she sighed and kicked a small stone, scuffing it with her trainer, “and I’d rather leave when I want, on my own terms, than be kicked out. I can plan for it, make sure I’ve got a bag and clothes and a bit more food… Chloe is obviously not going to have the same issue, and totally shouldn’t anyway ‘cause some kinda death wizard wants her, so she’ll be okay there. They’ll work to get her home just to keep her safe, they’re good like that.”

“Ah, because she is gifted with visions from the Valar?”

Ella nodded resignedly.

“It would not be the first time the elves of Imladris have done something foolish. You would be welcome in my home, whenever you wish to visit. Though it is some distance from where you are now.”

The idea of his distant home intrigued her. Of all the many places he’d shown her, he’d never shown her where he was living now. Curiosity unfurled in her chest. “How far?”

“Weeks, by horse. Considerably longer by foot.”

“That’s… quite far.” Understatement of the day, she thought. It was a humbling distance, really. Her world of cars and trains and buses seemed further away than usual.

“It is,” he agreed, “but you would not travel it alone.”

*

In light of Mairon’s advice Ella spent the long, hot summer afternoons, and evenings, venturing further afield into the wilder expanses surrounding Imladris. She climbed old paths, half forgotten save for periodic stone footpaths nearly grown over, counting steps as she climbed up higher and higher up ridges and mountain sides, depending on the day. She avoided the main routes out, the ones she saw messengers and guards and trade wagons using. If she needed to leave, she might need to leave secretly, and here it wasn’t quite so simple as slipping out the door while a few people slept, or jumping onto the number 50 bus instead of walking in through the school gates.

Pausing for a break during a particularly steep ascent, Ella rested on her heels, drinking greedily from her old, battered water bottle. She’d have to find a replacement soon, but how to do so without questions, and with nothing to pay for it with? Ella parked that for another day. Today, the sun cast a warm glow on the landscape, casting long shadows that shifted as the hours waned. She looked out on the valley below, in awe once again at the beauty of the land here, when a tap on her shoulder sent her heart racing. She screamed and scrambled away quickly, brandishing her water bottle like a sword. 

“Peace, Ella!” 

“Elrohir!” Ella stopped clawing for a loose rock with her spare hand, collapsing onto the ground with a sigh of relief.  “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Don’t sneak!”

He dipped his head in a mild apology, undermined by the bemused smile on his lips. “What are you doing up here?”

Bristling slightly, Ella countered, “What are you doing up here?”

“Looking for you, obviously.”  Extending a hand, he helped her to her feet with ease. Ella willed her heart to slow down from the frightened gallop it was currently beating out.

“Am I -” she stopped herself abruptly, “Why?”

“I was curious where you have been going,” he admitted honestly, "and Midhiel mentioned they saw you heading toward this old trail."

Ella huffed irritably. “Are you guys spying on me?”

“Why would we do that?” Elrohir's confusion was genuine, his expression reflecting his bewilderment. “You are a child under our care, of course we like to be aware of where you are. I was simply wondering… why you are where you are.”

Sceptical, Ella crossed her arms defensively.  “I’m just walking. And I’m not a child.”

“You walk a lot, lately.  Camaemben says you haven’t been by his kitchens in days.”

Ella stuffed the water bottle into her backpack and reshouldered it. She hadn’t failed to notice he ignored her child comment. “He was worried about getting told off for me going too often,” she said, unsuccessfully keeping the frustration from her tone, “I’m trying to help.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean you to -” Elrohir shook his head, his tone sympathetic, “It matters not. Do not let that stop you from doing what you enjoy.”

“I’m not. I won’t.” Ella turned away and resumed her ascent up the steep climb. She groaned quietly when she realised Elrohir was keeping pace with her.

“You are quite far from the town, and this climb can be dangerous. The shale is prone to be loose, and the stones are sharp.”

Ella felt her well-honed independence chafe against his concern. “I’ll be careful, Elrohir. Don’t you need to check in on Chloe, or something?”

“Chloe does not wander nearly as far as you,” he said, sounding slightly put out, “And she has a guard assigned for her safety. I do not need to worry so much.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, either,”

Elrohir pressed on, his concern unwavering, "And if you were to slip? Or fall?"

“Then I fall. You’ve warned me: it’ll be my fault.” Ella said candidly, then turned to give him a small, placating smile, “I just want to get to the top of this ridge: I think the sunset will look nice. You don’t have to babysit me - I’m sure you’ve got better stuff to do? Didn’t you just get back today?”

Elrohir fixed her with a searching look as she navigated her way carefully through some low shrubs.

“Very well,” he said finally, not disagreeing, she noticed, “if that is what you wish?”

“It is. I can look after myself.” 

Elrohir nodded in acquiescence. Ella watched him go, his light steps carrying him nimbly away with no obvious effort. Easy as that. Tears pricked at her eyes and she rubbed them angrily.

Chapter Text

It was a grey autumn morning, the air chilly and misty, when the long-awaited wizard finally arrived in Imladris. Or at least, she assumed that’s who he was. Ella watched him, from a secluded balcony up in the main house, cross the narrow wall-less bridge without any hint of hesitation at the sharp drop either side. Mairon had not walked into her dreams again last night, so she was up early trying to forget a monstrously sized spider and its many violent, blood thirsty offspring. Unease edged into her thoughts as she wondered what could have kept her enigmatic friend away for so long - it had been days - and she forced herself to stop thinking about it and watch the wizard cross the bridge. There was nothing she could do about it.

As rays of sunlight finally began to peek through the thick clouds, he finished crossing and she could tell even from her position that he was tall like the elves. He wore a grey robe, and carried a long staff in one hand, and a weathered satchel in the other, and a pointy hat crowned his head. Looks kinda of like the sorting hat, she mused. But grey. I’ll have to ask him if he likes muggle sweets.

Ella's heartbeat quickened as his gaze swept over her direction, sending a jolt of surprise through her that nearly toppled her backwards. His gaze was brief, continuing on to the main courtyard, where elves had gathered in welcome and she sighed in relief. Several elves walked swiftly down the steps, their own robes swishing, as the one she assumed was their long-awaited wizard, Mithrandir, grew closer. Elrond emerged from the house’s threshold to descend the steps at a more sedate pace than some of the other elves waited with their barely concealed excitement.

Ella watched long enough to see they knew each other, and were probably friends, before hopping off the balcony and eagerly running through the halls to meet the one she hoped would hold the key to their return back to their world. She skidded to a stop in the bustling courtyard, bare feet momentarily slipping on the smooth stone. 

“Hello! You’re Mithrandir?” she said breathlessly, “You had a story about two people from another land? They got home in the end? How?”

“Ella.” Elrond greeted, his smile indulgent, “Mithrandir is weary from his long travels here. Perhaps we should let him rest before questioning him?”

Mithrandir appeared far from weary, his cheerful blue eyes sparkled with curiosity beneath the wide brim of his hat from a tan and line aged face but Ella offered a nod, albeit a deflated one. “Right. Sorry. I’ll… go find Chloe instead.”

At breakfast, Ella excitedly shared the news of who had finally arrived with Chloe. However it wasn’t until after the late meal that Elrond invited them to speak with the wizard, and Ella did not resist singing “we’re off to see the wizard” under her breath until Chloe was giggling.

The four of them gathered in Lord Elrond’s study around a warm, crackling fire in the hearth. Mithrandir’s hair was as grey and slightly bushy as it was this morning, but he did look much cleaner, and his robes were fresh, another grey set with soft, lighter grey embroidery around the cuffs, so faint she could barely see it. He sat in a large, comfortable chair with a long pipe, blowing fragrant smoke rings - and boats to sail through them. Ella watched him with eyes slightly wide. He is magic, she supposed, maybe it’s a totally normal magic wizard thing to do.

“Lord Elrond has been filling me in on your arrival here, but I would like to hear it in your own words.”

The girls looked at each other. Ella shrugged, gesturing with a hand for Chloe to tell the story of their first days. She played with a loose thread on her cuff, letting the words wash over her - she thought Chloe rather elaborated on their wilderness skills, but the accounting was otherwise accurate. Tiredness pulled at her limbs, encouraged by the cosy fire, making them feel soft and heavy: it had been days since Mairon had visited, and so days since she’d had a full night of undisturbed sleep.

Mithrandir puffed on his pipe and when Chloe wrapped up the story with a flourish, his eyes danced with silent mirth.

“Your tale brings to mind another story, one I know only secondhand, I admit. I can see why Elrond thought the same. Two travellers from a far off land, calling themselves Arthur and Morgaine, spent some time here many years ago, sometime in the early Second Age, as the stories are told.”

Ella frowned. Why do I recognise those names? 

Mithrandir continued on as she puzzled over the familiarity. “Stories tell that they came from far in the East, in Rhûn. They journeyed a great distance before finding their way to Eryn Galen where they engaged with the Silvan elves, long before Oropher joined them and became their king. In time, it is said they departed and returned to their home.”

“That's it?” Chloe, who had been leaning forward eagerly, slumped in defeat. ”That’s what we’ve been waiting around here for months for? They -”

“Chloe -” Ella began.

“- came, they talked to someone, they somehow maybe went home? -” Chloe carried on, incredulous.

“Arthur, Chloe -” Ella tried again.

“- That’s all? Seriously?”

“Chloe -”

"—all this for two lines —"

"—Chloe!" Ella finally shouted, her eyes wide.

“What?”

“What if it’s King Arthur -” 

“You mean like in Merlin?” she scoffed, opened her mouth, closed it again, then held up a single finger, “Wasn’t that woman evil?”

"Merlin is just another retelling of an ancient legend," Ella said, excited, "It dates back... Well I don’t know, but, let’s just say a really long time. It’s really old. Like, maybe even a thousand years."

Elrond and Mithrandir shared small, bemused smiles, which Ella ignored. She couldn’t hold the thought of a thousand years being long ago in her world and the elven lord sat sipping a tea before her probably being several thousand years old in her head at the same time. Are wizards immortal too? Or was he just old, like Dumbledore? Ella gave herself a mental shake. Stay on topic.

“I’m sure I’ve read that she’s been known as all kinds of things, a healer, a queen, a witch… her name changes too. Most of the modern ones call her Morgana right? I mean, it doesn’t really matter. What if they’re the same? What if they came here? What if here is like, Avalon or something?”

“What if it is?”

“They came back!”

“What if they didn’t? He doesn’t really know!”

“I think we’d know if King Arthur just suddenly upped and disappeared. That kind of plot twist wouldn’t just… get lost, Chloe!”

“You just said that no one knows what Morgana was - that’s been lost!”

“Okay, but she existed in the stories. So her role is in question, that’s hardly unique to her - it happens to loads of women in myths and legends and ancient history. Look at Mary Magdalene.”

“Wasn’t she a who- some kind of ancient escort?”

“But was she? She’s also a Saint. Nobody knows. And men wrote all the books so who cares what role a woman played -”

“Surmise to say,” Mithrandir interrupted, “that these travellers may have been from your world. And may have returned, mayhaps from somewhere in Eryn Galen?”

Ella shrugged and bit her lip. “Maybe? I’m just going off some old books I read a couple of years ago. Seems like an awful coincidence though, right? I mean, how common are those names here? Where’s Eryn Galen? Is it a town? A city? Can we go? How far is it? Will the elves there know more about what happened back then?”

“Eryn Galen is also called the Greenwood, it is a great forest some three weeks' ride from Imladris. There is an Elvenking there, known as Thranduil. Oropher was his father.”

Ella bounced excitedly on her seat, “A magic wood! Chloe! It’s gotta be them, it has! There's a magic wood, or a forest or something? In the Arthur legend. I can’t remember what it’s called. It’s like… Broccoli, or Brockland, or something. The detail doesn’t matter -”

“It doesn’t matter?”

“Why would it? It’s a name. It’s a legend that dates back to medieval times, Chloe, it’s not like they had Wikipedia back then, is it?” She turned back to Elrond, grinning, “So can we go? If it’s going to take a few weeks, we better get a move on right?”

Get out from underneath the elves' proverbial feet, get some distance, maybe even get back, there might still be time to enter the January exam retakes  - 
but Elrond held up a hand, stealing her train of thought. 

“It is not so simple as just leaving,” he counselled, “we must speak with Thranduil first: and he is not fond of the race of Men, especially as guests in his Halls.”

“Well, could we just… turn up? Forgiveness over permission?”

“When did young Legolas last see your sons?” Mithrandir interjected, “Perhaps a visit could be suggested?”

Ella had no idea who ‘young Legolas’ was, but she nodded along all the same. Elrond looked into a spot in the middle distance, as the wizard continued, “They were thick as thieves, the last time they were together, as I seem to recall.”

Elrond nodded slowly, “It was some time ago, Mithrandir,”

“All the more reason to arrange a visit, then.”

“Hang on,” Chloe broke in, her face set in a frown, “You said it will take three weeks riding to get there? So if you have to arrange a visit, is that three weeks each way between… letters? Or have you got like, post owls or something?”

“I can speak with King Thranduil over great distances, if he is willing,” Elrond said, “But even if I can convince him to agree, I would not let anyone set off at this time of year unless there was a great danger. Especially two so inexperienced at travelling in the wild.” Elrond shook his head and Ella tried to tamp down the automatic annoyance that rose up her spine at the word let, “Be that as it may, the pass will likely close before you are ready for such a long journey. As soon as the pass is thawed in the spring, at the earliest, then you could depart.”

“But… that’s months away,” Chloe said quietly, “You say that like it’s nothing. We’ve already been here all summer – god knows what’s happened with my classes, my dad probably thinks I’m dead - I want to go home -” She began to cry, putting her face in her hands as her shoulders shook. Elrond moved to sit beside her, offering her comfort and Mithrandir spoke to her gently.

Ella watched them from her own chair, torn between telling the other girl to grow up… and wanting someone to comfort her. Chloe was not the only one being told that any way back was still months away at the absolute earliest, the only one whose life was going to be turned upside down by this inexplicable interlude. And she has a safety net of actual family. Ella dug her nails into the sides of her legs until they bit into the skin. I don’t care, she thought, I do not care. She took a deep breath. And another. And then something occurred to her. Something that Elrond said.

“Hang on.” she said abruptly, “Speak with someone weeks of travel away? If they are ‘willing’?” The air quotes were lost on everyone but Chloe, “But you said you don’t know what phones are? Am I missing something? Oh! Can you like, bamf from one place to another if you know where it is? Or like, elves are… are telepathic? Like, can you read my mind?”

“We cannot bamf,” Elrond said dryly, “and I cannot read your thoughts as you think them,” 

“But can you talk to people in their heads?” Part astonished, part incredulous, part excited, part terrified: she wasn’t sure it was possible to feel this many different things at once. And yet here she was. Superpowered elves, she thought, I’m in a place with elves and superpowers and magic and wizards!

'Yes,' a voice resonated within her mind, distinct and separate from her own and it had sounded like Lord Elrond except that his lips hadn’t moved. It was a sensation unlike any she had experienced before.

“That is brilliant,” she said in awe, and then, as it sank in what had just happened, “And also absolutely terrifying. Please never do that again. What if my brain exploded or something? I’m not an elf! That could be dangerous!”

Elrond smiled, and promised it would not make her brain explode, but she remained wary of the idea and was glad when the rest of the conversation continued verbally. “We call it ósanwe. If Thranduil is open to receiving my thoughts, I may speak with him to arrange your arrival.”

“And if he… isn’t?”

“I will dispatch a messenger with our proposal.”

Chapter Text

“The dreams are… a concern,” Elrond began, his hand hovered briefly over the water jug, then shifted to a decanter of light amber wine from two summers before. Pouring a cup for each of his guests and himself, he distributed the goblets to Glorfindel and Mithrandir. Outside the sky was dark with night, the skies calm and clear letting the stars shine in their beauty, unfiltered by cloud or mist.

Mithrandir acknowledged the wine with a nod of gratitude, “How so?” He asked, his eyes curious, “All beings dream in one manner or another.”

“In all your wandering, have you ever met a child of Man who dreamt of things they have not and cannot have seen? For I have not, not in all my time.” He settled into his own chair, robes draping around him in a quiet shift of fabric with practised ease, he gestured with the glass as he continued, “If we are to accept that they are truely from another world.”

Glorfindel nodded his agreement. “Their turn of phrases are too odd, their lack of skills in many areas too genuine, for me not to believe their stories. Their clothing when they arrived, the mysterious metal trinkets… I have had no reason to doubt their story, since they arrived. It has been over a season and there has been no hint of duplicity.”

“Others have reached the same conclusion,” Elrond sighed, a frown creasing his brow, “Which supports that the dreams Chloe describe depict things she cannot possibly have seen before. A lake town, perhaps could exist in their world. But dragon fire before a sole mountain? Both have confirmed there is no creature like the fire drake in their world. And there have been others: descriptions that bring to mind what can only be orcs, and wargs? Descriptions of the Two Lamps? And a creature that sounds disturbingly like Ungoliant - despite Chloe saying she can think of nothing with a body bigger than her hand?  Armies dressed in gold armour? They say their world has no magic, no creatures other than animals, and their wars do not involve armour such as she described.” Elrond shook his head, his front braids swishly softly. “It concerns me a great deal.”

“You believe she is blessed by the Valar? I have heard that twice already, since my arrival yesterday.”

Elrond sipped his wine, and readied his thoughts. Long had he valued the council of both Glorfindel and Mithrandir, both wise and knowledgeable. “The Valar have long since ceased to interact directly with us. This we know to be true. And yet who else could gift such knowledge?  If it can truly even be called a gift. She does not sleep well, the dreams become dark far more often than light, and I fear how her state of mind will be impacted in the long term. To what end would they do this now? To a girl not yet in her twentieth year?”

“Is it possible the Valar brought them here?”

“That is one theory. And it would follow that whoever bought them here also has a hand in Chloe’s dreams, does it not? And who else could perform such a feat?”

“And the other girl, what purpose does she serve?”

“Perhaps she was merely caught in the wrong place at the wrong time,”

“Or perhaps it will be revealed in due course.” Mithrandir mused, “Who is to say? If they are to travel in the spring to Eryn Galen then let us decide to travel then, and not spin ourselves in circles with needless questions in the time between. Answers will come when they come, we cannot force them if it is not their time to be discovered.”

Elrond tilted his head in acceptance, although he didn’t fully agree… nor did he disagree. His prescience had not given any further hint of foreboding, despite the increase in troll movements, small orc skirmishes and wargs near their borders that had meant more of their guard patrolling more often, including his own sons - who never could resist the urge to reduce orc numbers since their mother suffered at the hands of the foul creatures. The increase had begun as slight but now was significant to be undeniable. But it could just as likely be a coincidence. Perhaps they were merely coming down ahead of winter, or perhaps there was a disturbance further abroad.
“Let us talk about other matters then, my friend. You sound like you are planning to stay until spring?”

Mithrandir smiled around his cup, midway through taking a sip as he was, and nodded affably. “Yes, I think so. It has been some time since we have celebrated amanar together, has it not? And I think I would like to meet this Chloe properly. As you say, if she is truly Valar-blessed it is both wonderful, and worrying. I would get to know her better before the spring thaw opens up the roads again.”

“Excellent!” cried Glorfindel, “It has been far too long. I will tell Erestor and Camaemben to pull more casks of wine, they’ll surely be needed now.”

Elrond smiled and agreed. “Indeed, we never cease to need to trade for more wine and pipe-weed, after a visit from you, my old friend.”

Mithrandir laughed a little and launched into a story about his latest visit to a place called the Shire, and a hobbit he had befriended years ago in her youth named Belladonna Took, who’d had a child since his last visit. A precocious boy named Bilbo, by all accounts. Elrond settled in for a long, enjoyable night.

*

The next morning the sky was bright and clear, a beautiful blue that deserved a song, and the air crisp and invigorating, in the way specific only to autumn. Clearly when breakfast had been set up, the elves from the kitchen had had similar thoughts because all the large doors to the veranda were thrown open, inviting the air inside. A fire was burning heartily on the other side for their guests as well, he nodded approvingly: elves might not feel the cold, but mortals did. Both girls sat on the table closest to the fire, talking with Mithrandir. Knowing Mithrandir’s propensity towards saying whatever he thought of, consequences be damned, Elrond altered his path to join their table after a pause.

“Good morning Chloe, Ella, Mithrandir,” he greeted each in turn cordially, sitting down next to the Istari and helping himself to the pot of prepared tea Mithrandir gestured to.

“Good morning.” The girls both said shyly, almost in unison. Chloe offered him a small smile, but Ella practically shrank, still not overly comfortable in his presence. A fault he could lay at his own feet. He did not often have time to seek out the other girl, for all that he had named both as wards of his house and all responsibilities that should bring with it. Something he should rectify, he thought, despite the other demands on his time, he had managed it for one - he should do so for both.

“I was just arranging to speak more with Chloe, later this afternoon.” Mithrandir explained, as he spread an inordinate amount of butter on his bread. Elrond saw Ella’s eyes widen at the size of the slab being spread thickly across.

“Not just to discuss her nightmares, of course,” he continued, “where there is darkness, there must also be light, hm? Someone once told me ‘chase your dreams and your nightmares will grow tired of chasing you’ so I think perhaps we must speak more of your dreams under the bright, hopeful sun shining in the sky outside today.”

Chloe nodded happily - probably seeing the older being as his affable, grandfatherly persona that he was so endeared with - and Elrond's eyes slid to the other girl, quiet at her side and secreting an apple into the bag in her lap. It was a curious habit, one that they’d noted early on, but there was no shortage of food and no reason for it to be bought up. There was a set to her jaw that spoke of tension, her shoulders just a little tight to his eye, but to what end he did not know her well enough to guess. Anxiety for her friend, perhaps? Or jealousy, mayhaps. 

“And you, Ella, what are your plans for this day?” he asked her. She paused in reaching for the water pitcher for a moment, then wordlessly offered to fill everyone’s glasses. He passed in favour of tea, as did Mithrandir, but Chloe nodded and pushed her own empty cup forwards.

“Don’t know, it's nice outside… probably the same as every day, I guess.” She shrugged and finished filling the cups. 

Shrugging. Such a habit of the young. Praise be to Eru that all three of his children had largely ceased the habit after several centuries.

“Ah yes, Glorfindel is back from patrol at the moment, I’m sure he would be happy to have you back at the training grounds. He enjoys teaching anyone willing to learn.”

“He’s a… patient teacher,” she agreed and took a large, noticeable breath as if preparing herself. “Lord Elrond, could I, I mean, would it be okay to…”

Elrond paused in preparing his plate - there were some delicious preserved cherries out today that he was particularly partial to - and waited for the girl to finish. It took a moment, but she eventually took another breath, looking annoyed at herself, and continued speaking at speed.

“Can I go into the library? Am I allowed? I mean, in our world we have libraries anyone can go and borrow a book from but here your books aren’t all books are they? And it’s not like you have a printer tucked away right or Amazon for quick replacements and I don’t mean I want to borrow one but I thought maybe I could go inside and I try to learn how to read since we’ll be here some time more and -”

“I see no problem with that,” he interrupted, lest the girl continue much longer without air, “The library here is open to any who seek knowledge. You wish to learn to read Sindarin?”

Her shoulders slumped in relief as she admitted, “I thought I’d try.”

“An excellent idea,” said Mithrandir, a fellow scholar of lore, appreciatively.

Ella ducked her head and quickly bid them goodbye, saying she should head down to the training grounds if she was going to join them today. 

*

With hesitant steps, Ella crossed the threshold of the library, her heart pounding with an equal mix of excitement and nerves as she advanced slowly further into the previously unattainable space. It was unlike any library she’d ever been to before. Wood panels scaled the high walls until they met a smooth domed ceiling, and as seemed to be common here, the outer wall featured very tall windows. There wasn’t a carpet tile or plastic dust jacket in sight.

Where she was used to rows of uniform racks filled with books, all varying in height and depth but generally following the same patterns, here the books were vast, and varied, and not even all books. She spied neat stacks of manuscripts and carefully arranged scrolls, row upon row of them, as well. She could see some books that were no bigger than her hand and others that were great tombs, easily bigger than her head. Did they have fairy tales? Did they have romantic tragedies? Comedies? Was there an Elvish Shakespeare? Did they have thrillers, and horror stories? Did they have myths? She doubted they had a young adult section. Her fingers itched to explore the spines and see what they were all about, what stories they had here, but then stilled. She’d yet to find any writing in this world she could read. Their alphabet was completely different, something they called Tengwar, and she’d no clue how to read it, had no idea what each symbol sounded like, let alone started and ended. There could be droves of literary treasures here and, as of right now, she had no idea where to start. 

“Yes?”

Ella just about jumped out of her skin. I need to add bells to their shoes, she thought. An elf, tall and dark haired like so many of the elves of Imladris, sat at one of the large, wooden desks to the side of the doorway and was looking over at her with an unreadable expression. His pale skin shone in the filtered sunlight as he raised one strong, dark eyebrow in question. She recognised him as Erestor, one of Elrond’s advisors, but she’d had no cause to speak with him overmuch before now.

Embarrassed at being caught out, Ella managed to emit a rather nervous, high-pitched squeak before finding her voice. Then she cleared her throat, and tried again. “Hi. Um. I want to learn to read? I mean, I can read, but I can’t read Sindarin. Do you know where I should… start?”

Erestor's inscrutable gaze remained fixed on her. He stood gracefully, walking purposefully over to the shelves against the far wall and disappearing into the stack on the right. Ella waited nervously on her spot. Was he going to get something to help her? Or did he want her to leave? Was that a dismissal? She fidgeted and toyed with the idea of backing out of the room and never mentioning the whole embarrassing thing to anybody. She was starting to turn around, back towards the doorway, when Erestor reemerged, holding a book bound in deep green leather, easily twice the size of one of her own hands. He held it out to her expectantly and gestured to one of the small armchairs nearby.
“This is a basic reader we’ve used with children in the past. Sit down, and I will talk you through the alphabet on the first page.”

Ella found herself sinking into the chair, suppressing the burn of embarrassment as it tinted her cheeks. “Oh no, it’s fine,” she began, her words stilted with unease, “I don’t want to be a bother -”

“Sit, please.” he said tersely. “How else will you begin? It will take longer if you insist on talking around asking for help, instead of just accepting it when it is offered.”

Ella swallowed her hesitations and nodded. She sat in the closest chair, clasping the book tightly, “Right,” she said, forcing resolve into her tone. “Thanks, then.”

He turned out to be quite patient, which surprised her, given his initial greeting. He wasn’t overly chatty, but Ella didn’t mind that. She’d learnt long ago that a tendency towards short sentences, or to steer away from idle chatter, didn’t make a person unfriendly, or mean they didn’t have anything to say. She listened carefully as he read the full alphabet, and then as he split them into vowels and consonants, and then further still, and then he showed her the first words in the book, asking her to read him the letters. 
After she read back the third word again (it was their written word for the sun, apparently), he tapped the first page with a hint of encouragement. “Practise the glyphs in these words," he directed. "When you have memorised them and can recognise them on sight, then we can delve into more words and refresh the relevant sounds in the alphabet.”

“Thanks a lot, Erestor,” Ella smiled warmly, her enthusiasm genuine. “This… this is brilliant, thank you.”

“You are most welcome. I have other things to attend to now - I expect you to practise.”

Ella nodded emphatically. He swept out of the library, robes billowing impressively behind him in a manner that reminded her of Severus Snape, and she grinned and focused her attention back on the book before her. She fully intended to study the letters until she could read them without thinking as quickly as possible.

Back home, no matter where she’d been placed, she always sought out the local library, ever since she found out she was allowed to borrow the books for free. That she hadn’t had a book stuffed into her backpack the day of the orienteering class continued to haunt her - would she ever find out how Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow ended? She’d never pick up her reserved copy of Heir of Fire, either.  She had never gone so long without reading anything. It chafed a little. 

It wasn’t quite the same as curling up with a novel, but learning the letters would at least start her in the right direction, she reasoned. And it wasn’t like she absolutely was not trying to avoid thinking about Chloe’s special meetings with the wizard. Definitely not. I do not care. She shoved down on the feelings ruthlessly and repeated the letters of the word in front of her back again, reminding herself that whilst it meant the same as ‘sun’ that wasn’t what the letters said. It wasn’t ‘sun’ written in a different language, it was the equivalent word written in a different language.  She thumped her palm against her head.
But she was curious about the meetings. About Chloe’s nightmares too - Ella had bad dreams all the time, but they were just that. There was no purpose to them. Would it feel better if they were for a reason? Or is a cigarette just a cigarette, or whatever that saying is. Am I seriously jealous over terrifying nightmares? She groaned at herself, and then stopped quickly because it sounded extremely loud in the peaceful quiet of the library. But what made Chloe’s special? Different? How did they know? What made Ella’s just run-of-the-mill scary dreams? She huffed, and forced herself to read the next word again, the equivalent of ‘moon’. I don’t care, I will not care, she reminded herself. I cannot care. I do not care.

She stayed late at the library, until her eyes and brain felt tired and wrung out from the reading, and her body remembered its aches from training in the morning, forgotten for a time in her nervousness and excitement. Her bare footsteps were quiet down the empty stone corridors as she traced a route back to her room. She was nearly there when Glawaril found her, her concerned expression instantly easing into relief.

“Lady Ella, here you are!”

“Here I am.” Ella agreed, and smiled warily, “Are you alright?”

“I was going to ask you the same. I was worried when you didn’t come to get changed before the late meal. Where have you been?”

“The library,” she confessed, and forced her tense shoulders back down from where they’d crept up at having someone question where she’d been. “It’s not a big deal, is it?”

Glawaril waved away her concerns and motioned for Ella to walk beside her. Their footsteps fell in sync as they headed toward Ella's room.  "No, of course not. I was simply concerned, that is all."

“You don’t need to worry about me, Glawaril.”

“And yet I shall, Lady Ella, for who else will? You are in this world alone.” The elf turned to look at Ella, her gaze light despite the girl’s tone, “Do you wish me to fetch you a tray from the kitchens? You have missed the food in the hall.” 

“I was just going to wash and drop, to be honest -” Ella's stomach rumbled at the thought of food, betraying her.

Glawaril fixed her with a reproachful look, prompting Ella to quickly add, “Fine - but I’ll go myself. I haven’t seen Camaemben or Filiher recently. Do you think they will still be there?”

The elleth’s demeanour softened at her quick turnabout, “It is likely at least Camaemben will be preparing the dough for the morning bread, at least. Come, let us get you cleaned up quickly. If you wish to surely catch him there is no time for a bath,” she lamented, “so let us put that off ‘till tomorrow.”

Ella decided not to point out that she had already planned to get clean before turning in. She knew Glawaril liked to treat both she and Chloe like they were much younger than they were - or perhaps it was that she could not help it, given she was at least a thousand years old- and between the tired ache in her limbs and the heavyweights that had attached themselves to her eyelids, having someone force the issue was probably needed. Still, a quick change and an equally quick visit to see Camaemben was still manageable. Besides, there was always the allure of his secret stash of her favourite shortbread biscuits.

As they entered the room, Glawaril fussed over Ella until she was washed, changed into fresh clothes and yawning, savouring the unfamiliar sensation of care and attention. When the elf tutted at her hair and reached for a brush, Ella danced out of her way.
“There’s no need to tut,” she said, her lips quirking into a wry grin, “I’m going to get something to eat, not prance about with foreign dignitaries or whatever it is Chloe’s doing.”

“If you would let me just -”

“Nope, not today.” Ella sang, laughing and dodging out of the reach of the elf’s fingers once more to escape through the door, pulling her hair into its customary tie as she went and checking it was low and loose over her ears. 

Glawaril's soft laugh followed her out of the room as she too made for the door, "Very well, Lady Ella.” she called out, “Enjoy your meal, and do try to get some rest."

Chapter Text

The days meandered on, alternating between a slow trickle and an unexpected sprint, in the odd timeless way that they had for the whole summer. Amidst them, Mithrandir became a common sight. Whenever rumour reached him that Chloe was having troubling dreams again he would appear, his blue eyes kind and enigmatic, offering advice and solace and reassuring words. Ella watched from the sidelines, keeping out of the way, and passed her time as she did before the arrival of the wizard, generally pretending that there wasn’t a wizard staying nearby. 

Her evenings were notably different now, taken up by her desire to learn to read in the strange world they’d found themselves still in. The library became another sanctuary, the scents of ancient parchment and aged leather as relaxing as a heavy drum solo. She found her way there most evenings, and occasionally in the middle of the night as well when she was unable to sleep because of the images her imagination never failed to conjure when Mairon wasn’t there to stop them.

The Sindarin alphabet gradually became more than an arrangement of odd looking symbols that she had to carefully trace in her mind's eye each and every time, and sank itself into her memory. Except for two pairs of letters that she just couldn’t seem to distinguish from each other that kept tripping her up, she committed the rest to memory.

Erestor was often busy elsewhere, but Ella was certain it was he who kept leaving out scrolls and books like the first one he’d found for her. They kept turning up, placed ostentatiously on the edge of her favourite seat. In return she had taken to leaving everything exactly as she found it, and whenever she arrived at the library and saw him working at one of the grand desks, she would quickly stop, pivot on her heel and hurry to the kitchens to fetch a pot of tea. She never filled it much more than half full (finding early on that it spilled too easily if she filled it any more), then she would quietly place it on his desk without a word, so as to keep her disturbance to a minimum. It became an unspoken ritual, the leaving of books and the fetching of tea, but Ella hoped it meant the solemn, snippy elf didn’t overly mind her presence in his space.

All of it together meant that, not entirely by accident, neither girl had seen the other at breakfast for over a week, and only sporadically before that for some time. So Ella was surprised when Chloe sat down and turned to her expectantly one morning.

"What you doing later?"

“I was going to help in the kitchens?” Admittedly curious, Ella studied the other girl to see if she could guess her angle. She couldn’t. “Why?” She drew out the last word as if she were seven, not seventeen.

“Want to come for a run? Feel like we’ve not seen each other properly in ages.”

“Sure, but,” Ella scratched a phantom itch on her nose, “are you allowed?”

“Yeah, it’s not like that,” she replied, “someone will just keep an eye on me while we’re out there.”

A fleeting, unexpected thought emerged in Ella's mind. Is she sleeping with one of her minders? The other girl certainly looked smug enough - but she dismissed it just as quickly. She’d yet to hear of any late night fumbles or one-night-stands from the more gossip-inclined elleth on laundry day.* Although they might just be saying it in Sindarin, she mused, gonna have to find out what the good words are. Her list of words had grown, but she could read more than she could say, or decipher at speech-speed. That was largely based around food and fighting. Ella hummed a reply around a mouthful of yoghurt. I need to learn some of the more interesting verbs and nouns.

“Ok, that’s weird,” she said, threading humour into her comment to try and soften the sarcasm she knew Chloe rarely appreciated,  “but yeah I can be free. When’re you leaving?”

*

Running on Arda wasn’t the same as running on Earth. Ella would give all the shortbread biscuits in the world for a good sports bra, for example, but as she double checked the binding wrapped around her chest, she supposed it was better than nothing. Likewise: shoes. There was no such thing as running shoes here, just choices like soft-soled boots, or hard-soled boots? Dainty slippers or barefoot? 

Ever since her time in the Walking Boots of Doom, Ella preferred to go barefoot (much to Glawaril’s chagrin), but she hadn’t braved running barefoot, yet. Especially in winter. She was probably making some big assumptions, assuming the days and months were the same but by her rough guess it was probably mid-winter - and baring her toes to the chilled ground sounded like a recipe for frostbite.

Ella pulled on the soft-soled boots that the elves here favoured, over stockinged feet (also: no socks) and double-checked she was in her most well-worn breeches and long-sleeved tunic. There was a bitter cold breeze earlier, and she didn't fancy having it on her bare arms, even if she was going to get horribly sweaty. 

“Are you ready?” she called out, knocking on Chloe’s door. The door swung open after a moment and revealed Chloe in a similar state, but with much nicer hair complete with tidy braids to keep it out of her face.

“I was born ready.” The other girl quipped. Ella barked out a short laugh despite herself and gestured for her to lead the way.

“Know where you want to go?”

Chloe nodded, taking them outside via the shortest route. Ella looked up as they skipped quickly down the first step - where this morning the sky had been quite clear, now, thick grey clouds blocked the sun, and the cold breeze had picked up to something with a much stronger bite. Storm’s comin’, Ani.

Ella dallied on the steps, eyed the clouds with a frown.

“Come on, keep up!” 

She has minders, worst case scenario, they have to rush in and rescue us from what? Rain? 

Ella nodded to herself and sprinted to catch up, settling into a steady jog in line with Chloe as they made their way out of the main houses and out into the more open spaces.

“Who’s your babysitter today?” she asked, when they reached the wide track that led out to the farms in the valley.

Chloe pouted, “Not a babysitter,” she muttered, but cast a quick look back to see an elf on horseback some distance away, but close enough they could be reached quickly at a gallop. “It’s Morfind,” she waved back to the elf, “he does the afternoons.”

Ella shook her head, unable to wrap her head around having a minder. Glorified babysitter, more like. Elrond had ordered it after the Orinan Incident, despite the Dúnedain and the other guests leaving. Since Chloe was having visions instead of dreams, or something along those lines, and had nearly been kidnapped, it did seem like a good idea, especially after the near-incident in Bree. Ella was just glad no one paid her too much attention - especially after she spent much of the summer and autumn days exploring and mapping the paths, in case she wanted, or needed, to leave.

It wasn’t long before the weather turned and the wind that she’d been hoping would push away the clouds, picked up to a harsh, fierce one instead, bringing with it far darker clouds that must have crept closer while they weren’t looking. These clouds were near black, and made the afternoon feel like evening. And they were far enough away that it wasn’t going to be a quick sprint to get inside.

“Maybe we should head back?” Ella asked, wincing as the wind whipped across her skin. It had swapped directions in the last five minutes and it was not for the better. Morfind cantered up to them, a frown creasing his features.

“We should return, the weather turns foul.”

“Great minds, Morfind, great minds,” Ella tapped her head with a finger and pointed to his own, but he looked blankly back at her, obviously not understanding the reference. Chloe glared at her, breathing heavily. Ella felt a little proud of herself for feeling fine - the consistent daily time with the guards was finally paying off.

Ella took the time to observe Morfind, and Chloe, more closely. He wasn’t as blonde as her usual type, but his hair was far more sandy chestnut than black, his skin olive toned in a way that reminded Ella of the Mediterranean, and his eyes were a beautiful sea green uncommon among most of the elves here. She was so accustomed to their ethereal appearance she could almost skip over his blemish free, perfect skin, fine features and natural grace. She tried to figure out how old he was, instead: she knew from her sessions at the salle, and the idle chatter of some of the guards, that he was older rather than younger, and had been in the guard longer than Elladan and Elrohir. Ella wondered if he was old enough to have seen ancient Rome. He barely spared either of them a second glance, however, as his eyes returned to scanning the horizon. Nor did Chloe’s gaze linger, her skin flush, or a fidget betray her. Probably not smexing each other, she reasoned, or did months ago and it was so bad all sexual tension died a death?

“It does look like it’s about to -” Chloe sighed dramatically as the first few drops fell from the sky, “- rain.” 

The initial slow drops of rain quickly turned into a deluge and when they waved Morfind off at the stables, it was falling in heavy, relentless sheets of freezing water that soaked through the thin layers of their tunics and leggings like they were paper. Chloe was even worse off, having twice slipped in the mud. Her left side was quite literally head to toe coated in mud.

