A/N: Again, a short chapter! But it kicks up in the next chapter. The next chapter includes Mr. Bilbo Baggins... so it kicks off from the next chapter. I know that these chapters are probably not needed, but oh well. Your here so deal with it my dears. I re-wrote this chapter as well as the last one, I think I'm going to do it for the next one just because it seems to be effective for editing when I still don't have someone to edit or revise with me.
There isn't much to say in this A/N... I mean, I am going to thank you all because that is what I normally do, but... ya.
Thank you! All! Of you. Like, every single one of you who are stupid enough to read my writing because... well no need for because. Just thank you! If you haven't already, follow, favorite, and review. All spelling and grammar mistakes are mine, if you have something to say of them, than say it kindly. Encore une fois, Merci!
The Second Chance
Chapter Three: Up we Grow
Disclaimer: I am still unsure about Hermione Elarinya, she spurred from J.K Rowling's Hermione Granger, but is not so. I don't make any profit off of her, sadly because I had seen a nice pair of shoes last week that complimented my legs, but… sadly… no.
Hermione's nightmares returned with spiteful vigor, she woke up screaming at the top of her small lungs multiple times. Each time, Hermione felt bad for waking her new Naneth. It was the next day after Hermione came into full awareness when her elven hearing caught up on the conversation in the next room. It was mid-morning and it seemed that the young Lord Elrond had finally woken from his death like sleep.
"My love, she has nightmares. For her mind to be so far developed is unheard of, it must have something to do with the Valar." Lady Celebrían's voice was soft, but worried.
"I believe the same thing Cele, but there is not much we can do right now. She can't speak, she can't walk, or even write. The best we can do is raise her, and if she is to remember anything, than we can only hope that she will confide in us when she is ready"
And Hermione did remember… she remembered it all in vivid detail, everything. Even when she lived before this second chance at life, she remembered it all. It hadn't begun to fade, not yet. Up Hermione grew in grace and beauty, her nose was normally to be found in a book if she wasn't up to mischief with her two brothers, Elladan and Elrohir. They were the elven versions of Fred and George, minus the red hair.
As she grew, so did her magic, her parents noticed it and murmured to themselves about it while Hermione was meandering around in the grass, turning the grass a bright purple color. Hermione thought her age to be around 5 years old in mortal years, when she was really 20 years of age. Hermione decided to wait until she was older before she told her Ada and Naneth, her Naneth gave birth to her brother's in TA 130. The names were picked out with the help of Hermione, Elladan and Elrohir. Arwen was to be born in TA 241, in 111 years, which made Hermione feel old as it was. But the years passed quickly, within a blink of an eye if you will.
Before Hermione knew it, she was 130 years old and barley felt 15. She did not speak of Harry, Ron, Ginny, or anyone else. No one knew where she came from besides herself and Eru, who she talked to often. So when the All-God's voice rang in her mind, telling her that she was to tell her parents the night on her sister's birth of her past, she prepared to do so.
When said night came around, Hermione was nervous, this didn't go unnoticed by her brothers. So they practically drug Hermione from the archery into waterfall to help catch a toad they spotted. That was how Lord Elrond found his three children, soaked to the bone, laughing, and chasing a toad around in the moon light which shone unto the valley of Imladris. He stood there and watched, marveling at how time had pasted so quickly, how his children managed to grow up so fast.
When Hermione caught the toad, golden curly hair soaked and flowing to her waist, golden eyes shining with glee, Elrond stepped in to announce the birth of his youngest daughter and their newest sibling, Arwen.
"I advise you to dry off if you wish to see your newest sibling. Cannot have her getting sick at such a young age." Elladan and Elrohir both yelped at the sound of their father's voice, surprised that he had snuck up on them. Hermione on the other hand had felt her father's magic before anything else, knowing he had snuck upon them.
"Is she as beautiful as I have predicted Ada?" Hermione's soft voice met the ears of those around her, her brothers were waiting in anticipation if their sister's visions were true.
"Just as beautiful and then some Hermione. We will have to chase off suitors with a broom when due time comes." The twins and Hermione laughed softly, stepping from the water Hermione waved her free hand, that wasn't filled with a fat toad, drying her brothers and herself off with her magic. It was a simple charm that Hermione had performed for years before other elflings showed magical signs. Celebrían and Elrond were both proud to call Hermione their Daughter.
"Aren't you going to leave the toad behind Hermione? Surly you would not want a… slimy creature in your quarters?" Elrond's displeasure for the toad only caused Hermione to laugh, her angelic laugh seemed to float through the valley of Imladris.
"No, I will keep him. Besides, I can perhaps find a mate for Trevor, until then, I will fatten him up." Her delicate fingers poking at its squishy sides, her lips pursed in disapproval for the lack of weight of her new friend.
