So this is my newest story. I haven't posted here in a very long time. I had some things I had to do that kept me really busy. The first chapter is just the build up to her return to Middle Earth. This story is about Glorfindel's sister being reborn in 1916, but then traveling back to the third age to fight Sauron with her brother, the other elves, and the fellowship. The first two chapters will feature her return to middle earth, then she may be a tenth walker, or she may just be a warrior with her brother. I haven't decided yet.

Thanks for reading!

London, U.K. -1916

"Ma'am, I have a telegram for a Mrs. Rita Baker," the young boy at her door said. He held out a small envelope and left quickly after she took it in her shaking hand. There is only one reason the telegraph boys leave that quickly before being tipped, telegraphs from the Department of War.

She closed the door slowly and rested a hand on her curved abdomen, "No matter what happens little one, everything will be alright." She assured as she walked down the narrow hall and back to her writing desk with an unfinished letter to Jeremiah.

She sat in front of it on the hard wooden chair and opened the envelope. Within was a small paper with the telegraph written on the bottom, she read, 'Dear Mrs. Baker, we regret to inform you that your husband, Private Jeremiah L. Baker, died in battle on 5 March, 1916 in Verdun, France. We offer you our greatest condolences and thank your family for the honorable sacrifice that has been made for this great country.-Sincerely, Earl Herbert Kitchener.'

Anguish and fear filled her soul as she finished the letter. Jeremiah, her husband of only a year died, leaving her a widow with a child on the way in just three months. When he left for the trenches months before, she had just found out she was pregnant. In their letters, he promised he would do his best to be home in time to help her raise the child.

Rita had always known of the possibility that Jeremiah wouldn't be coming home from the war since he left. That was the nature of war. She had seen friends lose husbands, brothers, and even fathers over the past year and a half. Her aunt who lived in the country lost her husband and three of her five sons during the battle of Coronel. They all went down with the ship. Her last two sons were too young to be part of the war and are all she has to help work the farm now. Everyone was going through hardships, now she just had to join them.

Rita sighed, rested her face in her arms, and wept silently. What would happen now? Jeremiah had promised to be there to raise their child together, but now she had to do it alone. She had no close family left, her parents had died years ago and she had no siblings. The closest family she had left were a few aunts and uncles scattered throughout the countryside, and Jeremiah's brother, who was still fighting in Belgium.

She wouldn't ask Jeremiah's family for help raising their child. He never got on with them to begin with. His brother was the only person from his family who had come to their wedding.

A pregnant widow couldn't raise a child easily by themselves without a lot of support from others in the community, especially family members. This fact left her one choice, she had to go to the countryside and seek out help from her aunt. That's where her angel would have the best chance of a happy childhood.

June, 1916- Somerset, England

Rita awoke with a set spot on her bed. The sheets and duvet were wet, as were her night clothes. She gasped and waddled into the next room where her aunt slept.

"Aunt Ruth," she whispered as she got closer to the bed.

"Aunt Ruth, wake up, it's time. The baby is coming," Rita called, a little louder this time. Ruth groaned, "Huh?"

"The baby is coming. My waters broke."

"Alright child, go wake Thomas, he will fetch the midwife," Ruth said as she got out of bed.

-Six Hours Later-

"Ruth, I don't know if I can do this for much lonnnnger!" Rita groaned as another contraction hit her.

Ruth held her hand, "Rita, you don't have a choice. This baby is going to come into the world whether you want it to or not."

Sister Katherine, the local midwife, rested her hands against Rita's abdomen. "It shouldn't be long long now, dear. The baby has shifted down quite a bit now. He or She should be here within the hour."

Rita smiled. Her child. Her child would be with her in the hour. Oh, how she hoped they look Jeremiah.

Another contraction hit her and she groaned. She could feel pain radiating across her abdomen and back. She felt an urge to push.

"Sister, I. Need. To. Push." She said as she panted through the contractions.

The midwife checked the baby's position and smiled, "Well, then push you shall. The rest of the birth should be swift, dear."

'This was it,' Rita thought as another contraction came about. She pushed, and lordy did it hurt, but this was for her baby, the last part of Jeremiah she had left.