They trudged up the final steps, utterly miserable. Ella looked down at her soaked boots and tried to quell the panic that rose like bile in her throat at the thought that she’d just destroyed her gifted boots. Chloe squeezed water out of her hair with filthy, trembling hands as they took a brief shelter under the overhanging stone canopy of the door, but Glawaril opened it behind them before more than a few seconds had passed, beckoning them both inside. 

She threw a woollen blanket over each of their shoulders and urged them through to their rooms, regardless of their wet trail, scolding them for being outside in such weather. 

“I had a bath drawn for each of you,” she continued, “come, we must get you out of these wet clothes and warm again as soon as we can.”

Chloe's involuntary shiver blanket underscored her words. Ella pulled hers up over her head like a hood, putting up with the loss of warmth on her lower back if it meant getting her head even minutely less cold. She rubbed her ears through the blanket, trying to rub the stinging chill from them but it was like her head had been doused in ice water- and then put in a freezer.

They reached Chloe’s room first, and Glawaril ushered the pale, shivering girl across the threshold. When she turned to speak to Ella, Ella waved her on and dashed into her own, desperate for the warm bath that awaited her inside.

Inside, Ella peeled herself out of the unpleasantly wet clothes that kept clinging to her body whenever she tried to tug them away, and dropped them into a sad, muddy puddle in the large basin she usually used for washing her face in the morning. A problem for tomorrow’s Ella, she promised, this Ella wants to be warm, only warm. She climbed into the still steaming bath with a sigh, letting the heat of it warm her skin and banish the cold tendrils that had wrapped themselves around her limbs. She sank as far as her chin, feeling the chill slowly retreat, knowing that she could simply dip her head lower, lean back and be under the water but not even the sting in her ears could encourage her to do so.

*

In a surprise to exactly no one, Chloe woke up the next day with a bad cold, causing Glawaril to fret. Ella could hear the elf’s dismayed cry from her own room, and the elf shortly came rushing in to fret over her too, fearing they would both develop fevers, sicken, and die. Apparently, that was a thing here: and antibiotics were not. Ella, however, felt like she’d escaped the cold, but found herself grappling with ears that ached with  a throbbing discomfort. 

“How did this happen?” Elrond asked, openly concerned as he scrutinised the reddened patches on her skin all over her ears, tip of her nose and across the tops of cheeks.

Seated upon one of the beds in the main ward, Ella found herself under Glawaril's concerned (and slightly overbearing) escort, the elf's insistence overriding her initial reluctance.  She struggled to keep her knees still, a growing urge to fidget spiralling higher and higher with someone so close to her head. I've seen how strong the guards are -

She stopped the thought.

“I think it was the wind?” she replied with a wince, and tried not to flinch too hard at how close the healer was. She suppressed the instinct to recoil, though Elrond's touch had been gentle and sparing, even more so when she failed to hide the stiffening of her shoulders as he moved her hair out of the way. She tried to force her shoulders down, to effect a calm facade, but her breath came tighter and shorter the more she tried.

“I meant the scarring, here.”

“Oh, that,” her breath caught in her throat, her heartbeat raced so fast she might as well have been running. She subtly edged away, hoping he wouldn’t notice and shook her hair back into place, covering her scarred ears. She ran her fingers through it in a bid to both calm her nerves and provide herself with something to focus on. “That’s old, don’t worry about it.” she reassured, the smile that followed was small, deliberately crafted to hold a semblance of truth. Afterall, they were old, and she was happy it was long, long ago. “D’you want me to take that remedy you were talking about up to Chloe?”

“Very well,” he said, sounding no less concerned than he did before. He contemplated her for a moment, his brow furrowing before he spoke again. “That would be most helpful. However, please wait a moment while I fetch a salve for you, first.”

“Sure thing,” she agreed, slipping off the bed, “Thanks Lord Elrond.”

He waved her off and retreated into the nearest supply room, giving her time to collect herself. She took advantage of the moment to tend to her hair, checking it covered them, however much it irritated the sore skin there, and forcing her thoughts away from the memory of how she got the scars in the first place. It doesn’t matter, it’s over, she reminded herself, and started reciting the Sindarin letter sounds she’d been memorising.

*

Chloe’s room was dim and warm when Ella crept inside after a perfunctory knock, holding the small green glass bottle tightly. It looked like something Alice might have found in Wonderland.

“You awake?” she called out quietly, looking at the lumpy form beneath the blankets, “I’ve got some more medicine from Elrond,” she added in a sing-song voice, her words aimed at the vague outline.

An arm waved up from the blankets and gestured weakly to the pale wood stool that had been placed next to the bed.

"Why’m I the only one sick?" The question hung in the air like a cloud of curiosity wrapped in frustration, Ella imagined she could see in above the bed, all thick and puffy and yellow.

Ella smothered a smile as she then thought about the old Friends sitcom with the nasally girlfriend and tried for something more sympathetic. "Better immune system?" Ella mused, placing the glass bottle on the stool as Chloe fought to rise, the unusual paleness of her skin contrasting with a flush on her cheeks. "Or maybe I’ll come down with it in the next day or so."

“I hope so,” Chloe said, coughing shortly into a handkerchief and sounding exhausted, “this sucks.”

Which one? Ella resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “If it helps, I’ve like, wind burnt my skin or something? My cheeks and my ears sting like a bitch, and I have to rub some kind of home-made salve on them… which stings more.”

“Really? I didn’t.”

“Wanna swap?”

Chloe sniffed. “Maybe.”

“The way they’re all running around like headless chickens I thought you’d be like… sicker.”

“I am sick -”

“Sick-er. Like is this not a ‘take some lemsips and painkillers and keep your head down’, kinda cold?” 

Chloe's shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug, “I feel like crap. Everything aches. My head’s stuffy. My nose’s stuffy. I’m all hot and cold. And you want me to feel worse?”

“No, Chlo’ that’s not -”

“How do I have to feel to be sick enough -”

Ella quickly held up her hands placatingly and nodded towards the green bottle. “Okay it came out wrong. Elrond says this will help your sinuses and fever, though. He said to take it -” 

Chloe wasted no time, immediately reaching for the bottle, popping the stopper, and downing its contents.

“- over the course of the day.”

Whatever colour there was left in her face disappeared.

"I’ll go find someone and ask about drinking all the tonic, shall I?" Ella suggested, sensing the need for a quick retreat. With that, she left the room quickly to track down Elrond or one of the other elves she saw in the healing ward.

She hastened through the halls, berating herself for what she’d said. She hadn’t actually meant to say she should be sicker. Foot, mouth, chew, Ella? But she’d never really been encouraged to stay in bed before, not for a fever mild enough to still be sitting up and talking through, anyway. She could practically hear the voice of her first case worker in her head even now, telling her she couldn’t afford to miss any school with her assessment scores. It doesn’t matter, she reminded herself, I do not, cannot, care. They’d get back eventually, and none of this would even matter.

She walked straight into a tall, fabric draped figure stepping out of another room.

“Shit! Sorry! Sorry, I wasn’t -”

“It’s quite alright,” said Mithrandir, straightening his long robes, “I would be equally at fault, would I not?”

“Uh -”

He smiled, wrinkles creasing his lined face. Ella tried to picture a pair of half moon spectacles on his face. “Do you know - I mean - Chloe drank the whole bottle Lord Elrond gave her straight away. Is that bad?”

“For her illness?” he clarified, pushing his hair from his face. She had rarely seen him in his hat since his arrival - maybe it was only for travelling? Or maybe he was old, and forgetful, and kept leaving it in places?

“I guess so?”

“She will come to no harm, it was to aid her comfort. Any medicines to address her temperature I think he would have a healer give her.”

“Phew,” she said, pretending to wipe sweat off her brow. The wizard looked amused. She decided to brave one more question, because if elves and wizards were real she really couldn’t be certain of anything and this person secretly being Dumbledore didn’t feel that far out of the realms of possibility. “Do you like sweets?”

Yeah I deserve that look. She could never be a spy: subtlety was not her strong suit.

“I am partial to sweet desserts,” he said slowly, “do you happen to have one in your pocket?”

“Afraid not, I was just…wondering,” she said lamely, “is there such a thing as phoenix’s here?”

“And what is a phoenix?”

That probably answers my question. She described them anyway, and he shook his head, increasing her confidence that this was not a secret headmaster of a secret school for witches and wizards somewhere in time or space. Unfortunately, he probably thought she was a bit weird.

Chapter Text

A few days later, Chloe had managed to defy the elves' worst fears and proved that it was in fact, just a bad cold. She was soon back to her usual activities - if a little cooler towards Ella.

You’ve only got yourself to blame. Mairon's words echoed in her mind. He’d told her, repeatedly, how disappointed he was in how she’d handled the encounter in the nights since. There wasn’t much she could do to change it, so it just weighed on her, a mistake tied around her neck. She had quite the collection. As the days continued their inevitable slide, growing increasingly colder and shorter, Chloe kept her distance. On the chance encounters that they saw each other outside of meal times, Chloe managed to excuse herself within seconds, as if she’d already meticulously planned her escape routes.

But then the snow arrived. On a crisp morning after a night of heavy flurries, the world outside was covered in a thick, frosty blanket as far as the eye could see. It was by far the most snow Ella had ever seen. She stood in her room, looking out the window and contemplating the idea of squeezing on a second pair of stockings under her (thankfully saved from the rain) boots. The allure of warmth warred with the probable discomfort, but not quite overriding the memory of the last pair of uncomfortable boots she’d forced her feet to endure. She was still undecided when Chloe burst into the room. She ran through the door, without knocking, squealing excitedly and sounding more like a child than someone who was supposed to be going to university.

“Knock, much?” Ella quipped, both amused and exasperated as she arched an eyebrow at Chloe.

“Did you see the snow?” Chloe was wholly unrepentant in her enthusiasm, but Ella was not quite ready to forget the cold shoulder she’d been receiving until now.

“Oh! Is that what the white stuff piled up in the windows is?” Ella tried to feign nonchalance, eyes rolling dramatically, “Yeah I noticed it.”

“I’ve never seen so much! Oh my god - do you think they build snowmen here?”

“How old are you again?”

Chloe pushed her on the shoulder, a small scowl scrunching her delicate features. Ella deftly finished lacing up her boots, finally deciding on the trade-off between warmth and comfort, and settling on comfort, “Snowelves, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Chloe replied, her expression mirroring the anticipation in her voice. “I’ll see if Thenidiel wants to go-”

“Isn’t she the one whose brother is friends with Merilimben?” Ella interrupted, her words punctuated with a mischievous grin she didn’t even try to keep off of her face.

Chloe paused, her innocent demeanour almost unnaturally still for about two seconds too long. "So?" she finally responded, trying to sound casual.

Ella's grin turned more devious. “Hey if you get a little cold and need warming up, it’d be good if he was there, right?”

Chloe's smile mirrored Ella's mischievousness. Maybe she'd done enough to thaw the cold in their proto-friendship? The promise of a winter adventure seemed to ease away some of the frostiness either way, so she took it as a win.

As they made their way into the dining hall, both of them noticed that today's colder temperatures barely seemed to faze the elves. The only concession to the change in season Ella had seen was for some to adopt a slightly thicker fabric for their clothing choices, and that seemed to be more for the aesthetic than requirement. Meanwhile, she was already wondering if she was going to regret wearing just one pair of stockings (and missing thermal socks while she was at it).

Despite the cold that bit at her nose and cheeks, Ella grinned just as wide as Chloe as they took a deliberate detour, tramping through the snow with exaggerated lunges. The thrill of the snow under their feet had them giggling within moments and the infectious, giddy feeling lasted all the way through a hasty breakfast and until she joined the guards at the training grounds, shivering but happy, hands stuffed under her armpits for warmth. I need a hat! And tomorrow - two pairs of socks. Screw my feet . The thought flitted through as she eyed Uilossiel enviously. The elf stood in the middle of the cleared outdoor space looking completely nonplussed by the snow: her boots didn’t even look wet.

Curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she wandered over. “How come elves don’t feel the cold?” Ella asked, slightly perturbed, mostly jealous.

“By the time we reach our majority, we have a higher tolerance for nearly everything. It is just how we are.”

Uilossiel's response was matter-of-fact, and it intrigued Ella. “Nearly everything?” She  pushed.

The elf's grin broadened. She gestured towards the guards completing rigorous stretches despite the snowy landscape. “Well,” Uilossiel admitted, “no one can tolerate Elrohir’s jokes.”

A sudden smack of something cold and wet against Ella's face made her momentarily forget the cold, her surprise turning into a burst of sound somewhere between a scream and a laugh. A second wet smack sounded a moment later, making Uilossiel wipe the back of her head. The girl was torn between smirking or shock for all of one second before another snowball hit her square between the shoulder blades.

Ella ducked and formed a snowball of her own and Uilossiel followed suit, a wide smile on her face. "I believe they are behind the trees on our left. On two, ready?" the elf instructed.

Ella nodded eagerly, and on the count of two, she and Uilossiel launched their snowballs in the indicated direction. Ella's aim missed, but Uilossiel's snowball hit true, eliciting a good-natured groan from Sírben. The fight that ensued was far sillier than Ella expected it to be - she was expecting more strategy, and less childish giggling, for a start, but the elves played like children. They moved on top of the snow with an ease that bewildered her, and she was nowhere near as fast, having to push through the inches of powdery snowfall, but she was laughing just as much.

Nothing else got done. The snowball fight consumed everyone's attention, causing time to blur as allies and opponents shifted in the chaotic exchange of snowballs. But eventually, the sound of a horn blown by Elladan brought the game to a stop. Ella peeked over the top of her hastily constructed snow wall  (it was mostly drift, but she’d take what she could get). She was greeted by the sight of Elladan staring straight at her.

“Time to warm up,” he called, “we’ve called a ceasefire.”

“It’s not finished?” Ella struggled up over the makeshift barrier, trying not to let her teeth chatter. I need to learn how they walk on snow! So bloody cool!

“Nay, I think we will work on strategy more until we break for the mid-meal,” Elladan explained, shaking his head with an apologetic smile. “But you are finished -”

“What! Why!”

He gave her an empathetic, if knowing, look that made her feel about five, “You are cold, Ella. I can hear your teeth chattering from here! It is time for you to get dry, and warm.”

Despite her resolve, Ella couldn't deny the shivers that racked her frame - but she could ignore them. Mairo’s frequent digs about not learning anything too threatening rang in her ears. “I’m fine - this is fun! I could learn strategy too.”

“No,” he said firmly, raising a hand to silence any further argument. “You must go inside. If I let you stay out any longer I will be on Glawaril’s bad side, for certain. I do not wish to earn her ire.”

“I can handle Glawaril -”

“And if you become sick? Like young Chloe before? No, I will not move on this.” he said it gently, but there was an undertone as unyielding as stone underneath, “There will be snow again, before the winter is through.”

Ella set her jaw stubbornly, but the effect was ruined when she shivered, and she knew it. “You’re treating me like a child,” she mumbled, not a little petulantly.

“I do not mean to,” Elladan responded sincerely, his features softening, and then he offered a wry smile. “Sometimes I do need to act my age.”

She offered a small smile in return, trying to ignore the sting of being ordered around out of the (admittedly cold) fun. Right, a thousand years old guy from an alien species, not a mate , she reminded herself.

“Go practise your reading, nethig . In dry clothes. By a fire. With something warm to drink.”

“Elladan! I’m not actually a child!” Despite her protest however, she started hiking through the now well-trod snow back towards the main house until something occurred to her. She turned to look at him suspiciously. “What is it you keep calling me?”

“Nethig?”

“Yeah, not rude is it?”

Elladan grinned, his eyes alight with mischief. “It means little girl, or little sister sometimes.”

“I’m not little !” she cried in outrage,

“So I heard,” Elladan said, unrepentantly, “but didn’t you think that elves grew from the ground?”

“Shut up,” she groaned. How have they not forgotten that yet? How! “You could just call me ‘Ella’ you know. It’s my name and everything.”

“I could,” he said agreeably, “now go inside and get warm, nethig .”

Ella gaped at him - the audacity - spinning and marching quickly all the way back to her room to change, muttering to herself and ignoring the laughter she could hear behind her. She was absolutely not thinking about the tentative, bubbling feeling of hope and belonging the nickname had triggered.

*

Four snowball fights, two snow forts, one poor attempt at an igloo, and one slightly better one, and two snow elf making lessons passed before the snow retreated to the upper mountain ranges, leaving frost behind beneath magnificent, clear, cold blue skies in its wake. 

Ella was sipping a cup of hot water and practising her appalling tengwar writing skills on a slate, warming her toes under an extra blanket after a morning of dual sword drills. Chloe worked diligently in the armchair next to her, embroidering a sash of fabric. Despite the cold of the winter season, the snow had thawed Chloe’s annoyance with Ella.

A cosy, crackling fire danced and flickered in the hearth of the quaint sewing room Chloe had taken to occupying. The weariness of the previous night stealthily crept up on Ella, tugging at her eyelids, inviting her to surrender to sleep, encouraged by the warmth.

“The party tonight sounds good, don’t you think?”

Ella jerked awake, spilling water and dropping her chalk. “What?”

“The party,” Chloe repeated slowly, “it sounds amazing.”

“It sounds like a big deal, their solstice.” Ella agreed carefully, setting her slate down on the floor and drying off with the edge of the blanket. It was the one from her room, one that Glawaril had dropped off nonchalantly as soon as the temperatures started to drop and the unthinking kindness of it had made Ella stop and stare at it for a full minute. It was a multitude of greens that reminded her of the fields further into the valley, and filled with some kind of down that gave it a heavy, luxurious feel. She added, after a moment, “I wasn’t planning on going.” 

“What?” Chloe asked, pausing. Her hand hovered over the array of colours next to her, having been about to select a new thread.

“There’s no Dúnedain here at the moment, not even a Ranger.” Ella explained patiently, “We’re the only humans as far as I know.”

Chloe made a gesture with her needle-holding hand, encouraging her to hurry up. Ella sighed.

“Don’t you think we might… stick out?”

“More than we usually do?” Chloe huffed a laugh and carefully put a few stitches in place. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I want to be noticed - I want Merilimben to notice me. I want him to see me and want to know more about me. I can’t do that if I hide away on one of their… culturally significant nights,”

Ella frowned. 

“It could be like missing that midnight kiss at new years,” Chloe went on, “Or graduation.”

“You’re still doing all this, for a guy?”

“We’ve been here for months, Ella. A girl has needs. Plus , I want Lord Elrond to not forget about us, to not forget we’re still here, waiting to find a way home.”

“But elves - they’re not like us like -”

“Yes yes, I know,” Chloe waved her off, needle still in hand, “they’re not so much for one night stands, but they have sex just as much. The amount of stories Malthenniel and Thenidiel have about them or their friends getting their freak on -”

“Their freak -”

“- they’re not nearly as reserved as you seem to think.” 

“I thought you did embroidery together not talk dirty -”

“You’re such a prude sometimes, Ella,” Chloe laughed, “what else would we talk about for hours a day? What do you talk about in the kitchens?”

“ Food! Filiher usually asks about Uilossiel obviously but she doesn’t share what they got up to the night before-”

“Shame -”

“Ugh!” Ella shouted, frustrated, “you’re missing my point.”

“Then explain it better ,” Chloe snapped back, equally frustrated, “you’re useless!”

“Amanar is an important holiday here. If we’re there, they might notice that we’re not - that we’re not - that we don’t belong, and want to… move us along.”

“You’re being serious?”

“Yes!”

“They’re all well aware already that we’re not elves, Ella. They can’t notice more all of a sudden. And they invited us anyway: I'm going, and you’re an idiot if you don’t go too.”

*

Elladan and Elrohir entering the kitchens together, smiling, set off immediate silent alarms that everyone save Ella could hear - or at least, that’s what it felt like when they all stiffened minutely shortly after the main doors opened. She looked up from the large bowl of parsnips she was peeling when Filiher, who was doing the same, suddenly fell silent half way through her recounting of a romantic date she and Uilossiel had recently been on. A very platonic, PG-rated date that had her wondering if it was a censored version, after her chat with Chloe. Any temptation Ella had to test Chloe’s suggestion and ask how dating worked, in detail, for elves flew out of the window at the sight that met her eyes as she followed Filiher’s gaze.

The twins leaned casually against an empty stretch of countertop, arms folded in sync, their expressions far too innocent for comfort.

It spelled danger.

“Hello Elladan. Hello Elrohir,” she said warily, looking behind them to see where Camaemben, the head cook, had gone. At least there are no biscuits within arms length of them. “What brings you to the kitchens today?”

“You do -”

“We heard that -”

“You aren’t coming tonight and -”

“We wanted to know why.”

“Stop, stop that twin weirdness!” Ella waved her wet hands at them. They know I hate it when they do that! 

Filiher, still holding her peeler, finally spoke up. “You’re not coming to amanar?” she asked, sounding uncharacteristically surprised.

Ella felt the weight of both Filiher’s and the twins' stares. “I thought I’d leave you all to it. It sounded important.”

“Yes, and it is important you celebrate with us.” Elladan said seriously.

“Else we will have to admit to our father we have upset you -” Elrohir chimed in, his voice grave though the faintest hint of a smile played at his lips.

“-and,” said Elladan, still with a completely straight face, “as will Glorfindel. He will be most upset if you are not attending.”

“Oh yes,” nodded Elrohir. A dimple creased his left cheek.

Ella squinted at that hint of a smile. “You’re winding me up, aren’t you.”

The twin grins that followed gave them away entirely. She sighed with relief, then threw her peeler down dramatically. “Not funny!”

“A little funny,” Elladan corrected, his grin widening.

“No, it wasn’t. Who’s laughing?”

“We are!” both said in unison, clearly delighted.

“You can’t laugh at your own joke: doesn’t count.”

“You can’t laugh at your own joke! That doesn’t count,” she huffed.

“We can!” Elrohir protested.

“We are!” Elladan insisted.

“Filiher!” Ella pleaded plaintively, turning to the other elf for help.

But Filiher, now thoroughly entertained by the exchange, simply shook her head apologetically. “They are Lords of Imladris,” she said with a shrug. “We are all subject to their humour.”

Elladan grinned, and Elrohir gaped, and Ella rolled her eyes. It was clear she was getting no help from that quarter.

“No, I wasn’t planning on coming to the party later. I thought I might practise my reading some more.”

“Don’t you read nearly every night?” asked Elrohir.

Ella shrugged, focusing on the parsnip in her hand. Yes, she did, but learning a whole new alphabet and grammar system was painfully slow. She’d never exactly been accused of being a genius.

“It is a commendable effort,” Elladan said, his voice turning reasonable and patient, “but one night will not delay your progress. In fact, immersing yourself in Sindarin for the evening will probably help.”

Elrohir nodded emphatically. “Náto!”

Ella rolled her eyes again and peeled a few more parsnips, not bothering to answer.

“We jest, but we do want you to come,” Elladan said, giving his brother a nudge. “It’s a night of fun, dancing, and singing. You’ll enjoy it.”

“Everyone is going,” Elrohir added, his tone sly. “You’ll be all alone in the library… listening to the fun.”

Ella narrowed her eyes at him, catching the smirk he was trying to hide. “You’re seriously trying to peer pressure me into a party? What are you, fifteen?”

“You haven’t sung or danced since the Dúnedain left.”

“You haven’t sung or danced since the Dúnedain left,” Elrohir pointed out, his eyes holding hers.

“That you’ve heard!” 

But Elrohir was not so easily swayed. He held her gaze until she finally looked away.

“I don’t want to get in the way,” she admitted quietly.

“You cannot be in the way,” Elrohir insisted, his voice softening.

“And certainly not when you are being invited,” Elladan added with a warm smile. “By four of the Lords of Imladris, no less—”

“Four, brother?” Elrohir interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

“Father and Glorfindel would back us, of course,” Elladan explained with a shrug.

“True, true -”

“So you are coming, yes?”

Ella sighed, tossing her peeler onto the countertop. “Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice…”

“Excellent!” they chorused, grinning ear to ear as they turned to leave.

As the kitchen door swung shut behind them, Ella let out an exaggerated huff and went back to peeling the stubborn parsnip in her hand. From the corner of her eye, she could see Filiher’s bemused smile lighting up her features.

“Don’t even start.” Ella said with a grimace, “Anyway: now you’ve got to explain the whole thing to me.”

Chapter Text

From a distance, Elrond saw Ella twirl, stumble, and laugh, engaged in a lively dance with Uilossel and her friends among the guards. He watched her spin, jump and jig, and duck under arms until she was breathless. He couldn’t recall ever seeing the girl so happy since he had first met her, and the thought made him sad.

He could see Chloe dancing with a slightly more sedate group. They were showing the other girl the more formal versions of dances but if her wide smiles and long glances at Merilimben were any indication, she was having a good time as well. Her infatuation with the young blacksmith hadn’t gone unnoticed, but the ellon appeared to be intent on staying no more than friends, and thankfully no rumours had reached his ears of any secret trysts. With all the girl had been through, recklessly falling in love, or lust, would cause her only more grief. 

Glorfindel joined him silently, observing the merriment with a small quirk of his lips , his eyes bright and joyful. “It is good to see everyone having such fun.” He let out a surprised sound, no doubt spotting his young guard-in-training, “I didn’t think Ella was attending tonight?”

Elrond shook his head, “I don’t believe she planned to. My sons had other ideas.”

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow in question. Elrond gestured to where Elladan and Elrohir expertly navigated the dancing groups with an ease borne of many functions and festivals throughout their years. Currently Elladan wove through Chloe’s group, and Elrohir was skipping round in a ring in Ellas. “They felt she had become distant of late, for reasons perhaps no more so than she misses home, but they sought to cheer her up.”

“It appears to have worked.”

“Yes,” Elrond said simply.

“But?”

“But I wonder what sort of home we are trying to send her back to, if she refuses to attend a celebration for fear of intruding and being sent away.” Elrond crossed his arms. “That is as much as I could glean from them and  young Chloe.”

“We know that Men have long raised their young differently to us, Elrond,” Glorfindel counselled, “For us children are few and far between, and each as precious as a jewel… and not all of the second born feel the same. It goes that the same could be true in their world.”

The ruler of Imladris, and father of three, frowned deeply. His soft spot for children was not a secret - nor his contempt for those that would bear cruelty on the young. Whilst the ages had tempered the flame of his anger, it burned as bright as hot as ever when stoked. He and Glofindel were kindred spirits in that regard, for all that the older elf had never sired a child of his own. 

“Let us discuss this no more now, the girls are having fun, and our people are full of joy,” Elrond said with a sigh.

Glorfindel acceded with a nod and himself rejoined the fray of dancers with eagerness, as Elrond contented himself with ensuring everyone was enjoying themselves for a time.

*

Exchanging stories might be his favourite part of the Winter solstice - it reminded him of some of the fonder memories of his childhood, of making up tall tales with his brother under a shared blanket, a roaring fire keeping them warm and banishing the shadows far away. Lindir was quietly plucking an accompanying tune on a lute to the story he was recounting, and midnight had long passed, when he saw Chloe beginning to tire, and Elladan, not Merilimben, escorting her back to her room. He sent a quiet tendril of inquiry towards his son, and received naught but fond exasperation back - for the girl, or his father, or both, Elrond wasn’t certain. 

He hoped the exertion of dancing would keep her mind in a peaceful sleep, and safe from the dreams that haunted her so frequently. Ella, on the other hand, had taken to resting by another of the fires (and if he was not very much mistaken, someone had given her a cup of wine if her giggles were any indication). He let it go: she was hardly a young child, and it was not uncommon for those her age to drink as a full grown adult would, especially in some of the towns of men where fresh water was scarcer. He wondered if she would last until the time for songs - the solstice would come soon enough, and it made his heart soar with gladness to celebrate it with his people in peace once again. The songs they sang then were full of hope and promise, perhaps it would do the girl some good to hear them sung by so many in tandem around her. 

“I do enjoy an elven solstice,” Mithrandir said, ambling up to come and sit beside Elrond. His voice sounded lower than usual, and Elrond spied the wizard tucking away his pipe as he lowered himself down to the ground, his own bare feet hidden from view as swiftly as they’d been visible between the movements of the Istari’s unassuming grey robes. Elrond resisted the urge to laugh at his old friend carrying on like a child still resistant to covering the soles of their feet.

“It has been too long since you joined us to celebrate. How are your hobbit friends?”

“Cranky, on the whole. They do not appreciate adventure.”

Elrond smiled knowingly. “And they still let you return?”

“Pah,” Gandalf said emphatically, “Belladonna Took has more sense than that.”

“More sense for adventure, you mean.”

“I do,” the wizard, “though not so much since young Bilbo has come along. She still enjoys my fireworks, at least.”

“Did she burn your boots? Or have you finally been persuaded to bare your feet to the earth by your young friends?”

Mithrandir laughed, long and honest, making a smile of its own curl free on Elrond's face. 

“It has been some time since I danced. I thought it best to go unshod, lest I step on an elven toe or two while you were also all barefoot.”

Elrond's smile grew at the mental picture, “And whom did you endanger with your dancing?”

“Autar… and then Maeasseth,” he added with a smile, “I found myself rather without another partner after that. The limping was uncalled for.”

“You injured them?” Elrond laughed, “You must visit us more and practise more.”

“Perhaps so,” he agreed.

*

“Elrohir, how long has Ella been asleep out here?” Elrond asked worriedly, gesturing to the girl asleep on the ground, tucked under a cloak.

“She is fine, adar, she is perfectly warm near the fire. And she is lying on another cloak, not the bare earth.”

Elrond resisted the urge to chastise his son - mortals were more fragile than elves, even young ones, and could get ill much, much easier, as they had already seen. But the girl did look perfectly content, tucked between Uilossiel and Filiher, a cloak pulled to her chin, the light of the fire on her face. The two elleth were leaning back on their elbows and with their heads bent together speaking quietly. He hoped they would soon choose to bond - they made an excellent match, and both seemed to bring joy to each other even after over a hundred years of courting. Although, neither was young enough to feel the rush and heat of youthful desire, both well over 1000 years each, so perhaps they would wait longer, or perhaps they would not. Not all did. 

“I thought it would do her good to hear and see us all together.” Elrohir said, interrupting his thoughts, “She doesn’t speak of it much, but she enjoys songs as much as her friend. They were both part of the same… I believe they called it a ‘youth theatre’.”

“She is rather asleep ahead of the songs of solstice, my son.”

“Her feä will hear them irregardless, will it not?”

“That sounded almost wise, Elrohir.” Elrond smiled, nearby the elves started shouting happily to each other - and the sound of many voices started joining together to form one beatific choir. Elrond sat down next to Elrohir, and Elladan quickly joined them as they joined the song, watching the stars above.

As one song ended, Elrond picked up a new song and sang on the first words alone, to be quickly picked up by his sons, and then the elves around their fire and so on until everyone was singing. It filled his heart with joy.

He kept an eye on the sleeping girl, but she didn’t stir. Her feä, as his son had rightly guessed, lightened with their song, and settled peacefully.

*

“Where do you think you are going?” 

Ella paused mid-step and turned slowly to face Glawaril, who was waiting at the juncture into the corridor, hands on hips and head tilted in question.

“Down to the kitchens?”

Glawaril tutted.

“Is there like, a rule against it after amanar?”

Glawaril strode towards her swiftly and ushered her back into her bedroom, “No, of course not. But why are you up so early? I thought Men needed more rest, especially the young.”

“One: we gotta get you guys saying ‘humans’ and not excluding an entire gender, and two, pretty sure that’s a myth.”

The elf fixed her with a look, pursing her lips with an amused glint in her eyes until Ella relented.

“Okay so maybe I’m a bit tired, but I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. But why did you stop me from going down to help?”

“Because,” she said, pulling a narrow strip of rolled fabric from a concealed pocket in her skirts, “I have noticed all of your clothes are too short. I was coming to see if you were stirring yet so I could see what length you needed.”

“You - I - what?”

“You’ve grown.” Glawaril said, smiling, and leading her back to her room, “so I will arrange for you to have some new clothes. ”

Ella looked down at her bare feet. Maybe there is more ankle on show than there was to begin with?  “I… think it’s more likely I washed them wrong. We - humans - don’t really grow that much at my age?”

“How would you have washed them wrong and made them shrink?” Glawaril laughed, “I would have told you if I saw you doing something incorrectly, Lady Ella. No, you have most certainly grown. Now. Hold still while I take your new measurements, please.”

Ella stood still as Glawaril began taking her measurements, the elf's nimble fingers moving swiftly and accurately. As she worked, Glawaril hummed a soft tune under her breath, her gaze intent on the task at hand.

After a few minutes, Glawaril stepped back, a satisfied smile on her face. "There we go, all done. Do you have any requests?"

Ella looked down at herself, feeling a mix of confusion and gratitude and guilt and - "No? I mean, whatever is around I guess. Don’t make anything special up just for me."

Glawaril nodded, her eyes softening with a hint of warmth. "Very well, Lady Ella. You realise… it is not a burden? You should have proper and suitable clothing, and it is my responsibility and wish to make sure you have it.”

Ella fidget uncomfortably, as a mix of emotions churned in her stomach. She was touched that Glawaril had noticed - noticed before even she had noticed herself, but she was finding it difficult to fully accept the gesture. When was the last time anyone noticed if I grew? She couldn’t remember. She’d never lived anywhere long enough to have her height marked on a wall, let alone one of those pretty hanging rulers hung in a bedroom of her own, something to call hers and take wherever she went.

Glawaril must have sensed her internal conflict, because she placed a comforting hand on Ella's shoulder. "It is no trouble, really. You are among friends here, and we care for your well-being."

Ella managed a small, appreciative smile. Still, the unfamiliarity of being noticed, cared for, and the inherent vulnerability that came with it made her uneasy. "Thanks," she managed after a pause. 

With a final pat on her arm, Glawaril left the room, leaving Ella alone with her thoughts. She stared at the closed door, contemplating what had just happened. It was a warmth she wasn't accustomed to, and the conflicting emotions felt like a snarling, writhing ball some days, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop - or for there to be a breakthrough on getting back. It felt like she might be a part of something here: part of a community, rather than just passing through one, a temporary, barely tolerated addition. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to leave, and too afraid to stay, and overstep her welcome.

Chapter Text

“Surely you have taught her better footwork than that by now, my friend,” Elrond chided, observing the training from the window of his private study. Glorfindel, still clad in his golden armour and his weapons still strapped to his person, did not immediately deem to respond. He walked up to the window and watched the distant training grounds where Sírben diligently ran Ella through sparring drills.

She was practising solely with a pair of shorter swords now, as Glorfindel had instructed when he left over a week ago, shortly after amanar. He let his attention drift to the other guards who were training for a moment, checking their footwork and form. He sighed, shaking his head ruefully, "She falls back to her left, no matter how much we drill her on it. Right-handed, left-footed. And not happy that, to an elf, it largely does not matter."

“Such a thing is surely not too much for you?” Elrond asked, mischief clear in his eyes.

Glorfindel’s glare was not entirely play, as long as it had been since he had slept, and even longer since he had slept in a bed. “No, it is not. But that, paired with her preference for a reverse grip, means she will make many more mistakes before she remembers correctly. And suffer many more drills, once Autar is finished.”

“Do not send her to us with anything too serious,” Elrond cautioned, canting his head and fixing the blonde haired, ancient elf with his own serious gaze.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow, and Elrond gestured towards a tray of refreshments on the desk and moved on from their topic. 

Erestor looked up from the large ledger he was reviewing, putting down his quill to receive the proffered cup. “I heard you had requisitioned some of Autars’ time.” he commented, savouring his tea.

Glorfindel nodded, “I am eager to see what they create. I gave them leeway with all except the rough shape, maximum length and weight, for too long or too broad and they will be unwieldy for her.”

 “They have never disappointed you before,” said Elrond, “I am certain this will be no different.”

“True enough,” he said, smiling softly, “Now, tell me what else I have missed before I take my leave and find my rest.”

“I have introduced Ella to some books beyond that of the simple readers for younglings, her reading ability is coming along nicely.”

“Staunch praise,” Glofindel said, but Erestor as ever would not rise to the bait, giving no more reply than a dismissive wave of his spare hand, “I do believe you are quite fond of our little stray.”

“I appreciate her effort, and I appreciate her forethought: she practises without prompting, never brings food to the library, and often brings me tea in a half full teapot, presumably lest it spill,”

Elrond and Glorfindel shared a smile.

“I believe she has tried to tempt Lady Chloe, but without success, if her lack of appearance in the library is any indication.” he continued, changing the subject smoothly, “How is she?”

“Well, all things considered,” Elrond said thoughtfully, “she appears to enjoy our weekly afternoon tea and has not fallen to despair again.” 

“She remains quite taken with dear Merilimben,”

“There will be heartbreak there, I do not think he sees her in the same light,” Glorfindel added. Erestor nodded in agreement.

Elrond nodded, “It is not for us to interfere, at this juncture. Merilimben is honourable - when the time comes, he will be kind, I am sure.”

“Given the looks she was giving him at amanar,” Erestor observed, “that time must be approaching.”

Glorfindel smiled indulgently, amused at the memory. “She is very young.”

A soft, but wholly intentional knock echoed through the room. Mithrandir waited only long enough for Elrond to send a brief thought his way before entering. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces. "I hope I am not interrupting anything of great importance," he said, a warm and unrepentant smile on his face.

"You are always welcome. Join us." Elrond gestured graciously, inviting him inside. “We were discussing young Chloe and Ella.”

Mithrandir helped himself to a drink and seated himself with minimal fuss in an armchair angled nicely towards the desk. “They have such an interesting tale,” he agreed, “one that raises many questions and provides no answers. Did you speak with the king?”

“He said he would think about it,” he replied, ignoring Glorfindel’s smirk, “he has not been open to speaking with me since.”

“Ah. What do you plan to do come spring?”

Elrond considered his drink as he thought about how to phrase his answer, though his audience mattered not, at this juncture. “My sons will escort them there, with a scout leading the way to inform the king of their impending arrival. They wish to go home, and I will not have Thranduil’s prejudices prevent them from discovering a way back if there is one to be found in his realm.”

“We are placing a lot of faith in your memory, wizard,” Erestor commented, not looking up from his ledger,

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt it?” he countered, mirth clear in his expression as every elf in the room raised one or both eyebrows. “Yes well, in this I am certain I have recalled the story correctly. Arthur and Morgaine were lost in this world until they found their way home, somewhere in the heart of Eryn Galen. I don't know how, or why, they found themselves here, or if it was by the same manner or for the same reason as your guests. Nor do I know how or precisely where they left from. We must hope for more answers in the vast libraries within Thranduil’s halls.”

Many questions indeed.

*

Spring came on the tails of one last storm as its trailing winds left the valley in a flurry of heavy rains and clouds that made evening come early. As if overnight, plants started pushing through the ground, bulbs blooming into yellow and white flowers in wide swathes of colour. Ella paced the straw-covered training grounds, waiting for the members of the guard to arrive: it wasn’t often that she beat even the most enthusiastic of guards but today - last night - she was already trying not to think about the world eating spider from Narnia, who ate the lamps and then tried, in the latest instalment from her overactive imagination, to eat a God. Thank you for that, brain. She rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the image on the back of her eyelids of the massive beast’s eyes, greedy and clever and calculating.
 
“You’re up early, Ella.”

