I opened my eyes to a harsh light, like the flames of a hearth. But it couldn't be flames, could it? No, our family's fireplace hadn't worked for as long as I could remember. At least, I don't think so. It's not like we'd ever used it. I was aware suddenly that I was leaning against a wall in a corner. A familiar corner, for some reason. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and surveyed my surroundings. I was sitting in a place that gave me a strange sense of déjà vu, though I was sure I had never been there myself before. It was a sort of tavern, for the most part dimly lit. I was in a corner near the fire, but only by the edge of its' glow. Only my eyes would really be seen, because I was wearing different clothes than I last remembered.

I was wearing clothes that consisted of greens and browns. I was wearing a brown leather shirt in the layer closest to my body, which protected me from a shirt of silver-white rings that looked like a mithril mail shirt from The Lord of the Rings. Over that, I was wearing another brown shirt, though this wasn't leather, and it only reached my elbows, while the mithril extended a bit a ways past my wrist. Then, over that, I was wearing a brown leather shirt that also only reached my elbows, and was tied together in the front. I was wearing plain brown leather breeches on the bottom, tucked into leather boots that were buckled just below my knees. My hands were protected by more brown leather- gloves that extended just more than halfway to my elbow, but without the fingers. Ideal for anyone who spends a lot of time working with their hands, but outdoors. Then, on top of all this, I was wearing a forest-green cloak fastened with a brooch that looked like leaves. Its' hood was raised, and that was the reason only my eyes were visible. The rest of my face was in shadow. There was a sword in my belt and a set of daggers in my shoe-sheaths. It's a good thing I used to take fencing lessons and remembered the basics of fighting, or I'd be lost. Although, I didn't see the point, because society is usually civil…

Just as I thought that, a brawl broke out at the bar. Well, that completely contradicted my statement. Wait a second; I've seen that man before! If he can be called a man… a hobbit was more like it! It was Frodo, along with Sam and Merry! Wait, where was Pippin? Oh, there he was, at the bar ordering that one fateful pint that nearly jeopardized the quest. Wait, WHAT?! How in the world did I get here? I couldn't REALLY be in Middle Earth… could I?

Suddenly, I felt a pair of eyes turn towards me. I discreetly looked back in their direction, and saw the one person I had been wondering about since I'd noticed I was in Middle Earth. (Hey, I might as well play along, right?) Aragorn stared right back at me, his stern gray eyes calculating. Obviously, he was wondering why in Middle Earth a woman was in a tavern, and why they were dressed like a ranger. He would definitely be able to tell I was a girl, because my dark auburn hair was bound in a leather thong to the side, and fell over my left shoulder. Gray eyes met green, and there was a moment where we maintained contact, then we both turned back to face the hobbits. Pippin was now talking loudly, and I knew that Frodo was going to put on the Ring soon.

Even if it was an accident, I couldn't stand to be there. I headed in the direction I remembered Aragorn hauling Frodo off in, and hid in the shadows in the room they'd soon enter. I was definitely enjoying this newfound talent for skulking in the shadows. Why couldn't I have learned to do this at home when Mom and Dad fought? Now Mom was dead and Dad was an addict. My friends all turned on me because their parents didn't want them close to someone who was so exposed to drugs. All of this made everyone at school stare at me. I hated when they did that. I had nothing to live for there. I'd much rather stay here for all eternity. Then Aragorn came in, dragging Frodo.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Baggins," he hissed. It was then that I decided to step out of the shadows.

"As do you, mellon-nin," I mimicked, though in a much friendlier tone. He spun to face me and drew his sword.

"Who are you? I've laid eyes on you before. What business does an elf-woman have in a tavern in Bree?" he questioned, more than a little wary.

"I am known as Nimestel in these lands," I answered, "And as for my business, that is my own. But I know why it is that both of you are here, and also for the hobbits that are about to burst through that door."

Right on cue, Sam, Pippin, and Merry, forced their way in.

"You have stout hearts, my friends. But that will not save you," Aragorn spoke. Then, as I expected, he turned to me. "How do you know our business?"

"Well, you see… I can sort of see parts of what hasn't happened yet. I know a bit of what has already happened so far. I can tell that one of you," I gave Frodo a look, "carries a great peril with him, and that it will not be found yet tonight, if you do not go to your beds. That is all I can say openly."

Aragorn's eyes narrowed, distrustful and bewildered.

"Only a few of the remaining elves posses the gift of foresight," he stated, "Who are you descended from?" I didn't know what to say at first, but a family tree pushed its' way into my thoughts. Instinctively, I knew it would be mine, had I been born into Middle Earth.

"Well you already know I am Nimestel. I am the daughter of Thranduíl." That seemed to be quite a bomb to drop. Aragorn looked absolutely shell-shocked. "Well, if you're wondering why Legolas never told you, that's because he never knew. I am his younger sister by about a hundred and twenty seven years at the least, and was born to his mother while he and his father were both on duty. My mother's pregnancy was kept a secret; next to no one knows who I really am. I think Mithrandir does though…" I rambled. "Anyway, I'm not the important being in this room…" I turned to Frodo.

"Is it secret? Is it safe?"