Each contraction and each push brought that sweet child closer to entering the world.

"This is it, Rita. I see the head. One more big push and the baby will be here!" Sister Katherine announced.

Rita smiled in joy, and relief, as the last contraction hit her and she pushed as hard as she could. There was a spike of pain and then the wailing of a newborn child. That blessed cry was the best thing she had heard in her twenty-four years of life.

"Well, will you look at that," Sister Katherine said.

"What? Is there anything wrong?" Rita asked, in fear.

"Oh, no, no dear. Nothing's wrong. She just has a bit of a point on her ears, nothing that won't go away as she grows." Sister Katherine said. Relief was replaced with joy, a girl! They had a daughter. A perfect little daughter.

Rita sighed in relief, "May I see her?"

The midwife smiled and placed the small child into Rita's arms. Sister Katherine was right, the child did have a distinct point on the top of her ears, but that was cute. Jeremiah also had slightly pointed ears as well, but not as much as their daughter.

However, that was where the resemblance to Jeremiah or herself ended. They both had dark hair and eyes and strong facial features. This child had wispy hair as light as the September wheat fields sprouting from the palest skin she had ever laid eyes upon. The babe had eyes that were light, however, those could always darken over the first few months. She couldn't tell much about the facial features because all babies look alike for the first couple of months. She couldn't help but love this bundle of joy even though she hadn't received any of Jeremiah's features, or many of her own. Her own mother had lighter hair, perhaps this is where it came from, and Jeremiah's brother had green eyes, maybe that could explain the baby's colouring.

"Rita, what will you name her?" Aunt Ruth inquired as she gently played with a small foot.

What should she name her? At first she was thinking Maya, after Jeremiah, but that didn't suit this angel at all.

"I will call her Angelica." Rita said proudly. "Angelica Maya Baker, you are a blessing and I want you to know that we will always love you. Your father and I, will always love you." Rita said stroking the short hairs on the baby's head.

May, 1919-Somerset, England

"Rita, I understand your concern, but I'm sure Angelica is just fine. Some children just don't grow as quickly as others. You were always quite small for your age until you were about ten." Her Aunt Ruth assured, as they sat on the porch.

"In fact, my own Liza barely grew at all, and then one night it was like she grew ten centimeters. She was a strange one, never grew steadily. It was so sudden each time." Ruth laughed, remembering how her daughter would suddenly not fit into her shoes one day, or her hems would have to be let down centimeters one day, and then not again for a few years.

"I suppose you're right, Aunt Ruth. I just wish she would grow, no matter what I do, she won't gain weight, she isn't getting any taller, and she barely looks any different than what she did last year," Rita sighed, looking out upon the rolling hills and fields that surrounded her aunt's home.

The day was bright and breezy and the children were making the most of it by playing in the garden. Aunt Ruth's sons were older, nearly adults, but Angelina, who would be turning three next month, looked like a child a full year younger than she actually was. She was, cognitively, the same as the other children her age. She was quiet, but able to talk rather well when she wanted to and she understood what the other children her age did.

Physically, she was shorter than other children her age. Her facial features were younger. However, her hair was long, falling in soft golden ringlets around her face and resting along the tops of her shoulderblades. Her ears were still pointed and the local physician said that it isn't all that uncommon for some people to be born with pointier ears. She still showed no physical traits from Jeremiah, or herself.

As she grew older, it became harder and harder to see any familiar features in her daughter's face. No dark hair or eyes. No freckles from her father. No bump on her small nose. Her skin was pale and unblemished, her eyes were the colour of the dew covered sage that grew in Ruth's garden, and her facial features were fine and feminine, yet showed strength and beauty yet to come. Her daughter was named after, and looked like an angel.

Jeremiah's brother, Timothy, claimed that she was a gift to all those around her who had suffered greatly from the losses of the Great War. He was the only member of Jeremiah's family that visited the child, he was also the only family member that possibly looked like her. They both had green eyes, but that was about it. Timothy would reassure Rita on every visit that Jeremiah was also a small child and he eventually caught up with his classmates in primary school. Timothy also told her stories that his family had passed down over generations about his great-great-great grandmother who shone like the sun, had immense beauty, and hair like shimmering gold.

