AN: I am attempting to write two of my major stories in the First Point of view. This is my first attempt at this, so I hope it turns out ok. I will be making some changes to this story later on and it will be in mostly Estella's, Legolas's, Thranduil's, Elrond's, and Elladan's point of view. I will let you know who's pov it is in the title and in the chapter itself. Enjoy!

Estella's POV

Seattle, WA

Tears stung my eyes. Gathering a deep breath, I threw down my coat and book bag and collapsed on my bed. Once more, I had to endure bouts of name calling and being attacked. Trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall from my eyes, I finally relented and allowed them to fall freely. In the span of my whole life, for as long as I could remember, I had always been different, and because of that I had no friends to help in school, no friends at all, in fact, save my mother.

To make matters worse, I even looked different. At first glance, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. However, if one looked closer, they would be able to notice differences, the biggest being my ears which held a slight point to them. Not a whole lot, of course, but enough to make me self-conscious. My mother, Luiniel, also had small points to her ears as well and said it was a genetic disorder, it made me unique, and I should be proud of those differences.

Sniffing, I sat up, wishing that I belonged in another world. To be honest, I had always felt like I was from a different world. I used to tell my mother about it, but every time I did, she would become sad and tell me I needed to not talk about such things. So, eventually, I stopped, and kept it to myself or wrote my thoughts in a journal. Over the years I acquired many and ended up having to buy several boxes to place them all in.

Later that evening, I heard my mother call me for dinner. Though I wiped away my tears and washed my face, I knew I could never conceal my feelings from my mother. Honestly, I often swore she could read my thoughts.

Making my way to the kitchen, my thoughts still swirled nearly making me dizzy. Before entering, I took several deep breaths to compose myself and then walked in slowly.

"How was school?" my mother inquired, handing me two plates with which to set the table.

"It was all right, nothing really of any importance to mention," I replied, avoiding eye contact as I took the plates from my mother.

It had always just been my mom and me. I never knew my father; I did not even have a picture of him. I had asked my mom when I was younger what happened and why there were no pictures of him around. My mother told me he lived in another country far away and they had been separated before she found out she was pregnant with me. When I questioned further, she told me to drop it. Soon, I began to think my mom did not care for my father, as she hated talking about him, but at night I would often hear her crying when she though me fast asleep, and more than once I would listen to her call out his name in her sleep.

My mother raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "If it was okay, then why are you not looking at me when you talk? You always avoid eye contact when you are hiding something."

It was true, whenever something bad happened, or I was very depressed, I always avoided eye contact with my mom as she always managed to see right through me. It upset my mother to see me suffer, and I hated to see her hurt. As of late, she was becoming increasingly melancholy. I knew the reason, but as my mother was prone to outbursts of anger or despair, I avoided bringing it up.

"Mom, please, I do not want to talk about it," I snapped, immediately regretting it. Feeling guilty about my harsh words I looked up to see her shocked face. " I am sorry," I apologized. "I did not mean to snap. I hate this place. I…," I trailed off as my mom moved around the table and put her hands comfortingly on my shoulder.

"Shhh, it's okay, sweetheart. You do not have to explain anything to me. I hate seeing you hurt and I know you do not feel like you fit in here. If I could take you out of this world and to a place where you could be spared this pain, I would," my mother replied her voice trembling slightly as she gently wiped a tear from my face.

Placing a hand on top of my mom's, I noticed it was cold. Removing my hand as if receiving an electric shock, I looked up at my mother, concerned, and saw the light which usually shone in her eyes had vanished entirely. Every night as of late I would fall asleep to the sound of her mournful sobs, yearning for her father. How I wished I could take my mom's pain away from her. She was so strong, always putting her worries on the back burner to take care of me. Many times, I would feel waves of guilt for crying over trivial things while she was suffering silently to protect me.

We ate in silence that night, neither one of us talking as we were both lost in our thoughts. Once I cleared the dishes, I joined my mother in the sitting room where we watched a movie together like we did every Friday night. During the film, I noticed my mother did not laugh as she usually did. In fact, she appeared to be drifting off into her world. I could not help but feel worried something was wrong with her. After the credits had rolled, I slowly got up from the couch, kissed her goodnight and went to bed.

Later, a little after midnight, I woke up feeling panic rising within me. Getting up, I instinctively headed to my mother's room, intuitively knowing there was nothing wrong with my own. My eyes darted around looking for what could have caused me to wake, feeling a flood of relief as I did not notice anything out of place, reaching forwards to gently pull the covers back up over my mom's shoulders. It was then; I saw her lying on her side with her hands over her heart. Leaning closer, I noticed she was cold, unbreathing.

My heart dropped to my stomach, and a flood of horror rose to choke me. "Mom!?" I shook her, begging for her to wake up. "Mom! Mom! Please!" I pleaded, tears streaming from my eyes.

Suddenly, I released her shoulders and fell backward, my throat constricting tightly, dizziness washing over me as the reality of the situation struck me like a lightning bolt.

My mother was dead.