Ella screeched - but she would deny it if anyone asked later. 

“Elladan! Wear a bell!”
He, and his brother, approached from the main house, already smiling at her expense.
“I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow?”

“Ai, home called us too loudly -”

“Can we not just miss you -”

“Oh shut up,” she said, waving them off with a yawn, “don’t tell me then. It feels like ages since you left - I’m glad you’re back.”

The twins each took an arm and they started to walk a slow circuit around the exterior of the training area.
Elrohir frowned. “You look tired, nethig.”

“El-la,” she enunciated slowly, still not entirely sure how to feel about the nickname, “And you look perfect as always. Both of you actually. It’s very annoying. Would you please wear a bell, and have a bad hair day, for the sake of my self confidence?”

“So grumpy today. Why are you up so early?”

Ella shrugged, as best she could with two elves holding each elbow. “Why are you up so early? When did you get back? Did you even sleep yet? Or are you not doing that this… season?”

The fact that elves didn’t need to sleep was just unfair, in her opinion. Imagine skipping bad dreams whenever you want! It was a compelling thought. Of course, if she didn’t sleep as often, she wouldn’t get to catch up with Mairon as often either. That would suck. As she contemplated which would be preferable - less nightmares, or one less friend, Elladan and Elrohir shared a look over her head that she couldn’t see, but their continued silence made her want to needle them some more.

 “Fine, don’t tell me. I’m beginning to regret saying I missed you.”

“Did you hear her say that, brother?”

“I don’t think I did! I don’t recall her saying anything of the kind. I know she said she was glad we were back -”

“Not that she missed us -”

“Indeed, brother.”

Ella shook her head at their antics, accustomed to it now. They reminded her so much of Luke and Mikey that sometimes it hurt - but today the pain was just an ache, keening instead of hurting, a distant familiarity. It made her feel like she could belong here, like she might fit in and not be asked to leave, for the first time in a long time, in a way less terrifying than Glawaril noticing she needed new clothes because she’d grown. Literally another world, Ella, and you know if you get attached it ends badly. Stop this. It was silly, and utterly pointless to get attached, she and Chloe would be leaving soon enough. But the elves were unfailingly kind to her, the spare not-Gods-blessed girl from Who Knows Where - despite what Mairon liked to say; despite that the elves lived forever and she was practically a mayfly in comparison; despite that they were planning on leaving soon, now the warmer weather of spring had arrived. To think of people here as friends, that they might be her friend in return too… it would only make parting hurt, and she’d become an expert in pretending leaving anywhere never hurt. Even if that was to herself. 

They completed the circuit passing the low buildings that housed, among other things, a small covered training hall, and the guards' various store rooms. Elrohir was trying to trick her with fancy words and long sentences into teaching them another song, but she was still hesitant after the utterly bizarre dissonance of hearing ethereal, beautiful, immortal, elves singing George Ezra’s Green Green Grass the last time she’d given in, and so remained resolute in her decision that she would need several cups of wine first. As it was, she didn’t notice Glorfindel emerging from one of the storerooms, a broad smile on his lips, until he cheerily and loudly greeted them, making her jump.

“When, when did you get here? How? I’ve been outside ages!”

“Outside, yes. Paying attention to your surroundings? No. And what have I said about not looking at the ground when you walk?”

Ella huffed, and Glorfindel ignored her.
“They are here because they wanted to see your face, and I am here to give you this.“ He passed her a thick bundle of cloth he’d had tucked under his arm. “This is for you.”

“My face?” Ella said sceptically, taking it carefully. I really hope they don’t do the bags of shit jokes. The twins practically buzzed with excitement - if they were dogs, their tails would have been wagging non-stop, she was sure of it. She examined the fabric, and flicked a quick look up at the blonde elf but he only gestured to the bundle. The fabric was thicker than linen, and a deep, navy blue colour trimmed in gold embroidery around the edges, and decorated with countless tiny golden flowers that must have taken hours, maybe even days. She traced one of the flowers with a finger, admiring it. 

Carefully, she unwound it in slow turns, puzzled and excited and tamping down on both, badly, because she could feel a smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. Finally she reached the final layer and revealed two slightly curved swords in leather scabbards. Each was nearly three handspans in length, with another handspan of grip.
“These are beautiful,” she said admiringly, reluctantly, “Did you make them? Did you lose yours?”

“They were made by Autar,” Glorfindel touched her shoulder lightly, “they are yours.”

“No, they’re not.”  She shook her head, smiling sadly and offered the unwrapped bundle back, willing her hands not to shake, “They’re way too expensive.”

Glofindel pushed them back, firmly but without any anger. “They are mine to give, and I give them to you freely. A gift, Ella.” His smile turned to a gentle sort, softer, “You have earnt these, with your practice, and your spirit.”

Ella blinked back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.
“I can’t - I don’t have anything -”

“The point of giving a gift is not to then expect one in return.” said Glorfindel, as if he read her mind, “Come, you must start getting used to them. You might not be so thankful once we are through.”

Ella gripped the bundle to her chest and followed their lead.

“After today we’ll take you to choose a harness - you’ll need to decide if you want to carry them on your hips, or on your back,” explained Elladan, still excited, as Elrohir took the fabric and folded it, putting it on a fence post. He pulled his own longer blades from his shoulder harness and stood in a ready position, “Now, we practise.”

Glorfindel patted her on the shoulder, and she whispered another thank you to the elf, carefully in her best Sindarin. He nodded and stood back, “Expect the grips to feel different and pay attention to the weight. They are balanced, but different to the training blades you have been using. Begin.”

Elladan stepped forward immediately, bringing one blade across as if to strike at her neck, keeping the other up as a guard. Ella blocked it and stumbled back a step -

“Footwork.” 

Ella nodded vaguely in Glorfindel’s direction and bought her knives up again, ready. Elladan struck again, swapping sides. She’d expected him to strike another time or two on from the first hand, as was his habit, and took a moment to swap her blocks as well.
“Still not fair that you’re all ambidextrous.”  She said with a huff, keeping her feet steady this time. Her common complaint made Elladan laugh, even as he followed through with the next strike.

“You will strengthen your non-dominant hand eventually.” said Glorfindel, “I will see to it.”

Ella blocked on her reverse grip, and swung her other hand into its own attack, “Was that a threat, Glorfindel? I don’t think humans work like that.” 

“Practise,” he said, a hint of humour in the word.

Chapter Text

“Have your friends in Imladris noticed your impatience?”

Ella fixed the dreamwalker with a look that said she did not appreciate the dry observation. They were somewhere of his choosing today - but he must have been in a good mood, because it was one of her favourite spots, and one she wished to see for herself one day, when she would admit as much to herself in the quiet time after a pleasant dream.

It was always perpetually the golden hour before sunset, the sun low and warm. They stood in the middle of a meadow, the grass soft, smelling faintly similar to rosemary and so tall some of it tickled her hands when she held them loose at her sides. As well as grass, they were surrounded by pink flowers - tall, triangular shaped blooms with many little flowers trumpeting outwards, and whorling round blooms that were not quite peonies and not quite roses, and something smaller than both. The low sun shone through the tall, slim trees that surrounded the meadow, as if they were few and far between in the west purely to allow the sun to cast beams of its beauty to flare one last time, before night fell. To the other side of the meadow, the trees were thicker, fuller, and hid the way to a forest promising adventure, if one was brave enough. 

“I’m not impatient,” she retorted, lifting her face towards the flaring sunset, “what makes you say that?”

“I can feel it, under your skin, like a fever,” he said, watching her soak up the rays of sunlight that were not really there, “I thought you were more settled of late?”

“I am,” she admitted, “I was,” But? Is there a but? “I know we’re supposed to start the trip to Eryn Galen soon - they said spring, and Glawaril was checking my clothes and sorting out longer ones and talking about sorting out a travelling cloak for me. The longer I stay, the harder it will be to go. I just want to get gone already.”

“You mean you are anxious.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just - it’s more -” Ella huffed and tried to form thoughts into words that she didn’t usually voice out loud. “I know what’s expected of me here. I know how everyone… is, I know how they react to stuff. I know that they’re calm, and steady. I know what irritates most of them. I like that. I’ve found a space for myself, and I think I even fit in it. I have friends. New people - elves, whatever - in a new place - means all that will go up in smoke. I’ll have to figure it all out again.”

“You sound like you trust Glorfindel, and the others,” Mairon said mockingly, “I will tell you again, since you have not yet taken it onboard: that is shortsighted.” He walked around until he blocked the rays cast by the setting sun and stood aglow against them instead. “You are interesting for now, a project for them to work on. A stray to care for. You have little value to them in the long term and your entire lifespan is little more than a moment to them.”

As if that’s anything new - a new kid is always interesting until there’s a new, new kid. Or the new kid turns out to be broken, like we aren’t all broken. Or they die of old age… which okay, that would be new.  Ella pursed her lips. ”I know it’d be best to go on good terms before… before the terms aren’t good. Staying somewhere so long as this is weird, I get it,” Ella sighed, “and we’ve been stuck here so long it’s gonna be difficult to sort out the mess I’ll be in when we get back.”

“Is there anything you can do to aid that plan now?”

“No,” she shrugged, “just gonna have to deal with that shitstorm when it hits.”

“Then do not waste thoughts on it. Think of your situation and the imminent problems and possibilities: you must have a back up plan - and a back up plan for that -”

“Plans within plans within plans, I know. You’ve told me.”

“But have you heard me?” he asked earnestly, “I am some distance from you, little swan - I need to know you will be safe until I can find you. Do not tell them about these thoughts, and hide your impatience better. If I can tell, I am sure the Lords of Imladris could discern it, if they so desire, as well.”

Ella felt a surge of warmth for her dreamwalker, stern as he could be, and promised to do better.

*

Despite the arrival of the warmer days of spring, winter was not out of sight yet and evenings were often chilly, and wet. As Ella gazed out of the windows in the dining hall it was clear tonight was going to be the same as the whole day and night before it - a steady, light rain had been falling for hours. She missed the long summer nights when she could explore Imladris largely unnoticed, except for the odd occasion when one of the twins took it upon themselves to track her down. It had been a long time since she’d explored the paths that might lead her out unnoticed. Just in case, she reminded herself, Glorfindel will realise I’m never going to get the hang on using both hands like they all do at some point, and then I’ll just be a disappointing waste of space, and food, and time. Her mood was as grey as the weather.

She picked at the food on her plate, trying to will her appetite into being but stopped when several people, including Chloe, entered the room at once (everyone really did always notice who arrived late). They all hurried, with some excitement, to their seats and Chloe - instead of looking for her elven friends - made a beeline for Ella.
Ella raised an eyebrow in question when Chloe looked at her expectantly.

“King Thranduil, the one from where we need to go? He’s coming here.”

Ella looked back to the doors that stood wide open, and empty, 

“Not right now,” Chloe huffed, tucking her long hair behind her ear, “They’ve just sent a messenger ahead and Lord Elrond and Mithrandir thought I should know.”

“Oh they did?”

“And you too.”

Chloe and the afterthought, that’s me. Ella rolled her eyes. “Right, so do we need to do anything? Are we still leaving when they said?”

The other girl made an uncommitted noise as she helped herself to some of the vegetables and cheese on the table. “Think so? Lord Elrond is hoping to not move it much. And we still have to do those training sessions that they wanted first - I already asked.”

Ella was actually looking forward to those.

There wasn’t much more to learn aside from the shock revelation of the distant King being on his way. And, as the evening meal finished and started to be cleared away, Chloe soon disappeared back to her usual group, saying that she’d already arranged to sing with them.
Ella gathered up as much as she could carry - still substantially less than the elves doing the same job, she noted - and stole down to the kitchen under the guise of tidying up, to Camaemben’s amusement. She located her favourite small tray (a circular one with a solid, oak bottom and a gold edge that formed curved hand holes) and quickly prepared a pot of tea, carefully filling it only two thirds of the way so she wouldn’t spill any in the library and be shouted at, banned, or banished.

“Try the new lemon blend,” Camaemben offered, pointing her towards the prepared spice and herb blends they kept for tea, “The weather has been rather mixed today, and Erestor has always said the lemon reminds him of the sun.”

Erestor is either secretly a sap, or Cam is making up stories to sell tea. She’d place her bets on the latter, but flashed him a grin and quickly scooped up a serving from the tin labelled ‘spring lemon’, which she read twice and quickly sniffed, just to be sure. When she got to the library, she placed it on Erestor’s usual desk. He looked up from the book he was referencing against a thick scroll wrapped around what looked like a pole of marble.

“I thought you might want to try reading this, next.” He said, and slid another book across the desk. “It will be challenging, but it is a good one for you.”

Ella picked up the book eagerly and ran her fingers over the delicate, dark green binding, tracing over the engraved words on the cover. “B… Beren?”

Erestor looked at her expectantly. Seconds ticked by as she read and translated the words and she was keenly aware of an embarrassed flush heating her cheeks at the time it still took.

“Beren and… Lúthien?”

He nodded, small and concise.

“I think I’ve heard a song about them.”

“And now you can read about them too.”

Ella accepted the dismissal and carried her new challenge to one of her favourite seats in the quiet library. A small sofa, perhaps meant more as a two-seater, but one that she lounged over with her feet carefully dangling over the edge, away from the fabric. It caught the light from the high windows opposite in the day, and was close enough to the large hearth in the evenings to keep her warm and able to see. She sighed as she sank back against the comfortable padding, the aches of this morning's workout making themself known. 
Ella opened the book to the first page and began.

*

“You want me to ride that thing?”

“This thing is called Lânhîth, Ella,” Roquendil, the chief stable master, said as he gently rubbed the horse's long neck. Given that she had spent almost no time at all with Roquendil, Ella’s breath still caught when she looked at him. He had a strong, square jaw and the well-defined features of all elves, and pale, white skin. His dark blonde hair fell in a perfect line to a few inches below his shoulders and was braided with a larger, central braid from his forehead, flanked either side by two smaller ones - the style both reminded her of Vikings, and drew attention to his eyes: his astonishingly beautiful, smoke-grey eyes that she had to remind herself to look away from and focus on their conversation, “and yes. Lord Elrond has instructed me to ensure you both know how to ride ahead of your departure for Eryn Galen.”

“Hello Lânhîth,” Ella said nervously, patting the horse's side gently, as Elladan had shown her and focusing on the fear she was feeling rather than the embarrassment at feeling overwhelmed by the elf's otherworldly beauty. “You’re very pretty?”

The horse whickered and the elf nodded approvingly, pulling an apple out from a satchel over his shoulder. “She likes these. And compliments, obviously.”

“Come on, Ella, hurry up.” Chloe called out, already seated comfortably on a darker horse. She’d climbed into the saddle like she’d done it a thousand times - she had actually, she reminded Ella as she urged her horse off with a small move of her feet. She owned a horse back home, stabled only a twenty minute drive from town, a gift from her father for her fifteenth birthday. Ella’s fifteenth birthday had been spent between placements and she’d stolen a bag of chocolate buttons from the corner shop in lieu of being bought a cake to share with a family she didn’t have. She ate them alone in the park, sat on top of the tallest climbing frame, after it was dark and everybody else had gone home.

“How... how do I get on?” Ella asked Roquendil, “Elladan has taught me some stuff about horses but I’ve never actually got on one.”

He talked her through the process twice before Ella felt confident enough to give it a try, hopping onto the already placed box, taking a deep breath, and giving it a go before she could think about it any further. Her bum fell onto the saddle a second later, and Lânhîth shifted slightly.
“I did it!”

“You did - now let's get you both out into the paddock for a little while so you can start to get to know each other.” He made a quiet clicking sound and led the way out of the stable, the horse - with Ella along for the ride - followed at a smooth gait. She tried to remember what Elladan had said about riding once but all she could recall was how to rub oil into their hooves.

“I’m not going to hurt her, right? I don’t know if I’m doing this right?”

“You’re doing fine. Just keep sitting up straight, and remain calm. Lânhîth is a good girl, she’ll look after you.”

Roquendil walked them around the paddock twice, while Chloe went on ahead: she and her horse alternated between slow and what looked very fast to Ella, but the stable master informed her it was more akin to a slow jog.

“People do this for fun?” Ella asked, as she awkwardly dismounted some half hour later. She already felt stiff and sore - the idea of doing that for long periods of time did not fill her with joy.

“Saddle sore already?” he laughed.

“I thought I’d be better at this,” she said grouchily, “all the stuff I've been doing with the guards, y’know?”

“Different muscles.” He showed her where to stow the mounting block that hardly any of the elves needed.  “Now - grab a brush. I’ll show you how to brush her down nicely.”

Chloe didn’t need it demonstrating, or guiding down from her horse. Ella watched her enviously and tried not to let it bother her. She gingerly approached Lânhîth with the brush in hand, unsure of the horse's response. Chloe, on the other hand, moved confidently around her own mount, humming what sounded like an Adele song under her breath as she brushed down the sleek coat.

“What’s with the face, Ella? Horses are just big dogs with hooves,” Chloe declared with a grin, still engrossed in her task.

“Big dogs. With hooves?” Ella repeated, sceptical. “I’ve never met a dog that could step on you and squash you flat. They don’t come with advice on how not to get kicked in the face, either.”

Roquendil chuckled at Ella’s comment as he continued with his instructions. “You need not fear Lânhîth. She is gentle, and she will not harm you as long as you treat her with kindness.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ella mumbled under her breath, but she tentatively started brushing the horse's coat.

Chloe looked over, her eyes wide with surprise. “You really don’t like horses, do you?”

Ella sighed, “It’s not that I don’t like them. I just don’t understand them. They’re… big, and they're animals at the end of the day. And I don’t like the idea of not knowing what they're going to do next, especially when that thing might be to stomp on me or kick me or now, apparently throw me off. I don’t like the unpredictability.”

Chloe shook her head in disbelief, “You need to spend more time with them.”

Ella continued brushing the horse, “I think dogs could be more my thing. They bark, they wag their tails, they like to go outside… you know what you’re getting.”

“Horses have their own way of communicating,” Roquendil added, “once you understand them, you will find it quite rewarding.”

I doubt it. Ella resisted the urge to mutter it out loud by biting her lip, but it was a close thing.

The atmosphere was calm, and Ella found herself drawn into the repetitive, almost meditative nature of the task. The stable's interior echoed with the soothing sounds of contented horses and occasional soft spoken conversations.

Roquendil smiled approvingly.

*

She felt like she was in some old cowboy film, or maybe a fantasy novel, tightening the leather belt so it sat snug above her hips, her twin blades hanging in their brand new scabbards almost down to her knees. The workshop that Elladan and Elrohir excitedly led her to was tucked away behind the training salle and equipment stores, but she’d never noticed it before, hidden behind an unassuming wooden door as it was. Its stone walls were filled with shelves filled with organised boxes and orderly little bottles of oil, boxes of arrow tips separated by material, and bow, and many more things besides that she couldn’t quite see. There were several presumably woodworking-related tools hung beneath the hooks, and a large bench filled the length of one wall, which Elrohir leant against, watching her. Sunlight streamed through a long, narrow window above the bench, filling the room with warm light and highlighting the tiny dust motes that danced in the golden beams.

“What do you think?” Elrohir asked, watching her curiously as she tried taking a few self conscious steps forward and back in the workshop. They were helping her find a harness style for her swords, so she could practise and get used to wearing it before they left for Eryn Galen, although it was also serving as just another reminder that she was going to be leaving soon.

“I think I could probably trip and seriously injure myself,” she said honestly, trying to push the thought of leaving down and under, pulling up a facade silliness, “How on earth do you manage with one of those long ones?”

She saw the tilt of his mouth curve up into a smirk and she laughed in surprise. They both made it easy to forget, for a while. She decided to play along. “Long swords,”

He grinned, eyes alight with mischief.

“Elrohir! Get your mind out of the gutter, you’re like a billion years old.”

“I have said nothing!”

She waved a hand at his expression. “I can see it on your face.”

“And I am not ‘a billion’ years old.”

“Oh?” she challenged, “How old are you then?”

No one had actually told her that yet - most of the time it came up, they gave her a rough time frame or reference point, nearly all of which were irrelevant to her. She originally thought it was because the elves were being coy but - and the look on Elrohirs face was giving weight to her current working theory - she suspected most of them didn’t keep a regular tally. 

“Go on,” she prodded, “spill the beans.”

“I thought you did not want to think about our begetting day?” Elladan said, appearing from the next room, a mirror of the current one, where he’d been looking for a small enough shoulder harness for her to try on.

“Right,” Ella cringed, mentally shying away from thinking of Lord Elrond begetting, “you found one?”

Elladan held up his find, “I did indeed. I think this might be about right, would you like to try it?”

She nodded, already undoing the buckle on the one at her waist, sliding off the scabbards awkwardly and ignoring Elrohir who still looked like he was on the verge of laughter.

“How does this one feel?” Elladan asked as he helped position everything so it was reachable.

She rolled her shoulders experimentally and walked a few more, still self conscious steps, back and forth. Less knight in shining armour, and a bit more badass. She smiled slowly and turned back to face the brothers. “I like this better.”

“Then it is yours!” Elrohir declared happily, “We will have to practise drawing them swiftly and safely.”

“Oh, goody, more practice.” 

“If you enjoy it so, we can arrange for longer sessions.”

One the one hand, less chance of me cutting off my own limb. On the other, why delay the inevitable goodbyes? “No no, it’s fine,” she said quickly instead, “I feel like my arms might fall off often enough as it is.”

“It does stop after a while,” Elladan said, making her turn so he could check the straps again. 

Ella looked at him doubtfully over her shoulder. “As if you’d know.”

He lifted a perfectly-shaped brow. “We are not born as accomplished warriors, we must learn our skills with practice and earn our experience over time,” he added with a smile, “just like we are not planted.”

“I am literally never going to live that down, am I?” she groaned, “If I lived to be eighty, you would all still be cracking that joke! And anyway, that’s not true is it? ‘Cause you’re all stronger than humans.”

Elrohir tipped his head from side to side in thought, “Yes, we are stronger in general, but a seasoned warrior of Men would still outmatch an elf child. Likewise they would likely defeat many of our people who have chosen a different path, a scholar or healer or craftsman and so on, because they would have the upperhand in skill.”

Elladan opened the door, holding it open as they exited back into the bright afternoon sun, no sight of rain or cloud on the horizon for the moment.

“So if elf kids aren’t born stronger than humans, but you’re all stronger than humans… when do you get strong?”

“As we mature and our bodies strengthen, it comes naturally, just as your people do. A young baby is not as strong as a man in his prime.”

Ella giggled, picturing a baby bench pressing massive weights with ease and smothered it with a cough.

Chapter Text

“You know that King Thranduil arrives like, any minute?” Chloe said, by way of greeting. She wore a fresh, deep blue dress she'd worked on herself: delicate, embroidered daisy chain patterns decorated the outer collar and followed the edge down to the floor-length hem. The cream-coloured underdress featured lace along its wide neckline, and the colour complimented the overdress well. The ensemble created a swirl of skirts around her legs as she came to a halt upon seeing Ella.

“Yes?” Ella replied with a casual shrug, smoothing out her preferred breeches and tunic, which were already creased from sitting outside since before sunrise.

Chloe looked her up and down, assessing Ella's clothing choices with a critical eye. A frown creased her brow. I have been found wanting, Ella thought, as the other girl tugged her firmly by the wrist along to the nearest window seat. “I’ll do your hair. You know you should be wearing a dress? We need to make a good impression.”

“The existence of my boobs does not require me to wear a dress -”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

“- why would a King care if I wear a dress or not? I doubt we’ll actually need to speak.” Ella let herself be led and sat down as Chloe quickly undid the hasty ponytail and started finger combing through the tresses, which, Ella saw from the corner of her eye, could do with a good trim. Her hair had never been this long. “This is pretty, though. This style dress suits you more than the one with the, you know,” she motioned from her wrist to the floor, “big sleeves.”

Chloe snorted softly. “And much less chance of me getting a sleeve in my tea again. Not making a fool of myself like that twice! You weren’t coming from your room, are you still having those dreams?”

“Yeah,” Ella shrugged again, following the abrupt diversion with the lift of an eyebrow, “You?”

“I guess so.” Chloe handed her a small braid to hold while she parted off a mirrored section on the other side. “Want to talk about it?”

“Eh. Giant spiders. I didn’t think spiders were scary at home really, I mean it’s not like we get deadly ones is it? But it turns out giant spiders are actually terrifying.”

Chloe laughed softly. “Giant spiders don’t seem so bad compared to fire rain?”

“No? I guess not? But, these were really big and deadly kind of spiders. And mean. Not just animals-gonna-animal but like, knowingly mean. I don’t know. I thought I was done with dreams about spiders, but I think it’s the stories Elladan and Elrohir were telling me about the forest where this King lives. They have spiders.”

“Giant spiders?”

“No, but big ones. Bodies as big as our heads. And they’re deadly. They poison you, wrap you up in cobwebs and then eat you.”

Chloe shivered as she added a second braid to Ellas grasp and began another. “You need to tell them to stop, Ella. They’re scaring you! Hell, they’re scaring me.”

“I’m not a child. I can’t whine and say they’ve given me nightmares over stupid stories!”

“Yes, you can.” Chloe huffed and quickly finished two more plaits before retrieving them all from Ella’s hand and securing them with the original tie. “There - this’ll do. Now come on, we’re going to be late!”

The two girls hurried their pace as they made their way to the main courtyard, which opened up off the narrow bridge that served as the primary entrance to Imladris. Several other elves were on their way as well, a sure sign that something was happening. Outside on the smooth stones were a collection of many of the Lords and Ladys of Imladris. Ella spotted Elrond and his sons in the centre, flanked by Glorfindel and Erestor and the rest of the House. Along the edges, the guards stood in perfect formation, their polished armour gleaming brilliantly in the morning sun. They were standing so straight and tall and perfectly still, they could have been statues. It was the most formal arrangement she’d ever seen the elves in since they arrived. 

All the elves wore robes or dresses of their finest silks and velvets and satins. Every outfit she could see was meticulously crafted, many with intricate patterns or delicate embroidery. Ella looked down at her outfit and suddenly wished she had made time to get changed. At least into her nicer, newer, longer, undershirt, the navy one with the pretty star embroidery on the cuffs. She’d thrown on one of her smaller ones today, not thinking it mattered much. She fingered the loose thread on her right sleeve, which sat a little shy of her wrist, sucking her teeth in disappointment. Maybe I can tear the thread off? An image of pulling the thread and a hole tearing in the seam filled her mind. Or maybe not. 

Chloe was ushered towards the front, near the twins, while Ella, shaking her head and keeping a low profile, slowly made her way towards the back of the gathered elves. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement. While elves didn't fidget in the conventional sense, she observed necks craning and backs arching slightly as they tried to catch a glimpse with a degree of subtlety. A hushed, eager murmur filled the courtyard.

As the minutes steadily ticked by, the crowd swelled in size. Though Ella couldn't see much over the heads of those in front of her, stood as she was at the back, she heard a subtle change in the tone of their conversations, a rising in volume, and caught a enough words from the surrounding conversations in Sindarin enough to know that the incoming entourage was about to appear.

The sound of hooves striking the stone ground grew progressively louder, filling the air with thunderous noise before suddenly ceasing altogether. Simultaneously, the murmurs and discussions among the elves around her also came to an abrupt halt. Ella resisted the urge to jump up and down on the spot to see what was going on. That would have defeated the object of staying under the radar, and it was clear enough that the anticipated guests had arrived. 

She heard some greetings in Sindarin - and then felt a small push at the small of her back, causing her to whirl around. She shot an accusing glare at whomever had poked her, a cutting remark ready on the tip of her tongue-
- but Camaemben stood behind her, a serious look on his face, so she bit her cheek instead.

“You are his ward,” he said quietly, for all that every elf around them could hear precisely what was being said, “You are expected at the front.”

“I’m just a human,” she hissed back, “I’ll be in the way.”

Camaemben pursed his lips in displeasure, gently pressing her forward again.

“Dude! I’m not even dressed for this level of -”

“You will not be expected to speak,” he whispered, his tone insistent, “but you are a part of this household and you should be present.”

Ella felt her heart beat wildly as the number of elves in front of her rapidly decreased and then she was at the end of the line, three down from Chloe. She looked over her shoulder pleadingly at the chef, but he just gestured for her to stay put, and then surprised her by standing next to her. Head of all the cooking and kitchens, I guess that makes sense. Probably shouldn’t be surprised.

Her first look at the King of Eryn Galen was from a distance. He was astride a large creature that definitely was not a horse; everyone else rode horses, except for him. Whatever it was, it was huge, with antlers that looked like they should weigh the animal down, but it held its head high and regal. The King gazed impassively across the courtyard, his face devoid of emotion, but she got the distinct impression they were being judged. Or maybe that was her anxiety about being at the front. His reserved stance and unreadable expression were reminiscent of Lord Elrond, yet starkly different at the same time: colder. He differed in other ways as well - both shared pale, unblemished white skin but where Elrond was dark haired, Thranduil was white blonde, his blue eyes pale in the light of the sun. While Elrond quite often wore a metal circlet, Thranduli wore a full crown of flowers woven around young twigs and light green leaves. He dismounted his not-a-horse so smoothly it looked like he was gliding, and Elrond brought his arm across his chest in greeting, a gesture that was reciprocated. Even though they’d lived here for months, Ella was suddenly struck by just how different the elves were, not just in appearance but also in character  - they didn’t do handshakes. It was small and inconsequential… and jarring.

The King gazed impassively down the line, taking a moment to nod at the first few elves, and exchanging greetings with Glorfindel with a wrist clasp she’d seen the guards do. Aside from these brief interactions, his composed, assessing gaze simply swept over everyone before pausing briefly on Chloe. Then, he turned toward the house, with Elrond leading the way.

“That was it?”

“What were you expecting?” Camaemben asked, bemused.

“I don’t know. All this pomp and circumstance? More, I guess.”

“More of what?”

Ella gestured with her arms expansively. “Everything!”

The elf tutted fondly, and motioned her back towards the house, with the rest of the crowd. “Come, you can help me make some of the honey cakes I know the King is partial to.”

*

“I admit you caught us by surprise with your visit.” Elrond said, as he led the way on a more circuitous, but much quieter, path towards his study. It had been many, many centuries since the Elvenking had set foot in Imladris, and the curiosity of his people was palatable.

“It seemed prudent to expedite what we could once the decision was made,” Thranduil said, after a moment examining a particularly beautiful rose, “I left when the pass was still thawing.”

“I can’t imagine your horses enjoyed it.”

Thranduil silently tilted his head in agreement, releasing the blooming flower after another extended moment of contemplation. Elrond left him to his thoughts - Nasarulasil had loved those particular flowers. When Thranduil was ready, they continued in silence until they reached his main study. Elrond poured two glasses of Dorwinion wine, knowing it was the other elf's preference.

“I meant your timing as much as your presence.”  Elrond said as he offered the drink. “You have not visited Imladris for many years.” It was somewhat of understatement, even by their own reckoning, of course: Thranduil had not visited since long before his wife was killed.

“Nor have we seen you in the Greenwood.” 

“True enough,” he conceded. “What brings you here now? Personally, no less? We would have arranged an escort for Lady Chloe and Lady Ella, had you been open to speaking about the matter.”

“Lerophen could do with being left in charge for a time. And your… guests… have intrigued me. I would like to meet anyone said to be blessed by the Valar before they step foot in my realm, near my family, or near my people.”

Elrond could not fault him for that. Despite his cool exterior, Thranduil cared deeply for his people and his home, and always had. Although the extreme of arriving personally could not be ignored.  “That can be arranged whenever you wish. How is your eldest?”

“He is well,” Thranduil said, a small smile almost tugging at the edge of his lips, “He and his bonded wish to start a family together.”

“That would be joyous indeed!” Elrond exclaimed happily, pleasantly surprised at both the revelation, and the mystery of the personal visit being resolved. “Legolas must be looking forward to no longer being the youngest at last?”

Thranduil nodded. “He is most keen for them to do so. He arranges for them to have time together as much as possible - he was not happy with me for organising this trip. I suspect he has only joined me to ensure I do not stay away too long.”

Elrond smiled broadly as Thranduil sipped his wine. 

Thranduil leaned back in the ornate chair he’d chosen, the carved wood glinting faintly in the light of the room. His fingers curled delicately around the stem of his wine glass, the deep crimson liquid catching the glow of the firelight. He took a measured sip, his gaze never leaving Elrond’s face, and set the glass down with deliberate care on the matching side table.

“Whilst I appreciate your inquiries about my family,” he began, his tone smooth but edged with unmistakable authority, “I wish to discuss the matters at hand.”
He shifted slightly, the movement almost imperceptible. His eyes glinted with a sharpness that matched his words. “You wish for two mortal girls to come to my realm: one who supposedly has the attention of the Valar, and an open contract for her kidnap. Explain.”

Elrond let the silence settle, unphased and broken only by the faint clink of Thranduil’s rings on the wine glass as he rested his hand lightly on it again, The King raised an eyebrow, his expression one of calculated patience, waiting for Elrond to respond.

“Do you remember the old story of two travelers that once visited your lands, Arthur and Morgaine?” Elrond’s tone was measured, his expression calm, as though they were discussing nothing more contentious than the weather. His hands rested loosely on the arms of his own chair, and he met Thranduil’s sharp gaze without flinching.

Thranduil’s face remained impassive, though there was a faint tightening at the corners of his mouth. He inclined his head curtly, the firelight catching on the edge of his crown.

“The stories tell that they disappeared somewhere in the Greenwood, presumably home,” Elrond continued, his voice steady and unhurried, as though he had all the time in Arda to make his case. “Ella recognizes the names from their own history books. We hope to send the girls home the same way.”

Thranduil leaned forward slightly, the fingers unoccupied with his glass tapping once against his leg beside him before stilling. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of scepticism crossing his face. “That is… quite the leap.”

“It is,” Elrond agreed easily, his lips curving faintly in acknowledgment.

“And what is it that you ask of me?” Thranduil’s voice was clipped, though his posture remained regal, his chin lifted in cool appraisal.

Elrond, unperturbed, folded his hands together. 

“Shelter them, check your lore that could mention the travellers and where they went.” Elrond’s voice was calm but firm, unyielding. He ignored the slight lift of Thranduil's elegant brows, his expression betraying a flicker of incredulity. “Check any site that looks promising. My sons will accompany them, of course.”

Thranduil leaned back in his chair, the faintest smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he swirled the wine in his glass. “And if it all comes to naught?” he asked, his tone deceptively light, though his eyes glinted with skepticism.

“Then my sons can escort them back to Imladris,” Elrond replied smoothly, meeting Thranduil’s gaze without hesitation. His voice softened slightly, carrying the weight of his conviction. “I have named them my wards: they will always have a place here, should they be unable to find a way home.”

Thranduil’s smirk faded, replaced by a calculating look. He studied Elrond for a long moment, then set his glass down deliberately, the soft clink reverberating in the stillness. “And the trouble along your borders? The Valar are not the only ones who have noticed your… guests, it would seem. The bounty on that girl’s head is muttered about by every lowlife in every tavern. You would have me bring that trouble to my own doorstep?”

Elrond sighed, his composure unshaken despite the pointed challenge. He lifted his own glass and took a measured sip, the movement slow and deliberate. He set the glass down carefully, his fingers lingering briefly on its stem as he gathered his thoughts.

He knew Thranduil’s concerns well. The Woodland Realm’s trials had been countless: centuries of encroaching darkness, battles fought and won at great cost, and the scars of mistrust left behind. Thranduil’s protectiveness over his people was well-earned, his suspicion of outsiders as unyielding as the ancient trees that shielded his lands. The White Council’s inaction regarding Dol Guldur had only deepened the rift between them, and Elrond bore the weight of that decision, though it was not one he had wholly agreed with.

“I would have you help two lost children, yes.” Elrond said softly.

Thranduil’s lips thinned, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “To what end?” he asked, his tone edged with impatience. “Their time will pass soon enough.”

Elrond’s brows furrowed, his calm finally giving way to a flicker of frustration. “Thranduil,” he said, his voice low and laden with meaning.

“What? They are so fleeting. You are asking me to bring danger to my realm, where Lerophen would try for a child, for the sake of… of what?”

“Do you remember when you visited Imladris when he was still a child himself? He and the boys went off to explore, early on in your stay, and he -”

“Yes,” Thranduil said, low and grudging, “I remember.”

It had been years before, when Arwen was but a young child as well, early enough in Thranduil’s unexpected ascension to the throne that the new King was still rebuilding connections with the dwindling elven realms. Lerophen had been barely more than fifty if Elrond’s memory served… certainly no more than seventy. The twins took their sister and young Lerophen on an adventure but somehow, the young woodland elf had gotten lost.

“Perhaps you have not forgotten then, the emotion you felt when the twins returned to us… without your son. For I have not forgotten what I saw in your face that day.”

“Your point?” Thranduil asked coldly. Elrond regretted, slightly, bringing the topic to the fore, but he needed to remind the King of what life had been like before he walled himself away behind his cold persona and detached facade.

“Do you also remember the relief when we found him, not too far away? Unharmed, safe, whole?” Elrond leant forward slightly, “You would deny their families that relief as well? For the sake of possible trouble in a land you are well versed in defending from trouble. From as you say, lowlifes and common criminals who would try their luck against your far more superior forces - if they even made it through to your realm at all?”

Elrond held Thranduil's gaze as the King drank his wine and kept his own council for his thoughts, but his stern expression eventually softened, and Elrond could see the flicker of emotion beneath the cool mask that he liked to wear so often. In the midst of the quiet, the familiar creak of the door heralded the entrance of a likewise familiar silver-haired figure.

Mithrandir stepped into the room, his eyes assessing the room, the atmosphere. “Am I interrupting something?”

Thranduil turned his gaze away from Elrond and looked coolly over at the wizard. “You would not have entered unless you knew you were, Istar.”

Mithrandir's piercing blue eyes moved between the two elves, sensing the unspoken tension, and then ignoring it as he harrumphed and sat in one of the spare seats. “It is a weighty matter, no doubt. Yet, I sense a decision lingers in the air yet still - what is the answer to be?”

Elrond cringed at the blunt interruption but inclined his head in acknowledgment, allowing Thranduil to be the one to voice the decision. The Elvenking sighed, long suffering and put upon and a little dramatic.

“I will extend the hospitality of my realm to the two mortal girls before we leave, based on your previous judgement of their characters. However, Elrond, I expect your sons to accompany them. They shall not wander freely and their safety will not be my responsibility, nor that of my soldiers.”

Elrond nodded, appreciating the concession. “I am grateful for your understanding, Thranduil.”

The Elvenking's gaze shifted to Mithrandir. “And you, old wanderer? Will you stay to witness the resolution of this tale? Am I to assume you will join us when we make the journey home? That you will lend them your aid and wisdom?”

Mithrandir's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I have a fondness for stories that defy the ordinary, but I do not think so for the moment. I sense that their story is not one for me to tell.”

*

That evening, Elrond sat beside Thranduil at the head table looking over the end of a celebration feast, and reminded himself that he would need to find a suitable gift or way of thanking at the very least Camaemben and Erestor, and likely every member of the household staff as well, for pulling together such a feat so quickly. Amidst the lively chatter and laughter, Elrond's attention was drawn to a young giggle. He traced the sound to Lady Chloe, surprisingly seated beside Prince Legolas. Although not the seating plan he had anticipated, sometimes arrangements changed.