Angelica ran through the long grass and squealed as one of the boys grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. Rita smiled, her daughter was happy and had a supportive family.

"Charlie, please be careful, she just had lunch." Aunt Ruth warned her youngest son as he spun the young child around in the grass.

"Yes, Mum." The boy replied, before setting his cousin back on solid ground and chasing after his brother, who was taking a break from his chores and entertaining his younger brother and cousin so that Ruth and Rita would have some time to relax.

"Rita, enjoy it while you still can, children grow up so quickly," Ruth warned, a smile on her lips as her sons wrestled on the ground. There was a sad, empty look in her eyes as she remembered her other sons and her husband who died in the war.

August, 1926-Somerset, England

"Mummy, why am I so strange?" The young girl asked.

"Whatever do you mean, Angelica?" Rita asked.

"Well, at school everyone is bigger than I am. They say that my ears are weird and I'm too small to be ten," Angelica replied, frustrated.

"Oh, dear, You mustn't listen to them. You may be smaller, but you are no younger. You are just as intelligent, just as strong, and just as able as they are," Rita smiled, as she pulled her daughter into her arms.

"You know how proud I am of you. Do you know how proud you've made your father?" Rita asked, getting a nod from her daughter.

"Well, his ears were slightly pointed as well, he always insisted on keeping his hair long enough to cover them, but your Uncle Timothy lets them show. You shouldn't let anyone make you feel bad about them. They're a part of you, and a part of your father. Be proud to have those ears." Rita finished, with a ruffle to the girls hair.

"I suppose." Angelica shrugged, as she went inside.

Rita knew this time would come when people started to question her and her daughter about her age and about her ears. The ears weren't a big deal because they really weren't all that strange, but the child looked like she couldn't be older than seven or eight, let alone ten.

Rita herself suspected something wasn't right, however, she didn't want to get doctors involved further. They had already told her not to worry and that some children take longer to mature than others.

June, 1940-Somerset, England

"Happy Birthday, Angelica," her mother said as she came into the kitchen. The young woman was beautiful. Her long golden hair cascaded down her back in loose curls, like waves of molten gold. She was tall, taller than any woman in their family. Her eyes were striking, yet kind, however they spoke of an unexplained wisdom. She still looked like nobody in her family, but for that her mother was glad. Her daughter was strikingly beautiful, she had grace in her movements, confidence in herself, and a sort of radiance that flowed from her unblemished skin.

Rita used to think that her child was an angel sent from God, but now she knew otherwise, Angelica was a gift, but she was also mischievous and able to get into all sorts of trouble. Rita was just glad that the girl was out of school and working as a clerk at the docks. There was less time for shenanigans now. She also helped her cousins with their children after work. Before Aunt Ruth passed in '36, she would cook and clean around the house.

Angelica smiled, "Thank you, mum. I'd love to stay and help you here but I promised Mr. Clark that I would stop at the store and pick-up more tea before heading to work."

"Oh, don't worry about me. I have a lot of work to do around the house today. Charlie is coming over to look at that sink that is leaking and I want to make him some bread to take home to the family before he leaves." Ruth smiled at the girl, she looked like she was still a teen, but Ruth had become accustomed to her daughter's strange growth pattern. She wouldn't grow and then in a few weeks, it would be like she aged months. It had become sparser in the past few years, but the child was slowly growing into a woman.

December, 1949-Somerset, England

"Mum, please don't go. I… I can't go on without you. I..I, I don't know what to do." Angelica wept, as her mother rest on the bed, surrounded by her closest family. Her cousins and their wives and her daughter. Her beautiful daughter. Her ray of sunlight.

"My light, it's alright." Her mother whispered as she grasped her hands. "It is my time. I wish to see your father. Be strong, Angelica. Be strong, my light."

In her thirty-three years of life, she had only known this pain once, when her Aunt Ruth died years before. She could see her mother's light going out as every minute passes. She didn't have much longer than ten minutes left in her.

"I will, Mum. I will be strong. I promise," Angelica wept, as her mother's grip weakened. She held on tightly until Rita's grip loosened completely and her mother took her last breaths. Her light went out and Angelica just held her hand. Not wanting to lose her mother.