"Trevor, such a peculiar name is it not?" Elladan and Elrohir stated loudly, causing Hermione to ignore her brothers with a wave of a hand before walking towards the healing halls where her mother would be, recovering from the taxing child birth. Trevor, it was a name she picked as a reminder of Neville Longbottom's toad, the search for Trevor lead to meeting Harry and Ron so it was special.
Even though dry, Hermione decided to head to her rooms for a change of dress wear. Something more comfortable for the night time air, though elves could feel almost no cold, it was engrained into Hermione's mind that this was considered cold to 'normal' people. So she threw a shawl over her silk dress and placed Trevor in the hot spring bath which Hermione created a few years before.
It was true, Arwen was as beautiful as Hermione had expected, and then some. Hermione already envied her hair, long, dark, and not curly locks. Hermione often wondered why she could never tame her hair, with all the magical power she had, nothing would work. Brushes ended up getting stuck in her hair, combs breaking due to hateful curls. It was hard having the golden curls as it was running wild, let alone attempting to tame them. Hermione was sure that Glorfindel was fearful of her hair, and he was a mighty Balrog slayer whose skin glowed due to the second chance at life which he was given.
Often Hermione found her mind wandering to what Gondolin would look like… It was described very vividly by Glorfindel when he had too much elvish wine on special occasions. Other than that, not many heard much of it from the Golden Flower Protector. But often, Hermione felt that the description was not vivid enough, wishing she could have seen the city encircled by mountains. While Hermione day dreamed of such places, her train of thought went to the offer Eru made her. If she were to rule over Middle Earth, the idea of rebuilding Beleriand to its former glory before the War of Wrath was very tempting.
Twas later on that night when Hermione ventured to her parents room. Nervous and fidgeting, wondering what her parents would think of her when she told them the truth and that she remembered. It was silly and irrational that she thought her parents would think less of he because of where she truly came from, Hermione knew that.
But even if she did know, the fear fought back against the logical thoughts, refusing to be purged.
With a soft knock on the door, Hermione waited for the affirmative that it was safe to come in.
"Enter." And Hermione did so. Her parents were in their large bed, it was the exact same all those years ago. Except for some clothes here and there draped out across a chair. With a soft smile at her parents, the young sorceress padded into the room, closing the door behind her.
"What brings you hear at this hour dear?" It was her mother who spoke up, she stopped working on her tapestry of the whole family to focus her attention on her eldest child. Her father Elrond was placing his book down on the side of the nightstand.
"I… I wanted to speak of a serious matter… of the night I was brought here from the mountain pass." Her Ada sucked in a sharp breath, other than that, neither of Hermione parents showed any signs of distress.
"Come up here and sit dear." Hermione smiled softly at her mother who was patting the spot in between herself and Ada. Slowly, Hermione crawled onto the bed and plopped into the middle. This would take some strength, in the beginning Hermione often wondered if she would fade from the pain of her previous life. All the death, emotional pain, and hopelessness. Banishing those thoughts for the time being, she looked ahead, not wishing to see her parents faces as she spoke for the first time in over a hundred years of the demise of herself.
"I remember it all, and then some before that. My birth name before then was Hermione Jean Granger, I was born in 1979, there were no S.A or F.A then, this was eons later from this year. I was born to people who knew nothing of magic, for it was feared. At the age of 11, I received a letter saying I was accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… This is how I died…" And so Hermione told her story. Her parents never intervened with questions, those would come later on.
It was about 2 hours later when Hermione was finished speaking, her mouth dry and throat raw from not enough water. With a twist of a wrist, the water that was in her father's drinking glass floated from its place in the glass. A perfect blob made its way to Hermione's small mouth. Elemental Magic was rare.
She was laying on her back, looking up at the stone ceiling, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. It hurt, the pain was almost unbearable. But it felt as if there was a weight lifted from her shoulders, she never spoke of it to anyone, not people anyway. But grasshoppers could only understand only so much.
"You worry that we will view you different in a bad way. Yet I cannot understand as to why that is. You are our daughter, you always will be. Even if you did not come from my womb, you are my child. Never, ever forget that Hermione. This just proves the strength of which we believed you to have." Celebrían spoke softly, running her hands through her daughters golden hair. Unlike Glorfindel's hair, Hermione's hair looked to be newly melted dwarfish gold.
Elrond smiled at his daughter fondly, whipping away tears that attempted to stair her smooth pale cheeks. His eyes trailing to the scar on her neck. Most of the time, Hermione wore dresses that would come to her neck, they were modest to the point of uncomfortable on her. To think that this was her second life, that she had two life time's worth of experience.
"Hermione, you are everything I could wish for in a daughter and more so. I am proud Hermione, proud of you, proud of everything that you are and will become…"