1.
A light warmth grazed over glistened skin, the pale pink flush blooming in the golden fire illuminating in the dark room, casting shadows that danced along the walls as amber pools engulfed the light beside them, glistening with curiosity as they followed the dark figures on the walls. A heavy breath rolled from rosy lips, soothing cracks it coated in a light sheen of mist. But a voice cracked with a gentle groan, a joint giving a pop as arms moved, elbows flat on the wooden floor the figure lay upon, propping the upper-half of the body up, allowing her a better view for greedy eyes. The room was small, but filled with various trinkets along the walls and shelves; book cases where they fit along the back wall; two arm chairs nestled in front of her, close to the fire with foot-rests in front of them; two oak coffee tables at their respected chairs, though the attention was settled on the small framed pictures that adorned the mantle of the fireplace.
She was in a well-kept home, she assumed, slowly pushing herself to sit up more, but a small gasp escaped her as muscles screamed and ached, leaning be their extent at the moment. They burned when supporting her weight, crying to stay dormant for just awhile longer, but she fought through it, detesting the feelings that were bought upon her frail form. But her legs that wobbled like a newborn fawn managed to hold her up, with some support from the mantle, despite their wobble and ache. Her knees gave a slight tense and weakness to them as she began to walk, but no attention was paid to how close her head came to the arched ceiling, nor the around door-way that her head come into harsh contact with, stunning her momentarily. Slender hands reached up as she croaked with a small, "Ah," and gently rubbed the angry spot on her forehead, her other hand steadying her against the frame as she began to duck under it. Looking down, it was then she noticed her feet and legs were bare up to below her knees, and the fabric she wore was plain and white, soft and flowing and was quite loose on her slender frame.
It was then she turned, an alert running through her mind as her eyes jumped around the room, scanning for the armor she adorned before. Exiting the room in a fluster, she began peeking and snooping, slowly gaining a grace in her walk. It was down a narrow hallway she flew, peeking into rooms; a study, dining room, kitchen, pantry, glory room, foyer - there she stopped. Nestled on the wall lay large golden plates, articulate details engraved into them, though they looked worn and old, dried mud encasing them. She sighed, almost longingly as she stooped at the knees, finger tips gracing over the chest plate, the fine edge that came out from the front of it to a point. Her ears, no longer keen, failed to notice the small patter of steps from behind, until a throat was cleared, and her body whipped around, thin strands of flaxen waves falling to her face as she met hazel eyes that looked at her in surprise, though his demeanor seemed to fight to stay calm. A pounding in her chest rumbled, eyelashes fluttering to narrow and her muscles became taunt. The small being in front of her took a small step back, his large feet covered in brown curls silent on the hard wood, but a nervous smile came across his lips and when he spoke, something in him seemed innocent as she stood to her full height, the best ability in this small house. "You're awake," came a gentle voice, a relief blowing from it. "I-I wasn't sure if you would wake from the fever. It was awful."
But when confusion flashed in her features, and her shoulders dropped their taunt state, he eased forward, keeping his eyes up to her face. She was unsure what this tiny person was talking about, but as her finger tips brushed her cheeks, she could feel a heat resonating from the, so perhaps that would explain the heaviness within her mind. Bodies were not made to stay above certain temperatures. But to the matter at hand, she eyes that she found focused on the floor, lost in thought, flashed to the hazel ones still on her. She assumed, as the rest of the house was silent, the sun slowly beginning to rise on the horizon and peek through the small curtains in round windows, that this must be the keeper. The one who nursed her back from her ill state. A horror flashed through her mind, remembrance; rust colored mud around her feet, rain pouring down from the heavens above, and a searing burn in her body. "You saved me." she stated, now completely relaxing as she was obviously among no harm.
A pink flush came over the smaller persons cheeks, his eyes averting to the floor, and a hand ruffled through light brown curls on his head. "Oh, well, now, I - " he paused for a moment, suddenly fiddling with the suspenders hook to his trousers and he smiled lightly. "Yes, I- I suppose I did!" a light chuckle, and with his bashful behavior she felt the corners of her mouth twitch. She found a fondness in her heart looking at this small person, and though she had nothing to offer, she owed him everything.
"And for that, I thank you," she told him, gratitude seeping from her voice.
He nodded, a smile of his own on his face, as he gave slightly bow before politely introducing himself. "Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End, where you stand now, My Lady."
A sigh came to her lips at the weight of her own name, and having to give it to him. But nonetheless, she placed her hand to her chest, the other resting on the small of her back and she gave a low bow, flaxen hair spilling over her shoulders. "Alta, I am called."
An initial shock came to his face watching her bow so low, but he cleared it up and waved her away from such a deep formality. "Well, Miss Alta, I would say that the sun is high enough that we've missed second breakfast! So, I believe that is in order, yes?" he offered, holding out a small hand and gesturing her to his small kitchen through another room that held a stack of maps and book upon a table. As she nodded and walked ahead, she could hear him cough slightly and paused in her tracks, glancing over her shoulder. He averted his gaze and scurried past her. "After, I believe some suitable clothes are in order and perhaps I can help you find your way home."
Blinking at his form that disappeared around the corner, she looked down at her feet as she curled her toes, and held the sides of her nightgown, curious on what was wrong with such attire. But as the last words of his sentence rang in, her amber eyes were drawn to the multiple maps on the small table and a part of her doubted she would be able to find home again.