As the plates and final dishes were cleared away, Elrond rose, and waited for Thranduil to follow his lead. Together, they made their way to the Hall of Fire, where the evening's festivities would continue. It had been some years since they had entertained another host of elves quite as large as Thranduil's party and the larger space was specially designed for such gatherings. Elrond relished the prospect of a night filled with storytelling and music.

“It is good to see such a gathering again.” Elrond remarked as he and Thranduil settled by the roaring fire, each with a glass of wine in hand.

Thranduil responded with a soft hum, his eyes fixated on the elves entering the hall. Somewhere behind them started the gentle strumming of a harp, probably played by Lindir. The sound filled the air, joined harmoniously by a flute. “I would have preferred that not quite so many of my court felt the need to attend,” he said, “this was not meant as a social outing.”

“I thought it was an unusually large retinue for you to be travelling with. Did I see Lady Aemes earlier?” he said, feeling the beginnings of a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth, “How did she manoeuvre herself into the trip? And so many others?”

Legolas entered the room, escorting Chloe, and Elrond observed the slightest shift in Thranduil's posture as he caught sight of his youngest son. Not worry, but rather a subtle awareness, a thread of awareness like that he himself felt for his own children - that invisible string that connected one to their children.

Thranduil curtly responded to his inquiry, pretending not to watch his son starting to introduce Chloe to some of the aforementioned members of their court who’d made the journey. Elrond looked around the room for Ella, but couldn’t see her. It didn’t give him cause of concern - she was wont to spent her evenings in the solitude of the library after long mornings with the guards, much to Erestor’s subtle approval, and there were many among his kin that preferred quieter pastimes, or not to meet quite so many new faces at once, so he did not worry overmuch. 

In the midst of the night's festivities, Elrond caught a glimpse of a familiar figure weaving through the crowd. Glorfindel, he knew, was also a longtime friend and confidant of the Elvenking since their adventures in the early years of Eryn Galen, before Oropher had fallen. He saw Thranduil catch sight of their mutual friend, saw the warm smile light up his face, and Glorfindel spot them in return.

"Thranduil," Glorfindel called out, approaching with a grin. "It has been far too long, my friend." Elrond watched as Thranduil’s sharp, azure eyes flickered with recognition and joy. Glorfindel continued, putting a hand on the other's shoulder, "It pained me to hear of Nasarulasil."

Thranduil bowed his head for a moment, his eyes shuttering closed and Elrond felt sympathy for the King, who was sundered even further from his love than he. All that separated Celebrían from him was the Straight Road, his duty to his kin, and his brother's kin. Thranduil would have to bear the wait of Mandos before he might have a chance at seeing his beloved once more. When Thranduil raised his head again, his gaze was as cool and detached as ever. Glorfindel clicked his tongue as if he were dealing with an unruly child, and the look they shared suggested that words were being exchanged silently instead. Elrond let his gaze soften and fall away, watching the nearest group of new and reunited friends sharing jokes and stories to afford them a little more privacy.

The night unfolded and he watched as Chloe was guided through many introductions with much of Eryn Galen's court, a shy smile on her lips, never drifting far from the Prince. Elrond watched from afar, amused. Merilimben, you may have been given a reprieve, he thought with a chuckle that he did not entirely hide behind his wine goblet. The night was well towards its summit when he saw Ella peering curiously into the Great Hall, apparently having concluded her reading in the library.

He saw Glawaril mark her arrival and move across the room, her bonded following her with her as she went. They approached the girl with welcoming smiles and open arms. 
"Ella, my dear, you've joined us at last," she greeted, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

Ella fidgeted inside the doorway. "Yeah, I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about," she replied, glancing around at the many gathered in the large room.

Glawaril guided her towards another group of elves, most of whom were artists and craft masters that had made the trip to the travelling market earlier in the year. She gave him a knowing smile as she saw him observing and he nodded in return. He watched long enough to see the young girl folded into their group as they reminisced over previous markets and then turned his attention elsewhere.

Thranduil, though as reserved as ever given the public nature of the evening, was perfectly content to catch up  and watch the proceedings with Glorfindel, their heads bent together as their wine cups were frequently refilled. Legolas convinced Chloe to sing one of her songs, and she chose the same one she’d first sung after her arrival in Imladris, but it was the first time their visitors heard it, then the Prince sang one himself in turn, making his father smile. 

Chloe was the first to praise him as soon as he finished. He smiled graciously, steering them towards several of the court from Eryn Galen who stood nearby. “My apologies, I don’t think I’ve introduced you properly to Aemes and Taura?” He gestured toward two elven ladies standing nearby, both elegantly attired in long, sweeping gowns adorned with the intricate detailing around the necklines, and delicate, floor length sleeves.

“Hello,” she greeted them shyly, “it’s nice to meet you.”

Chapter Text

What the hell? Ella eyed Chloe suspiciously as she watched the other girl lean against one of the fence posts in what she assumed was supposed to be delicate nonchalance. Ella gestured at the training area around them “Are you… lost?”

Chloe huffed and smoothed her skirts, and replied with no little amount of exasperation. “No.”

Ella pretended to scratch her head in confusion. “Then what are you doing down here?”

“I just thought it was time I came down to see… it.”

Ella lifted a brow. “It’s been months, you’re gonna have to lie better. You didn’t even come down after the thing with Orinan and Vance,” she said, annoyed, then following Chloe’s distracted gaze when she started tracking somebody behind Ella. “I suppose it’s got nothing to do with that prince I can see coming down here to practise? The one you were so chummy with the other day?”

“No —”

“What did you call him?”

“Ella!”

“The fairest —”

“Stop!”

“Most pretty —”

“Please!”

Ella took pity on the panicked look on her face and shut her mouth with an audible click. They were both well aware that the elves had superb hearing and would easily overhear their conversation, if they cared to pay attention.

“So, you going to join in today?” she asked instead.

Chloe’s eyes widened, “This is one of my nicest dresses,” her nose wrinkled, “and you want me to ruin it?”

Ella shrugged a shoulder and turned back to the salle. She’d seen Legolas teaching most of the guard on longbows the days prior - apparently he was some kind of specialist - and having him here was supposed to be a great boon to the archers among the guards and scouts here. Ella was hoping to avoid him altogether with the entirely legitimate reason that she needed more practice with her own blades, and she had nearly zero experience with a longbow, and only limited practice with a shortbow. She doubted she’d be able to pull the string any distance to be useful on the bigger ones.

The comforting weight of her shoulder harness, meanwhile, still made her belly fill with butterflies. I have swords. My own swords, which of course with them came with responsibility of cleaning them, oiling them and sharpening them - the latter of which she felt particularly nervous about doing because it seemed so easy to slip and lose a finger, however Elrohir and Sírben had been taking turns to patiently sit with her and guide her through the process regularly. Sírben had even gifted her with a small whetstone, bottle of oil and a cloth - the thoughtfulness of it nearly made her cry, and she had to blame it on the scent of the oil, bottled and stoppered as it was. Sírben had been kind enough not to call her bluff.

“So you’re just going to… stand there? You know that’s not going to fly right?” Ella said, laughing “Tried that on my first visit.”

Chloe's eyes widened in panic.

“It’s not a spectator sport. If Glorfindel especially spots you he’s gonna give you the,” She stood as tall and proper as she could, trying to appear as noble and elven as possible, “‘if you have time to watch you have time to join’ line, I bet.”

Chloe’s mouth opened, and then shut. Ella watched with interest as the panic faded away, replaced by resolve. She tucked her hair behind her ears and repositioned the long waves behind her shoulders. “Well, I guess a bow and arrow is less likely to ruin my outfit than the stuff that has you looking so messy every day.”


She looked down at her admittedly slightly muddy clothes. She’d worn these trousers yesterday and there were patches on both legs that were clearly discoloured from where she’d only brushed the dried mud off. The fabric was starting to thin in places from a lot of use, but she refused to pull on the newer, longer pairs Glawaril had arranged to have made ahead of them leaving. She raised an eyebrow. “I think I’m insulted?”

“Just a statement of fact,” Chloe waved her off, already walking towards where Prince Legolas was walking along a line of archers, “wish me luck.”

*

Ella cast a brief, annoyed, glance across the salle, watching as Chloe stumbled her way through a poor attempt at stringing a bow as she followed through on her inexplicable decision to begin archery in the presence of Prince Legolas. She turned back to her sparring partner with a roll of her eyes.

Uilossiel was a whirl of movement that she couldn’t quite keep track of, until the elf tapped the flat of her sword against Ella’s back. “Pay attention to your enemy.”  Uilossiel instructed, her voice patient but firm.

“Glorfindel told me to pay attention to my surroundings,” Ella retorted, wincing as she twisted away from the blade.

Uilossiel flicked her raven black hair out of the way from where it had drifted over her shoulders. It fell back into place, cascading down her back, held away from her face by a row of complicated looking braids at her temple, each one decorated with matching small beads that glinted in the spring sunlight. She had been patiently meeting her blow for blow and giving her pointers on what to do differently each time Ella ended up flat on her back, or with a knife held to her throat. It smarted Ella’s ego somewhat to still be so bad at it all, but she was in theory, learning and improving, each time (or so the various patient guards told her) so that had to count for something. Or so she tried to tell herself when the air was forced from her lungs again as she landed in the dirt and found herself with a very sharp sword held very close to her neck.

“Not at the expense of being stabbed,” Uilossiel said wryly, her grey eyes locking onto Ella’s, “You must do both. No matter who is having lessons nearby.”

Ella felt embarrassment and frustration mingle into one hot blush that crept up her cheeks, “I’m not —”

But Uilossiel silenced her with a knowing look, leaving Ella to mutter in defeat and scramble back up to her feet.

“Could she just be, like, more subtle? She never comes down here. Ever. And now that blonde elf is here -”

“Prince Legolas.” Uilossiel interjected.

“ - yes him - she’s practically backing up into him begging for… help… with that bow.” Ella cringed, “I have second hand embarrassment for her.”

“You do not wish to go over there?”

“God no! I’d rather not be anywhere near royalty at all.”

Uilossiel gestured for Ella to resume their practice, and they walked sideways around each other as Ella decided how to make her first move.

“You do not need to be afraid of Legolas, I have only ever heard stories of his bravery and his camaraderie with his forest guard. He is not like Orinan.”

“I’m not afraid, for Chloe or me,” Ella quickly corrected. “I just… I’m me. And royalty is about as far from me as you can get. Back where I come from if there was a scale and he was at one end, I would be at the other. I’d rather just avoid the trouble.”

“What trouble?”

Ella decided not to delve into the complexities of classism: the elves of Imladris seemed to have very little concept of it, despite not being a meritocracy as far as she could tell. Would they even understand if she tried to talk about working, middle and upper classes? And how they didn’t exist except that they did exist. Instead, she opted to launch an attack with one blade while attempting to come in from a different angle with the other. However, she quickly found Uilossiel’s sword inches from her nose… again.

“You must remember to always keep your guard up.”

“Right,” Ella gulped, feeling her eyes cross slightly as she stared at the blade.

Uilossiel gestured for Ella to take up ready position again and began a new swift exchange, her eyes keenly focused on Ella's movements. Ella felt a thrill of panic, and then adrenaline as she realised the elf was moving faster than before, pushing her to dodge and move faster in retaliation.

"She seems quite taken with him," Uilossiel remarked casually, her blade meeting Ella's in a controlled clash so fast she didn’t have a chance to change the angle of her own blow.

“Yeah, I noticed,” replied Ella, frustration evident in her voice. "It's like watching a movie, and the script is just awful."

"This bothers you."

"I just don't get why she's suddenly so interested in archery, she’s never been interested before," Ella huffed, nearly missing a block.

"You think it is his status that is motivating her?" Uilossiel asked, pulling back on a cutting move that would have hurt when Ella didn’t move fast enough, having slid a quick glance to the archers.

“I think his looks are motivating her,” she grunted, twisting awkwardly as Uilossiel continued her attack, unrelenting. "You’re distracting me on purpose," she realised, “elves shit talk? I thought you were all too nice for that.”

“Many enemies will try to engage you, to distract you and give them an edge. You must learn to focus on the present and ignore such chatter. And do not mistake manners for ‘nice’, or kindness in fact. In any being.”

Ella yelped as Uilossiel landed a smack across her knuckles and skipped backwards to get some distance, “Can we focus on me just not getting stabbed, or kidnapped by mistake, please?” she begged, “It’s all very focus determines reality, and I hear you, but I don't need a play-by-play of Chloe's attempt at seducing an elf prince and I really can’t do both at once."

Uilossiel laughed lightly, "Might I suggest you remain focussed on our spar instead of looking over to the range?"

Ella nodded eagerly, making the elf laugh harder, and then she advanced again. The diversion wasn’t wholly successful.

*

Ella sank into her favourite, oversized armchair with a barely restrained sigh of contentment. Gingerly opening the leather-bound tome that contained the story of Beren and Luthien, she slid out the narrow, braided fabric bookmark that had saved her place. It was slow going, but she was making progress. Slower progress than a little kid sounding out their first letters, she thought to herself, there’s no way I’ll finish this before we have to leave. The realisation was edged with sadness as it gnawed at her: she had never left a book unfinished before the day in the forest. This book would make two, and she did not like the new pattern. She couldn’t just take this book away with her - she never even dared take one out of this library, though she’d seen plenty of elves do so with their own. Maybe there would be a copy of this story where they were going? Would they have a library she could use? Maybe Mairon will know.

She was engrossed in parsing a passage that seemed to depict either a serene meadow, or a tranquil glade… or maybe it was a quiet crop field? Ella furrowed her brow, reading and rereading the words but found herself still not entirely sure. Her internal debate over asking Erestor - he sat in his usual spot, with a book of his own rather than a ledger this evening - was abruptly interrupted by a disapproving tut. The sound made her hesitate. Tut’s meant disappointment, annoyance, frustration. The echo of Mairon's lectures on her questionable grasp of elven etiquette and of the elves here reaching the end of their patience rang in her ears.

Reluctantly, she turned toward the source of the sound, only to find herself looking up, up, and up, at the tall, imposing figure of the visiting Elvenking. “Hello,” she said automatically, “uh, your… highness?”

His response was abrupt and laconic, but still demonstrably annoyed. "You are in my seat."

"I was sitting here first." Ella replied instinctively, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. She inhaled a full, gulping breath through her mouth as quickly and quietly as possible, to stall any more words coming out.

He stared back at her, not moving a muscle, and then turned away, long robes swaying elegantly with the movement.

Ella allowed herself to sink further into her chair, wishing it could swallow her whole. 

Lesson one in getting into trouble: piss off the people in charge. Stupid girl! She thumped her palm against her forehead. She had managed to secure the seat, sure, but at what cost? The King hadn’t gone far, merely seated himself on a very similar chair on the next bank over. He didn’t look angry - but he never seemed to show much emotion at all from the little she’d seen of him. It made him unknown, unpredictable: dangerous. Ella returned to her book, making a mental note to ask someone what the phrase meant another time: she didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself.

Erestor, it seemed, had other ideas. He stood from his desk a little while later with such a put upon sigh that Ella saw the King’s head twitch minutely in his direction. Ella tried not to shrink away as Erestor made his way over, a frown marring his perfect features.

“You have not turned the page since you entered: you are not that slow. What is wrong?”

Ella felt her face burn hot with embarrassment, fumbling over a reply even as she tried to shake her head in disagreement. He’d not spoken loudly, but the library was quiet and she was sure his voice had carried to every single corner of the large, stack-filled room. Eventually she pulled a face and pointed to the lines that she was struggling to parse. “I think I know what they say? Maybe? But I don’t know what they mean. Or if the difference is even important.”

Erestor’s eyes quickly traced the words, and he had her read them to him, excruciating as that was, and then explain what she thought they meant.

“It is not related to crops. It would be a glade,” he said finally, “as in, a clearing in a forest. Next time, it would be more expedient to simply ask.”

Ella nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. She glanced back at her book, realising that the mysterious lines of description now made much more sense. A faint smile played on Erestor's lips as he returned to his own reading, leaving Ella to her contemplation.

The library returned to its hushed, peaceful, ambiance. Ella, determined to make up for lost time she spent puzzling over the phrase, delved deeper into the pages. However, her thoughts occasionally drifted to the silent presence nearby. She couldn't shake off the sense that she had angered, or at least annoyed, someone of clearly great importance, even if the consequences seemed minor for now. What if he’s the grudge holding type?

Eventually, she came across a passage that confused her all over again. Frowning, she glanced toward Erestor, wondering if she should disturb him again. Before she could decide, the King's voice, surprisingly soft, reached her ears.

"If you have another question, ask it. I imagine I can assist."

Ella looked up, surprised by the unexpected offer. King Thranduil had turned a page in his own book and was barely paying her any attention. She considered for a moment, then decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

“If you’re sure -”

“Ask.”

Right. Doesn’t mince his words, this guy. “There's a part here," she began, holding up the open book and pointing to the lines in question, "that mentions a 'silmaril.' I've read that word before, but I'm still not entirely sure what it is?"

He glanced at the lines she indicated, a flicker of almost-interest crossing his otherwise composed expression. "The Silmarils were three highly powerful and magical jewels crafted by the elf-smith Fëanor in the Years of the Trees. They held the essence of the Two Trees, the divine light that once illuminated our world. They played a significant role in many tales from our history, all of them bloody."

"Thanks,” she said slowly, absorbing the information as she looked back down at the book suspiciously. “I don’t suppose this is a bloody-but-happy one?”

"For them, in the end,” he inclined his head slightly. “The history of Arda is vast and intricate. If you ever seek knowledge or clarification, the libraries of Imladris hold a wealth of information, as do the people here. None of them would shun you for seeking knowledge."  

It looked like he might continue for a moment, but just as quickly as she thought it, his face fell back to its regular neutrality. She wondered if that meant people would do that in his realm - shun her for not knowing something - but she put the concern away for later. "You’re in here a lot, is there a library like this where you live?" she asked instead, her curiosity temporarily overcoming her earlier embarrassment and better judgement.

“Yes,” he replied, his gaze returning to his own book.  A clear dismissal. Right. Why use a sentence when a single word will do?

She returned to her reading until Erestor started arranging his scrolls ready for the morning. She reluctantly replaced her bookmark and closed the book. The King didn’t move from his seat and Ella hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to speak.

"Thank you again for the help.”

He regarded her with a measured gaze. "Knowledge, like air, is vital to life. Like air, no one should be denied it."

Ella nodded, slightly bewildered, and returned the book to its designated spot on Erestor’s desk and left before she could have any more stilted but useful conversations.

*

A light breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees around them as Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas lounged in their favourite old oak, not too far from the site of the incident with Vance, Orinan and the girls not long ago. The tree had aged beautifully in the great many years since they’d noticed it as a sapling.

“How much longer do you think we can hide you out here?” Elrohir asked, his eyes still shut.

Legolas’ wince was audible in his reply. “You are making the assumption my father did not notice hours ago,” he said, “but I think he will let me tarry a while longer. He has no love for movements of the court, either.”

“At least Nídphen is not finding every reasonable excuse to be near you,” remarked Elladan,

“Did we decide who she was looking for, brother? She cannot tell us apart yet and just as often appears at my elbow.”

“I pray it is you,” he muttered, “perhaps Camaemben will put something unpleasant in her food.”

Elrohir raised himself up indignantly. “He would never do such a thing.”

“Nídphen spent the last ten years finding every reasonable excuse to be sat as close to me as she could to me at every ball, feast and anything else she could find an excuse to attend. My father is of the opinion her mother wanted me to court her,” Legolas grinned as he admitted, “I am torn between gladness she has moved her attention elsewhere, and sorrow for you as my friend to have to deal with her, for all that she is occasionally quite funny.”

“How is your father?” Elladan asked quietly. Elrohir sent him a mental sigh of frustration but said nothing aloud. Elladan disagreed with his brother and sent his own rebuttal back - it had been many years since Legolas and his oldest brother had visited, and they had not spoken of it back then. Thranduil himself had not been seen in Imladris since before it all happened. Legolas fell quiet, looking thoughtful.

“He is not… he is not the same. He has found a new… normal, since emel died. It is easier for me, in some ways: I was all the much younger back then. I have fewer memories and so perhaps less sadness than he or my siblings.” He paused for a long time, idly coaxing some growth into some of the leaves next to his fingers, “We all thought he might sail, to await her rebirth in Valinor. Lerophen asked him once why he had not, if he missed her so much, but adar said he would not abandon us after we had already suffered her loss. Nor would he leave our people, or our forest, after losing their Queen.”

Love and duty, Elladan thought, thinking of his own father who also stayed, for very similar reasons. He shared a sad, knowing smile with his friend. He didn’t share any particular bond with Legolas, so he reached softly out to the others' presence and tried to share his own feelings of guilt-loss-fear-anger. After watching his mother sail away, he and both of his siblings had feared that their father would follow his bonded, a fear so loud it nearly matched their anger. It took a long time for that to fade, and still now sometimes his father would get a faraway look in his eyes, would see something of their mothers that made his face take on such a wistful, unguarded expression that the fear came straight back again. And they had all been considerably older than Legolas at the time.

“One day, we will be reunited,” Legolas said softly, “and I take comfort in that. I think adar does too.”

Elrohir smiled sadly and nodded. “One day.”

“Such tales we will all have when we see them again,” Elladan said, “for I see you now wear túrëahandë braids, my young friend. And our archers have been asking for us to keep you here as long as possible.”

Legolas blushed but nodded proudly, not even raising a hand to check them. He earned them some time ago, he thought, proud of his friend.

Elrohir chuckled, leaning back against the sturdy oak trunk. "So, how has the archery training been going, Legolas? Not too many injuries among our warriors, I hope?"

Legolas grinned. "Your warriors are skilled, and I am finding the time as enlightening as I hope I am helpful to them. I am used to working in a different environment," he said, referring to the closer quarters of some of the deep forests of his home.

"I'm sure the warriors appreciate having the Elvenking's son himself sharing his expertise.” Elladan said lightly, “It's not every day they get lessons from such esteemed company."

Legolas inclined his head in playful acknowledgment, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I am honoured to raise the bar above the pair of you, for all that it is a low one."

The trio continued to trade jibes and share stories of their more recent adventures and trials until the sun dipped lower in the sky and cast a warm golden glow over the trees. The conversation eventually turned to current topics, and Legolas couldn't resist teasing the brothers about Nídphen’s new interest. "Perhaps you should consider taking up dancing. I know Nídphen has a penchant for it and I have not heard anyone speak highly of your dancing skills."

Elrohir laughed, a melodic sound that echoed through the branches. "Dancing, you say? I confess, my skills in that area are not in the same style that you perhaps favour, princeling. But if it would spare you from any more unwanted attention, I might be persuaded to try a little harder to remember my old lessons."

Legolas mockingly clutched his heart in jest. "Oh, how kind of you. I'll be forever grateful for your sacrifice."

It wasn’t much longer before Elladan saw Legolas glancing up to the sky through the great tree and sighed.

"I should be returning," Legolas said, his tone carrying a touch of regret. "My father may have allowed me a reprieve, but he will expect me to return before much longer."

“We should return too,” Elrohir agreed, “Chloe and Ella are due to start their wilderness lessons shortly, and we must speak with Glorfindel on how he wishes to divide them.”

“The two girls who are to return with us? My father mentioned something about that.”

“Yes, you have met Chloe - she is the one who asked for help down at the range - though I do not believe you have met Ella?”

“I am sure our paths will cross at some point soon enough,” Legolas said as he jumped nimbly down, the twins trailing in Legolas’ more experienced wake. Wood elf indeed, Elladan thought with a grin.

Chapter Text

Glorfindel watched their progress with a nod of approval, the late afternoon sun lighting up his hair in brilliant shades of orange and red. "Survival often requires resourcefulness and adaptability. You are both doing well, but remember, when you light a fire it can be a beacon for those who may not have the best intentions. Learn to use it wisely, but discreetly, if necessarily,"

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "You mean, like, don't light a massive bonfire if we're trying to hide?"

"Exactly," Glorfindel affirmed, then gestured to the pile of kindling in front of her, “again.” 

Chloe hesitantly struck the two stones together, flinching away as sparks flew but the kindling remained untouched. It was her seventh attempt by Ellas count. And she was one hundred percent counting.

“Do not be afraid of a mere spark,” he counselled patiently. 

“What if it goes in my eye? Isn’t this dangerous?”

Ella rolled her eyes and pretended to warm her hands over her own small fire, earning an irritated glare from Chloe. She’d been eager for a lesson in fires, the memory of their first nights after suddenly finding themselves alone and in an unknown wood still fresh enough to make her disconcertingly aware of just how much she - and Chloe - didn’t know. Her lighter wouldn’t last forever.

“It is perilous to travel any distance and not know how to care for yourself. What if you should become separated from your party?” he cautioned, "I will not permit either of you to travel without these skills."

Permit? Ella glared at her fire rather than turn her expression on the elf and let him know. Since when did he get to make decisions like that? While she chafed at the implication, Chloe made a frustrated noise under her breath and angrily struck the stones together once more, jerking her head backwards as she did so. This time, a spark successfully caught the kindling, and she cheered, "Yes! I did it!"

"Good. Now, cradle it, feed it, let it grow," he said, handing her more kindling and some small twigs. Once Chloe's fire was burning brighter, she bit her lip nervously.

"You won't actually let me get lost, right?"

Glorfindel's gaze softened, "We have not lost a young one on a journey to Eryn Galen yet."

Ella couldn't help but wonder about the specifics of that statement: because it was very specific. Who did he lose, on what journey, to where? Did he manage to find them again? What does he count as young? She added a little more wood to her own fire as they continued chatting about what kind of wood was best for fires, where to find it, and how to manage during rain. Eventually, their small fires began to burn low, and Glorfindel demonstrated how to put them out quickly, then disguise and cover the remnants. Chloe, who didn't want to dirty her soft boots, looked expectantly at Ella until she did it for her, rolling her eyes again as she did so.

“Is that it, are we ready to try and get home now?” Chloe asked excitedly.

Glorfindel shook his head. "You will need some more time in the wilderness, where we know you are safe but you can practise what you’ve learned,"

Ella and Chloe exchanged similar expressions of uncertainty.

“With you?” Chloe asked, sounding nervous, “Or alone?” 

“Both,” he clarified, “to properly demonstrate what you have taken onboard. All our younglings must do the same -”

“- We’re not children, Glorfindel,” Ella groaned.

“In this you are,” he replied, not unkindly, and she tried not to be too annoyed at him, “I will organise it for the coming days.”

"Are we going to learn how to sing with the birds and communicate with the trees as well?" Ella asked with a smirk.

"I'm afraid I cannot promise such skills,” he chuckled, “but you will learn how to navigate the wilderness, identify some common edible and poisonous plants, and find fresh water sources."

"Are we really going to have to do this on our own?" Chloe glanced at Ella, hoping to find some solidarity, but Ella kept her expression neutral. How is she not more keen for this after those first nights here?

Glorfindel, undeterred by Chloe's reluctance, nodded solemnly. "Yes. But for the first, you won't be alone: Elladan and Elrohir will accompany you. They will ensure your safety while you put your newfound knowledge into practice. The second outing will be completed solo."

Ella offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the other girl.  "See? We'll have the twins with us. It won't be as scary as you think."

Chloe managed a weak smile in return but didn't look entirely convinced. 

"As soon as it can be arranged - before the week is through, if I can,” Glorfindel continued, his tone gentle but firm, “you will receive basic supplies, and then you'll spend the day away from Imladris. It's an opportunity to practise what you've learned in a controlled environment. Remember, whilst we hope they won’t be needed, these skills may become crucial in the coming weeks."

Ella nodded in agreement. She knew they couldn't afford to take this training lightly, no matter how uncomfortable it might be - and Chloe was clearly planning to coast this as much as possible. What else is new?

Chloe sighed loudly, looking at the scattered remains of her fire with dread in her eyes. "I suppose we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

Glorfindel offered a reassuring smile. "No. But I believe in your potential. With determination and effort, you'll both excel at this, I am certain."

Ella wasn’t so sure, especially given Chloe’s reluctance to get her shoes dirty not ten minutes ago but resisted the urge to comment through sheer force of will as he kept talking, oblivious to her monumental effort at silence.

"And now, for the last lesson of the day, I want you to tell me which way is north."

“I didn’t bring my compass,” Ella said, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks from embarrassment. Why wouldn’t you bring your compass? You knew what this lesson was for! Stupid, Ella! Glorfindel only chuckled, however. "I will teach you to not need to rely on such… devices. Come: we will start with the basics. Ella, do you remember what I taught you about navigating by the sun?"

Ella nodded, "Yes, find where the sun sets, and you have your west. From there, east is easy and -"

"Very good. Chloe, it's your turn."

Chloe hesitated, glancing at the sky. "So, if the sun sets over there, then north is... um..."

Glorfindel only let her flounder for a few moments before pointing. "To your right, and south is on your left."

“How come you do west first? Ella asked, “We do north first, back where we come from.”

“To the west is, was, home: Eldamar, and Valinar.” He lifted a shoulder in something that might have been a shrug, if he had been so inclined, “We always look to the west.”

Ella couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. "What's it like there? West?"

Glorfindel's gaze drifted into the distance, as if he could see beyond the mountains and forests that surrounded them. "It is a land of great beauty and light, bathed in the radiance of the Valar. My people there are numerous, and spread across the shores in three great realms. All the air is filled with the scent of blossoms and grass and woods, and the sounds of the sea are a constant melody. It is a place untouched by the shadows that now creep across Middle-earth. It has been many, many years since I last saw its shores."

Their eyes widened with wonder.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over them. He brought his focus back on to them, the quiet yearning fading as quickly as it had appeared. "Now, let us focus on the lesson at hand. Knowing the cardinal directions is essential for navigation. As you travel through the wilderness, understanding your orientation is key to finding your way."

He guided them through a series of exercises, teaching them to use natural landmarks, the position of the sun, and even the moss on trees to determine direction. He was a patient teacher, as Ella already knew, but even when they continued to struggle to grasp some of the concepts he continued to be calm and composed, not a hint of frustration evident in his voice or bearing.

As the shadows grew longer, Glorfindel finally nodded in satisfaction. "You both have made good progress today, well done! Now, let us return for rest and food, before night falls fully."

As they made their way back through the woods, the air filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of a nearby stream, and the comforting scents of earth and moss. The fading golden sunlight painted the treetops with hues of gold and amber. Shafts of light played through the leaves, creating a dappled carpet on the ground.

Glorfindel, his long, flowing hair catching the last whispers of daylight, led the way with an air of quiet confidence. Something about the light, or the evening, was making him seem more ethereal than ever. Ella swore the trees and shrubs themselves bent out of his way. Or maybe the ground itself? He didn’t break a single twig despite the many that crunched beneath their feet. She watched him in awe from behind, trying to imitate him as subtly as possible. They approached the main building and he turned to the girls, bringing them to a stop. "Continue to practise what you've learned whenever you can - your next lesson will be upon you soon enough."

Chloe and Ella exchanged a glance, one excited and one nervous: the world beyond Imladris was vast and unknown, the little they’d seen of it mostly empty. His insistent preparations made Ella wonder if there wasn’t more to be concerned about than the huge empty plains first suggested, something more than nefarious kidnapping plots, but the thought of having to say goodbye only made her keen to get underway.

*

Elrond's footsteps echoed lightly on the stone floors as he made his way past the office Glorfindel kept as Captain of the Guard. The door stood slightly ajar, and snippets of a lively conversation between Thranduil and Glorfindel caught his notice. It was a rare sight, given how reserved and aloof the King kept himself, and Thranduil's gentle ribbing, and Glorfindel's answering jest, reached his ears, drawing a smile on his face. Mithrandir, ever observant, walked with matching strides next to him. The wizard's eyes sparkled mischievously as he leaned towards Elrond and murmured, "It seems the King is both amused and perhaps a little annoyed by Glorfindel's antics?" Tilting his head slightly, Elrond didn’t slow his comfortable pace on to his own study. Each word he heard carried a warmth that was rarely witnessed from Thranduil in public. 

“I believe Glorfindel just told him how he spent the last day.” Elrond said with amusement.

Mithrandir tipped his head curiously as if he did not already know, but Elrond was feeling indulgent and so humoured the Istari. 

“He took my wards on their first wilderness lesson.”

As they approached his study, nestled deeper within the heart of the building, the hum of conversation between Glorfindel and Thranduil gradually receded, leaving them to continue in a tranquil quiet. Mithrandir, walking beside him, looked at him with piercing blue eyes that held a hint of mischief. 

"Wilderness lessons?" he inquired, a playful quirk to his lips, "I didn't know Glorfindel had taken up teaching such things."

“He likes them, and you know of his soft spot for young ones,” Elrond led the way into his study and gestured toward the comfortable chairs around the unlit fire he knew Mithrandir favoured. "Given the sparseness of their knowledge in the area, we decided it was time they learned some practical skills ahead of embarking on their journey."

Mithrandir, with a chuckle that resonated through the room, settled into one of the plush chairs with an almost theatrical sigh. "I’m sure they could learn all they need to on the way?” 

Elrond knew for certain that the furniture, crafted with Elven precision and attention to detail, cradled him in comfort, and that whilst he looked and sounded like an aged Man, he was nothing of the sort. He raised an eyebrow at the others' antics before considering his reply.

“We are not all so cavalier as you, my friend.” His gaze shifted to the view outside his window. "The world beyond our borders is changing, before even the unusual arrival of Chloe and Ella. And since then, it has only grown more shadowed: orcs test my borders, wargs have been sighted more often and the trolls have come closer than they have in centuries. The rangers confirmed Vance’s claim that a bounty had been placed on Chloe’s capture, with little more than a small trading post as a delivery point. They are lost in this world with no family to guide them, without us at their side they would be adrift. Thranduil will accept them into his home and help them the best he can to find a path back to their home for the sake of the relationship between our realms, but it is a close thing.”

Mithrandir's expression turned serious. "Danger always lurks in the shadows, and the threads of fate weave a complex tapestry. You feel that Chloe’s presence may have stirred more than curiosity.”

Elrond nodded, "Indeed. I fear she may have become a pawn in a game we have yet to fully understand. It is unsettling to think that someone would go to such lengths, manipulating from the shadows for unknown motives."

Mithrandir leaned back in his chair, his eyes focused on the map spread across Elrond's desk. "Your ward possesses qualities beyond the ordinary. Perhaps that is why she has attracted the attention of these unseen forces."

“It is the unseen and the unknown that troubles me so, as you well know. I do not know what we need to defend against.” Elrond said, sighing heavily, “To get to Eryn Galen they will have to traverse much distance over the course of several weeks. We can give them the knowledge to care for themselves outside these walls in some sense, but I cannot arm them fully when I do not know what it is that seeks her.” 

“You believe that someone is orchestrating from the shadows, using pawns to carry out their designs? To what end, and to what extent? That is the question." The wizard's gaze narrowed, "Have you considered the possibility that these things are connected to an older threat?"

Elrond steepled his fingers, contemplating the question. Mithrandir was referring to what he had found in Dol Guldur, and who was behind the growing menace there. "It is a distinct possibility, especially with the resurgence of orcs and trolls, but I do not see how one would connect that to the bounty. How do the events correlate? How would he have come upon the knowledge of Chloe so quickly?

I have discussed as much with Thranduil and have offered to send more of my guards as escorts, but he feels that would announce a change too loudly. He is most likely right, whoever found out about her dreams, and her existence here, would notice if the travelling party was more armed on its return,” his gaze turned pensive, a frown creasing his brow, “and if the trouble at our borders return to normal levels…”

“A storm gathers,” Mithrandir murmured in agreement.

Chapter Text

“You’re not so bad, for a giant horse,” Ella said with a smile as she fed Lânhîth one of the extra apples she had stashed in her bag. She patted the dappled white horse's nose, and Lânhîth responded with a soft snuffle, nuzzling her hand. “If I give you more now, there won’t be enough for the rest of the trip.” 

Lânhîth huffed and whickered softly, almost in protest.

Ella smiled despite herself and contented herself with brushing down the horse, enjoying the quiet and focussing on doing it exactly as they’d been shown. The repetitive motions soon had her own eyelids dropping until she was giving herself a little shake: she’d slept poorly the night before. And the night before that. Mairon had been irregular in his visits since autumn and it had been nearly two weeks since she’d last spoken to her dream walking friend.

Over by the fire, Chloe was being fussed over by Elladan and Elrohir, who were acting like two mother hens in her opinion. Honestly, they’re acting like the girl was trampled or something! She tripped over a rock! Ella pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, deliberately moving on. What had Glorfindel said they needed to look for? She ticked off what they had on a mental list (water, some basic dry food), but shelter was important too. Or was that only if it was raining or cold? The grassland they were in had no suitable trees, and she had nothing like a tarp in her pack. It was early spring, and the temperature could still drop quite a bit overnight. But they’d slept without it when they made their way from the woods to Imladris, although it had been closer to summer by then.

She leaned against Lânhîth's side and sighed. The crackling of the campfire, the low hum of their voices nearby, and the gentle night breeze all blended into a soothing lullaby. Ella closed her eyes, letting the ebb and flow of the surroundings carry her away before and the nagging, unspoken question about her friend's absence brought her back to reality. She finished brushing Lânhîth and offered another apple to Tinuial, the dark speckled horse Chloe was riding. “She hasn’t forgot you,” Ella reassured the mare, “She’s just got…attacked by rock, or something.”

Am I telling myself, or the horse? Stop messing around and make yourself useful! She huffed at herself, brushing down the other horse before venturing over to where Chloe was huddled under a blanket with the twins sitting nearby, tending to the fire.

“Do you want me to brush your horses as well?” Ella offered, waving the brush at them. Then, with a hint of doubt, she added, “Will they even let me?”

Elladan raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "“Do you have more apples for them hidden in your pack?”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Yes. How mean do you think I am?”

“Then they would surely welcome the attention of a good brush down and an apple.”

They were right, of course: the horses were very happy to be given an apple each, and didn’t seem to mind too much that a strange human was brushing them down instead of their preferred elven companions.

By the time Ella had finished, her arms felt nearly as tired as her legs, and her eyelids seemed to have developed a will of their own, continuously drooping. She plopped down next to Chloe, now that the elves had left her alone to prepare some food.

“Geez, Ella, you stink.” Chloe complained. “Go wash, will you?”

“Hey Ella, thanks for sorting out my horse after a long day of riding.”

“What are you, twelve?”

“Ah it’s no bother,” Ella continued, ignoring her, “Don’t even worry about it.”

Chloe scuffed the floor with a boot, a sheepish expression on her face. She sniffled sadly.

Ella waved her off, and wandered over to the twins, kneeling next to them. “So we have water, and food, and I think we can sleep outside tonight, right? We have no tent, and no trees, but it’s okay because the weather is fine…?”

“Are you asking, or telling?” Elladan said, his attention focused on stirring a pot over the fire.

“Uh…”

"You're absolutely correct," Elrohir acknowledged, shaking his head at his brother. "But remember, you should always keep an eye out for shelter, fresh water and food when travelling. Seize any opportunity to refill your water skin, especially if you're unsure when you'll have the next chance."

He passed her a skewer of roasted rabbit and carrots. She took it eagerly, her stomach rumbling in anticipation. “Right. Yeah. That,” she mumbled, taking a bite. It sounded like she’d need to constantly be looking everywhere for all the things. How did they do it? She waved the skewer of meat around. “How do you know when this stuff is cooked enough it’s not gonna make you sick?”