One of her cousins came to her side and took her by the shoulders, "Angelica, it's time to go now."

Her soul felt like it was missing a part of itself. Like some part of her died with Rita.

March, 1957-Edinburgh, Scotland

Her heart was pumping quickly as she ran down a narrow street, nearly empty of the day's shoppers. The three men chasing her were slowly falling behind as her swift feet and willowy form was able to slip between patrons and around corners easier than what the bulky men could.

Her blonde hair flowed in rivulets as the wind rushed past her face as she ran further into the city. This was not good. This was not good at all.

She was nearly forty-one years old, however, she didn't look a day older than twenty-five. This, predictably, caused some problems that made her disappear and move across the country twice so far to avoid people who thought she would share her secret to youth. She didn't understand why she hasn't aged, but she suspected it had something to do with her ears, her ability to hear nature, and her ability to see the inner-light of some close relatives and friends.

She cut around a tight corner, ducked into an open door to a bigger store and started to walk. She tucked her long hair into her jacket and pulled up it's hood. She pretended to look at a set of plates for a few minutes before heading outside again. She had managed to lose her pursuers. It was time to disappear again.

She set out down the street to the small train station where she had stashed her precious belongings and money in a lockbox when she first felt like someone was hunting her.

The next train was to Liverpool, leaving at six. She bought a ticket and boarded the waiting train. It was mostly empty and it was almost six, so she set her bag of belongings on the seat next to her and rest her head on the train window. She didn't really need sleep, she never really did, but she decided to rest her eyes anyways, it was a long journey and she had a long day.

As she rested she had a dream. A terrible, horrible dream. It was war. There was blood everywhere, fires raged around her. Men screamed and these horrible monsters attacked from everywhere, even the sky. She saw herself, but it wasn't who she saw in the mirror everyday. She was wearing armour, she had twin blades in her hands, slashing wildly at the monsters, a bow was on her back, with an empty quiver. Her hair was in strange braids that swung around her as she attacked. She saw a young man as well. He looked familiar. She didn't understand, she had never seen him before. He looked like her, same hair, similar eyes, but the ears, his ears were pointed as well. He was fighting like she was, but with a large sword. He was graceful as he cut through the enemy. He was bright, almost glowing like the sun. He turned to the woman that looked like her, "Eleanyl! Fall back! Go to Elrond, it is useless here, there are too many of them!" He pleaded with her.

She saw herself approach a large man, wearing all black. Well he wasn't exactly a man, but he wasn't exactly like on of these monsters either. She took her twin blades and tried to slash at the imposing figure, but her blades were swatted down and away from his body.

"No elf can kill me, ellith. I will be the end of you," The figure proclaimed in a dark, whispering voice that chilled her to the bone.

He raised his sword and swiped at her, but she deflected the hit. It hurt and took a lot of her strength to deflect his blows from her body with her blades. She was weakening. He attacked again and disarmed her of one of her blades. His next attack hit her in the side, blood flowed freely from a deep gash on her ribs as she sank to the ground, energy leaving her quickly.

Angelica tried to do something, but all she could do was watch. She walked forward and screamed as something gripped her arm.

She woke with a start, "Miss? Miss, are you alright?" The ticket collector asked, his hand on her arm.

She blushed. Bad dream. A lot of those had been happening lately, all with the same woman, herself, and some with the strange man that looked like her, and the worst were the ones with the monsters.

"I am alright, thank you. Here is my ticket," Angelica said, still embarrassed about being woken from her bad dream by a stranger.

He took the ticket, marked it and went on to the next traveller. The sky was dark now as they rolled through the empty countryside. In the distance she could see dim lights from small farm houses or the occasional village. She marvelled in the remoteness of the countryside. It reminded her of her childhood in Somerset with its farms, hills, and scattered villages.

The closer the train got to its destination, the more small towns they drove by. The last half hour of the journey was mostly through towns and small cities outskirting Liverpool. She could see the smoke and the lights erupting from the city like beacons. She was unsure that this would become her home for the next few years, but it would be for the next few weeks as she saved up money and looked at more possible homes.

