A/N: I have been working on this story since 2013. Glorfindel is one of my favorite characters and I think he's underappreciated. I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing LOTR. I missed writing for this fandom. It's good to be back.

Note: I am very much aware that Westron/Common Tongue does not equate to English but for the sake of this story it does. Any other language will be used sparingly as I don't possess an accurate translator. Okay? Okay.

Disclaimer: LOTR is owned by Tolkien/Jackson. I only own my OC's and make no profit from writing this.

Part One: Metempsychosis

(noun): The supposed transmigration at death of the soul of a human being or animal into a new body of the same or a different species. Reincarnation.

In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles – yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals…

[Gandalf; The Fellowship of the Ring].

"-just keep your eyes on me. I said you're holding back, she said shut up and dance with me-!" A very groggy Amber Reeves hummed along to the music playing on her phone, dragging a brush lazily through her auburn hair.

"Hey Amber, you done yet?" her roommate knocked on the door several times. "C'mon, I've gotta shower."

Tucking the handle of her brush in her mouth and scooping up her phone, towel, and magazine she trudged out of the bathroom towards her bedroom.

"Don't lay down! You're gonna be late for work if you do!" Amber resisted the urge to snort, throwing herself onto her futon and burying her face in her pillow. Her boss could care less if she waltzed in an hour late so long as she did her job. It was inventory day anyways, all she'd be doing was taking stock and that was easy.

Rolling on her side Amber flipped carelessly through the pages of her textbook. If she was going to be lazing about she might as well try to get some studying finished.

She twirled her pen between her fingers nimbly, tapping out a steady cadence on her jean-clad thigh. Child Development was one of her least favorite classes, considering she didn't like children. Unfortunately it was sort of a requirement for passing her second year of medical school.

"Get your perky ass up!" her roommate snapped, banging on her bedroom door. "Don't make Granny Lucy wait. Make sure you feed the cat too."

"Fine," she groaned, rolling off her futon. She sat on the ground, pulling her black and green trainers on and wrestled her hoodie over her head. Cole looked on in disapproval, impatiently tapping his foot.

She trudged down the stairs and gathered her purse from the kitchen table, tossing a cup of kibble in Teacup's bowl before Cole ushered her out the door.

"-I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie. Everything that kills me makes me feel alive-," Amber sang along happily and horrendously off-key to the music blaring through the speakers of the Jeep, smirking at the way Cole glared at her, "-been losing sleep. Dreaming about the things that we could be. But baby I've been, I've been praying hard. Said no more counting dollars, we'll b-b-b-be count-count-count-counting st-stars-ars-ars-ars-ars-."

The redhead jammed her thumb into the eject button, pulling her CD free and eyeing the back of it sourly, ignoring how Cole chuckled at her misfortune. She lightly rubbed it against her thigh before tucking into the visor over her head as they pulled into the parking lot of 'Echoes Inc.'. It was a small antique shop and her current place of employment.

Rolling to a stop he shifted the Jeep into park and she hopped down from the passenger's seat. "See ya' at ten."

"Yup. Later ."

She shifted her purse onto her shoulder, shutting the door to the Jeep and headed for the storefront. It was a Wednesday evening, mid-February with most tourist traffic being seen on the weekends so Amber knew she was in for a slow night.

At least that had been the plan until the owner, a sprightly if not occasionally crotchety woman in her 80's named Lucille, informed her she would be cataloguing a new shipment of wares the shop had just received earlier that afternoon on top of the inventory they had to finish.

"But that'll take forever-," she whined, dropping down on the stool behind the counter and pouting childishly. There went her hopes of an easy sixty bucks.

"Well, I suppose you best get started then, yes?" The corners of Amber's lips turned upwards in a small smile. She figured the reason her and Lucille got along so well because they were so much alike (read: stubborn and hard-working).

"Guess so," she agreed, grabbing the thick binder from beneath the counter. She rifled through her purse for a pen, eventually coming across one that would write after several moments.

"How's school going?" Lucille asked as they wove their way through the shelves towards the back stock room.

"It's going pretty well. I only have two classes left to finish before I can take my first licensing test. The next two years are mostly clinical rotations with some classroom work thrown in. I can't wait until my residency. I've wanted to be a surgeon since I first saw ER as a kid."

"I see." Amber didn't miss the sadness in Lucille's voice and looked questioningly over her shoulder. Lucille and her husband had owned the store since they were her age, in their early 20's, and when he passed away from COPD nineteen years ago she had managed it on her own. They had a few grandchildren but they all lived so far away and rarely came in to visit. It was then she understood why Lucille sounded so dejected and felt a twinge of guilt.

After her first licensing test she would be much too busy to continue working at Echoes as often as she did, meaning Lucille would have more work to do.

'I'd rather die than hire and train someone else ,' she had told Amber one day when asked why there were so few people working for her.

She loved the old shop, everything had a story to go with it and the store housed a few precious antiques such as two Rembrandt's and even a painting by Gustav Klimt. For a time she had even thought of changing her major to that of a history major but eventually settled on the medical profession. Seeing the forlorn look on Lucille's face made her question her decision to do so.

Forcing a smile to her lips she flipped the binder open, grabbed the crowbar from its peg on the wall and headed for the largest crate in front of them.

Three hours passed and the pair had finally whittled the stack of crates and cartons down to one rather than the starting twenty. Among the newest wares were a few vases, a golden Buddha statue, an ornate katana from Japan which Lucille immediately took out of Amber's reach (much to the younger woman's dismay), several lamps, and a beautiful hand-woven tapestry from Poland. The last container held smaller wares such as jewelry and knickknacks.