“When you touch it and it no longer feels the same as when it was skewered,” he said, rather unhelpfully in her opinion.

“My dad used to take the temperature of stuff on the grill,” Chloe added, trying to delicately nibble at her own dinner without success.

Ella shook her head, “Damn, forgot to pack my meat thermometer! Christ Chloe.”

“Hey!”

Ella rolled her eyes and ignored her, in favour of devouring her own dinner. The skewer didn’t last long, and he handed her another without sparing her a second glance as he continued. “When you are on the road at night it is important to take turns on watch as well,”


Ella, who felt like she could fall asleep while chewing if there was no one speaking to her, felt her stomach drop. I can’t stay awake any more, she thought with no small amount of panic, if they all sleep and something bad happens because I close my eyes it’ll all be my fault! Something must have shown on her face because he gestured over to where she’d dropped her backpack and bedroll.

“Chloe can take the first watch, and then wake you later on. Elladan and I do not need to sleep tonight, so neither of you will have to do it alone.”

“Still not fair, that,” she grumbled, finishing off the second skewer at a marginally slower pace with a conscious effort. 

“Sleep, nethig,” he insisted, ignoring her comment.

Ella moaned at the nickname that wouldn't go away but didn't protest further. She walked past Chloe, flopped down onto her bedroll, without much care for the small stones and hard earth beneath it, and fell into a deep sleep. 

*

It was the sharp pain on her arm that woke her. Another on her ear that stopped her from batting whatever it was away and going back to sleep, instead jerking awake fully with a jolt. Despite feeling like she had just closed them, she forced her eyes open, her gaze meeting Chloe's as the girl leaned over her, fingers stretching out to pinch her again.


“What the fu-”

“I’m really tired,” Chloe whispered, barely audible, “Can we swap?”

Ella rubbed her eyes and pushed up onto her elbows inside the bedroll. The air was chilly, but the sky above was clear and beautifully lit with stars and a shining, crescent moon, “‘S’time already?” 

Chloe was already tucking herself into her own bedroll, leaving only the top of her hair peeking out.

"Alright then," Ella muttered, stumbling over to the fire and adding a couple of thick branches from the pile she had gathered earlier. Elrohir, sitting on the other side of the fire fletching arrows, paused.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Ella blinked at him. It took her longer than she’d like to admit to connect his question to the answer and she ground her teeth when she realised. Her gaze fell to her pinched arm, and she rubbed the stinging skin, considering her options. Chloe had bailed on her watch, and left Ella to pick up the rest of the night. What are you going to do about it? Wake her up? Tell them she woke you up? She rubbed her ear. It’s not like she gets decent sleep with all those God-given nightmare-vision things. What’re they gonna say if I wake her up? She sighed and sat down near the elf. Put up, shut up. Play the long game, Ella. “Where’s Elladan gone?”

“He is scouting a perimeter.”

Ella watched him expertly carve into the top of an arrow shaft and select a feather from a pouch in his lap.

“Should we be doing that? Scouting?”

"It depends," he said patiently, "on a lot of factors: are any of your party asleep, or injured? How secure is the camp? What territory are you in?"

Ella opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. She felt daunted. "How am I ever going to learn all that?"

"Time, and practice," Elrohir said calmly, selecting another feather. "No one is born with knowledge, Ella."

"But you sure do have a lot longer to learn than I do," Ella commented, grabbing one of the longer sticks from the stack and poking the fire, watching him as he moved on to the next arrow.  “Do you go get them back after you shoot them? Can you reuse them? How many do you think you’ve made ever?”

“Sometimes, it is dependent on the situation,” he added, a small smile tugging at the edges of his mouth, “Yes, if it is not damaged; and I haven’t kept a count, but given I have been fletching my own since I was very young, I would think the number quite high.”

“Does everyone make their own arrows?”

“For the most part, yes,”

Ella tried to get a closer look at the feathers he was expertly adding with nimble fingers. “Do the feather colours like, mean anything? Like braids? Or do different bird feathers do different things?”

“You are full of curiosity tonight, my young friend.”

“Sorry.”

He shook his head, “I did not say it as an admonishment, merely an observation. In answer to your question, yes and no. We do not typically prescribe meaning to our feather choices, however it is true that different elves have different preferences. These,” Elrohir indicated to the pouch by this lap, “are from the geese that live in the coup by the kitchens.”

“The kitchen geese are your favourite? You have favourite geese?” Ella asked in disbelief, “Do they live near the chickens?” she added.

Elrohir laughed softly. “Not as close as the chickens. Camaemben tends the nearest flock.”

“Elrohir,” Ella grinned, “do you like the geese because they’re Camaemben’s?”

Elrohir chuckled, his fingers deftly working the next arrow. "Perhaps there is some truth to that," he admitted, his tone warm and slightly teasing. "They are indeed pleasant creatures, and it's nice to see Camembaen enjoying their company when he tends to them."

Ella smiled at the thought. It was clear that Elrohir had quite the soft spot for Camembaen, and she couldn't help but find it a little cute: she’d caught more than one lingering glance since last spring, and one flushed encounter when the two of them had clearly just broken off a kiss when she rounded a corner and seemed to think they could pass off the flushed faces and out of place, usually perfect, hair, with a quick joke.

The hours before dawn unfolded at a languid pace, stretching on so long as to be rude, in Ellas opinion. In an attempt to stave off the encroaching drowsiness, she paced the perimeter of their makeshift camp, her steps barely making a sound on the soft ground. From time to time, she cast sidelong glances toward Elrohir, and then Elladan who had returned with no notable news - a good thing in this case. The symphony of the dawn chorus was picking up in earnest when Chloe began to stir in her bedroll, her movements accompanied by murmurs that sounded like denials. Elrohir hurried to Chloe’s side, and, sensing the need for privacy, Ella diverted her attention to the horses. She certainly wouldn’t want anyone watching her have a nightmare! 

The horses, wrapped in their blankets to ward off the lingering spring chill, rested peacefully. Ella took a moment to ensure they were all content before turning her gaze back to the others as Elrohir led Chloe over to the fire, where Elladan was already filling the camping kettle. And so, their second day followed much as the first - Chloe doing very little wilderness training and a lot of being looked after, and Ella grappling to recall the lessons from Glorfindel and the twins, hoping she wasn’t forgetting anything and that she’d never have to do this for real, lost in the unknown between here and Eryn Galen. 

When the sun began its descent Elladan set out a challenge for Ella - to catch something for their evening meal. It proved to be more than just a challenge - it was an exercise in futility. When they stopped to make camp and she still hadn’t caught anything, she wandered a ways from where Chloe was trying to get a fire going and out to where the grass grew long in patches and holes of some kind scattered the ground. Fox maybe? Oh please don’t be a cute rabbit. Or a badger. Aren’t badgers mean? She crouched down on her haunches and sat as still as possible, the small hunting bow she’d borrowed feeling awkward and unwieldy in her hands. Eventually, she spotted a rabbit poking its head up from a warren. She let loose an arrow, only to have it thud into empty earth and to see the rabbit darting away, metres away already. She spent every arrow in her small quiver, trying to catch Peter Rabbit (and his friends), drawing each as quickly as she could… but every time it was to see the rabbit kicking off in a different direction. Will they be mad if I tell them I’m relieved? It wasn’t like she was ungrateful for the new skills she was picking up, but putting them into practice was more difficult.

“Practise,” Elrohir reminded her, when she came back, morose, hungry, and empty handed, failure written all over her face. She remembered uncomfortably that elves were telepathic and met his eyes with a suspicious glare that only deepened when she saw the three rabbits he’d already killed.

Too hungry to care. Show off, she grumbled to herself, then aloud continued,  “Can you walk me through the whole,” she hesitated, her stomach turning at the thought, “skinning thing, again?”

Elrohir regarded her with a look that held a touch more pity than she liked to see. Determined to push past the feeling, she didn’t care at all, she couldn’t care: this is what you’ve got to do today. She steeled herself and gestured to the animals hanging from his loose grasp.

“Quicker we do it, the quicker we eat, right? Chloe and Elladan doing the fire?”

Her gaze flickered toward Elladan managing the fire, with Chloe sitting nearby, looking tired. I’m tired too, she thought grumpily, aware that she was in a bad mood but also in too much of a bad mood to do anything about it. Then all there was to think about doing a mental dance of separating cute bunnies in Peter Rabbit from the mess in front of her, and the meat they were preparing to eat. “So gross,” she muttered, “do you have vegetarians here?” she asked, attempting to distract her thoughts.

"Vegetarians?" Elrohir echoed, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” Ella replied, carefully and slowly mimicking his movements with the borrowed knife, “It means people who don’t eat meat, or fish. Then there’s vegans, who don’t eat anything from an animal at all. Think I might starve here if I did that here, though.”


“We would not let that happen,” he reassured her, “though it sounds odd to my ears that you would consider such a thing.”

Conversation stalled as Ella struggled to keep the disgust from her face with olympic amounts of effort, and she wasn’t wholly sure she managed it. When Elrohir went to check on Chloe, prepared meat in hand, Ella seized the opportunity to wash her hands in the nearby stream.

She went to the horses, and then tried to banish thoughts of places back home that ate them. Fortunately they didn’t seem to mind her lack of apples today, contentedly grazing on grass. “I’ll bring more apples with me next time, I’ve got just enough left for one each tomorrow morning,” she promised Lânhîth, “but kinda hoping there isn’t another time, no offence.” 

She dug out the brush from her bag and worked on rote, letting her mind drift. She continued until all four horses had at least had a semblance of a brush down but her arms were shaking by the end and her head dropped periodically. Functioning on autopilot, she stumbled over to the fire, ate, drank water, and barely spoke a word except to confirm her upcoming second watch. And then finally, she slept.

*

Mairon emerged from the shadows behind the open bedroom door to the plain magnolia hallway, his features twisted in disdain. Ella sat cross legged in the bedroom she’d once lived in, absentmindedly picking at bobbles on the well-worn duvet cover. She knew the room wasn’t much to look at, especially compared to the architecture and design of some of the beautiful places he’d shown her. The walls of the smallest bedroom were painted hastily in pale lavender, while patches where holes had been filled in remained white and untouched, everything white slightly faded and yellow-toned, and the carpet was lifting at the corners. Sunlight filtered through thin, daisy-patterned curtains, casting dappled shadows on the flat carpet below. It was her most favourite bedroom, of all the bedrooms she’d ever slept in.

Mairon, surveying the surroundings, scrutinised a glowing lamp on the bedside table with evident bewilderment. The yellowing white cord of the lamp snaked across the floor, vanishing behind the wooden bed frame.

“What is this place?” he inquired, his eyes fixated on the lamp.

“Somewhere I’ve lived,” she said, following his gaze, “electricity is a thing I miss.”

“E-lec-triss-ity,” he shook his head, “I have many questions, but I think for now you need something else, little swan. What is it?”

“‘m just tired,” she shrugged,

“You are asleep,” he replied, raising one perfect eyebrow.

“You’re telling me I'm sleeping wrong?”

Mairon stopped looking at the lamp and turned his dark gaze to her. “What is wrong, little swan?”

She ducked her head, focussing on the uneven fabric beneath her, so different to the smooth, soft covers of her bed in Imladris. “They’re making us like, learn to live in the wild,”

“That is… quite forward thinking, late as it is.”

“Sure - but I’m the only one doing it. Chloe’s not taking it seriously and they’re just letting her, coddling her and treating her like she might break if she does too much work -”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“Elladan and Elrohir. I thought they might be my friends but they’re just… it’s the Chloe Show, and I'm an unpaid intern.”

“I will not pretend to understand that reference; speak plainly. You are with the sons of Elrond -”

“And they - they’re just - it’s all about Chloe -”

“And you want it to be all about you?”

“No! I don’t!” Ella ground the heels of her palms into her forehead, wondering how to articulate the ball of feelings that felt like they might burst out of her chest if they kept growing, “I just… I want - I don’t w -”

“You are in the way.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to be. I’m always in the way, everywhere. All the time. I pouf-ed into a whole new world and I’m still just a spare part no one wants, in the way of someone else more important.”

Mairon sat in thought for a while, until Ella began to doubt if she’d said too much. You moan too much, Ella. No one wants an annoying, useless prat around, do they? He’ll probably never come back now. You’re just supposed to smile and pretend everything is a joke, c’mon.

“Sor -”

He extended his hand, gesturing gracefully for her to stop. “Come to me. We will solve the mystery of getting you home from here. The elves of Imladris do not have space for you alongside your Valar-blessed companion, but you can be sure of a welcome at my home.”

Relief coursed through her, fast and cool, gratitude blooming in its wake, smoothing over the ball of snarling, tangled feelings, smothering them into quiet.

“As before, now it is spring you can traverse through the mountain pass and go East until you reach the river, then follow that south. Keep the mountains to your right and avoid the forest. Pity will make the elves deter you - do not let them discover your plan, little Ella.”


Ella nodded, having committed all this to memory last time. I can do this. I could go now, even. We’re not that far from the mountains, it’s dark and they’re busy -

“Tell me more about the wonders of your world. Electricity,” he said the word carefully, his lips curving around it like it was something exotic, “it is a source of power, yes?”

Ella glanced at the lamp that had captured his fascination, momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden change in topic. It was just a normal lamp, with a once bright, now faded and dusty, yellow shade and matching bulb holder. “Yeah? We use it for nearly everything at home. Lights, obviously, ovens, fridge freezers, TV’s, consoles, use it to charge up phones - you can even get cars running on it now and they do hundreds of miles at like, seventy or whatever, before you just plug them in and bloop, off you go again -”

He looked at her with rapt attention. “Tell me more. How can anyone travel hundreds of miles? How far is a mile?”

*

She woke up looking at the stars. The view never failed to steal her breath away. Mairon’s offer was at the forefront of her mind however, over and above the beauty of the inky night sky. 

A cautious glance towards the campfire revealed that Chloe was still there. She was seated between Elrohir and Elladan, fully engrossed in their conversation. I could go now, while they’re so wrapped up with her, she thought, her heart already racing in anticipation. The quicker I go, the quicker I get there.

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d made such a decision, although there was no door to sneak through and shut quietly here, no lift she could call or bus she could ride quickly away. Impulsiveness coursed through her veins like an electric current, adrenaline pumping through her limbs. Her eyes remained fixed on the trio by the fire, as she noted that she was just far enough away to be in the near shadow: it hadn’t been cold enough to wrap themselves around the source of heat like moths to a flame. Chloe had the spot closest to the fire - and they were all engaged in conversation, no one looking her way. With shaking hands, she grabbed Chloe’s still bundled up bed roll and tucked it under her own so it would look like, at a glance, there was someone balled up underneath. Maybe. It would be cold, leaving her own behind, but it wasn't like she’d never slept outside before. 

Her gaze flicked back to the twins, crouched and ready to run, but they remained immersed in their conversation, their backs to her. Elladan's arm rested lightly but affectionately around Chloe's shoulders. She froze in indecision, heart beating wildly.

Go. Go now, her inner voice urged in a frantic whisper.

She walked cautiously sideways, feeling stupid but unable to peel her gaze away. What, are you wishing they’d look up? They’d probably wish you happy travels. Only when the fire's glow was completely swallowed by the night and it was simply a light to head toward (or in her case, away from) did she muster the courage to turn and start walking quickly, with purpose, trying to keep her feet as quiet as possible. 

She aimed for the fringe of a nearby copse of woods, knowing they ran east until the mountains that still stood, black and looming, nearby. She could get her bearings in the morning - for now she needed to get some distance between them before they realised she was gone.

Minutes stretched by and the camp behind her remained oblivious to her departure. With a surge of determination, she broke into a jog, her footfalls falling quietly under the moonlight, still louder than she’d like. An unsettling thought crept into her mind: what if they had noticed she’d gone but simply didn't care?

As her confidence grew, she sped up until she was running at a steady pace and when she made it to the treeline, she didn’t slow down. She kept her eyes forward, not daring to look back - or down. She tripped, stumbling awkwardly, twisting an ankle on her way to the floor and biting her lip hard enough to draw blood in an effort to stifle a curse. Pain shot up from her ankle and tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to make a sound. She couldn’t hear anyone following - they probably hadn’t even noticed she was gone - but shouting wouldn’t do her any favours. With shaky hands, she wiped away the tears from her face and blood from her palms and stood tentatively. Stupid girl, running in the woods when you can barely see. What would Glorfindel say? She shook her head - it didn’t matter what the guard captain would say. She’d probably never see him again. But still, she cast a quick look over her shoulder and walked on slower, hissing as pain shot up through her ankle. 

She’d find somewhere to hide, let Mairon know and head south like he said. She only had to fall asleep to let him know, after all. He was right - she was only in the way here. The elves were only interested in their Valar-sent emissary: she was just complicating things. 

She kept limping through the sparse woodland, keeping the mountains before her. The night deepened, and she shivered in the cooling air as it pressed through her clothes. An hour - or was it minutes? Or more? Passed. She heard nothing except her own breathing and feet hitting the floor, except for the business of nearby owls and fowl. Then the thundering of hooves pierced the quiet, and Ella's heart leapt into her throat.

She spun around wildly, peering into the star lit darkness but seeing nothing. There was nowhere to hide. She spotted some shrubbery and dropped like a stone, trying to not even breathe loudly as the horse, and its rider, drew closer.

The horse came to a stop mere metres away, and she heard a soft exchange between the rider and the horse. She dared not look up.

“I saw you hide, Ella,” the voice called out dryly. It was Elladan.

Ella tried to call his bluff by remaining still and silent, but to her surprise, Elladan sighed and squatted beside her moments later.


“Do you wish for death? What were you thinking, running away into the wilds at night? We thought you were slipping away to attend to necessities.”

So I didn’t even really sneak away? They heard me the whole time and thought I was going to the loo? 

“Leave me alone, Elladan. I know where I’m going,” she replied quietly, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground. “Go and protect Chloe. I won’t be in the way anymore.” 

Elladan put his hand on her arm and gently pulled her to her feet. She refused to look up from her boots. 

“Thank you for your help when we got here," she added, her voice softer, a note of pleading in her tone, “Please let your father know I am grateful, really.”

“Where are you going, Ella?” he asked, his tone tinged with confusion and concern, confusing her in turn. She was expecting annoyance, or anger, or maybe boredom.

Her ankle throbbed so much it sounded like a bass drum in her head, her eyes felt itchy and her heart hurt from realising that she was in just the same position she was before arriving here. She remembered Mairon’s words and refused to meet Elladan's gaze.

“To a friend. I won’t be a bother any more. It’s better this way.”

“What friend?” Elladan pressed, baffled. “Where did you meet them? Why would they ask you to travel at night?”

“He didn’t ask me to travel at night.”

“Where did you meet this friend, Ella? I cannot believe one of the Dúnedain would ask this of you, to travel alone?”

“He’s not one of the Dúnedain.” 

“An elf asked this?”

“It isn’t any one in Imladris, I promise.”

“Bree, then?” Elladan shook his head in bewilderment. "Come, return with me to the camp and forget this foolishness."

Anger, hot and roiling, bubbled up and she finally met his gaze with a glare. “I am not a child, Elladan!”

“You are acting like one. Come.” he took her arm, not unkindly but with more firmness than he had ever done before, and tugged her towards his horse.

She wrenched her arm free. “He said you’d be like this!”

“Who did!”

Ella looked up to the stars, spent half a second wishing they’d spent longer learning how to navigate with them, and resumed her limping walk without a backward glance. How dare he call me a child! He spends half his time playing pranks like some ten year old kid!

“Do not make me throw you over my shoulder like an errant toddler,” he threatened, hastening to her side.

“I want to leave. I am not your prisoner.”

“No, you are a ward of Imladris. If harm should come to you because I let you wander in the wilds alone, the fault and guilt would be mine.”

“I don't want to be anyone’s ward here. It’s all I ever am! Ward of the court, ward of Imladris! I forgot I was just another obligation, not your friend. Stupid me!”

Elladan grabbed her arm and stopped her movement. She bore too much weight on her painful ankle at the abrupt stop and didn’t quite manage to stop the yelp.

“One does not negate the other here, I am sorry if it is different where you come from,” he said gently. “If you still so desperately wish to leave when it is light, then I will accompany you to your mysterious friend. But not now.”

In the distance, a wolf howled. Elladan’s eyes flicked to the sound, but even Ella could tell it was far enough away to not be a threat. She was caught, and they both knew it: she couldn’t out run him, she couldn’t fight him, and she couldn’t overpower him. She suppressed a shiver from the cold and the realisation that she was trapped, not just physically, but by the sense of pity and honour the elves held.

“Fine.” she muttered grudgingly. They’d watch her for a while, and then something would come up, something more interesting, or more important, and she’d take the opportunity again - running away was hardly something she was inexperienced in.

"Beinhith will carry us both back to camp. Come, we need to relieve that ankle. What have you done?" Elladan asked, his concern evident in his eyes.

Ella scowled but followed him nonetheless.

Chapter Text

Ella lay on a comfortable bed in the healing ward of Imladris before noon the next day, since Elladan and Elrohir had started them on the way back at the first light of dawn, despite Chloe’s grumbling. Elrond stood on one side, carefully examining her sprained ankle. The gentle scent of dried herbs lingered in the air. On the other side, another healer named Amdirfael, whom Ella had met a few times before, arranged a length of bandage.

Elladan stood nearby, his arms crossed. His stern expression softened with a hint of concern when Ella winced as his father tried to gently rotate the swollen joint.

"You were fortunate it was not more serious, running around in the dark," Elrond remarked, his fingers gently probing her ankle.

Ella winced again but managed a nod.

Elrond exchanged a brief glance with Amdirfael, who nodded in acknowledgment. Together, they worked so efficiently it made her wonder if they’d done it many, many hundreds of times before. They probably have. But can elves sprain ankles? I’ve never seen the guards sprain anything. Amdirfael prepared an orange-tinted salve infused with something floral, applying it with a gentle touch, and then Elrond expertly wrapped the ankle with a fresh bandage.

Finally he sighed, and Ella knew that sigh. It was disappointment and tiredness and we’re sorry but -

“Do you wish to be taken somewhere today?” Elladan asked, “To meet this… friend?” 

She was ninety-nine percent sure Mairon did not want her to arrive with an escort. He was generally polite about it, but his dislike of the elves was clear. She shook her head mutely. She’d be better off making her way to him on her own.

“I’m glad you have changed your mind - you'll need to rest and allow time for proper healing,” said Elrond, “I’ll let someone in kitchens know you are unable to make it to the dining halls today. Please, try to keep your ankle still and elevated.“ He nodded to Elladan and the two of them left, Amdirfael staying just long enough to help her into a more comfortable position before she too left. 

*

They gave her the rest of the day and one night of unrestful sleep before they began their inquiries. Subtly, and through several different visitors, but come the questions did. Who did she want to meet? Where did she first meet them? And when? Mairon had already despaired and questioned her intelligence when she told him of her premature and poorly planned attempt to leave, and now on top of that she was faced with the disappointed faces of Elrond and Glorfindel as she lay in the healing ward. She couldn’t even disappear quickly because of her ankle, a constant reminder of her badly planned attempt.

"I don't want to talk about it," she repeated, her voice heavy with regret. "I'm sorry I left like that."

“You mean when you could be tracked so easily?” Glorfindel said knowingly, not letting her evasion go unnoticed, “not that you left.”

Ella flushed, not used to being called on such wordplay.

"Elladan has said he will keep his word," Elrond interjected, his tone kind and patient. "If you have changed your mind. If you tell him where you are to meet your friend, he will escort you there, though I would advise waiting until your ankle is more healed than it is now before making such a choice."

She hadn’t seen Elladan or Elrohir since the morning they’d returned, and wondered how true Elrond's statement was. “I haven’t, and I don’t want to talk about it,” she repeated, “I’m sorry I caused a fuss.” She watched as the two elves exchanged a look she couldn't quite decipher. They rose from the chairs they had brought to her bedside and began to make their way towards the door.

“If you wish to talk, you need only ask,” offered Elrond still without any of the impatience or annoyance she was expecting, “I will come by to check on you soon. All being well you will be able to walk, with some aid, tomorrow.”  

Ella nodded mutely, looking determinedly at the sheets of her bed until she heard both sets of footsteps leave.

She’d been castigating herself for her impulsive decision almost since she made it, and only more so since Mairon had described, in detail, just how stupid it was to make a move so ill planned and quickly. Certainly now she’d had a little more sleep, and some rest, she felt slightly ashamed of herself. Partly because she’d spent so long trying to suss out the best way to leave undetected, only to throw it all away by deciding to leave in the dead of night, with elves literally a stone's throw away. Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

She flopped back onto the bed and turned to face the door, which now stood shut, cocooning the room in silence as a litany of scoldings ran through her mind. On the small table next to her stood a slate, a small box of chalks, and the book she was working her way through from the library: an unexpected gift she felt undeserving of. All the same, she picked up the book, found her bookmark, and began.

*

Thranduil happened upon Legolas as if by chance, as he walked calmly through one of the orchard gardens beyond the main buildings of Imladris. That it was neither by chance, nor by accident, didn’t need to be said as he looked up through the branches of the large pear tree that stood a little apart from its more carefully kept neighbours.

“Why this particular tree, Legolas?”

His son met his gaze from high above as he nimbly jumped several branches lower. “It seemed lonely. I have told it I will plant a friend near, although it is not allowed to be annoyed at its closeness when it too reaches for the sun!”

“Have you perhaps checked with the head of the gardens here, to check their plans?”

Legolas smiled sheepishly, which was all the answer Thranduil needed and he smiled ruefully.

Thranduil leapt up to one of the lower branches and reclined back against the trunk, letting one leg hang down. 

“Have you come to hide too?” Legolas asked, dropping down to sit opposite.

Thranduil fixed him with a steady look that effused a negative without needing to say a word, but Legolas looked at him expectantly, unrepentant. 

“I have come to hear your thoughts on the two girls we will take back with us.”

“Why, Father?”

Thranduil regarded his son with a thoughtful expression, his gaze drifting back to the surrounding orchard, where the sunlight cast dappled patterns on the lush green grass. The gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the pear tree, whispering passing murmurs.

“Elrond is careful to extoll only their greatest virtues, and Glorfindel will not speak ill of them. I’ve seen you speaking with the one said to be having gifted dreams. What was your impression?”

“Friendly, open, a little shy when faced with many elves at once. Keen to learn more about our realm and how she can help with finding a way to her home.”

“And the other girl?”

“I haven’t really spoken with her - I imagine you have seen more of her than I, in the library?”

"I have encountered her there on occasion," he replied, his tone thoughtful, “she is learning to read. It reminds me of when you were young, stumbling over your sounds still.”

“Father!” Legolas groaned, without any true anger.

He ​​turned over the mystery in his mind, contemplating the potential ramifications and possibilities, but there were too many unknowns, too many variables that he did not know. "I sense they carry secrets: perhaps burdens that they may not fully comprehend even themselves, or perhaps ones they are fully aware of, and are not revealing."

"Secrets," Legolas echoed, his brow furrowing in concern. “Do you think they pose a threat?"

"I do not think so - Glorfindel, nor Elrond, would be easily fooled but I think whatever these…. Secrets… are, the consequences of those worry me a great deal.”

Legolas sighed, long and deep, until Thranduil looked over to his son. “I don’t know why I hoped we were just on a social visit,”

“I wanted personal assurances, given Lerophen and Merilin…” Thranduil trailed off, then sighed, “the woods grow dark enough as it is.”

Legolas smiled brightly, “It has given me a chance to introduce Nídphen to Elladan and Elrohir, at least. She has been tempted by the idea of catching a Noldor Lord, instead of a forest Prince.”

Thranduil frowned at the implied slight but Legolas only laughed more. 

“We have not yet worked out if she simply cannot tell the twins apart, or if she is deliberately flirting with both of them. I am tempted to ask her, in case it is the former, but I am also loath to draw her attention again.”

*

There was something magic about the speed at which her ankle was healing - something she was attributing to the existence of elves, dreamwalkers, and wizards. Maybe the air? Or the water? Or the ground the food grows in? Glawaril, Uilossiel and even Sírben helped her from place to place for a few days, before Elrond declared her fit to walk short distances on her own, albeit with caution, and discouraged her from doing any strenuous activities, like training with the guards. Back home, a sprain like hers would have taken much longer to mend, she was near certain of it. When Mikey sprained his wrist a few years ago it had taken him nearly a month before he could pick up a guitar without wincing.

In an effort to avoid further questions on her destination, or who Mairon was, how she met him and where that was, she found herself in the library. 

Five days after their wilderness training, and five days of intense reading and practice, Mairon had not visited her dreams again: not since his first angry, disappointed outburst when he discovered what she’d so impulsively attempted. She was torn between falling asleep standing up, or climbing the walls. She was almost certain she was about to throw the book she had been reading into the nearest fire, as her frustration with it reached a peak.

She glared at it fiercely like it had personally offended her.

“What is it?”

Ella nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of King Thranduil's voice. Moments ago, he had been across the room, seated at one of the desks, engrossed in writing yet another letter. She’d seen him write plenty of the things since he’d arrived. She blinked, willing her heart to slow down and opened her mouth to reply - literally royalty, she reminded herself, he could probably just say ‘off with her head! if you mouth off. She closed her mouth again, her teeth clicking shut with the force of it. “Sorry,” she muttered after a pause.

“Your frustration is aggravating. Ask a question, rather than wallowing in this,” he gestured vaguely toward her, his expression a perfect blend of disdain and boredom.

“I - it doesn’t -” Ella stammered, struggling to find words that wouldn’t land her in trouble.

“It will be far quicker for both of us if you just ask,” he interrupted, his cold impatience evident. “I have much to do this evening, and it will be more expedient if I am not distracted by your sighs every other minute.”

Ella flushed angrily, more at herself than at the elf beside her. She pointed at the open pages in her lap. “I can’t… there’s a phrase I don’t get. I thought I got the letters mixed up? But I checked, I haven’t.”

Thranduil held out a hand expectantly, impatience writ on his face, and it took her a moment to realise he was waiting for her to give him the book. She bit her lip to stop herself apologising again, “This one,” she said quickly  pointing to the lines that had her so confused.

“You are trying to parse this from Sindarin into Westron, yes?” he asked, handing the book back after a brief look at the page. Ella nodded, biting her tongue to stop herself correcting him with ‘into English’. She still wasn’t entirely sure how that worked. Hadn’t English evolved from something in Europe? Britain had a habit of getting invaded early on, and absorbing the languages of its conquerors didn’t it? And then there was the whole Empire phase. And yet the map she’d seen of Arda looked nothing like her tiny island. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for her response as her brain continued on another tangent, and he continued on, “that phrase is itself a quote from Quenyan and does not translate well a third time. Read it literally, not metaphorically.”

“A cat prince of cats?” Ella read aloud slowly, puzzled.

Thranduil nodded curtly.

Ella couldn't help but pull a face at the book. “You have giant evil cats? That have a royal family?”

"No longer," he replied cryptically before returning to his desk, seemingly unfazed by the strange question.

New nightmare, incoming. Ella sighed inwardly: she really didn’t need to add dark, giant, royalist cats to her repertoire - although - maybe the giant evil cats can fight the giant evil spiders until there are no survivors?

He had already returned to his desk when she called out a hasty ‘thank you’ in likely badly-accented Sindarin, but he nodded in acknowledgment all the same.

Ella turned her attention back to the book, her mind still spinning with thoughts of the mysterious Prince of Cats. Her curiosity wouldn’t let her settle without more answers, so she decided to read further to see if any additional clues could be found. Where did the cats go? Were there still cats in this place? Do they have domesticated cats? Are they related to the royal cats?

She continued to read, occasionally stealing glances at the King, who appeared entirely engrossed in his correspondence. The quiet atmosphere of the library enveloped them, punctuated only by the occasional rustling of pages and the scratch of his quill against parchment.

Ella made slow progress through the challenging book.  She was grateful for his assistance with the phrase, but she knew that there was something more to the story she was missing - and the questions in her head kept getting louder and bigger and leaving very little space for anything else. She decided to muster the courage to ask another question. Cautiously, though: she was well aware of the fine line she was treading, and it was impossible to forget she was well, her and he was a King.

"King Thranduil," she began, trying to keep her voice steady, "when you say no longer, you mean… there really used to be giant cats? As in, this is a history, not a made up story based on history?"

Thranduil glanced up from his work, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her. For a moment, Ella thought she’d pushed too far, asking a question unbidden. She started to cringe away, an apology on the tip of her tongue when he finally replied.

"Yes," he replied, his tone measured. "The Prince of Cats, Tevildo, once wielded great power and influence thanks to his size, and a gifted collar from Melkor that increased the size of his servants, also cats. When he lost his influence, his previous benefactor banished him."

“Are… if I see a cat here, should I run away?”

“That would rather depend on the situation,” he said, sounding bored, “but I would not recommend them as pets. My eldest thought of taming a cat once; it did not end well.”

Ella shook her head, dumbfounded. “We have cats as pets, where I come from,” she said in disbelief, “They’re all cute and cuddly and alright, a little twisted with the whole ‘play with their food before they kill it’ thing…”

 Ella trailed off as the King raised a perfect, dark, brow, and turned back to his work, ending the conversation. Why did the cats get smaller? Are they like dinosaurs? Cat dinosaurs! Or did they have dinosaurs and call them something else? Who was Melkor? Was he an evil wizard? Ella returned to the text with interest.

*

Ten days passed after the eventful and not overly successful trial in the wilds for his young wards, and Lord Elrond found himself walking through the tranquil gardens of Imladris with one of his closest advisors. Doubt was not a common companion in Elrond's daily life any more, and for that, he was grateful. Yet, here he was, wrestling with uncertainty. On the surface, there was no reason for doubt, no discernible cause, and yet an unsettling sense of unease lingered. He had just seen young Chloe off to join her close friends after coming to him to share her recent dream.

"That was... not quite the same," Erestor observed quietly as they strolled away from the bustling house. Elrond turned to his friend, surprised by the remark. He had hoped this walk would help him find clarity, but it seemed that Erestor was grappling with similar thoughts.

“How so?”

"The focus of the details was different," Erestor replied, his tone contemplative.

"It has occasionally shifted before," Elrond mused, voicing his own observations, “It is not uncommon for dreams to shift viewpoint.”

As they walked in silence, acknowledging the residents going about their morning routines, he couldn't help but dwell on the patterns he had noticed in Chloe's dreams. There was something consistent about when they changed tone and focus. The friendship between Chloe and Ella followed the natural peak and troughs typical of the many young he’d known. It ebbed and flowed like water and its tides, and like water sometimes it raged and rushed, and sometimes it was calm and placid. Currently, the metaphorical tide was out, and the girls weren't speaking as much. Chloe seemed to be relishing her time with Prince Legolas and other courtiers from Eryn Galen, while Ella was doing the opposite, especially since her troublesome, ill-fated attempt to run away to an unknown friend in the middle of the night.

“Would that we could keep them apart for a small time,” Erestor said, breaking the silence as they stood atop a small wooden bridge that spanned a minor ravine. They had climbed upward instead of venturing into the fields.

Elrond glanced down into the ravine, below, a clear stream flowed, meandering over smooth rocks and through reeds lining the edges of the banks, a soothing melody backdrop to their conversation. He still remembered when this bridge was first built, a few hundred years after Arwen was born. It was a far simpler thing then, and beautiful in its simplicity. It had been rebuilt three times since then, with added support rails and a wider deck but it had remained simple: smooth, sanded wood and soft curves. Ivorwen had done a remarkable job.

"Glorfindel has expressed a desire to test their wilderness skills alone before allowing them to embark on their journey," Elrond replied. "I believe two separate excursions could be arranged, although perhaps not entirely on their own."

Erestor fairly radiated disapproval at the notion. "And if the girl decides to run again?"

“You would have me keep her here if she plainly does not wish to stay?” Elrond asked, shaking his head gently. "If she chooses to leave, we shall ensure her safe passage to her destination. She is considered an adult by the reckoning of men," he added.

"Barely," Erestor scoffed, his scepticism clear.

Elrond glanced at the elf, sensing the underlying tension in his advisor's disapproving tone. While Erestor's caution was warranted, he also knew that they needed to delicately balance their concerns with the independence of their young guests.

"I understand your reservations," he said, his voice tinged with empathy. "But we must tread carefully. Ella is not a child, and we cannot force her to stay against her will. It is her decision to make, and we must respect it, even if we do not like it.”

Erestor sighed.

They walked slowly, taking in the tranquil atmosphere with a gratitude that only came from years of knowing everything but peace. The air, crisp and pure, carried gentle murmurs from nearby trees - although he’d never had the gift for hearing their words. The path they continued on was one laden with vibrant mosses and delicate wildflowers, forming a tapestry that mirrored the rich hues of the surrounding landscape. Majestic waterfalls cascaded down the nearby cliffs, the spray catching the sunlight and transforming it into a prism of colours.

"As for Chloe's dreams," Elrond continued, shifting the topic slightly, "I have three theories on the changes in their focus. Dreams often reflect the emotions and experiences of the dreamer: perhaps Chloe is more upset than she lets us see by the distance between herself and Ella, and that is what we are seeing. Or perhaps we are not understanding what the Valar are trying to communicate to us, and they are changing tact.”

“You said three theories,” Erestor pressed.

“Yes, I did,” Elrond said, his face falling into a frown, “The third…”

“Yes?”

“The third…” Elrond sighed, “Perhaps she sometimes comes to us with dreams that she has not dreamed  because she feels she must pretend they have happened, when they have not.”

Erestor's eyes widened almost imperceptibly in surprise, "I have had similar thoughts,” he said, “that she may be fabricating some of the dreams, either out of a sense of obligation or… perhaps for reasons we do not yet understand. In either case, we will have to approach the matter delicately. It would be unwise to push her into confessing if she feels she cannot, or worse, if there is nothing to confess."

"Indeed,” Elrond agreed, “We must provide a safe space for her to express herself if and when she is ready. Perhaps it will not be needed and it is one of the other theories. But I will impress this on Thranduil as well, ahead of their departure."

“What do you plan to tell him of Ella’s mysterious friend?”

“If she does not ask to leave before then,” Elrond reminded him,

“She has not yet,”

“I will give him as much information as we have and ask of him the same as we have been doing: to give her connections who can offer her guidance, friendship, and support.”

Chapter Text

He was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. Smooth, mahogany brown hair tied neatly back at the temples with small rings of gold, framing high cheekbones and crystal blue eyes that reminded her of lagoons in hot countries she’d seen in shows. Like those, his gaze always felt impossibly deep. His beauty had never awed her in the same, breathtaking way of the elves of Imladris; it had always been more of an ancient, perfect, imposing beauty. She wondered, abstractly, if he was an elf at all, while he watched her patiently with a calculated serenity that made her uneasy. Or maybe it was just what she’d learned that made her read into it now. The book implied he wasn’t an elf, but, histories could be odd. And if he wasn’t an elf, what was he? He didn’t look anything like a dwarf, and his ears were too pointed to be some kind of immortal human.

Ella turned around, surveying the strange landscape she found herself in. Tall, spiky grasses rose in unruly clumps, their whispered rustling filling the air and paths trodden by dog walkers revealed a muddy, labyrinth of ground that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. Sparse clusters of small, spindly trees grew in scattered, haphazard patches and blackberry brambles rose from the grasses in  mounds of drooping and trailing branches.