"Ladies, we will be arriving at the last station in about five minutes," The train worker stated as he walked into their car, heading for the next car.

"Thank you," Angelica and the other woman in the car replied.

Angelica got her bag from the other seat and held it in her lap as she looked out the window at the city's lights.

When the train stopped, she out off and found her way to the street in front of the station. It was late, nearly ten thirty and the streets were dark, lit only by sporadic lamps. She stopped a young couple and asked where the nearest hotel was, and they pointed her two blocks east.

The hotel itself was small and rather old, however it looked clean enough for a few nights stay.

June, 1966- Dublin, Ireland

It was her birthday, she was turning fifty today, but she didn't look a day older than twenty-five. She hadn't aged a day since she was thirty and that had caused some suspicions in the past twenty years, but now she had figured out that moving and starting over every five to ten years, a new life with a new name and past, was the best possible thing to do to avoid suspicions.

She had crossed the sea almost eight years ago for a job offer that was just too good to turn down. She was working as a receptionist and clerk for one of the hotels in the area. The pay wasn't all that great, but it provided free housing and three meals a day, everyday.

Lately she had been experiencing night terrors and vivid dreams every time she slept, so she had limited herself to short naps throughout the night instead. She didn't feel run down that much from not sleeping, if anything the night terrors left her more restless than if she hadn't slept at all. It was strange, really strange. It was almost like she was remembering old memories of some sort of violent life in her past instead of dreaming. She would have weird flashbacks when she saw, smelled, or even tasted certain things.

The dreams really started to become strange, and problematic, about nine years before. They were becoming harder and harder to control and harder to believe as dreams.

"Angie, Happy Birthday!" One of her long term residents said with an Irish lilt as he passed her on his way out the hotel's front door.

."Thank you, Ian. Have a wonderful day!" She called in return.

"Perhaps we can get drinks tonight?" He asked, leaning on the door

The man had asked her out on dates multiple times, but she had never wanted to go, maybe she should reconsider. He was a good looking man, he had a good job, and he always treated those around him with respect, even the maids and other staff of the hotel. She always felt like he was too nice, too perfect, like it was a facade.

She thought about it, 'It's only drinks Angelica. What harm can that be?'

"I'd like that. How about I meet you in the foyer at seven thirty?" She said, smiling to the man.

"Seven thirty it is. Can't wait to see you," Ian said as he left the hotel.

The rest of her day passed rather quickly, uneventfully too. She worked the front desk for a few hours and then left to talk to the other staff members to receive their inventory lists and profit reports from the week for the owners.

She got off of work at six and went to get something quick to eat, a veggie sandwich and a small bowl of cut fruits. She wanted as much time to get ready for her date as possible. She really didn't need to do much with her hair or makeup, but she had little to wear, seeing as though she worked nearly everyday at the hotel and barely left it.

She owned a few pairs of normal clothes, a few dresses, and night clothes, but not much to go on a date wearing. She pulled on her simple black dress she reserved for formal occasions and looked in the small armoire for some jewlery. She settled on wearing a simple silver necklace that her mother had gotten from her father many years ago.

At seven thirty she found herself standing in the lobby waiting for Ian to come down from his rooms.

"Well, don't you look lovely," Ian said as he snuck into the room from behind her.

She blushed, "Thank you. You clean up rather nicely, if I do say so myself."

He was wearing a simple blue button down and nice trousers, his jacket hanging over his left arm. He smiled back at her, "Shall we get going? It's just a short walk to the place I want to take you to."

He held out his arm and she took it. He escorted her out of the hotel and down a few blocks, "So, how was your day?"

"It was busy. I worked at the desk and then I had to get paperwork done for the owners. It's nice to get out though." She said, honestly.

"It's nice that you finally accepted my invitation. I was beginning to suspect you didn't like me," He jested.

She laughed, "What makes you think I like you now? Maybe I just wanted free drinks on my birthday," He said, nudging his side.

"Well then. I suppose I will just have to buy you many drinks tonight, birthday girl."

"I suppose you will. How was your day?"

He sighed, "Busy, a lot to do at work, but I finished most of it, so tomorrow should be better." He took her around a corner and pointed across the street, "That's the place. Want to go in?"