"Is it that time already?" Amber glanced upwards, glasses sliding down her nose as she did so. Pushing them back up irately she tilted her head in inquisition when Lucille stood, grabbing her cane from where it sat propped against the desk.

"What's up?" she asked, running her hands back through her hair and refastening the shoulder-length strands in a ponytail, wiping the dust from her hands on the thighs of her jeans absentmindedly.

"The Lady's Guild is meeting tonight. I told Amanda I would be there," Lucille grumbled, heading back towards the front of the store. Amber stood, following her employer.

"You're going to quilt with them?" she asked in astonishment, watching Lucille pull on a washed-out blue sweater. "Color me surprised."

"I can still reach you with this," Lucille said casually, waving her cane threateningly in Amber's direction. The redhead held her hands up in mock-surrender, grinning. "Now then, if you finish with the last crate before I come back you can go ahead and lock up for the night. Make sure you leave the authenticity forms in my office. I'll go over those tomorrow."

"Sure thing," Amber replied, retrieving Lucille's purse for her and trailing after her to her car. "Drive safe Lucille."

"Yeah, yeah. Try taking your own advice kid."

Her jaw dropped at Lucille's words. "Oh my gosh Lucille! How many times have I told you that he cut me off, not the other way around."

"Several. Each time you do so I'm less inclined to believe it."

Amber snorted in disbelief. "Cheeky woman." She was treated with the rare sight of Lucille smiling before she climbed into her station wagon. Amber made sure she was safely out of sight before heading back in the shop.

Making her way to the back once more she grabbed her jacket and her iPod. Pulling her hoodie on and tucking her ear buds in she got to work on the last crate.

Sorting through the small boxes of jewelry and pins meticulously, Amber made sure to document everything correctly before something caught her eye. It was a small black ring box, nestled in the corner under a few stray packing peanuts. She eyed it in confusion before looking at the inventory slip. There were only supposed to be twenty items in the box and yet she had one extra. She went over the list several more times to be sure but still came up with twenty-one boxes.

"Weird," she muttered, picking it up and unwinding the bubble wrap from it, opening the small box. Her eyes widened upon seeing what was inside it. Sitting in the red velvet interior was a silver ring that shone almost white in the lighting. Upon further inspection she realized it was almost as though someone had literally woven tiny red gems into the metalwork which seemed to resemble vines.

"Damn this is gorgeous," she breathed, letting it rest in her palm and, against her better judgment, slipped it on her right ring finger. It astonished her that it seemed to fit perfectly, the delicate rubies glittering in the light.

She heard the front door chime and looked up in surprise. A quick glance at her iPod told her it was well past closing time as she headed up front to greet her boss.

"Hey Lucille. I'm almost done with cataloguing everything but we have a little discrepancy in-oh my god!" Her breath lodged in her throat when she rounded the corner and found herself with a gun to her head.

"I thought you said there'd be nobody here. What should we do with her?" the man holding her life in his hands asked his friend, bright green eyes crinkling at the corners beneath his balaclava. Her fearful gray gaze shot to the taller male picking up the Rembrandt hanging behind the register, examining it before turning to look at her. He gave her a quick once-over before turning his attention back to the priceless painting in his hands.

"Lock her in the back store room, there's no need to kill her," he replied almost casually, running his fingers over the frame that housed the canvas gently.

She was unable to keep from whimpering in fear when the thief grabbed her by the arm, bodily dragging her to the back and shoving her in the storeroom. Amber barely caught herself on the edge of the table, regaining her balance before feeling him grab her hand.

"That's a pretty ring you've got there darling," he cooed, holding it to eyelevel and pulling at it only it wouldn't come off her finger. Her pulse racked up a few notches, tasting sour bile on the back of her tongue as his eyes narrowed.

"L-l-let me t-try," she stammered as he released her. Amber dropped her hands, feeling for one of the small lamps on the table behind her and slammed it forward into his head.

"Fuck!" he cried out in pain as blood gushed from his nose and forehead like a leaky faucet, the lampshade shattering into pieces upon impact. She sidestepped him, racing for the back exit only to have stars burst in her line of vision in bright myriads of color when something hit the back of her head. She fell limply to the floor, clutching her head in agony as tears fell from her bloodshot eyes, pitiful sobs escaping her lips.

She could barely make out the visage of the man standing over her, raising the barrel of his pistol to her forehead, hearing the crowbar she was just clocked with fall to the ground beside her with an ominous ting.

"That was a very poor choice darling," he panted, smearing blood across his face with his sleeve. "It don't matter. I'll just pry it from your corpse."

Amber swallowed tightly. "Oh shit-."

Famous last words? Not exactly, but they were Amber Reeve's as red burst across her vision before fading abruptly to black.

This is probably my fourth attempt at uploading this. Not because I was having trouble with FF but because I wasn't happy with it. My OC was too Mary-Sue for my liking and I hope things will be better this try around. I think I will try for lengthy chapters as opposed to short ones and frequent updates. It will suit me better. Thanks for reading.

*Does anyone remember the show ER? It aired at like nine at night on Thursdays? I was only able to watch it because my mama was out bowling with her friends on Thursday's and my dad worked second shift. Freaking loved that show. Way better than most of the medical shows they have nowadays (I'm looking at you House).