This was the small field over the old mine on the westside of Northpoint Woods, though the dream twisted it into a surreal, unsettling terrain with too-bright and too-sharp colours, she recognised it all the same.

The sky above them was the clear, bright, cold blue that only came with winter, but the air felt temperate, warmer than the sky implied and lacking any hint of a breeze. Ella watched the enigmatic being she’d been calling friend carefully, biting her lip as nerves crept up into her chest and sat there, heavy and waiting. Until finally, she released her lip with a sigh.

“Mairon isn’t your only name, is it?”

Mairon smiled and there was nothing pleasant about it. It sent shivers down her spine. This is just a dream, El. It’s not real, she reminded herself.

His eyes narrowed. “Who have you been talking to, little swan?”

“You'll have to be more specific,” she said with an eye roll that she hoped showed her as more confident than she felt, “and don't avoid the question.”

He stayed silent, tilting his head ever so slightly, birdlike, his eyes stared into hers with a piercing intensity, forcing her to continue, her confidence waning.

“I’ve been reading the story of Beren and Luthien. It says, ‘Thû, once named Mairon, now known as Sauron.’”

Mairon didn’t even shift his shoulders, his gaze locked onto her with an unreadable expression.

“Why did you lie to me?” She pressed.

“What would it have mattered? My words would have been the same. Does knowing some of my other names change what I said?”

“No,” she said hesitantly, the heat of her anger felt like it was being warped by his words, and she tried to parse them into straight lines, “And yes? You’re not a friend, trying to help me. You’re an evil overlord who has sought dominion over the entire world.”

He stepped forward, his hands open and entreating, a disconcerting contrast to the dark history she had so recently learned. She took a matching step backward. “History is always written by the victors, Ella, you know this. It is the same in your world.”

Ella started to take another step backward, then stopped herself, her determination resurfacing. Make it not true. “So you didn't try to take over the world? You didn’t help Morgoth? That was all just opinion, was it?” Make it not true. She wasn’t sure whether she was pleading to him, or herself.

“Oh, little swan,” he sighed, his voice laced with a cryptic melancholy. “Still so naive. Everything is an opinion.”

“Were you ever my friend?” The words wrenched themselves from her throat desperately before she could call them back.

“Didn’t I keep the nightmares away?”

Ella paused. She reluctantly nodded.

“Didn’t I offer you a home?” he asked softly, stepping closer again, his eyes searching hers. “Don’t you trust me, Ella? I have been there for you all these months and asked nothing in return. So the elves know of my history: you know me now.”


“Are you sorry?”

“Sorry?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. “For what?”

“Whole cities and, and people are gone because of you and your master!”

“You misunderstand, little swan -”

“They called you the giver of gifts as well. Is that how you planned to use me? By keeping the nightmares away?” The words flowed freely now, the nerves that had made her hesitant transforming into something edged with anger, with embarrassment, with shame, “By posing as my saviour? Then tricking me into something, or into doing something?” Ella shook her head, “Men like you are everywhere.” She felt sick with the disappointment, but her emotions still burnt bright, hot enough to ignore the betrayal. “If you don’t learn your history, you are doomed to repeat it. That’s what they say back where I’m from.” Ella steeled herself, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, refusing to flinch away from his shuttered, pale stare. “I want you to stay out of my dreams. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Tension in the dream world became palpable as the ominous undercurrent whipped itself into a real wind, whipping at her hair and snapping at the grasses.

Mairon took two quick, deliberate steps toward her, his long stride closing the gap until he was within touching distance, quicker than she could muster herself to stumble half a step backwards herself. “Do you think you can endure those nightmares alone?” he asked, low and deceptively quiet, “Do you truly believe you can cope?”

Ella straightened, rather than back step again; glowered, rather than flinch. She clutched the feeling of fury tighter, let it override everything else. What did it matter if she’d thought he was her friend, now? Tears never helped anybody.

“Yeah,” she declared, her chin high and her shoulders so tense they felt like they were pulled tight with string. “Yeah, I can. I was doing it before you. I can take care of myself, Mairon.”

He smiled indulgently, condescendingly. It made the fire burn hotter, a white hot flame that wanted to be free to set fire to everything.

This field, this field was from her world, not his. This dream was her dream, not his. The wind started tearing at the surroundings and buffeting her body with sudden intensity. The sky darkened to an inky black with clouds that rolled in from nowhere and everywhere. Flames licked at the grasses and smoke thickened the air. All she had to do was to wake up. All she had to do was stop this, and he would be gone and she would be awake and she could stop being frightened. She wanted him out, she wanted him gone, she wanted this dream to be over and dead and burned and finished. She didn’t need him, didn’t need his friendship. She needed to wake up—

Mairon glared down at her, his gaze ancient and knowing, his grip on her arm tightening with a bruising force, his nails digging painfully into her skin and panic surged through her. This isn’t real—

One of the elves worst enemies is in my head - 

There was a pressure behind her eyes, building, building, building until she wanted to pull it out, pull at her ears, her hair, scratch at her skin her eyes anything to get it out make him stop- this is MY dream -

Mairon’s eyes widened imperceptibly, a flicker of surprise dancing in their depths.

Then, someone was screaming.

“Nopell, nethig, nopell!”

Ella's heart raced. Panic clawed at her chest as she desperately tried to make sense of the terrifying turn of events. Am I awake? Is this real? Is it done? She looked about wildly for Mairon.

She needed air. Inhaling a massive lungful of air, and with it the screaming stopped. 

She blinked, breathing fast and shallow. The hands she could feel were Glorfindel where he held her by the shoulders, his crystal blue eyes wide with concern - not Mairon’s on her arms. She looked down but could see no bruises or cuts from the dreamwalkers nails. Just a dream, El. But she still twisted out his grasp in a panic, the phantom hands of Mairon lingering. The elf quickly let her go as she shot another glance around the shadowed room. Elladan and Glawaril stood at the doorway, their expressions a mix of confusion and alarm. Erestor stood beyond the open door, hovering in the hallway. 

“S-sorry, bad dream.”

“That was no mere dream.” Glorfindel said gravely, “Your fëa is…. That was no ordinary dream.” Glorfindel pulled a handkerchief from somewhere on his person and gestured toward Ella’s face. “Your nose.”

Ella frowned, pressed the fabric to her nose, and winced as it came away red. She was too frightened to concoct a lie or even think of a reason why she should. Her mind stalled, tumultuous yet blank. Glorfindel stood up and nodded, as if he could read her thoughts. Maybe he could, despite what Elrond had said.

“Come, I think Elrond will want to hear this story as well.”

The walk to Elrond’s rooms was quiet, with only the sound of light footsteps echoing softly through the corridors. The moon hung high in the sky outside, casting a cold, silvery glow and Ella shivered in her nightclothes.

Elrond, it turned out, was already awake. Or had never been asleep. Ella was never quite sure how often elves slept, or needed to sleep, or if there was a difference. Was it entirely at will? Did age matter? Did old elves sleep more, like old humans? Or less? He stood talking with Elrohir by the fire as they entered with nothing more than a cursory knock, and Elladan closed the door behind them. Ella wasn’t sure when Erestor and Glawaril had left, but they were no longer there.

Elrond gestured wordlessly to the stuffed chairs gathered around a large fireplace, waiting for them all to be seated before he took his own place. Ella lowered herself gratefully into one, distantly not surprised that they were more comfortable to sit on than they looked. 

The fire was warm, she felt it sinking into her skin, into her bones and fighting back the chill that had sunk into place. She stared into the flames, mesmerised by the dancing embers, her thoughts caught in a whirlwind. She kept latching on to one only for it to disappear before she could hold it properly. It wasn't until she felt their collective gaze upon her that she realised they were all waiting for her to speak. 

“Ella,” Glorfindel prompted gently, “what happened?”

She tore her gaze away from the fire and shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes settled on the expertly stitched hem of her shirt sleeves, marvelling at the precision and skill it must have taken to create such a straight, even line without the aid of a sewing machine. And this was just a night shirt - nothing fancy, just simple linen fabric like the matching trousers, but every stitch she could see was the same length. She heard fabric shift from the direction of Elrond and looked up towards him. 

Oh. Right.

“He was nice to me,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “and when he came, the nightmares would stop.”

“Who came to you? Where?” asked Elladan, “Is this the -” 

Elrond held up a hand signalling him to be quiet.

“He said that he was a dreamwalker.” Ella traced a finger over the impeccable stitching. “There were already elves and wizards, so I figured, what's one more mythical being in a world full of impossible things? He said his name was…was Mairon.” She looked up pleadingly, “I didn’t know.”

The elves were perfectly still. Glorfindel and Elrond looked taut as coiled springs. Elladan had frozen in place. After nearly a full minute Elrond took a visibly deep breath, his nostrils flaring.

“What happened in these dreams?” Elrond asked, his voice steady but concerned.

“Not much. We talked.” Ella shrugged, stiff and uncomfortable under their fixed gazes, “Sometimes he showed me places, sometimes, people.” She looked back to the flames rather than keep looking at the strained gazes staring back at her, “Like what dwarves here are? Other places outside of Imladris. Stuff like that. Just… stuff. Sometimes he helped me practise things from the guard training that I was thinking about. He asked about my world, about the stuff in it like technology and people and countries. And when he was in my dreams, the nightmares stayed away. He’s been… nice. But, I've been reading that book, that Erestor recommended? About Beren and Luthien? It was quite interesting, but your history is a lot like ours, wars and death and battles and stuff…” She rubbed her palms over the spots where she still felt the phantom pain of Mairon’s grip, “I was reading about Thû, and then it said he had another name, names plural, one of them was Mairon and there was some sketches, and one of them was a lot like the Mairon who helped me in my dreams except in history he’s a monster and he was in my head and I asked him about it and he said I was naive and I didn’t want a monster in my head even if he was helping not with all the things the book said had happened and all the people he helped kill and I just wanted him out -” Ella sucked in a quick breath, held it, dug her nails into her palms until she felt them bite.

Elrond rose from his seat, crossing the room to a small tray on a large desk by the double doors. He poured everyone a glass of amber liquid and handed them out before returning to his chair. His face was solemn as Ella swirled the liquid around in her own glass. She sipped it tentatively: whiskey. She knocked back half of the measure, coughed at the burn in her throat, and made herself meet Elrond's worried gaze.

“Let us start at the beginning. Can you tell us about your nightmares?” he said, his voice still deliberately quiet and steady, like he was talking to a spooked horse. “Your friend Chloe has also spoken of nightmares. It is worrying that you are both plagued so.”

“Chloe’s special or whatever. I’m not. They’re just bad dreams, and they suck. I’ve always had them. Not this many, but,” she shook her head, “they don’t matter.”

“Yet they are bad enough you didn’t mind someone walking into your dreams to stop them.” Elladan said, disbelief evident in his tone.


Ella scuffed her bare toes on the floor. “Well yeah. Because I’m stupid and a wimp and I just wanted a chance to not have them for a while.” 

“What are your nightmares about?” Elrond pressed, “Are they the same now as before you arrived here?”

She took another, smaller, sip of the whiskey and let her gaze slide to the floor, focusing on the smooth, polished stone. The crackling of the fire in the hearth filled the room, and she could smell the faint scent of burning wood. She rubbed her fingers over the fabric of the chair beneath her. She could still taste the coppery blood from the nosebleed in the back of her throat.

A storm and a shipwreck, an endless ocean. Fire, beating down on a floating town from high above. A shadow moving overhead and a sound, so loud, roaring in the sky. Thousands of ugly creatures marching on under a dark sky.

Ella shook her head, attempting to dispel the haunting images. “Nothing much,” she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. She winced and cleared her throat. “It’s random stuff my brain mixes together: an ocean, a village on the sea, or a lake? Water, anyway, and it’s on fire. There’s something in the sky but I never see it, and the sky is on fire? Sometimes it’s rows and rows of weird monsters and they screech and they shout and their hands are like claws and they’re ripping into a fight against men and some of them have gold armour on but a lot don’t and the ground it’s just so wet with all the blood and -” she abruptly stopped, her words choking in her throat.

“And what?” Elrond urged gently.

Ella took a deep breath before continuing, “And I don’t like thinking about them. They’re just bad dreams: I somehow ended up in another world by touching a bloody tree, it’s my brain processing the trauma.”

“And have they always been this way?”

She let out a short laugh, “No, the Silent Hill remixes are new. Always been scared of water though, those ones are as old as me.”

Elrond regarded her with a long, thoughtful stare, and the room fell into silence once more. Eventually, he broke the quiet. “Would you recognise the gold armour if you saw it again?”

“None of it is real, Mr -  Lord - Elrond, that’s what I keep telling you.”

In response, Elrond retrieved a thick tome from a nearby shelf, easily several inches thick and bound in black leather. He quickly found a page he was searching for and handed the book to Ella.

She touched the illustration in disbelief, recognising the ornate helmet, shoulders, and boots that had haunted her dreams and tracing each one. Even the details on the pauldrons looked the same. She'd seen them enough times over the months since the nightmares had intensified. However, her gaze shifted to the being wearing the armour and the text accompanying the illustration, reading it carefully. She shook her head with a mix of deflation and relief. “It looks the same, yeah, but this is for elves.”

“You were dreaming of a battle involving men and elves,” Elrond clarified. “One such battle occurred long ago, but there are no armies of men that wear this golden armour.”

“In your world. I'm pretty sure there are lots of movies - like, visual stories - in mine with gold armour.”

“That look exactly like this?”

Ella shrugged nonchalantly. “Coincidence, I guess. The simplest answer is usually the right one: I saw something that happened to be practically the same in a film or a book back home.”

“Or perhaps it is simply this: dreams can have power.”

“Maybe your dreams, or Chloe’s,” she conceded, “not my dumb dreams.”

“Hmm,” Elrond said thoughtfully as he sipped his drink. “We shall agree to disagree. And tonight? What happened?”

“I told him… that I knew who he was. And I wanted him to go.” Ella replied after a pause. “I realised we were still in my dream, not one of his, and if we were in my dream, it could be up to me, maybe, if I wanted it hard enough.” She recalled the excruciating pain, her head feeling as though it were on the brink of explosion, the fury and the betrayal, “It felt like my head was going to explode.”

“Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel looked at Ella as he spoke. “Glawaril called out for help after trying to wake her - she’d been shouting in her sleep. When I arrived, I saw not only her distress, but also that her fëa was… thinned, like it was stretched across a large distance. I tried to calm her, to wake her, but then she awoke on her own, screaming.”

Ella shifted uncomfortably in her seat. That was more than she thought happened. She knew the elves perceived the world at a different level to humans, and feär had come up a few times, but it was still something conceptual to her. A bit like a soul, but it was also fire?

“Ella?” Elrond’s voice gently prodded her.

She startled, brought back from her thoughts by a touch to the back of her hand. How long have they been talking to me? 

“How do you feel?” Elrond repeated.

“Fine - tired,” Ella replied, her voice laced with fatigue she couldn’t hide. She caught her lower lip caught between her teeth and dragged it over her bottom teeth.  “Sorry. I ruined your nights, woke you up or... made you deal with me.”

“You do not need to apologise; there is nothing to be sorry for.”

“Sorry.”

The elves exchanged frowns, and Ella started to apologise again before miming zipping her lips shut. Their expressions deepened with confusion.

“Look, I’ll just go back to my room, I’m sor- I didn’t mean to disturb anyone. I’ll apologise to the others in the morning as well.”

“And if Mairon returns?”

“He’s never come to my dreams twice in a night before now, and even if he does, I got him out once. That means I can do it again.”

Elrond and Glorfindel shared a long, silent look, giving Ella the impression that they were communicating telepathically, or else long, intense stares were more common than she thought. 

“He’s never hurt me; we just… talk,” Ella explained earnestly. “If he comes next time I sleep,” she carefully avoided specifying when that might be, “then I’ll tell him to go away. I’ll make him leave, if I have to. It just gives me a killer headache, apparently. I can put up with that.”

“I will walk you back.” Elladan said with a frown, rising from his seat as Elrond and Glorfindel remained deep in thought, or silent conversation.

Ella caught the look on his face and bit back the urge to say no. "Thank you, Elladan," she said softly, instead.

Together, they made their way out of Elrond's chambers and into the dimly lit corridors. The air held a calming quality, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of security in his presence… beneath the annoyance at being babysat to walk back to her room.

He glanced at her, his expression thoughtful after they had been walking in silence for a few minutes. "Mairon is one of great power and cunning, older than even Mithrandir. If this being is truly he, and he has taken an interest in your dreams… it is important to be cautious."

​​"I get it," Ella replied defensively, “I’m not stupid, Elladan. I get it.”

“I didn't mean to imply that,” he said quietly as they approached her door, “I only mean… please come to… any one of us, if you are struggling. I hate to think of you at the mercy of one such as he. If you cannot keep him out, you must tell one of us. We can teach you other techniques to close your mind to him, and then he will not be able to reach you.”

Ella nodded tightly and entered her room, letting Elladan softly shut the door behind her as he bid her goodnight. She climbed into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin and tried to quiet her thoughts, still racing through the white noise of confusion of what had just happened. She knew there was no chance of getting back to sleep.

Chapter Text

“I am told one of your wards thinks she has Sauron walking into her dreams.” Thranduil said, deceptively idly, a delicate crystal goblet filled with wine cradled in his palm, for all that it was not yet midday.

“Someone cleverly calling themselves Mairon, or so it seems,” Elrond agreed, “to what end I cannot fathom, except perhaps to gather information,” he said leadingly, arching an eyebrow at the Elvenking.

Thranduil met Elrond's gaze evenly, his eyes unwavering. "I assure you, I have not given any such orders."

Elrond hummed, “Nor have I.” 

Thranduil swirled the wine in the glass and took a deliberate sip as he thought. “What do you intend to do now?”

"The girls must return to their own world. Chloe is plagued by dreams of this one, Ellas dreams are being intruded upon by an unknown elf —”

“A presumed elf.” Thranduil interjected.

"By an unknown, presumed elf," Elrond amended, "Ella said she was confident she could keep whomever it was out of her dreams - and if not, we can try teaching her to close her mind to others, though I have not attempted to do so with a mortal before. Beyond that, they will still need to be sent home and I still believe we can accomplish that somewhere within your forest. The mountain pass has thawed, and the provisions for the journey are nearly gathered. We will assess the girls wilderness survival skills and ensure they can fend for themselves for at least a short time in case they become separated. I think we should plan to depart before the month's end.”

“Should I expect more creatures at my borders as well? Or is that a… coincidence?” He said the last word disdainfully, his lips pursed in displeasure.

Elrond gazed out of his window, out to the world beyond the mountains. What leader of any people was a fan of coincidences? They were unpredictable, for good or for ill, and therefore not reliable. And this… did not have the feel of a coincidence about it.

"An incident occurred several months ago," Elrond explained, "a man claimed that a price had been placed on Chloe's head. Another group attempted to kidnap Ella when they mistook her for Chloe at a caron bangath outside of Bree. We have found no connection between those events and the increased activity of orcs and trolls," he admitted honestly, "nonetheless, I would advise bolstering your border guards."

“And hope,” Thranduil said dryly, “for a swift exit of your new wards.”

Elrond's tone turned stern. “This is not their fault —”

“You presume —”

“Thranduil,” Elrond said sternly, bringing his gaze back from the window to the other elf, “do not put this on them. They are young, and lost. They do not need the ire of a King.”

“If they are as innocent as you claim they will not have it,” he said offhandedly. “I will have my people ready to depart as you will. Nídphen will be most upset to leave so soon - she was hoping to spend more time with Elrohir before our return.”

Elrond raised a brow in question. 

“Bidden by her mother, I would assume,” Thranduil explained, “since Legolas has not returned her affections thus far, and I am not inclined to encourage the match either.”

“Aemes travelled all this way in the hopes of finding her daughter a husband?”

Thranduil smirked, “In the hopes of elevating her position through her daughter, I would think more likely.”

Elrond sighed. “Must I warn my son of the machinations of your court?”

Thranduil waved off Elrond’s concern. “Nídphen is harmless, and would probably be quite pleasant were it not for her parents. I’m sure Elrohir has dealt with the advances of young elleth before, has he not?”

Elrond conceded the point gracefully and moved their conversation on to finalising some of the new trade agreements they were arranging between their peoples.

*

Despite her confidence in front of the elves, Ella delayed sleep for as long as possible the next day, not certain she could, in fact, do it again. She read so late into the night that even Erestor, her usual silent companion, retreated to other affairs before she could deny the drag of her eyelids begging for sleep no longer. She walked slowly back up to her bedroom, the path now so well trodden to her mind she could do it with her eyes closed - which was just as well, because they were just about closed for at least half of the walk, and she fell into her bed without changing, her legs hanging off the end.

She was lying on her exceptionally soft and comfortable bed in Imladris… and then she wasn’t. 

“You came back.”

She didn't remember falling asleep, but clearly, she had. She found herself in one of her old bedrooms again, sitting cross-legged on the bed, with Mairon lounging on the bed opposite, looking entirely at ease. It was the room with the lamp that had fascinated him.

“I think it’s you that keeps coming back.” she retorted, glaring at his perfect, relaxed, features and trying to force her heartbeat to stop trying to beat out of her chest. Is provoking him a good idea, El? 

But he didn’t react angrily, merely agreed readily and moved to a seated position, watching her carefully, “Have you calmed down enough to speak with me properly, child?”

“One: not a child. Two: you say that as if it's not totally normal to be pissed off at being lied to about key parts of your friends actual identity.”

Oh I am going to get myself smite-ed or murdered or something shut up shut up shut up —

But the truth was she’d spent every spare minute thinking herself in circles. Because her dream walking friend had only ever been nice to her, had only ever shielded her sleep from nightmares. And how many times had she wanted people to see her and not the thick file that followed her around? But then she remember the stories, the horrible things Thû had done, and wondered how much of it was exaggeration, and how much of it was truth.

"The only thing I omitted was my name, nothing else," he replied, spreading his hands in an open, offering gesture, his voice calm and low, as if he were soothing a skittish horse. He reminded her of Elrond. "It is simply one name among many."

“You tried to take over the world! Your boss was like, satan, or something!”

“And I have told you before: history is written by the victors. What of their motives? Of their crimes? Do you think none of my side were killed in the last great war? Do you think none of my side were tortured for information? Do you think anyone escaped unscathed and untouched by darkness, on either side?” He paused, looking at her imploringly, “Do you trust me so little after all this time?”

It’s never nice being the one no one believes. Ella shifted uncomfortably on the bed, guilt piercing her chest. But which is he? 

“The book said —”

“You will find no book in the library of Imladris extilling my better virtues, little swan. If I were to speak with every one of your past guardians, would all of them have only positive things to say about you?”

“Well, no —”

“All I am asking is for you to judge me on the actions you have seen, not those reported on through the biases of others.”

“That’s… fair.” Ella sighed. How many times had no one had believed her just because she was… well, her? The weight of the memories felt heavy, laden with guilt that she was doing the same to Mairon. How could she complain about people forming their own opinions on her based on other peoples information, and then do the same to him? “Okay… yeah. I can do that.”

"Then it is settled," he said decisively, standing and extending his hand regally. Ella hesitated, watching him carefully. He raised a brow. Finally, she got up and reached for his hand in one smooth motion. "People like you and I must look out for each other, little swan."

As Ella took Mairon's hand and stood up, he led her to the window of the familiar room. The outside world had transformed, and the window transformed into a small balcony of some kind. They stood atop a fortress, gazing out over a dark expanse of hilly land, obscured by night. A chill wind whipped around them, tugging at their clothes and tousling her hair. In the distance, lightning lit up a distant storm, casting ominous shadows across the rugged landscape.

Mairon continued to gaze out at the desolate landscape, his expression thoughtful. "You see, Ella," he said, his voice sympathetic, "the elves may seem welcoming, but they can never truly understand your troubles. They have lived for ages, untouched by the passage of time. They will never understand your plight, or even that of your friend Chloe. How long have they idled already?”

Ella furrowed her brow, her earlier doubts resurfacing. "They've been kind to us, taught us stuff, helped us —”

Mairon turned to her, his eyes filled with concern. "There you are, mistaking manners for kindness again. And even if it is not simple good behaviour, kindness is often a facade. It is one of the easiest lies to tell, with enough experience. They see you as a novelty, a curiosity. Have you ever wondered why they've kept you there, instead of helping you return to your own world?"

Ella hesitated, his words striking a chord of uncertainty within her. "I thought they were trying to help us find a way back home," she replied cautiously, “That’s what we’re doing next. We had to wait for the wizard, and then for winter to pass,”

Mairon nodded in understanding. "Of course they've led you to believe that. But have you ever considered the possibility that they have ulterior motives? That they see you as a pawn in their own schemes, a tool to achieve their goals? Or simply to brighten their long, monotonous, lives?"

Ella's mind raced. She trusted the elves, grown fond of some of them, but Mairon's words were like seeds of doubt, taking root in her heart. If they historical stories she was reading weren’t all the whole truth, how could she take everything else at face value too? She looked out at the stormy landscape, the distant clouds growing closer and more menacing as they blocked out the stars. It wouldn’t be the first time others had used her to get some thing they wanted. It used to just be money — she never expected appeasing someone’s century long boredom to be a warning sign to look out for.

Mairon stepped closer, his demeanour sympathetic. "I only want what's best for you, Ella. You deserve to know the truth, to make your own choices. The elves may not have your best interests at heart, that is all I want to counsel you on. You know your own mind, I cannot make it for you."

Ella couldn't deny the truth in his words, the idea that she should question the intentions of those who had taken her in. If something is too good to be true, it usually is. And what could have been more fortunate than stumbling onto a peaceful people who put them up with room and board for nothing? Who they found within days of wandering, before any danger found them? People who taught anyone languages, and skills, for free? She turned back to him, a mixture of confusion and determination in her eyes. "What should I do?"

Mairon's smile was one of satisfaction, of reassurance. "Trust in yourself, Ella. Trust in me. Together, we can uncover the secrets they keep hidden. And you will no longer be a spare, but the master of your own destiny."

*

Ella whirled around, wielding each sword with precision as Uilossiel had shown her. The well-worn tree trunk, marred by numerous slices from the guards practice earlier, received a fresh cut from one of her own blades, but she lost her balance after the strike. She scowled at the stubborn target, forcefully retrieving her sword and launching into the sequence once more, determined to conquer the move.

“It’s your footwork,”

Ella halted her movements, mid-spin, as the deep voice of King Thranduil cut through the air. By his side, Glorfindel observed with a nonchalant demeanour. Thranduil cast a quick, indecipherable glance at his friend, who responded with a subtle gesture, inviting him to offer his insights.

“And the movement of your top arm at the midpoint,” he added, stepping forward with a barely restrained eye roll toward the guard captain. “You have been doing them correctly only alternately, and not at the same time. That is why you are off balance at the end.”

He gestured minimally, indicating for Ella to continue. “Again - slowly. I will correct your positioning.”

“What if I cut you or something? Isn’t that treason?”

Thranduil, devoid of weaponry and clad in layers of expensive, embroidery laden clothes, not least of which was a floor length, sweeping robe in something that shimmered a silver like colour, didn’t smile, but Ella thought she saw amusement in his eyes. “You will not.”

Didn’t say it wasn’t treason though, did he? Ella shot a quick glance at Glorfindel, who remained relaxed against the fence, seemingly unconcerned about an untrained human with two sharp knives practising in close proximity to royalty. She wondered vaguely if it could be a trap - it was the kind of thing Mairon would suggest, she was sure of it, but it felt too transparent, too obvious, to truly be a set up. That didn’t help her ease her nerves that she might accidentally injure a king however.

“O-kay,” she agreed reluctantly, stepping away from the unarmoured and unarmed elf. She deliberately slowed her movements, complying with Thranduil's request. As she hit the midpoint of the turn he stepped in, easily avoiding the sharp edges of her swords, and changed the angle of her arm and body. 

“Again.”

She repeated the process eight times (she counted), with three corrections of her arm, and five of her footwork. Finally, she executed a flawless spin, landing a satisfying blow on the enduring tree trunk.

“Again.”

Really hate that word. The repetitive command grated on her nerves: it was all he’d uttered since his first interruption, now loquacious in comparison. This time, he intervened only to correct her footwork twice before she landed another decisive strike without overbalancing at the end. She repeated the move without him needing to speak, and then six more afterwards without a single correction or final stumble. She felt some of the frustration she felt drain away.

“Thanks,” she acknowledged begrudgingly.

"You are putting in the work," he commented with measured approval, inclining his head regally.

Glorfindel, pushing himself off the fence, added, "Indeed. Even when you have been told to rest before tomorrow's wilderness trial."

Ella ducked her head guiltily. 

"She is hardly sprinting over obstacle courses hours before deployment to contentious borders, I’m sure she will be fine.”

Glorfindel smirked, “Remembering your own days learning the basics?”

The king spun on the heel of his knee high boots, ignoring the jibe. "We should be on our way. Aemes and her court are already known for their inventive rumours. Let's not provide them with fresh material to fuel their gossip."

Glorfindel chuckled, "Indeed, we wouldn't want to disappoint them."

The pair departed, leaving Ella alone with the tranquil beauty of the training grounds. She took a moment to catch her breath, the rhythmic sound of her own heartbeat filling the space the tall elves had just occupied. She eyed the late afternoon sun and resumed her practice.

Chapter Text

Are you so sure you’re supposed to find your way back? Maybe you’re Gretal, just missing a Hansel. Ella frowned, frustration simmering beneath the surface as she watched Glorfindel and his horse disappear into the distance. The game was to find her way back to Imladris by foot as quickly as she could - they’d even blindfolded her for the trip out. Presumably, Chloe was getting the same treatment since they were supposed to be in a race, but there was little chance her Valar-blessed companion was going to accidentally get separated from the travelling party. She doubted Chloe was going to be far from Imladris at all. 

All she’d been able to figure out was that they’d spent a lot of time going in circles, some bigger than others. And she couldn’t trust that Glorfindel would be making straight for Imladris either, so following him was pointless. 

She turned around in a full circle, surveying her surroundings in an attempt to get her bearings. The towering mountains in the distance provided a good point of reference, but she needed more than that to determine if she had to go north or south of them. Erestor had taught her some basic geography from large rolls of parchment while teaching her place names and the equivalent of capital letters, including the names of prominent rivers - and Mairon had shown her the ones he had visited - but distinguishing one river from another was well beyond her capabilities. Obviously. ‘Water is wet’ won’t get me far, she snickered to herself, then sighed.

She could potentially be stranded in the wilderness for weeks if she couldn't find her way back. Her thoughts raced, and she mentally listed the supplies she had with her: a new cloak, a full water skin, the blades that Glorfindel had given her, and a smaller, borrowed dagger strapped to her hip. She had also hidden her old compass under her tunic and tucked her lighter into the top of the wrap around her breasts. One out of the three Glorfindel kept talking about isn’t bad, I guess? Wait - my compass!

She could remember the maps, and she had a compass - Ella shook her head and pulled it out, deciding within seconds that she would have to speed up the time it took to grab her compass when she told Mairon the story. She was still, tentatively, talking to him on the assumption that something, somewhere, was wrong. He was nothing like the caricature villain described in the books, and it’s like he said - the account she had was entirely from an elven point of view. How many times had she wished someone would listen to her side of a story? More times than I’ve got fingers.

The compass pointed her in a direction different from the one Glorfindel had taken, confirming her suspicions that he had been leading her astray. She scowled at his retreating form, already shrunken to a white blob.

“Alright,” she said to herself, ignoring the voice in the back of her mind reminding her she was generally useless: it sounded a lot like her science teacher, “I can do this. Just a walk through the fields, that’s all.”

She walked with long strides, forcing confidence into her gait. There might be no one around, but the pretence helped. Fake it ‘til you make it, she reminded herself, feeling a sense of deja vu. At least this time she had a destination in mind. And Chloe wasn’t tutting and sighing every other minute.

The journey towards the massive mountains felt like it stretched on endlessly, devoid of any excitement or intrigue. I guess I should be grateful? Probably don’t want excitement out here on my own. Ella resorted to singing, alternating between her old favourites and a couple of ironic songs (if now wasn’t the ideal time to sing ‘500 miles’ then there would be?) to pass the time.

Guided by the unwavering guidance of her compass, she pressed forward, venturing south east. The sheer enormity of the towering peaks filled her with second, third, fourth thoughts. It was possible the compass was broken. It was possible she’d misremembered the maps. It was possible the compass wasn’t broken, but unreliable given the whole ‘another world with elves’ problem. It was possible that she’d veered off course, risking the possibility of missing the critical river crossing point altogether. I know what I know, she thought, and don’t think about the worst case scenario. She pinched her arm when her imagination automatically answered the silent question, thinking of the grey skinned, snub-nosed, ugly, sharp teeth monsters she’d been dreaming of again lately. Thank you for that, brain.


As the sun began its descent down the sky, it became rapidly apparent she wasn’t going to get back to Imladris before nightfall. She’d gathered and eaten handfuls of early berries as she went, but the season was wrong, and she not dared eat too many. Remembering Glorfindel's lessons on survival, and Mairon’s on taking opportunities when they presented themselves, she’d grabbed a long stick and sharpened the point while she walked until she had a rudimentary spear, for all that the chances of her catching anything were slim. Or that she’d even be able to bring herself to skin it, afterwards. Will I get points for effort? She wondered, eyeing the primitive spear speculatively. Maybe it was a ‘show your working’ kind of test?

The sunset painted the world with a mesmerising palette of vibrant reds and oranges and Ella stopped to watch it, completely awed by the quiet and the colours. Is this what Earth would look like, if we didn't build all over it? She walked into the twilight, refusing to acknowledge the encroaching darkness, driven by the desire for some kind of shelter first. With each step, the terrain grew increasingly rugged, marked by jagged rocks and the looming presence of the mountains, which were now much closer than before. She could hear what sounded like a river nearby, the sound squashing the niggling doubt that had played on her mind since she made her decision to go in this direction.

Ella's stomach rumbled, and her legs ached. She’d not caught anything with her makeshift spear - or even seen anything to hunt - and hunger gnawed at her. But she’d been hungrier than this before. She could do it again. When she spotted a cluster of large boulders forming a small alcove, just big enough to offer some block from the wind she picked up the pace to get to it quicker.

She was dozing before her small fire, cloak wrapped tightly against the night's chill and tucked as far under the overhanging rock as she could when something startled her awake. She froze, heart pounding, not daring to breathe. The sky was dark and painted with countless stars as she peered into the night, but she couldn’t make much out other than scrubby grasses and tumbled rocks. Fire is a beacon to others, as much as it is a haven. Are those others friends, or foe? Mairon’s words reverberated through her head in time to her rapid heartbeat.

Then she heard it again: voices. Low, gravely, guttural. 

Not elves. 

Panic gripped her heart in a fist as she kicked reflexively at the fire, extinguishing it with a burst of sparks. 

Glorfindel's assurances that they would be safe - it was why she’d reasoned a fire would be fine - clashed with Mairon's warnings about elven overconfidence. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Ella pulled herself as deep as she could into the shallow shelter, her back pressed hard against the cold stone, straining to hear more of the ominous voices in the night. 

“You led us the wrong way -”

“No I ain’t. Can smell ‘em, this way -”

“Smell ‘em, pah you couldn’t smell a pig if it sat on yeh -”

They sounded nothing like elves, or even the Dúnedain they’d met months ago. The dwarves in Bree had not sounded like that either. Any thoughts in her head, fled. Whatever or whoever was out there, they were clearly searching for something. Pick up your blades. The voice sounded distinctly like Glorfindel. Hands shaking, she carefully slid both weapons from the sheathes on the floor by her side. Calm yourself, Mairon's voice urged her. She gripped the blades tighter and drew a breath. It might all be nothing. They could be friendly, or simply pass by... Or they might not. Luck was not a regular friend of hers.

Heavy footsteps and the ominous sound of clinking metal grew louder with each step. Her knuckles turned white from where she gripped the handles. The strangers were getting closer, and if they were coming her way, she needed to move. Being stuffed into a tight space wasn’t good in any world.

“There’s some’fin ‘ere,” one of them said, a cruel leering tone in their voice.

“Smells like a y’ung’un too -”

“Good, I’m starvin -”

Ella sprang away from the voices and scrambled quickly on top of the rocks. These creatures did not sound friendly at all, their words sent shivers down her spine, made her want to run and hide. The creatures cried out in sinister delight at her presence.

“Told ya!”

“All y’ung an’ sweet -”

The moonlight illuminated their grotesque features, revealing pallid, mottled skin stretched over bulbous growths and thick with scars. Two had thin, patchy white hair and one was bald - all three had the pointed ears she’d associated only with elves before. One bared their teeth, all black gums and sharp points that only accentuated blood red eyes that leered at her like she was dinner. Each held a rusted, ugly sword at the ready.

One rushed her - the one in the lead, with the red eyes. Ella knew without a doubt she couldn’t run.

Go for the body. That was Glorfindel, the words he’d reminded her of so many times in practice. But another thought crept in. It looks like the thing from my -

She didn’t have time to consider the implications. The creature reached her and then she was ducking under his swinging blow, blocking the backswing with one blade and a grunt, and driving the other into his stomach. It slid in with minimal resistance. Hot blood spurted over her hand as she pulled the blade free and made to push the creature away. A scream escaped them both. Ella nearly dropped the blood soaked weapon, but then the next was on her, forcing her to block, and the third following quickly after. Adrenaline replaced panic.

She lost track of the seconds.

At some point, she didn’t block or dodge fast enough. A cuff to the cheek; a cut to an arm, her back, her thigh; a blow to a knee. She didn’t think about them. She could barely even think. Block. Parry. Strike. Dodge. Block. Block. Parry. Duck. She was too preoccupied to notice the approaching hoofbeats over the pounding of her own heart as she struggled to unlock blades with the last creature, her arms shaking with effort.

Suddenly, the thing fell backward, missing a head, and blood spurted as the body toppled over. Stupid girl, you missed one! She screamed again and rushed towards the new threat, only to be deftly sidestepped. She hit the ground hard, ignoring the new grazes on her hands, and quickly scrambled, raising a blade to block whatever was coming her way. If they get me on the ground, I’m dead —

But it wasn't another creature, it was an elf. Practically monochrome by the light of the moon - pale, narrow shirt sleeves, an elbow length tunic in something darker, long, impossibly blonde hair, and a longsword held loosely at their side, stained with blood. It took a moment before she recognised him. Glorfindel.

Ella’s gaze dropped to the muddy ground where thin soled, supple boots stood in front of her. Elvish boots. Was it over? Was it dead? Am I safe? She gulped down another breath, willing herself to slow her frantic breathing. Oh you really fucked this up. She stood quickly, hands held tightly to her sides, still fiercely gripping the two long knives so tightly she wasn’t sure she could let go if she tried. She saw the last… thing… laying like a puppet with its strings cut - and its head. An evil Pinocchio, finally felled. She giggled.

“- Ella?”

She blinked, realising that Glorfindel had been trying to get her attention. A burning flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks as she replayed the moment when she had attempted to attack him just moments ago. "Huh?" She quickly looked up, but then her gaze returned to the dead thing behind him. What if they’re like zombies? What if it comes back? 

"Are you hurt?" Glorfindel repeated, concern etched on his face.

Ella shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again, and finally, she shrugged with a wince, unable to find the right words.