It was a normal pub, like any other you could find in this neighbourhood of Dublin. It looked reasonably busy and it had a steady flow of people entering and exiting.

"Lead the way," She replied and he laughed. They stepped off the curb and quickly made their way across the street and into the pub.

Inside the pub was warm, but cooling off from the hot June day. The pub was old, had wooden booths and an old worn bar with a smattering of people sitting around it on stools. There was an empty booth by the door to the back alleyway, where they sat.

"So, what do you want to drink? I'm buying so I insist you get whatever you want," Ian asked as they sat.

"Er, I'll take a whisky sour if you would," She answered.

"Ok, I'll be right back with our drinks then," Ian said as he stood to go put their order in at the bar. Angelica waited silently at the table and observed the other patrons. They were mostly men, which she expected. All the patrons looked like they weren't overly wealthy, nor poor either. There were two other women sitting with men at booths or around the bar, they seemed to be quite inebriated already.

Ian returned quickly with their drinks and sat down, he had gotten a gin and tonic, "So, I never really knew this. How old are you? You can't be more than thirty-five, although you could pass for someone in their early twenties."

She sighed inwardly, "Oh, stop flattering me. I am thirty-one," She lied. "So, how old are you, it's only fair that I know your age when you know mine."

Ian laughed, "I'll be thirty-seven in September. So tell me more about yourself, I know you came from Bristol, but I want to know about you. Who the real Angelica Foster is."

Angelica cringed at her 'new' last name, "Well, I was born in Bath. My parents passed away shortly after I turned twenty. I worked as a clerk and secretary at a few different places before coming to work here at the hotel," she replied, lying easily.

"So what about you. I know you work at one of the banks, but what else should I know."

He took a sip of his drink, "Well I grew up a couple hours west of here in a small town. I had seven siblings and it was always hectic, so I saved up for school and got my degree in finances. I moved here about twelve years ago and have been working at the same place and doing the same things ever since."

She took another sip of her drink as they talked about the other live-in guests at the hotel. There was the eccentric Mrs. Samuel who lived in 223 and the creepy Mr. Jackson move in to 411 a week after she had started work there. There were also the family that lived in 125 that somehow made as much noise as all the other guests combined.

Ian had brought more drinks later on during the night as they talked and Angelica was starting to feel the effects. Her vision was slightly blurry, her body tingled a little, and she was tired.

"Ian, I think I should head back home. I'm not used to drinking more than one glass a night and I'm afraid I may have overdone it some," She said, slurring only the end of the sentence.

Ian smiled, "Of course we can head back home. Don't feel ashamed that you drank a little bit too much. It's your birthday, you deserve to let loose."

She smiled back at him as they made their way outside. It was dark and breezy now, yet still comfortable. Ian had lent her his arm again as they walked down the block. It was probably best that he did so, because her balance wasn't the best. In fact, the closer she got to the hotel the drunker she felt. She couldn't balance well, she was almost seeing double now, and she just wanted to sleep. She wasn't looking where Ian was bringing her.

They entered the lobby and took the lift to the fourth floor, not the fifth, where her flat was. He lead her, half carrying, to his flat and opened the door. He set her on the couch.

"Ia..n, this issnt my flat." She slurred, barely able to keep her eyes open.

"Hush, it's ok," He replied as he lifted her from the couch. She tried to bat him away, but she couldn't move her arms, they were too heavy.

'What was happening, why hadn't he taken me home?' Her mind raced. He set her down in his room and she understood perfectly what was going to happen.

'Oh god no!' She thought. She tried to fight him off, but she was too tired.

"HELLP, Someone, Help me!" She screamed, hoping someone would be able to hear her.

Ian put his hand over her mouth and whispered in her ear, "Shhhh, you'll enjoy tonight. I promise.."

Fear gripped her soul, and the world went black…

I hoped you liked it, I hated leaving it as a cliffhanger, but this chapter was getting very, very long already, nearly 5500 words without Author's Notes and stuff. I should have the next chapter published by Tuesday since I have Monday off from work, if not, I'll post the outcome of the cliffhanger as a small chapter/apology for making you wait. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!