"So when your hopes on fire

But you know your desire

Don't hold a glass over the flame

Don't let your heart grow cold

I will call you by name

I will share your road

But hold me fast, hold me fast

'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer...

I will learn, I will learn

To love the skies I'm under."

-Mumford and Sons, "Hopeless Wanderer."


ooOoo

Nestadis was trying to kill her. And so, too, was her new archery instructor, Nordir. They were all out to get her, and it had only been two weeks.

I won't survive two weeks more, she thought dolefully as she dragged herself wearily up another incline. By tomorrow, I'll be nothing more than a sweaty, miserable corpse who smells of various weeds and poultices, puke, blood, and pus.

"Hurry it up, probationer!"

That was Nordir, her personal, Elven physical trainer. Upon their introduction, Nordir seemed generally friendly and amiable; he'd spoken a great deal and brimmed with enthusiasm. He had assured her that she would be a natural with a bow. Then he had asked Merrill to perform a series of physical tasks, and she had watched the light fade from his eyes.

He had asked her to run to a tree in the distance and back as fast as she was able. She'd managed to get back within two hours. Nordir's mouth was an open moue of incredulity.

Then he had instructed her to climb. When she had nearly broken her neck, he had hastily ordered her to take up a stave to spar against another trainee.

That had nearly landed her with a broken arm, a broken leg, and a shattered clavicle.

To his credit, Nordir didn't give up. He had pointed to the pool at the base of a waterfall and ordered her to swim to the other side and back as many times as she could without making herself ill. Nordir did not seem surprised when all she could manage were six laps, but Merrill was actually impressed: she had never been able to do anything besides hike without falling over. Swimming, to her, was about floating serenely atop the water, drinking fruity drinks, and, occasionally, doggy paddling to a new sun spot. She and her turtle, Howard, had this in common.

Upon realizing she was hopeless, his manner grew much more brusque and cool. He had taken to calling her 'probationer' after another of his fellows had insinuated that she couldn't possibly be an elf. Nordir had claimed she was on probation to prove herself one of the Eldar.

Merrill pumped her burning legs, desperate to make it up the final hill to rest and water. Her breath was coming in harsh gasps, sweat poured off her, and she felt a little nauseous. But Nordir did not accept complaints.

"This age, probationer!"

Grimly, Merrill gritted her teeth and forced her legs onward. Imagining various ways to torture Nordir helped her to continue on when her legs wobbled beneath her like overcooked noodles and her lungs felt as though they had been doused in lighter fluid. But only just.

What does water boarding entail? She wondered idly. Or the whole bamboo shoots under the fingernails, thing? I've heard good things about Iron Maidens, and nine tailed flails…

With a final burst of speed, Merrill flung herself onto the grass at Nordir's feet, breathing heavily. A red haze flickered in front of her eyes. That's probably not good, she thought giddily.

Something nudged her side. With great effort, Merrill peeled back her eyelids and glared up at Nordir's stupid, handsome elf face. His hair was black, his skin porcelain, and his brown eyes were tilted up at the outer corners in that way only Asian eyes were. If this were earth, Nordir would be Japanese. She might have thought him quite attractive, at one point, but that was before she had suffered his personality. Now he was just another handsome, elf ass.

Nordir nudged her side with his boot again. "Get up."

"No," she said stubbornly, rolling to her other side.

"You're going to cramp," he threatened.

"Don't care."

Suddenly, two arms hooked under her armpits and lifted her to her feet. "You will listen to your instructor, Merilinith, no matter your personal feelings. He has given you the gift of his time and experience, and you must repay it with your diligence and obedience."

Merrill looked up and into the glacial eyes of Glorfindel. She hung in the air before him like a kitten from its mother's mouth. "I was really hoping you'd be someone else," she mumbled.

"A sentiment shared by us all, it would seem," he said pointedly.

Nordir chortled.

She jerked out of his hold and tried not to clutch the stitch in her side when he set her down. This was it. She'd had enough of their condescension and holier-than-thou attitudes. "Yeah, I'm not a great elf. In fact, I suck at it. But I'm also only 22 years old to your - " Merrill stopped and glared daggers at Glorfindel. "What – 12 billion? Plus, I wasn't born in this godforsaken body or on this godforsaken planet! Your customs are not my own, nor are your manners, and I will not be scolded for being who I am! I have done as you have asked, I have tried my best, and I have taken your criticism and punishments quietly, but this is too much."

Glorfindel's demeanor only grew chillier. His lips thinned and parted to reveal sharp canines as he asked, "Are you quite finished, probationer?"

Merrill thrust her chin forward and crossed her arms by way of reply.

Glorfindel cupped his arm with his left hand and tapped his lips with his right. Finally, he inquired, "You are only two and twenty summers?"

"I don't know about summers, but I am 22, yes."

For the first time, Glorfindel did something marginally human: he brushed his long, gold hair back from his face and sighed. Merrill could hardly believe it – she hadn't thought him capable of emoting. "Nordir."