“Will you not look at me, nethig? Where are you hurt?” Glorfindel pressed gently.

She raised her chin from her chest but avoided looking directly at the tall elf. Tears welled up in her eyes, she didn’t even know why, threatening to spill over, and she hastily, awkwardly, wiped them away with the back of her hand. Glorfindel reached out and gently caught her hand on its way back, capturing the other hand as well.

“It’s time to put these down. You are safe now. You can let them go.”


Her fingers trembled as she reluctantly released the fierce grip on the smooth, narrow knife handles. She couldn’t straighten her fingers properly. The tremble in her fingers turned into a whole body shake as Glorfindel swiftly handed them over to another elf behind him. She whispered an apology, fearing that she might never see her blades again; that she’d messed up; that she’d failed; that she’d tried to hurt him.

"Whatever for?" Glorfindel asked, with genuine confusion in his voice.

Ella scrubbed at her eyes again, but it was another battle she couldn’t win. Just another failure, then. Her breath hitched, the tears fell anyway.

“Messing up. I mess e-everything up…can’t do a-a-anything right.” she sobbed, “I’m sorry y-you had to come.”

Glorfindel furrowed his brow and pulled the girl into a comforting embrace. She stood stiffly, unsure how to react, unsure if she could, or should, or if that would be something wrong too.

“I think you have misunderstood what happened, young one,” he murmured some time later, when she calmed enough to take a full breath, “But come, I would have you back in Imladris sooner rather than later, lest more of those foul creatures lurk nearby.”

"Sorry," she murmured thickly, wiping her face on her sleeve. Glorfindel hushed her as he removed his cloak and fastened it around her shoulders. That done, he guided her slowly to where the horses waited patiently. Rilfaloth snorted softly at her rider, her dappled white-grey coat shining beautifully in the evening light. 

“I’m going to lift you onto Rilfaloth, and then climb on myself in front of you,” Glorfindel explained slowly, “Wrap your hands around me if you feel unstable.” She was still processing what he said when he quickly and expertly lifted her up to the minimal, long saddle. Moments later, he settled in front of her, speaking quietly with the horse before they set off.

Ella was still a basic horse rider in generous terms, and quickly found herself gripping the edges of his tunic, despite the smooth gait and the tremors that kept rippling their way through her entire body. Her fingers ached. Her palms burned. Her arms felt like acid filled lead. She felt tired and exhausted and yet totally unable to relax or even shut her eyes for more than a moment. Every time she tried to close her eyes, the memory of blood spilling slick and hot over her hands forced them open again. Are they dirty? She couldn’t see them in the dark and reflexively dropped the likely clean tunic she’d been holding on to.

Time seemed to blur. She kept reliving the fight, kept reliving every time she missed an opening, got her footwork wrong. Kept seeing those red eyes, the black gums and sharp teeth, and the blood. Especially the blood. By the time they trotted through the lower fields around Imladris, with the stables visible on the other side of the plain, her breath was tight in her chest and her muscles felt like they were on fire.

Glorfindel slowed them down to a gentle stop outside the stable doors and Ella quickly dashed away the tears on her cheeks as another elf emerged, gesturing to take the horse.

Glorfindel dismounted so smoothly he might as well have flown, helping Ella down before she’d even fully comprehended he’d moved. He spoke quietly to Rilfaloth, too low for her to understand, before leading her up to the main house.

Her hands shook as they walked. She shoved them under her armpits to try and still them, but fine tremors that she’d been holding in began to shake through her entire body with more force than she could hide. She’d expected to feel relief being back in the safety of Imladris, but her thoughts stayed scattered, her heart continued to race, her emotions a chaotic whirlpool she felt like she was trapped at the bottom of.

Glorfindel glanced down at Ella, concern etched onto features softened by the gentle moonlight. His skin glowed, something she’d noticed before but still made her pause, even now. He seemed to be the only elf with the bioluminescent gene. Or were there other elves that glowed, just not here? Was Glorfindel a mutant, or another kind of elf? Or was it a reincarnation thing?

"You are safe now, Ella," he reassured her, his voice warm and comforting and corralling her wayward thoughts. 

Ella nodded, though her throat still felt tight. She didn't trust her voice at the moment. 

Glorfindel guided her into the main house. The familiar sight of the wall tapestries and artwork, the warm wood panelling, and the solid stone walls was comforting. The tranquil sound of a nearby waterfall and the perpetual sense of serenity within the main building seemed almost surreal in comparison to the harrowing experience by her rocky shelter. He led her directly to the healing rooms she had visited after the attempted abduction of Chloe by Orinan and Vance, and where she’d stayed with her sprained ankle.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up," Glorfindel suggested kindly, swapping his cloak for a thick blanket, "You've been through quite an ordeal." He led her to a basin filled with water and tugged her hands gently into the warm water. “I have asked for Elrond to join us here to check your wounds.”

He started to carefully clean the blood and dirt, being mindful of her grazed palms. Meanwhile, Ella felt like there might be a tsunami growing somewhere in her chest. She wanted nothing more than to scrape the dried blood out from under her fingernails with something sharp, something inescapable, to scrape and clear each mark of the fight from her skin. Instead, Glorfindel remained quietly, gently, rubbing it away until a gentle knock at the door announced Elrond's arrival.

Glorfindel greeted the other elf with a nod murmuring something she was too tired to try to translate.

“May I see your injuries?”

Ella eventually met Elrond's gaze, silent, and nodded. She watched Glorfindel turn away as she let the blanket slip from her shoulders and tried to shrug out of her tunic, but her back burned and she hissed in response. Elrond stopped her with a gentle hand and simply cut the torn and bloodied fabric off to expose the several raw and painful wounds from the creature's blades.

Elrond's touch was firm and compassionate, and he worked quickly to inspect, clean and apply a balm to all of them. “This will numb the area a little, but I must stitch this one across your arm here, closed,” he said apologetically.

The lingering fear and anxiety that clung to her spiked at the thought of stitches without anaesthetic. How good was a topical balm? Something must have shown on her face because Glorfindel came and sat next to her where she perched on the edge of the bed.

“I can lessen the pain, while Elrond does his work.” Glorfindel said. He put his hand lightly on top of her own, which was clutching the mattress tightly. Ella looked at him in askance, steadfastly ignoring Elrond as he prepared a needle and some kind of thread. 

“Magic,” he said with a conspiratorial grin.

Magic. Ella felt a smile of her own tease the edges of her mouth, just a little. It felt foreign.

“Healing,” Elrond corrected, arranging her other arm to his liking.

Glorfindel canted his head in agreement, but his eyes stayed alight with humour. “Most elves can encourage the body to heal and relieve smaller pains. Some can mend bones, quell a fever, fight a poison - Lord Elrond here is much more talented in this than I. He is arguably the most gifted of our healers either side of the Straight Road. But I can help you with the pain.”

Ella tried to concentrate on what the ancient, blonde haired elf was saying but her gaze kept drifting to the side. At first to Elrond, but then she was staring at a blank wall with no recollection of deciding to do so. 

“ - ready?” Elrond moved into her eye line, clearly repeating himself. 

Ella nodded, tensing her sore body in preparation. The balm had worked - she could more feel the way her skin was being pulled and tugged by the thread than the sharp sting of the needle. Or was that Glorfindel’s doing? Either way, watching Elrond stitch the wound shut was unsettling enough after the last few hours and nausea burned hot in her stomach. She turned away sharply, clutching Glorfindels hand as tightly as she could, swallowing back the bile that rose in her throat through sheer force of will.

Right until Elrond cut the thread. Then, she launched herself forward, stumbled, and was promptly sick all over the floor. And then everything went black.

Chapter Text

Hot blood spilt on her hands, except this time it was the start of a river and when she looked up, there were bodies everywhere and it was a sea —

“You are awake and it is over, Ella. You are safe,”

She wasn’t fighting a tide of blood and bodies. She was fighting… Elrond? She stilled, but the pause only made her aware of her stomach, and it roiled sickly in response to the memory of slick blood on her fingers - the smell —

“‘m gonna be sick.”

There was a bowl before her before she finished the sentence, and her cheeks burned with shame as her stomach tried to empty itself, for all that nothing more that yellow liquid and water came up. She’d thrown up everything else last night already. When even the dry heaves stopped, someone handed her a cup of water. She took it gratefully, although she couldn’t face swallowing any of it, she was glad to rinse the taste from her mouth.

“Sorry.”

Elrond removed the bowl with a soft hum of acknowledgement. “You apologise often. Rarely is there a need for it.”

“Sorry.”

“It was an observation, not a criticism.”

She picked at the edge of the soft, thick blanket miserably. Tears stung at her eyes and she blinked, trying to force them back. “Sor -”  

“Ella.”

She gulped.

“Young one, please look at me.”


Carefully, she snuck a look up through her lashes. He gazed back patiently, sitting lightly on the end of her bed. Calm, composed, no hint of anger or annoyance. She could see Amdirfael across the room, rolling bandages. The soft, cool light of morning streamed through the gauzy curtains.

“Let her cry if she needs to—” She heard Amdirfael say quietly… but she could have sworn Amdirfael’s lips didn’t move. She blinked again. Wishful thinking?

“What do you think you are apologising for?” he asked gently. From anyone else, she would think that was a trick question, but she could see no tension in his face or bearing at all. He looked genuinely curious.

“Being sick. Fighting you just now. Having a dream loud enough to make you come here. Messing up the outdoorsy trial thing. Messing up the fighting stuff they’ve been trying to teach me. Not being faster with the trial thing.” 

“Quite the list you have given yourself.”

Ella fidgeted in the quiet that followed. This was usually the part where she was told what she missed off, or what, precisely, was the final straw. 

“She thinks this is where we give up on her—” She blinked again. Elrond hadn’t spoken yet. Had he? She must be more tired than she thought, more mixed up from the whole thing last night if her mind was trying to make her thoughts real, turning them into voices.

“I am not frightened of, nor disgusted by, vomit,” Elrond said, as she debated mentioning the odd tricks her mind was playing, “Your body reacted to your nightmare, it does not require an apology,” he held up one finger, “as for fighting me off during your nightmare - child, I have lived through more battles than I care to count, as have many here. Elves are no strangers to the aftershocks of such things, nor are we immune to them ourselves. That does not require an apology,” he held up a second finger, “the same applies to your third point, but additionally you did not make me do anything. There has been someone with you since you arrived so you did not have to awake frightened and alone. As I said, we are well versed in this.”

She discounted the idea of mentioning anything. Not when he was being so good about everything else. Absolving her of any blame, making it feel like it wasn’t her fault? It was foreign. Ella squirmed, trying to squash the warm feeling threatening to fill her up and focus on far more useful doubt instead. Doubt was safer than hope.

“Your wilderness trial yesterday was not a failure. It is not possible to fail such a thing in all honesty,” he continued to tick up fingers as he dismissed each item, “there was no time limit, no time element at all, in fact. There was no criteria you were being judged against. By all accounts you were making excellent time, far better than their estimates. Estimates which were created so we didn’t have you taken too far as to be dangerous, or kept too close to lack challenge, nothing more. The underestimation of your abilities was a problem, but not one you must or ever should apologise for.

“You were taken by surprise by three orcs. One, you killed, you disabled another and were holding your own against the third. You have been a credit to yourself and your teachers.” He contemplated his hands for a moment, “I believe that was all of your points. So: you owe nobody an apology. Whomever has taught you to apologise out of fear of punishment, especially when you have done nothing wrong, has taught you poorly, and I would have words with them if I could.”

Ella stared at each reason he’d discounted, wanted to fold and accept it all at face value… be comforted. She squashed the desire. The other shoe drops eventually, Ella. You’re just a guest here, remember.

A frown crossed Elrond's face briefly and he folded his hands calmly into his lap. “Perhaps it is sufficient to say, you are safe here, and you are not in trouble.” She watched as he stood, graceful and smooth as a cat, “I would like you to eat and drink a little. If you can keep that down, and I am satisfied your wounds are not infected when we change the dressings, I see no reason you cannot rest in your own room rather than here in the ward.”

She’d been about to shake her head in denial of food, her stomach still felt like it might rebel at the wrong smell, the urge to gag barely far enough down her throat, but the temptation of sleeping in her own bed, and not in the ward, stopped her. She suspected Elrond knew that as well because the smallest of smiles teased the edges of one side of his mouth. 

“Just a little toast, I think, and a gentle tea,” he offered, “unless you would prefer something else?”

“Can I have hot water? Not tea?”

“Of course. Though, I won’t pretend to understand why you do not like tea.”

She shrugged, mindful of her many bruises.

“Hmm.” He didn’t verbalise anything further, merely tapping the foot of her bed in response and sweeping out of the ward.

*

She could hear Chloe’s voice from the hallway, muffled through the wooden door but still loud enough to catch the sharp edges of the words.

“Cheater,” Chloe was saying, loud and furious. “That game was stupid. She didn’t even finish! How is that fair?”

Each word seemed to thud against Ella’s skull like a hammer. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, pulling the blanket up over her ears in the futile hope it might muffle the sound. It didn’t.

Elrond had brought her back to her room when the sunlight outside morphed into the warm, golden colour of late afternoon. She’d kept the water and toast down, which she thought was a minor miracle. Her wounds, angry-looking under the bandages, weren’t showing any sign of infection. Elrond had seemed satisfied with that, at least outwardly. He’d spoken in soft tones, as if unsure whether she was more likely to bolt or burst into tears, and walked her slowly back to her room after another short nap. He had woken her gently before any dream could take hold, before the red-eyed creatures could crawl back into her mind again. She had nodded at his words and let herself be led, but she hadn’t really felt there, not properly. Her feet had carried her down the polished stone halls, but her thoughts had stayed out by her rock and stone shelter, slick with blood, muscles straining, blades tangling in the dark.

Now she was back, but everything felt wrong. Her room, her bed, none of it made her feel any better.

Her room was still the same. The same fireplace, the same mantel, the same table and chair but the window. The same neat row of mementos she’d collected in their months here. The same soft, linen curtains tied back from the windows to let in the late afternoon sunlight. But everything inside her felt changed, like her skin didn’t fit quite right anymore. Her knives were gone. She didn’t know where. She didn’t ask.

Now, alone, she burrowed deeper under the covers, pulling them up so far they nearly covered her head. The room was quiet, save for the muffled echoes of Chloe’s angry voice somewhere down the corridor and the faint rustle of wind in the trees outside. It should have been peaceful. It was supposed to be. But peace didn’t exist inside her skin right now.

She clenched her eyes shut and tried to will herself away. Somewhere far from the echo of blades clashing, far from the iron stink of blood and the guttural laughter of things that weren’t supposed to exist. She tried to picture something else, anything else, and summoned the memory of Hogwarts during Christmas, from the first book. It had always seemed safe, even if it wasn’t real. In her mind’s eye, there were twinkling lights and enchanted snowflakes, the heavy scent of roasted meats and sugar, and warmth. Not just physical, but the kind that came from people laughing around you, not at you. A world where danger stayed outside the castle walls, where monsters belonged in storybooks, locked under paper and ink.

She stayed in that thought for as long as she could. But it didn’t hold.

The image blurred, distorted by a sharp flash of red eyes, crooked teeth, her blade sinking into something that screamed. Her stomach twisted. She rolled to her other side and curled tighter, wrapping her arms around her knees under the blankets. The bedsheets still smelled faintly of the soap Glawaril liked to use. Clean, fresh, with hints of lavender and lemon. Not enough to erase the metallic tang she still imagined was on her skin. The sound of snarling voices and the way they’d laughed, the way they’d talked about eating her. The way that one creature had leered at her, eyes glowing like dying embers.

The pressure of her knife driving in.

The way its body hadn’t gone down right away. The way it staggered, slowed, the dropped.

Her stomach twisted. She turned her face into the pillow and bit it hard enough to stop herself from making a sound.

She’d survived. Glorfindel had said she’d done well. Elrond had said she was brave. That should’ve been enough. But every time she blinked, she saw their faces again. Not just the monsters, but Chloe’s too, twisted with fury. She hadn’t even done the whole challenge. Not properly. Not the way they’d planned.

What if they were all just being nice? What if she really had failed, and they were just too polite to say it out loud? What if she hadn’t been brave at all. Just lucky?

She curled tighter, breath shallow, the pressure building in her chest until it felt like her ribs might splinter. Her thoughts looped and tangled, one dragging the next down with it. She should’ve been able to do more. She should’ve seen them coming. She should’ve run farther. Hit harder. Been smarter. Why was she even getting upset about it like some kind of little kid? The fight hadn’t even lasted long. And she’d survived! A sword fight!

But she'd also screamed. She’d cried. She’d panicked. She hadn’t felt brave, or clever, or quick. She’d felt animal. Wild and small and desperate to survive. Her cheek still throbbed where one of them had cuffed her. She could still feel the sharp sting in her arm.

She should’ve been braver. She shouldn’t have cried. She shouldn’t have been sick. She shouldn’t’ve—

Tears pricked at her eyes, sudden and uninvited. She rubbed them away roughly. She wasn’t going to cry again. She was done with crying.

But her chest ached. Her throat felt scraped hollow. And her thoughts wouldn’t stop circling. They weren’t even really thoughts at all, just fragments that looped endlessly: You could have died. You killed something. You should have been faster. You should have been smarter. You should have hit harder.

Ella pulled the blankets over her head entirely, shutting out the light from her window. In the darkness, her breathing came faster, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle it, as if that could slow the rabbit-fast thump of her heart.

*

Glawaril sat perched on the edge of her bed, softly humming a familiar tune that tugged at the edges of Ella's memory… something lullaby-like, full of comfort, though she couldn’t place where or when she’d heard it. The melody twisted through the room like mist curling around stone, subtle and soft and persistent. The light in the chamber had softened to amber, the late afternoon sun filtering through gauzy curtains and setting the dust motes in the air aglow like drifting fireflies. She knew days were passing by, the sun and moon relentlessly continuing their movements, but she couldn’t remember why she was supposed to care.

With delicate fingers, the elf gently combed through Ella's hair, the motion rhythmic and slow. Her touch was cool and careful, never tugging, never hurrying. There was rosemary and mint oil on her hands. Faint, but sharp enough to stir some small part of Ella’s senses, though not enough to break through the heavy fog that had settled over her mind.

Ella lay still. Kept her back to the elf, kept her eyes shut, and kept pretending. Pretending she was not her, not here, not a failure.

She hadn’t spoken all day. Maybe not the day before either, it was hard to tell. Time had stretched, turned grey at the edges, indistinct. The air seemed too still, too heavy, the quiet too loud. Even the birdsong outside grated, like a song she used to love but had heard too many times.

Everything felt dim. Distant. Even her own body: the weight of the blanket across her legs, the soft pillow beneath her cheek. It all felt detached, like it belonged to someone else. Her limbs were heavy, her chest hollow.

She hadn’t asked Glawaril to stay. Hadn’t asked her to come, either. But the elf had appeared with a tray of food that still sat untouched on her side table and had simply stayed, without comment or demand.

Ella breathed shallowly, her face turned just enough toward the open window to feel a thread of cool air touch her skin. She focused on that. The way it stirred the hairs along her arm, the way it made the curtain lift and fall like a sigh. If she let herself feel anything else, the tears would return. And she was too tired to cry again.

The strands of hair slipped slowly through Glawaril’s fingers again. The lullaby hummed on. And Ella lay unmoving, adrift in a body that didn’t feel like hers anymore, trying not to remember how it had felt to drive a blade into another living thing. Trying not to remember the weight of blood on her hands. Trying not to think at all. She let the lullaby fill her head until it was all she could hear.

*

Red eyes in a snarling face. The glint of sharpened, inhuman teeth just before they sank into her arm, tearing flesh from bone. Hot blood. The smell of iron. She screamed —

She bolted upright with a strangled cry, the scream clawing out of her throat before she could stop it, deep and painful and ragged.

“It is a dream, Ella. It is not real.” Glawaril said softly, her voice low and steady. The elf moved quietly, rising from a chair pulled up to the bedside to sit on the edge of the bed. “It is over. You are safe now.”

Ella’s breath came in short, gasping bursts. Her nightshirt clung to her skin with cold sweat, her chest tight as if the scream had stolen all the air from the room. She looked down, eyes wide, hands shaking, and peeled back the loose edge of her sleeve.

There. Her fingers pressed against the bandage around her upper arm, tracing the raised swell of the stitches beneath. Pain bloomed, sharp and unmistakable, but it wasn’t the tearing agony she had just relived. Her arm was still attached, The skin was mending quickly underneath the healing cut. There were no teeth marks. No blood.

She blinked, her lashes sticky with tears she didn’t remember spilling. Her voice had abandoned her. Glawaril didn’t seem to expect it. She gulped in a breath, and then another.

The elf reached without hesitation, easing her back onto the pillows and tucking the blankets back around her shoulders. Her touch was light but firm. Ella let herself be moved, not because she had decided to, but because she didn’t have the energy not to. Like all her fight had been used up against the —

“It is all right,” Glawaril murmured again, brushing damp hair gently from Ella’s brow. “It is over. Try to go back to sleep.”

The banked fire in the hearth was little more than a red-orange glow, but the quiet presence of Glawaril warded off the shadows like starlight. Ella wanted to tell her that, but couldn’t bring herself to form the words.

There was always someone was nearby now, Glawaril most often, and though Ella had never asked, and was embarrassed by it, she was grateful for it. She didn’t like the thought of being alone, especially when the dreams came. Mairon hadn’t visited once since that night, hadn’t once kept them away. And so the nightmares came. Except these were memories now, too.

She turned her face to the ceiling, forced her breathing to slow. The terror of the dream ebbed. But the hands that had held her through it stayed steady, stayed present, stayed near.

She did not want to dream again. But her eyes slipped shut anyway, and this time, when sleep came, it was quiet.

*

When Ella began to stir again, it wasn’t from sleep so much as from something heavier. A fog of stillness that had clung to her for days. Or was it weeks? She wasn’t even sure. Her eyes blinked open slowly, not because she was rested, but because keeping them closed had begun to feel worse. She didn’t move at first. Just breathed. The familiar ache in her ribs and the dull throb in her arm grounded her more than anything else, but both were faint now.

The light filtering through the curtains was thin and grey, diffused light of early dawn. The room was still, but not silent. She heard the soft creak of a chair shifting nearby, almost certainly deliberate, the faint brush of cloth, and then—

“Good morning.”

Glorfindel’s voice was quiet, the syllables shaped with care. The unearthly, beautiful elf sat beside her bed, his long frame folded gracefully into the chair that Glawaril had so often occupied lately. His hands resting loosely folded in his lap. There was no unreadable expression today, no unknowable mask. Just calm.

He didn’t look like someone waiting for her to apologise. He didn’t look disappointed. He didn’t look like he was about to tell her she’d ruined everything. That, more than anything, made her want to cry again.

She swallowed hard, her throat raw though she hadn’t spoken a word. He was still watching her, but not in a way that others had, back home. Not in a way that made her feel watched, looked at. He looked at her like he was just observing, waiting to see which way the wind would blow. The stillness was gentle. Patient. She’d figured that Elrond was probably of one opinion, and Glorfindel the other. Or perhaps they did the good cop/bad cop routine. Why can’t he just shout and be done with it?

“I think we need to talk,” Glorfindel said softly.

The words rang with dreaded finality. Ella’s breath snagged, and she clenched her jaw tight enough to ache. Not yet. She wasn’t ready. She wanted to curl away again, to pull the blanket over her head and sink beneath the surface. But something, some part of her that couldn’t bare to hear the words she knew he was going to say, made her sit up instead.

Her muscles complained at the effort, and the world tilted slightly before righting itself. She hadn’t really sat up in days. It felt like she’d be spinning on a roundabout for ages and suddenly tried to walk.

“I just need to grab my bag first,” she said, the words rushed, brittle, trying to finish the conversation before it started.

Glorfindel tilted his head, one brow arching in quiet question. “Whatever for?”

“It’s just the one I came with,” she added quickly. Her chest was tight, her skin prickled, and she couldn’t look directly at him anymore. She heard the door shut softly and turned quickly to see Glawaril, “I promise,” she added, “I’ll only take what I… what I already had.”

For all the good a dead phone, a nearly empty lighter, a compass and an empty plastic bottle will do here. Ella swallowed again. “I’ve still got my old clothes. I can give these back.”

“Ella,” Glorfindel said gently, raising a hand, gesturing for her to stop. The motion was small but enough to stop her mid-sentence. Her mouth stayed open a moment longer before she closed it, eyes dropping.

“I will be plain,” he said, “Your wilderness trial was not supposed to involve fighting orcs. Or fighting anything, for that matter. They were a small scouting party that slipped past our patrols, and I caught sight of their trail far too late.”

The words should have stung, but they didn’t. They felt oddly disconnected from her. Like facts belonging to someone else’s story.

“You did not fail. You did not do anything wrong. I did.”

Ella’s eyes flicked up, uncertain. Her breath hitched.

“The fact that you held your own against them speaks highly of the training you've received from the guards,” Glorfindel continued, his tone neither patronising nor consoling. “And of the work you’ve put into it. I haven’t come to send you away. I’ve come to ask for your forgiveness.”

That pierced the fog more than anything else. Ella blinked, her mind racing to catch up, to try and get ahead of whatever was about to happen.

“Forgiveness?” she repeated, frowning.

“Elrond entrusted me with your safety during the trial,” he said. “And I failed in that trust. I assumed the area was still clear, that it was safe, so close to our borders. I made a mistake. I let assumptions cloud my vigilance, and by the time I realised it, you were already too far ahead.”

He exhaled, the gesture weary. “You moved more quickly, and more decisively, than I’d accounted for. My misjudgment and complacency put you in danger, and that cost you dearly. It's a lesson I didn't realise I needed to relearn: it has been a long time since we had a young child here.”

She let the child comment slide, processing the rest of the information. For the first time in days, she felt solid. Not better, not the same as before it all, but anchored.

He wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t here to take anything away.

He had come to give something instead.

She opened her mouth, meaning to say she forgave him, of course she did, but the words evaporated on her tongue.

She tried again.

Nothing.

Her gaze dropped to the bedspread, and the world narrowed. The fabric was pale, embroidered in tiny star-shaped blossoms and ivy-green vines, curling without direction. Her breath hitched.

Blood. There’d been so much of it. Hot and slick on her hands, on the grass. Her own, the creatures. That moment when she’d slipped, when her footing had gone and she’d thought she was going to die. The weight of the orc bearing down on her, the wild swing of its blade, the stink of it, the terrifying noise of it all. And then when she survived that, she thought it on every next swing and parry and duck and breath.

“You do not have to grant it,” he said gently, his voice still smooth and melodic and calm as ever… but the sadness in it surprised her. “I came to let you know it was no fault of yours. And to entice you out of your room, if you are open to the idea.”

He gave her a faint smile, one corner of his mouth quirking upward in something like fondness. “Camaemben is quite upset with me and… and so has made all your favourites to try and lure you out. He insisted. We have collected them in your favourite garden.”

She started to shake her head automatically, an excuse to retreat already forming in her throat. But Glawaril’s hand was suddenly there, light and warm against her uninjured arm. Ella turned toward her, surprised. The elleth said nothing at first, just met her eyes with steady patience.

“The sun will help,” she said gently, her gaze shifting to Glorfindel as she continued, “but if you truly do not want to leave this room, I will fetch all the most delectable treats here. No one,” she added, voice quiet and firm, “will make you do what you are not ready to do.”

The words made her want to cry. She wasn’t even sure why. Maybe it was the kindness. Or the permission. Or the absurd mental image of Camaemben, usually so unruffled, even in the midst of a busy kitchen with a platter of pies on the floor, simmering with clear anger at Glorfindel. It didn't make sense. But it was a small, strange thing that pulled her slightly closer to the surface. She didn’t want Glorfindel to be in trouble, it wasn’t his fault. Except, it kind of was, her mind supplied, he’s literally just explained it.

Her fingers returned to the embroidery, trailing the looping vines. This had always been her favourite bedspread. The flowers didn’t form neat rows, it was a myriad of small, white, star-shaped flowers and deep green vines that burst forth from unexpected angles, forming clusters, circles, and lines, with no obvious pattern.

Eventually, she nodded, still not entirely convinced. Her chest still ached and her stomach curled into a tight knot of nerves. But the idea of fresh air, of something warm on her skin… and admittedly, her curiosity about Camaemben's ire and his audacity to be outright angry with the captain of the guard, intrigued her.

“Come, I am eager to have a honey cake and he has absolutely refused me anything more than bread and water since our return.”

“He can do that?” she asked, before she could stop herself.

“He is the head of the kitchens here. Little to no food goes anywhere without his say so, and what little does, Erestor knows about. And he is not pleased with me, either.” Glorfindel arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “He said something about having been teaching you to read, and if I endangered those efforts again I would find myself without a fishing partner for the next several loa.”

The smile that curved the edge of her lips felt odd, but Glorfindel returned it easily, for all that his eyes still held sadness.

“I will see you in the garden shortly, nethig.”

“Ella,” she corrected him.

“Nethig,” he reiterated, already at her door.

*

Camaemben really had gone to great lengths to craft a sumptuous spread that included every single item Ella had ever mentioned enjoying. The garden was awash with soft, late afternoon light, warm and dappled through the tall trees that arched protectively overhead. The soft rustle of leaves filled the air, and a gentle breeze stirred the sweet, earthy scents of grass and baked goods. Bees hummed lazily between flowers that filled colourful beds all around the bordered edges of the garden.

The ground was covered with a large square of linen-like fabric, and nearly every inch of it, where there was not an elf, held food. There were stacks of flaky pastries and sugared fruits, a steaming pot of cheese fondue surrounded by chunks of warm bread, her preferred jam, fresh braided loaves, her favourite tangy pink apples, a small bowl of roasted cashews, and, much to her delight —

“Dippy eggs?” She checked, nearly laughing with excitement.

Camaemben shook his head fondly as he stood to greet her. “You have such odd names for things. It is good to see you, Ella. My heart is glad you could be tempted out into the sun.” 

Ella settled into a cross-legged position, dressed in her favourite, softest loose trousers trousers and shirt in matching navy. The soft blanket cool beneath her, and gazed in awe at the impressive array of foods. The sheer abundance was almost overwhelming, but comforting too… Like a warm welcome she hadn’t known she needed. Glawaril accepted a plate from Glorfindel and, with her usual efficiency, arranged a generous sampling of each dish before placing it meaningfully in front of Ella.

 “You’re going to let Glorfindel have some, right?” Ella asked, when she realised everyone had a plate except the elf in question, “It’s not right, to stop someone eating.”

“I stopped Glorfindel no more than he stopped himself,” Camaemben said lightly, though his eyes held a sharpness as he glanced at the captain. He offered him an apple turnover. “He has been castigating himself since your trial. As he should.”

“Cam—” Ella started, but the lump in her throat made the rest difficult to say.

Glorfindel interrupted gently, “He is right. There are many, far worse outcomes that could have occurred. We were fortunate.” With that, he reached for the apple turnover and, with exaggerated resolve, took a pointed bite.

Elladan, who had been uncharacteristically quiet beside Camaemben until now, took the opportunity to slide into the conversation with a grin, launching into the latest gossip from the guards like a teenager between classes. Ella tried not to laugh as she pictured him in a shortened school tie, a creased white shirt, oversized blazer, and scuffed shoes. The mental image was so vivid it brought a smile to her lips before she could stop it.

Among the various tidbits of news, the most significant revelation was that Filiher and Uilossiel had bonded and wished to celebrate with their friends and family.

“I think you will miss it,” Elladan said apologetically, brushing a few breadcrumbs from his sleeve. “They wish to do so in the next spring, when the first of the flowers bloom.”

Ella wasn’t offended. She shrugged and said as much. “How come they’re waiting ‘til next year, if they’re already… bonded? Is that the same as marriage?” She’d heard various bits and pieces of conversations around the relationships of elves since their arrival in Imladris, but the meaning of ‘bonding’ still felt a little hazy. Was it like going to the registry office, and then come spring they’d have a wedding reception? She wasn’t entirely sure.

“Some of Filiher’s kin live in Eryn Galen,” Elladan explained, “we will take word to them when we leave here. And a celebration only a few months after the fact is relatively quick, for elves,” he added with a grin.

“Marriage is not the same as bonding,” Glawaril chimed in. “Marriage is also a mortal term for the union of lives—shared property, family, finances, and such, yes?”

Ella nodded, her mouth full of cheese fondue and bread.

“Bonding is the joining of two souls. One can have a spouse without being bonded, of course, but it is not really the case among elves. We refer to bonding as marriage, and when two elves bond to one another, they will have no other. Not even sailing to the Undying Lands or death can truly part them.”

“That sounds… intense,” Ella finally said, having swallowed her food, “Does it like, hurt?”

“No,” Glawawril replied, her expression bemused. “It is like finding the other half of your soul, or realising you are both made from the same… essence.”

“No backsies, no divorce, no breaking up?”

Glawaril shook her head.

Ella tried to grapple with the idea of a relationship as heavy as the gravity of bonding, a commitment that transcended the boundaries of time and space and death and struggled to fit it into her understanding of love and marriage as it worked (and didn’t) work in her experience. “Yikes,” she muttered.

“It look Ivoren and I nearly 80 years to decide to bond, after we started courting,” said Glawaril,

“Our mother and father apparently raised many eyebrows when they bonded after only three years,” Elladan added, before Ella could comment on dating someone for longer than most humans lived.

“Do you —” she bit back the question. Inappropriate. 

“Do we what, Ella?” Elladan looked like he knew exactly what she wanted to ask, and she felt a blush heat her cheek. 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

Glawaril saved her from any further teasing by throwing a cashew nut at him. The giggle that snuck its way out felt good, and strange, after days of barely talking and waking to screams. 

Chapter Text

The morning she decided to return to training for the first time since the night in the wilds, Ella was too nervous to eat. She wasn’t entirely certain of her reception, although there was a hopeful part of her that trusted Glorfindel. That part of her said it would be fine. The pessimistic part of her argued he was just one elf, and his opinion might not be universal. But since the picnic in the gardens, the pessimistic part of her was being overruled more frequently.

So she sat on one of the fence posts that bordered the training ground, gently kicking the wood under her heels. The morning sun bathed the area in a warm glow, casting long shadows as the elves readied themselves for the day.

Sírben and ​Midhiel were the first to arrive, nodding in friendly greeting.

“It is good to see you again, Ella,” Sírben said. “Will you be joining us today?”

“Can I?”

“What has Lord Elrond said of your injuries?” he countered.

Ella held up her hand in a maybe motion. “All good, no obstacle course or grappling for another week, though.”

“Then come, you can help us set out the targets. We are going to work on archery today before Prince Legolas departs.”

As she slid off the post to follow them, she paused. She could’ve sworn she'd heard the word brave, soft and clear and not in either of their voices, but that sounded a lot like Elladan, but when she glanced back, neither elf was looking at her, and she couldn’t see Elladan anywhere.

The targets were as heavy as they’d looked, but they were shortly joined by more and between them, setting up didn’t take very long. Uilossiel arrived not long after the last target was put into place, calling Ella’s name.

She spun around, spotting something flying towards her and caught it on reflex. “Why’re you chucking an apple at me?”

“I did not see you in the dining hall this morning, and Camaemben said he had not seen you either.”

Ella turned the pink blush fruit over in her hands. “So you decided to try and take me out with an apple?”

“The apple is to eat, Ella. I am glad to see you back here before you leave for Eryn Galen.” 

“I missed you too?”

Uilossiel gave her a smile that reached her eyes and dimpled her cheeks. She wore braids in her hair today, neatly woven to just beyond the tips of the slightly pointed tips of her ears.

“Got fancy with your hair today, did you?” Ella asked, gesturing to the intricate style, “Wait,” she looked back around to the rest of the guards. Everyone wore braids of various styles today. “Was there a memo?”

“You know I do not know what that means,” replied the elf dryly.

“You’ve all got braids today?” Ella ran a hand self-consciously over her own hair, palming the sides to smooth down any flyaways that might have escaped her hasty ponytail.

For a moment, she could’ve sworn someone she heard we wore them for you. But no one had said anything.

She glanced over her shoulder, checking if anyone else had arrived. Nothing. Just the usual easy conversation between guards, some laughter, a quiet hum of anticipation for the day’s training. Maybe she’d imagined it. The kind of thing you could read in people’s expressions, even if they hadn’t said the words aloud.

“Ah, here they are,” Uilossiel said, looking over Ella’s shoulder. Ella spun around, not at all surprised to see Glorfindel flanked by Elladan and Elrohir, walking down the steps eagerly. They moved with a purpose that made her suspect an obstacle course might be coming up soon. One that she should either bow out of or tackle head-on, regardless of what Lord Elrond had said. She bit down on her lip, trying to figure out which option to take, when the three of them bore down on where she stood with Uilossiel with uncanny directness. Maybe they’re here to tell me to sod off -

“I am glad indeed that you didn’t change your mind,” Glorfindel said by way of greeting. 

“How did you —” she shook her head, “Glawaril told you?”

He nodded his head once in agreement, his eyes flicking to behind her. There was mischief there and something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She hadn’t said she’d forgiven him yet… was this about that? He gestured her towards the salle, to follow Uilossiel and the twins who’d merely pulled her hair gently as they walked by, smiling.

Ella turned —

And found a semicircle awaiting her. It seemed like every guard in the settlement had come down this morning. She faltered, unease flaring hot and bright in her belly.

“There is nothing to fear of this, I give you my word,” Glorfindel murmured, a hand gently pushing between her shoulder blades until she stood before the open semicircle of elves.

“Ella of Little Hatfield, for your dedication to learning since your arrival here, for your growing skill with your chosen weapons, and for your bravery in your first fight, I award you the right to wear nólemo braids, marking you as a student of your craft. We stand today to witness this decision, and, if you will permit this, to witness you receive them. You may say no, and choose to receive them in private from another, at a time of your choosing. You may choose to have another do them now, also.”

She shook her head, willing the tears that stung her eyes to not fall, her voice to not shake as she said, “Now, you, is fine.”

She felt rather than saw his answering smile as he stepped behind her, saw it reflected in the guards that stood arrayed before her, especially on her friends faces. Elladan and Elrohir were grinning almost ear to ear.

With practised motions, he untied her hair and quickly sectioned off what he wanted to work with.
“For your preference with two blades, we use two rows of relatively simple style, one set on each side is traditional, although it is all your choice,” he murmured, deftly pulling and twisting the first row into place with a speed that spoke of years of experience, “My own nólemo braid, long ago as they were, was a single, large portion on the right. An older style for a broadsword preference.”

Ella didn’t dare move, focused on breathing, on taking in the faces that looked back at her. Faces that looked happy, and proud, and nothing else, and yet for all everyone was silent, she felt like the clearing was filled with chatter, so many voices that none of them stood out. She swallowed. Maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe it was just how they were all looking at her.

It didn’t take long at all for Glorfindel to finish, retying a smaller ponytail to his liking, leaving half her hair down. 

“You do not have to wear them if you do not wish to. Know only that you have the right: any one of us will be willing to teach you how to put them in yourself, and you may also ask any one of us to put them in for you as and when you wish.” 

Ella risked running her fingers softly over the hair, couldn't stop the answering grin that finally broke free and stayed there, tugging at her cheeks all the way through a sparring session that left her arms feeling like jelly.