"Yes, my Lord?" Nordir stepped up from behind Merrill and bowed low.

"Your training session has ended for the day. Dismiss your student and then report to me."

"As you wish, my Lord." Nordir jerked his chin at Merrill. "Dismissed, probationer."

Merrill would have curtsied mockingly, but she was worried that she wouldn't be able to unbend if she attempted it, so she settled for an ironic salute and stumbled back to her rooms, her muscles shrieking.

Later, when she was alone in the bath Cailiel had kindly drawn for her, Merrill reflected on her behavior. I could have handled that better, she thought as she ran a washcloth along her arms. But so could they. She picked up the nailbrush and began to scrape the gunk and dirt from under her fingernails. That was another thing – the other elves could practically jump into a mud pit, clog dance in manure, and roll about in the dirt and still they would be acceptably clean. Mud and dirt didn't stick to them. So why does it stick to me? Aren't I an elf now, too? Come to think of it, why aren't I as good at running and climbing as they are? Is my body still human? Merrill glanced down her front through the suds. The body that met her eyes was definitely longer and more toned. She had had a comfortable pouch of fat along her hips and stomach as a human, but it appeared her unwitting growth spurt had redistributed it to other areas. Her body was beautiful and slender and lean, the kind of body she had gone to the gym thrice weekly to obtain, so why did she suddenly feel like crying?

I don't like it when my body does things without telling me, she groused internally, lifting her hand from the water to lightly touch the tips of her ears. The fateful day she'd had her first period had left her a sobbing mess – how dare her body surprise her like that? This situation was that times a thousand. Every scar, every imperfection or flaw in her skin, was gone. Excess fat, crazy eyebrows, all of it – it was all smoothed and perfected. Before, she would have jumped for joy at such an occurrence. Now, though, she wanted nothing but to be standing in front of her bathroom mirror at home cursing her Italian heritage as she plucked her thick eyebrows. She wanted to see the crescent moon shaped scar on her elbow from her first fall on her bicycle, and she wanted to hug her stomach and feel some padding, not hard muscle.

Merrill also really wanted some ice cream.

After she had toweled off and dressed in the pale green tunic and beige breeches Cailiel had left out, she sat atop her bed and began the arduous process of detangling her black curls. The elves had gifted her an oil to aid in this task and it was nothing short of miraculous. It eased knots out and allowed the wooden comb she ran through her hair to flow through with hardly any snagging.

When she had finished, she decided it was time to face the music, as it were. Dinner would be set out, shortly, and she would hate to make the Lord of Rivendell wait. He had continued in his kindnesses towards her, no matter how grumpy or ungrateful she sometimes appeared. His sons, having learned of her origins, had taken to teasing her mercilessly, though they would not be at dinner tonight, or for many weeks. The expectation that they would spend months at a time at the borders to guard against outside threats came with their position as high-ranking guards and, though she knew they would not have it any other way, she also knew Elrond fretted every day they were out of his sight.

She opened the doors to the private dining hall and pulled up short, a greeting dying on her lips. Glorfindel sat in the seat beside her own. He raised an eyebrow and she flushed angrily.

"Little bird!" Radhrion waved her over excitedly. "Come and eat! They've pies for afters, which I am sure will perk you up enormously."

Merrill did as he asked and sat gingerly, tucking her arms firmly to her sides to avoid the slightest contact. The golden elf smirked at her discomfort and took a sip from his goblet.

The wait staff entered silently, placing the first course before each of them. Merrill had grown used to their movements, but wished they could have at least tried to be a little louder; the silence that reigned between them all was beginning to grow uncomfortable.

She looked around the table quickly and noted Arwen's absence. Where the heck is she when I need her? Arwen would have a dozen, polite nothings to say to ease the tension, and her mere presence, Merrill suspected, would force the others into some semblance of effort.

"Merilinith," Glorfindel began, startling her so badly a piece of asparagus fell into her soup with an audible plop. "I must apologize for my behavior this afternoon. Though your behavior was far from proper, as your elder by a considerable number of years, it is my duty to know better. Goheno nin." Glorfindel lowered his head in acknowledgment, his hand curling over his heart in the customary gesture of respect. He had never before shown her this courtesy.

Irritated, she speared a carrot viciously and popped it into her mouth, counting to fifty before swallowing. "Let me get this straight," she began, placing her fork down and folding her hands in her lap. "You are only apologizing because of my age?"

Radhrion's head fell into his hands; he could sense the coming storm.

Glorfindel, however, was happily oblivious. "Yes. If I had known your age, and your… particular circumstances, allowances would have been made, a different instructor found. I will do my utmost to correct this situation. Nordir, for one, will no longer be your instructor. He is not suited for one of your circumstances and personality. Neither of you would learn anything from training together. In his place, I suggest - "

"No."