As the others continued to more drills, Glorfindel took one look at her shaking arms and gestured her to rest at the edge of the training grounds, with an expression that brooked no argument. 

In the shadow of the workrooms that housed the harnesses and spare quivers and equipment, she looked around in confusion for the source of the noise, as if there was a motorway nearby. Distant, indistinct, but unmissable.

She couldn’t explain it if someone asked. There were no shouts, no clanging blades, no thunder of hooves, and certainly no car or lorrys or vans. But her mind buzzed with something that wouldn’t settle. Had been for a while, if she were honest with herself, but it had grown more and more unignorable, this wave of noise that didn’t fit with the people she knew lived here.

“Needs to shift her weight more to the left,” someone said nearby.

“Don’t forget lunch with Tathar—”

“I like him, even if he’s odd sometimes—”

She walked around the small building, expecting to catch someone gossiping, but there was no one there, just the elves in the grounds, trading blows in melee groups. Focused.

Ella rubbed the heel of her palm against her temple, eyes narrowing. “You’ve shaken a screw loose, El,” she murmured to herself.

*

The next day was the same.

She was following Glawaril with their accrued laundry when she felt like someone had whispered just beside her ear:

Stars-cursed berries! I swear he’s worse now than when he was a babe.

She turned, startled, but no one was there.

Glawaril noticed. “Something wrong?”

“No, sorry. Just… never mind.”

She gave her a curious look but said nothing more.

*

It was getting harder to ignore.

The voices were generally faint, but like a constant stream running beneath nearly everything, everywhere she went. Some were clear: passing thoughts, worries, observations. Others were fragments, broken and directionless. Emotions clung to them, like the taste of a dream she couldn’t shake.

Shouldn’t have stayed up so late.
Why did she laugh like that?
Three weeks until I’m back on border duty.
I miss the sea.

They weren’t hers. She knew they weren’t hers. But what were they? Was she the only one that heard them? Was she hearing things, or was living in a land of magic and elves and wizards doing something, changing her? Was the same thing happening to Chloe?

Later that evening, after a very noisy dinner, Ella sought Chloe out. For once, the other girl wasn’t with her friends, who were speaking rapidly in Sindarin gathered in one of the smaller gardens, the spring evening cool but dry and pleasant. They knew where she was, though, and it didn’t take long to find the other girl was curled up on a large floor cushion in a circle of light from a set of open double doors. A nearly finished sketchbook sat on her lap, charcoal pencil in her hand. The fading, dusk light caught her hair, making her look almost as ethereal as some of the elves. She looked up when Ella approached and smiled, wide and open.

“Hey,” Chloe said.

Ella nodded a greeting, perching on the low stone wall that ringed the small terrace. She watched Chloe’s pencil move across the page, shaping what looked like the shapes of the flowers in the bed behind the short wall. 

“You… feeling better?” Chloe asked, when Ella seemed content to sit in silence.

“Yeah.” Ella didn’t continue right away. Her fingers worried at the edge of her sleeves. Finally, when Chloe was starting to add the first layers of detail to the petals, she said:
“Have you noticed anything strange lately?”

Chloe blinked. “Strange how?”

“Just… I don’t know. Since we got here. Like, weird.”
Ella winced at how vague it sounded.

Chloe tilted her head. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Elves.”

“No, I mean, I mean us. Not here. Like… in us. Not your dreams but —”
She glanced sideways, struggling to find words for what she didn’t want to vocalise. 

Chloe grinned. “We’ve been here, what? How long now? And I still don’t know how to explain to any of them what TikTok is.”

“No I mean for real —” Ella scraped her fingers along her scalp hard enough to sting. “Never mind.”

Chloe paused, pencil hovering. “Wait, what’s going on? What are you actually asking me?”

Ella hesitated. Then shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

Chloe gestured absently with the charcoal. “Can’t be if you’re sat here looking like that, I’ve seen you less worried on audition days.”

Ella gave a soft huff of laughter, not quite amused but not quite dismissive either. She remembered how upset, how angry, she’d heard the other girl after the wilderness trials.

“I don’t know what I’m asking, I guess,” she said, quietly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Hey.” Chloe sat up straighter, voice gentler now. “If something’s wrong…”

Ella stood before Chloe could finish. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

She wasn’t sure if Chloe believed her.

Chapter Text

Ella didn’t know when the elves had gotten so noisy. There was a constant, low-level chatter that seemed to pervade the valley at nearly all hours of the day. It was incredibly distracting. Chloe didn’t seem to care and put it down to their impending departure.

“I still can’t believe it’s tomorrow,” Chloe lamented during breakfast, their first breakfast together in the dining hall since before their wilderness lesson. Two weeks had passed since the quiet garden picnic, one since Ella had considered asking Chloe if she too was hearing things. And while Ella still felt a little off-kilter, she was faring better than before, most of the time. Voices excluded. 

Elrond had taken some time to talk about the mind rarely following a straight path and she’d tried to nod in the right places. She kept her feet bare, allowing the cool, smooth stone of Imladris to ground her in reality, to remind her that this was not another nightmare. It helped, and it also helped that whatever tricks her mind was playing on her nearly disappeared as well. Stress, she confirmed to herself. I’m just stressed. Did the adults in her life feel that way too when they got snappish, when they drank more, when they clenched mouths shut?

Mairon, meanwhile, finally returned too. With the additional nightmare free sleep his visits afforded, she figured the reduction in ‘crazy’ correlated nicely. Wasn’t sleep depravation supposed to be a form of torture? Like the brain needed sleep. 

Mairon spent much of her dreams reiterating much of what Glorfindel, and Elrond, and Elladan, and Elrohir, and Glawaril had said, and was just as displeased that a scouting party of orcs had nearly been the end of her. 

Ella knew preparations for their journey to Eryn Galen had been ongoing and were nearing completion. However, she hadn't realised how close they were until last night, when Thranduil, his butler Galion, and Erestor had been discussing a trade of books for their respective libraries. Glorfindel had returned her swords days ago, polished to a brilliant shine and Glawaril had made sure she was furnished with enough clothes in good condition for the journey, and a small sewing kit for inevitable repairs. 

She should have seen it coming, really. The thought of travelling at night still made her nervous, though she was determined not to admit it now she felt strong enough to leave her room. She definitely wasn’t going to be telling anyone she’d been sleeping with a candle lit every night since Glawaril had stopped staying with her.

Ella sipped her cup of hot water. “I thought you were in a hurry? To get back, remember?”

“I do,” Chloe nodded, “it just feels weird. This is all we’ve known here.”

Ella thought of the Dwarven Halls and ancient cities she'd seen, of the towering mountains and breathtaking lakes. It wasn't all she had known, thanks to Mairon, but she agreed nonetheless.

“Prince Legolas says we will stop each night for a full rest, but more often than not sleep under the stars,” Chloe mock-shivered. Ella knew that her wilderness trial had been considerably more straightforward, as she had been dropped almost within sight of the ford. Mairon considered it a clear display of favouritism, though Elladan had implied it was more because Ella was more capable. Only one of them had been nearly sliced in half, and it wasn't the one who could channel Gods in her dreams, so Ella was siding with Mairon on this one.

“The elves love the starlight,” Ella reminded her, “he probably considers that as awesome news.”

“I’d rather have a nice, soft bed, thank you very much.”

Ella wholeheartedly agreed, and they clinked their cups together with a shared grimace.

“Still, if I can sleep near Legolas,” Chloe grinned, “perhaps some romantic starlight will be just what we need.”

Ella nearly choked on her drink as Chloe gazed into the near distance. “You and the elf prince?”

“We just… connected,” the girl shrugged, “he is very down to earth, for royalty. I feel like he understands the, y’know, burden I have to carry.”

“You, and the elf prince?” Ella repeated in disbelief. “What happened to Merilimben?”

Chloe nonchalantly flipped her long, meticulously brushed hair so it cascaded in smooth waves down her back. She had started using a curling method overnight that she was particularly fond of, and even Ella was tempted to give it a try, if she could only put up with the extra fuss. Maybe after they got to the next stop on the crazy tour of places elves and wizards and monsters were real.

“It didn’t work out with Merilimben," she explained. "we're friends, and that's important too. Or it would be, if he was coming with us. But he isn’t and this thing with Legolas, it's... different. Did you know he likes to sketch? The detail he can etch of birds is amazing, and he’s been teaching me. I feel like he understands me on a different level. Like we connect.”

Ella nodded, trying to understand the nuances of the other girl was trying to explain, because whilst she was aware that Chloe’s time had gone very differently to her own, she couldn’t quite believe she’d completely missed a relationship starting between Chloe and a Prince.

"Just be careful," Ella teased, "we wouldn't want any more kidnappings on this journey."

Chloe rolled her eyes, and responded with a single finger hand gesture that had Ella smirking. 

*

The fire in the hearth of Elronds study burned low, the glow from a stand full of thick, pillar candles helping to gilding the edges of the desk with light. Glorfindel leaned casually against the window, arms folded, watching as the lord shuffled a stack of parchment he was not truly reading.

“They are as ready as they can be,” Glorfindel said at last, his voice quiet.

Elrond looked up, a faint crease still between his brows. “Ready to depart, perhaps. But I question if their spirits are equally prepared.”

“Ella has grown stronger,” Glorfindel reminded him. “She does not startle as she did in the aftermath.”

“Yes,” Elrond admitted softly. “Yet I fear strength won too quickly can leave cracks beneath the surface. I worry that she confuses endurance for healing. That perhaps we all do.”

Glorfindel tilted his head. “And Chloe?”

Elrond’s lips curved in the ghost of a smile. “Chloe adapts, though not without cost, I am sure. She clings to companionship, as if fearing to be overlooked. Have you seen how she has struck up a rapport with young Prince Legolas of late?”

He set aside the parchment entirely and leaned back in his chair, gazing into the embers. “I wish their path home didn’t lead them so far away, so close to the growing shadow in Dol Guldur.”

“You can trust Thranduil to keep them safe,” Glorfindel said gently, “for all his posturing, you know he will not suffer them any undue risk.”

“I do,” Elrond replied, “but trust does not lighten the burden of watching children leave before they are ready.”

“They are not children, as you so often remind me,” Glorfindel countered, “They are mortal, and adults by that reckoning.”

Elrond fixed him with a glare that said he wasn’t thankful for the reminder.

Elrond sighed as he stood from his desk and joined Glorfindel to stand by the hearth as the embers crackled faintly. “It is the right thing to do, of that I am certain. What futures they have lie far from my reach.” He let the silence stretch before adding, almost to himself, “These halls will be quieter for their absence… too quiet, perhaps.”

*

“We could be going home soon! Ella, how can you not be excited!” Chloe exclaimed as she meticulously repacked her collection of dresses, leggings, and tunics, into one of her new travel packs. The first light of dawn had only recently crept into the valley, and Chloe was up uncharacteristically early, eager to get started and apparently past her earlier reticence. Ella had turned one of the high backed, wooden chairs to face the girl as she repacked and rocked it back to lean on two legs.

“I just keep thinking: how are we going to explain… this? Without ending up in some kind of psychiatric ward? Or on prescription drugs?” Home was not a word that held the same meaning for her as it did for the other girl, but Chloe had never seemed to mind it. Ella meant ‘home planet’, Chloe meant ‘home, where my family is’. Ella tried not to think of anywhere back there as anything more than a passing place to sleep.

“Oh well… we could just say we… got abducted. By a cult, or something?” Chloe suggested with a shrug.

“Seriously? You think they’ll totally accept that with no questions asked? We’ve been gone nearly a year already.”

“Well, what’s your idea?”

Ella leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. “Your secret boyfriend picked you up, you ran away together, you found out he was a total douche, and you came home.”

“That’s… okay well that is better.” Chloe conceded, “Is that your story too?”

“I don’t need one,” Ella smirked out of habit rather than humour, “I’m classed as a flight risk anyway. Got a case file filled with running away. They’ll hopefully just chalk it up to me doing it again. I think I’m just about eighteen, or near enough, that it won’t matter anyway for long.”

“What! When?”

Ella shrugged, “Sometime around the end of this month? Not bothered to work it out properly… have you?”

“Obviously.” Chloe flipped her hair over her shoulder, “I’m going to be nineteen in thirteen days. A bit annoying that we’re going to be like, on the road, by then, but Legolas says he’s sure we can celebrate it in some way.”

“Oh, he does, does he?” Ella raised her eyebrows and then calculated the dates in her head. “Yours is on September…”

“Sixth.”

“Huh. So… four days? I’ll finally be eighteen.” Ella wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, she was excited about the prospect of official independence, of no longer being shuffled from place to place. On the other hand, the responsibilities of adulthood loomed ahead, including rent, bills, and work, maybe more education if she could somehow make it work, or get the right scholarship. The mysterious missing year was going to be a problem. She was going to have to defer pretty much every plan she had by at least a year… She gulped and then grinned, wide and cocky and sure. “Nice one.”

“So lame you can’t go out properly, eighteen is important.” Chloe said sympathetically, not looking up from carefully tucking in a pair of soft soled indoor shoes that still reminded Ella of slippers.

Ella scrunched up her face, “It’s overrated,” she disagreed, “and it’s cheaper to drink vodka in a park than in a bar.”

“You are so —”

“Predictable?”

“Yes!” Chloe laughed, softening the blow with a smile. Then, a serious thought seemed to cross her mind. “My dad's going to have been so worried.”

Ella patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, “At least he’ll get you back.”

"Yeah," Chloe replied, her smile fading slightly as she thought about her dad. "I can’t wait to talk to him again."

Chloe's mention of her dad made Ella think about her own family, or rather, the lack of one she could remember, and she pushed the thought away with ease borne of practice, while Chloe continued to finish her final preparations for their imminent departure, now quiet and preoccupied. 

As Ella steered her thoughts away from her non-existent family, they wandered instead back to the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Unease about returning to a world where she’d always felt like a stranger threatened to fill her up, and she forced herself to breathe out, long and slow, like Glawaril had taught her after the wilderness night she was forgetting. 

But she couldn’t avoid it: this place had started to feel like it could be a home. More than any place she’d ever lived before. It doesn’t matter, you’ve never had a choice before, and you don’t now, she reminded herself, shaking her head as if to clear it of the nonsense notion.  Elrond and the elves here had been very accommodating, but testing their patience indefinitely was short-sighted. She knew this, experienced it time and time again. Thinking of it as a home was dangerous, and it would only end painfully. 

“Surely you’ve gotta be packed by now?” Ella asked, before she could think about any of it any further, “It took me literally ten minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah I think that’s everything.” Chloe looked at the two bags on her bed for a long moment before nodding, one large and destined for the packing cart that wouldn’t be seen again until they arrived at Eryn Galen, and one for day to day needs. Ella had crammed as much as she could into her daily bag. Just in case, she promised herself.

*

Ella examined her new knife, a short dagger like the one she had borrowed on the night she was attempting to forget. She took a moment to appreciate its craftsmanship, such as she understood it, and then checked its balance, just as Midhiel had taught her.

“Thank you,” she said genuinely, undoing the belt around her waist to add the sheath, “You know, if my caseworker could see me now, she’d have conniptions.”

“Case worker?” Glorfindel inquired, treating the term as if it were two separate words.

Ella waved off his confusion. “Where I come from, blades are illegal. And now I have three! I'd probably get the whole book thrown at me and end up with, like, dunno? Four years in jail for it?”

“No weapons? What do you defend yourselves with? How do you hunt?”

“My witty sense of humour and biting comebacks, mostly.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “I would not wish to bear witness to the complexities and contradictions of your world, I think,” he murmured.

Ella shrugged, her features betraying a hint of agreement she tried to squash. Back, I have to go back and do the whole… adulting… business. She’d lingered after her last training session for a reason though, and she was being distracted. “You’re not coming with us, are you?”

“No,” the ancient elf confirmed with a shake of his head. “My duties lie with Imladris. Elladan and Elrohir plan to accompany you, both to keep you safe and to keep you out of trouble.”

“Trouble!” Ella laughed.

He smiled, his eyes alight with mischief. “Who else will they pull into their pranks?”

“I never -” She paused when he raised an eyebrow, challenging her to continue. She grinned back. “I will miss your lessons. Well, maybe not the obstacle courses -”

“Ai, you wound me,” he teased.

“But I will really miss the rest. They saved my life, Glorfindel.” You came here for a reason, El, follow it through. Ella took a deep breath in. You can’t keep it from him, it’s not fair. “Iforgiveyou,” she blurted out, the words rushing out in a single forceful breath. She hadn’t forgiven him immediately, had needed to think it over for a while, discuss it with Mairon, stop jumping at shadows and sudden noises quite so much… but bad luck wasn’t his fault. She’d realised it before the braids, before the last session, but it wasn’t until now she’d been able to voice it.

Understanding filled his eyes and he bowed his head in acknowledgment. His expression softened, and he met her eyes with gratitude. "Thank you, Ella," he replied sincerely. "I'm truly sorry for the danger you were put in during your trial. It was not my intention for things to unfold that way."

Ella shifted uncomfortably. “I know.”

“Do you have everything ready?” he asked.

“I’ve never been so prepared for a long walk before,” Ella said, rolling her eyes, “Usually I get about half a day of notice. I’ve packed about a zillion times.”

“Very well then. I’m sure you have more goodbyes to make. I will see you in the morning, nethig.”

*

Thranduil leaned over the wide wooden table, long arms braced against its edge, his gaze fixed on the map spread beneath him. His fingers tapped once against the parchment, a sharp, deliberate sound, before stilling.

“We leave at first light, by this path,” the king said at last, his voice  clipped and even. “I would hear your thoughts.”

Legolas traced the marked route with his eyes, following their way out of Imladris and through the valley beyond. “The road is clear. Our scouts, and those of Lord Elrond, both confirm it. The weather has held, and should not hinder us.”

“That is not what I asked.” Thranduil’s keen eyes flicked to his son. “The mortals. Will they hinder our pace?”

Legolas paused, knowing well the layers behind such a question. “Elladan and Elrohir say Ella has trained well with her blades, but she rides as a novice still. Chloe rides with more skill, but she has little means to defend herself.”

“I want them within the ranks at all times, but not singled out by guard,” Thranduil said flatly. “They must be hidden in plain sight. Too much protection will mark them as surely as too little.”

“You think them in danger?” Legolas asked quietly.

“I think there is a bounty on the dreaming girl’s head,” Thranduil corrected, straightening as he gathered the maps. “And we are not an inconspicuous company. Keep them safe, keep them quiet, and above all—” his eyes sharpened, “—do not let them become a weakness others may use against us.”

Legolas accepted the maps when his father passed them, binding them with quick, practised motions. Thranduil poured himself a measure of wine once the table was cleared, lifting the glass as though to punctuate the silence. He sipped, watching his son over the rim, then set it down again with a soft chime.

“That mortal girl’s affections are plain to all,” he said at last. “You encourage them too freely.”

Legolas did not falter in stowing the maps, only glanced back with calm resolve. “I offer her nothing beyond courtesy. No more than kindness.”

“Courtesy,” Thranduil repeated, the word edged with disdain. “Be wary it is not mistaken for invitation. You are a prince of the Woodland Realm. It ill befits you to appear entangled in the whims of a mortal heart.”

Legolas inclined his head, respectful but unyielding. “I have given her no promise, nor cause to believe there might be one. But I will not repay her trust with cruelty. That too would ill befit a prince.”

Thranduil’s mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. He did not answer at once, only lifted the wine again, the dark liquid catching the firelight as he drank.

When he set the cup down, his voice was quieter but no less sharp. “Kindness has its place, Legolas. But so does distance. If she is hurt, or worse, it will not be she alone who suffers. Weakness spreads. It endangers those around her… and those who would protect her.”

He turned slightly, the lines of his face cold in profile. “Remember that, when you weigh courtesy against consequence.”

The silence that followed was long, punctuated only by the faint crackle of the fire. Legolas inclined his head once more, accepting the warning without yielding.

Thranduil drank again, gaze fixed on nothing, but the tension in his hand around the stem of the glass betrayed more than his words allowed.

*

Their farewell to Imladris was anticlimactic, in the end. There was no large farewell party, or tearful goodbyes, for all that they were emotional. Ella, used to remaining as stoic or contrary as possible, hugged Camaemben tightly, let herself be wrapped into a strong hug from Glorfindel, and smiled shyly at Erestor, who gave her a single nod. Glawaril refused to let her go for several long minutes, and fussed over her for a good minute longer before Ivoren patted her gently on the shoulder, murmuring into his bonded’s ear in Sindarin. Ella wondered what he’d said, but then Glawaril was nodding tearfully and holding Ella at arms length, still refusing to let go.

“Don’t look for trouble,” she cautioned, “and heed what the wood elves say. They have made this journey before and know of the dangers. I am glad to have met you, Ella.”

Ella wondered if this was what being lectured by a parent was like, and nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. Glawaril nodded, to herself as much as anything Ella suspected, and then backed up so Ella could mount her horse.

She felt emotionally wrung out already as she mounted Lânhîth and watched Chloe finish her own tearful goodbyes with her group of close friends. Ella rolled her shoulders, feeling the stiff leather of the harness on her back against her shoulders. The weight was reassuring. They would be riding for most of the journey with long breaks each day to rest the horses, Roquendil had explained yesterday as he ran Ella through practising getting on and off, and riding, her loaned horse.

The main retinue with King Thranduil, Prince Legolas and the other courtiers were taking up the main courtyard, with considerably more fanfare - the guards on duty in Imladris were once again resplendent in their polished armour, standing at attention as the King led the way out of the courtyard. The plan was to have them exist as they normally would, with Ella and Chloe sandwiched quietly at the end, before the wagons with the trade and luggage, in the hopes if anyone was watching, they would not notice. Glorfindel had admitted it was a thin hope, but also that they’d had scouts, both hidden and obvious, watching the road for the past several days, and none had seen anyone or anything acting suspiciously. 

The last of the goodbyes faded into the clatter of hooves as the company began to move. Ella urged Lânhîth into line, her seat still awkward but steady, and glanced once over her shoulder at the high terraces of Imladris. The white stone gleamed in the morning sun, serene and untroubled, as if nothing within its walls had shifted.

Her chest ached. It felt wrong to leave without more ceremony, without some mark of the weight these halls had carried for her. She’d learnt so much here, felt so at ease, felt more accepted than she could ever remember feeling before, and now they were just… leaving. Tears of anger and frustration threatened to fall, making her eyes sting and breath hitch. Pull it together Ella. They want you to go home, and you should want to go back too. This is supposed to be a good thing!

But why did it feel like she was tearing out a part of her and leaving it behind? Marion had warned her for weeks that she’d probably overstayed her welcome, and that was most likely feeding into the decision to have them both go to Eryn Galen at the first opportunity. And wasn’t that how it always went? The new person was only new, and interesting, for so long.

Beside her, Chloe rubbed quickly at her eyes, then caught Ella’s look and pulled a face that made them both stifle half-laughs, half-sobs. Ella cleared her throat with a hasty cough that probably fooled no one. 

“You finally get to explore, Chloe.”

The other girl pulled a face. “The lack of bed is still not a selling point.”

The line of elves moved steadily on, bright banners lifting in the spring breeze. Ahead, Ella could see King Thranduil and his son rode with regal ease, the sun glancing from polished helms and spears of the soldiers around them. Behind, wagons creaked under their burdens of trade and supplies.

Ella shifted in her saddle, settling her shoulders against the press of the harness, and fixed her gaze on the path that led out of the valley.

She did not look back again.

Chapter Text

Ella opened her eyes, greeted by the vast expanse of the sky high above. I’m never going to get sick of that. The air, crisp and pure, filled her lungs as she took a long, deep breath. She marvelled at the towering mountains that surrounded her, their peaks reaching for the stars, growing larger with each step of their slow, steady progress. She leaned forward, careful and awkward, and stroked the mane of horse hair gently, like she’d seen others do occasionally.

Not sure I could ever get used to the horse, though. Despite the breathtaking scenery, Ella couldn't shake her unease about riding a horse. The first day hadn’t been so bad, but earlier she’d awoke sore, and uneager to start again. Elrohir and Elladan, catching her glare at the reins after a quick breakfast, grinned identical, knowing, grins. She’d given them a middle finger and ignored them.

"How long does it take?" she asked casually, turning to Chloe, who rode beside her, having not worked her way back to her newest friends among the Eryn Galen elves.

"How long does what take?" came Chloe's bewildered reply.

“For it to not hurt after riding. My thighs, Chloe, they are burning.”

Chloe smirked, “By the time we get there, you should be fine.”

“What, because I’ve chopped my legs off?” 

“It’s because you’re not used to the movement,” Chloe gestured to Lânhîth, “make sure you do some stretches at every break, that’ll help a bit.”

Ella groaned. It’s going to be a long month. Whilst it had taken the elves only three weeks to travel from their realm to Imladris, they were estimating it would take a little longer to return because they were going to go deliberately slower, for the sake of Chloe and Ella and their mortal constitutions, although they worded it more delicately. They had planned several days of rest into the journey, in addition to daily breaks for the horses.

"I thought you did a lot of stretching during guard training?" Chloe remarked.

Ella shot her a sidelong glance. "We usually did a brief warm-up and cool-down. Nothing too intense. Occasionally, Midhiel would have us attempt one of their intense routines, yeah, but I'm not made of rubber bands, so I stuck to the basics. Also: I did not know these muscles were there until they decided they hate me! And,” Ella cast a quick look around, “no amount of stretching is going to help the chafing, Chlo!"

Chloe laughed.

“How,” Ella said indignantly, grumbling, “are you not achy?”

“I’ve been riding a lot since we’ve got here,” Chloe looked unimpressed, “what did you think I did? Sat around all day everyday, learning to sew?”

“Well… yeah?”

“For a year? I’d have gone insane! Tinuial and I are good friends,” she patted the horse’s neck affectionately, “I went riding with Malthenniel and Thenidiel mostly, especially after…”

"After Orinan?" Ella finished softly.

“Yeah,” 

“Sorry.”

Chloe shrugged. “So, are you excited for your birthday yet?”

It was Ella’s turn to give the other girl an unimpressed look. “Nothing’s changed since yesterday, except it's a day closer.”

“But it’s eighteen!”

“You say that like we haven’t magically bamfed into a world where none of the perks exist.”

“They have alcohol here.”

“You say that as I've never had it before I was eighteen, here or back there.”

Chloe let out a groaning sigh, “Christ you really are in a bad mood today!”

“Maybe I just don’t want to talk about my stupid birthday,” Ella snapped back, “Can’t you just drop it?”

“Chloe, Ella, are you both alright?” Elladan manoeuvred his horse beside Chloes, the path currently being wide enough to accommodate it. 

Ella frowned at him. Like he couldn’t hear everything we were just saying?

“Ella’s grumpy because she’s saddle sore.”

“Am not!”

“See,” Chloe said, loosely holding her reins in one hand while gesturing with her other. Ella resisted the urge to stick out her tongue and pursed her lips instead.

“Excuse me if I don’t still celebrate my birthdays like I’m five.”

“It’s your birthday?”

“No,” Ella groaned, “c’mon dude, let's not pretend you didn’t hear the whole conversation, I’m too tired for that.”

Elladan looked like he was biting back a smirk as he nodded in assent. “As you wish. If eighteen is significant for your people, why do you wish to ignore it?”

“One: I don’t see why this one will be any different to the seventeen before it. Two: we’re making some pretty wild assumptions that it hasn’t already passed given it was autumn when we were ‘left’ and what, spring? When we woke up in those woods. Three: does it matter how old I am, really? What will change between one day and the day after?”

“One: if it is significant to your culture, then I care, as would my brother and all of your friends. Two: count time as you wish, it will pass regardless and only your perception of it matters. Three: I suppose, in your unusual case, it does not matter how old you are, and no, nothing will change.” Elladan said, looking contemplative, “As elves, we care less for the passing of time, although that is less true when we are young. It is not until after our one hundredth year that we are considered to have reached our majority, and still many years after that before we are considered a full adult.”

“Not there yet, huh?”

“Alas, I have been for some time, although I am still considered very young.”

“How old are you?” Chloe asked, and Ella silently crowed at potentially finally getting an answer to the question she’d been wanting, and refusing, to ask since she wondered if elves grew like trees.

“Eleven minutes younger than me!” Elrohir called out from somewhere behind them, making everybody in between laugh. Elladan cringed goodnaturedly.

“We are about 2795, give or take a few years,” Elladan said after a moment's thought, “and yes, Elrohir was an only child for eleven minutes -”

“Eleven wonderful minutes! Glorious!”

“-and then when I was born, our parents breathed a sigh of relief.”

Chloe giggled at their exchange. "Well, it sounds like those eleven minutes were quite the luxury, Elrohir."

"Ah, they were legendary -" Elrohir replied, his tone exaggeratedly dramatic before Elladan cut in,

“Father says he screamed for the entire eleven minutes -”

“I was screaming with indignation that I was only going to have minutes of undivided attention -”

“Screaming that you missed me, you mean -”

Chloe laughed and tried to hide it behind a cough, and Ella tried to hide the smile that was threatening to overrule the frown she’d etched in place. As they continued to trade ridiculous banter, Ella relaxed, grateful for the distraction from her protesting muscles.

*

The rest of the day had been uneventful, something the elves were happy about, given the size of the travelling party. Chloe had surprised Ella when they found a spot for their bed rolls, however. She shook hers out next to Ella’s, and offered her a small wooden bowl of something that smelled… minty?

“Is that toothpaste!”

“No,” Chloe snorted, “I wouldn’t be sharing that precious commodity. This is a salve I asked one of the Eryn Galen healers to make up. Put it on your skin,” she raised a brow at Ella, “for the chafing.”

A blush stole its way up Ella’s cheeks as she stumbled over a thank you, eagerly taking the small dish, no bigger than the palm of her hand.

*

“Ella!” Chloe whisper-shouted into her ear, “Something is wrong with Rador!”

Ella blinked blearily, her thoughts thick as treacle as she tried to make sense of Chloe's urgent tone. Who’s Rador? She’d been fast asleep, talking about the road between Imladris and Eryn Galen (and what to expect) with Mairon and now she could barely remember her own name, let alone some of the elves they’d only spent days with. The stars illuminated the night sky above them, casting a soft glow over the landscape, while the nearly full moon bathed everything in silver.

“What’s up with who?”

“What do we do!” Chloe panicked, shaking Ella’s arm. Though the abrupt motion annoyed her, it succeeded in fully waking her up. Propping herself up on her elbows, she glanced over Chloe's shoulder to where an elf, presumably Rador, lay sleeping not far away.

“He’s sleepin’, leave him ‘lone. Leave me ‘lone.” Ella huffed, rolling onto her side and turning away from Chloe.

“No look, I think he’s dead,” Chloe persisted.

“Elves sleep eyes open, Chlo,” Ella mumbled, squeezing her own eyes shut. “G’way.”

The next morning, Chloe was still unsettled by the previous night's revelation. They rode at a slow, leisurely pace, with Ella thankfully feeling minimal discomfort thanks to the salve Chloe had gotten for her. They travelled a few rows back from the front, near where the King and Legolas were engaged in conversation. While Ella appreciated the distance from the King's piercing gaze, Chloe lamented the missed opportunity to speak with Legolas.

“How are you ok with them sleeping like dead people?” Chloe asked incredulously.

“It’s not new?” Ella replied, “How’d you not know? How’d you not see it the first night? Or ages ago? I found out ages ago.”

“Who did you sleep with!”

“What’s with the sleeping with people assumption!” Ella said, appalled, “It just came up one day. I can’t remember why. I think I was talking to Glawaril about when she used to do markets, and then there was the trip to Bree? I never thought it was that weird,” Ella carried on, “I lived in, like a dorm? For a bit. And I used to do that half-closed thing, had to train myself out of it. Figure it’s a step up from that.”

“Such a freak,” Chloe shook her head.

Ella shrugged, unfazed by Chloe's teasing. "Call it what you want. It's just how elves are. Imagine what they think of us with the eyes shut thing."

Chloe sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Well, I still find it creepy. I mean, what if he really died? How would anyone know?"

"He wasn’t dead," Ella insisted, “Elves aren’t human, they just kinda look like us, remember? They’re gonna do some weird shit. Like sleep with their eyes open, live forever, never have a bad hair day…”

As the sun reached its afternoon peak, the party halted for a rest that Ella was eager to take, for her tired legs and core, and for Lânhîth's sake. She dismounted and led the horse over to where several others were being watered and fed. Grabbing a brush, she began grooming the group, which the elf working on the same task accepted with a silent smile. By the time they finished, lunch was underway, so she offered to assist with any foraging needed. Despite the weariness lingering in her muscles from the morning's ride, Ella found solace in the rhythm of keeping busy; it kept the restlessness under her skin at bay, a feeling not alleviated by the new aches of her daily pastime. She watched some of the soldiers sparring with friendly grins and fingered the harness across her shoulders, an idea forming. I do need to practise, she thought, and the elves at Imladris were okay with it. 

Meanwhile, Chloe seemed to vanish. She wasn’t with the horses, or with the foragers, or helping prepare any of the food. Ella glanced around, her eyes scanning the area for her friend. Eventually, she spotted her talking with higher-ranking nobles from the court, her animated gestures and bright smile drawing attention. She spotted Elladan lurking nonchalantly nearby, no doubt on guard duty for the afternoon. He and his brother now rotated the position between themselves since they’d left behind the rest of the Imladris guards.

Sighing inwardly, Ella continued with her tasks, feeling a twinge of annoyance at Chloe's avoidance of chores. It wasn't the first time Chloe had shirked mucking in, but Ella couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. She knew the other girl had a penchant for socialising, but sometimes it felt as though she prioritised it over everything else. Would it be so hard to just help out sometimes? What if the elves start to get annoyed?

As Ella ate her lunch quickly and quietly, mindful the elves were feeding more extra mouths than they usually would, her thoughts drifted back to the training soldiers nearby. She’d seen various groups of them running drills in the dawn light, sparring during the afternoon rests and again in the evening under the light of the stars as well. She admired their agility and skill, noticing they favoured a different style to what she’d been learning. Wonder if they have different styles, like we have martial arts? After all, her brief training at Imladris had left her hungry for more, and she was determined to improve her skills after the terrifying encounter with orcs. Clearly what she’d learnt after Vance was no where near enough.

As they all washed up and started to resaddle the horses, Ella gathered her courage. She approached a group of soldiers that she vaguely recognised. You are not nervous, she reminded herself, fake it. Smile, Ella. She smiled, bright and confident and at ease.

“Hey,” she started, throwing in a small wave, “​​I was… wondering if you would be willing to let me join in your training sometimes? I was starting to learn some in Imladris and I don’t wanna like, forget.”

The soldiers looked at each other, exchanging sceptical glances. Ella felt a pang of doubt, fearing rejection and resisted the urge to run her fingers along the small braids that were starting to need redoing. But then one of them, a tall elf with piercing blue eyes, stepped forward.

"We’ve never trained with an Edain before," he said, his tone cautious, "but I do not see why not. Have you spoken to Lords Elladan or Elrohir about this?"

“I don’t need their permission,” Ella cocked her head to one side, mischief sliding into her expression, “but they were cool with me getting these,” she thumbed in the direction of her harness, and the blades it held, “so I think we’re good. It’s not like they won’t notice me joining in, anyway.”

He responded with a small smile of his own. “Very well. You are welcome to join us this evening, if you wish. I am Rador.”

*

Ella jolted awake, already stifling any noise she might have made with a hand over her mouth, more out of habit than fear. A cold sweat beaded down her neck as she tried to breathe normally, each inhale feeling like a gulp for air. She stared up at the sky that dawn was painting in blushing pink, her heart beating out a bomb blast rhythm. Happy birthday to me, she thought bitterly to herself, you gifted yourself: nightmares! 

Pushing the terrifying images her brain had conjured during the night aside, she wiggled out of her bedroll into the cool spring morning, ignoring her grumbling body as it protested. A day of riding and then an evening being thrown to the ground repeatedly under the title of ‘learning to fall safely’ meant even her bruises had bruises.

Most of the elves were already up and about, engaged in quiet conversations or savouring steaming mugs of tea, or both. They’d all seemed to not dismiss her bad dreams so far, for which she was grateful. Apparently a perk of travelling with beings older than most towns in England was that nightmares were not new, or a talking point. Chloe had asked a similar question on their second morning of Legolas, and Ella had overheard his answer about battles, and nightmares, and terrible memories.

Wonder how they’d feel about PG Tips, she wondered idly, deliberately moving her thoughts on and watching one of the courtly elves savour his tea with a reverence that had her hiding a smirk behind a hand. Most of their tea wasn’t the black kind, mostly herbal or fruit based, with an occasional green cropping up. But they were definitely all tea snobs. Yorkshire Tea or bust, no cheap stuff, she decided, maybe even that Earl Grey one. 

With now practised ease, she tied up her bedroll and went about her morning routine with minimal blushing. She’d long since gotten over the bizarreness of the bristly sticks that passed for toothbrushes. Although she consoled herself with not having periods to deal with as they travelled as well, like Chloe. She shuddered at the thought, and then again as another occurred to her: what if the first one came now? She looked down at her stomach in betrayal. Don’t. You. Dare, she silently pleaded. What a present that would be. 

“Good morning, Ella,” Elrohir greeted as she sat down with a wince beside him at the main fire, “Are you alright?”

“Fall practice,” she said with a grimace.

“Ah,” he said sympathetically, “do you need me to find a healer?”

She shook her head automatically, “No,” she paused, swirling the tea in her mug, “not yet, anyway?”

“As you say, nethig. Tell me then, is it true? Today is your birthday? You are eighteen?”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Yes, much joy and so on.”

A small crease formed between his brows, “Chloe implied again it was somewhat of a milestone among your culture, but you do not sound happy about it.”

“Chloe talks too much,” she muttered, thanking the elf handing out the quick risen flatbreads that they baked every morning over the fire.

“It cannot be that bad? Chloe has told me hers is in a few days time yes? She is excited to be nineteen.”

Ella sighed, balancing the mug between her knees as she picked off a section of the bread. "Birthdays are just another day,” she said finally. “Chloe and I grew up differently, so she seems them as… as a day to see how lucky she is. She’s used to… parties. And presents. And… and pampering. They’re just a day to remind me of what I don’t have, most the time.”

Elrohir regarded her with a thoughtful expression that she tried not to look at too closely, lest she see something like pity and she stared at her breakfast instead. She hadn’t meant to sound quite so bitter as she said that. She focused on pulling apart another part of her bread rather than look up as she tried to deflect away from what was probably too much information. “How do elves celebrate begetting days when you’re kids?”

“With a token, usually,” he offered, his tone suggesting he knew exactly what she was doing. “Often from our parents, but not always. I received my first dagger in celebration of my twenty-fifth year, for example, and a wonderful flute for my fiftieth. Elladan and I always exchanged small carvings until around our two hundredth year.”

“And then you had a roomful?” she asked. I do not care, I do not, cannot care. 

“So many I we began to use them as kindling.”

“Brutal.”

“The gift is in the giving, and the thought.”

“Well, that is all sickeningly sweet,” Ella drained her mug with a wince - it was still very hot - and used it to wave goodbye, “I’m going to go help get the horses ready. See you later.”

There was a whittled, wooden, horse on her pack, when she was finished. No bigger than her palm. She swung round to where Elrohir still sat, catching his eye. He gave her a small nod and a smile. She tucked it into her backpack gently, trying to keep the smile from pulling at her mouth.