He halted, annoyance flickering around the corners of his lips. The golden elf sat up even straighter and set his own silverware down, clearly attempting to control his temper.

It was Elrond's turn to lower his head dejectedly.

"No?"

"No," Merrill repeated firmly. "In my world, I am considered an adult. I will stay with Nordir, but I demand that he treats me, if not warmly, than at least politely. There will be no more of this probationer nonsense, and no more hazing. And he needs to realize that he can't push me as hard as he can an elf. I think my body still thinks it's human, so that must be taken into account."

"I believe you will find that, in this world, you are little more than a squalling babe. In consideration of this fact-" Glorfindel's restraint was quickly failing.

Elrond interrupted sharply, "What do you mean by that, Merilinith?"

"I mean that my body is still that of a human. My limits are still mortal. I cannot run as fast, learn as fast, or carry as much weight. My eyesight is most definitely not elvish, and neither are my sleeping patterns or reaction times from what Nestadis tells me. I am not an elf."

"I thought that there was something odd in your reaction to the Miruvor…" Elrond trailed off, his eyes focused on the opposite wall.

Merrill tried to be patient, but she couldn't stop herself from prompting, "And? Why does that matter?"

"Because," his eyes left the wall and found hers. "It was another indication that your transformation was unlike that of the previous individual who came to these halls from your world. Their transformation was rapid and thorough. They had all of the abilities and talents with which my kind is graced. But your change is… reluctant."

Radhrion's voice was low and uncharacteristically thoughtful when he suggested, "Perhaps that is why, Elrond? The change is spotty because of her reluctance to accept her new form. Was not the other individual rather willing to embrace their transformation?"

The Lord of Rivendell beamed. "Yes! That would explain her reaction to the Miruvor and her difficulties on the training field."

Merrill and Glorfindel both scoffed at this; Merrill glared.

Glorfindel flicked his hair back over his shoulder. "That hardly seems likely. Perhaps she is correct and her body simply has not taken to the change. It's not as though we comprehend why two individuals from her world were sent here, nor do we know the rules of such an exchange."

"As much as I hate to agree with the guy, blondie has a point." Glorfindel scowled, but Merrill continued, "Plus, you can't honestly be telling me that the answer is to accept myself – that's just too cliché, and I'll refuse to do so on principle."

Radhrion reached under the table with his toe and tapped her leg to get her attention. "How about we try it, first, before you list your objections to such a scheme, Little bird? I promise that, if it doesn't work, I will listen to them all."

Merrill glowered, but it rolled right off of him. "Fine. What do I have to do? 'I do believe in fairies?' That kind of thing?"

"Fairies? What do fairies have to do with anything? Why must every third word you speak be utter nonsense?"

Elrond ignored Glorfindel's outburst, as well as Merrills, with remarkable composure. Then again, Merrill thought, he raised Elladan and Elrohir. Glorfy and I don't have anything on those two, even on a bad day.

"Hmmm… tomorrow, I would like you to meet me at the archery range. Come before going to the House of Healing. It could prove disastrous if we do not sort this out before your journey to Lothlorien. I think you would agree, Merilinith, that it would be infinitely preferable that you should be able to defend yourself, or, at least, run as swiftly as we elves do, should you stumble across trouble."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Merrill looked up at Radhrion, whose lips were tight with concern. When she kicked him under the table, he stirred from his introspections and graced her with a kick of his own.

"And I'll come with you two. I should hate to miss something this entertaining."

When three sets of eyes turned on him, Glorfindel shook his head. "I shan't. My presence will serve as no more than a distraction, I am afraid. And, as you can see, Merrill and I are not the best of friends."

Merrill shrugged in agreement. "He's not wrong, guys."

"Please," the golden elf grimaced. "Do not agree with me. It quite obliterates my appetite." And he swept from the room, his plate still half full.

Merrill stuck her tongue out at his back. Poncy, pompous, golden, elfy bastard!

A hunk of cheese landed on her plate. Radhrion added a tart of some kind that smelled of all things good and buttery, and then placed a cluster of vivid purple grapes beside it. "Eat, my dear. Something tells me you are going to need your strength."

Merrill watched with rapt attention as he smeared some sort of cream onto a piece of bread and set it on her plate. "Why do you feed me whenever I'm upset?" She questioned quizzically.

He licked the tips of his fingers clean of the cream, his hands then going to his own bread. Radhrion drizzled long ropes of amber honey atop it intently. Only when he was satisfied, and had taken a bite, did he respond: "Why does anyone do anything? Because that is what makes me feel better."

"I guess that makes sense." Merrill took a bite of the bread and moaned appreciatively. "This is freaking incredible!"

Radhrion smiled knowingly.


A/N:

Thanks for your reviews Aralinn, leelee202, KillerCupcakes, LadyConfidential, ColdOnePaul, and FromHellWithLove.

You are all seriously my favorite. Thanks so much for your support. If I could bake you all cupcakes, I would. For now, though, I hope this chapter will suffice.