Forewarning, it's very possible I made an error on the timeline of previous 'ages' as far as the amount of years in the first age and second. I went off of what I found during my research but it might not be accurate, so I apologize ahead of time.

- Chapter 4 -

Shyloh slept fitfully the next two nights, but she didn't complain. They had no more run ins with orcs for which she was very thankful. Talk was limited to the basic essentials even between the brothers and she could tell that all they wanted to do was get to Rivendell as quickly as possible. They took their time walking, however, and she had a feeling it was because of her.

Slowly she stopped answering their questions and kept her eyes on the ground, specifically for the soul purpose of not having to see them cast worried looks between themselves. Shyloh lost track of the days, but she ate and drank what she could, and even though Glorfindel pushed her for more she didn't think she could stomach it.

She did learn however, which twin was which. Elrohir wore his hair back more and preferred it behind his shoulders while Elladan let his fall forwards over his shoulders. Aside from that, it was difficult to tell them apart from one another. She listened to their chatter but didn't offer anything to the conversation, mostly because she didn't understand what they were talking about. Orc movements and the trail they were following meant little to her, so she pretended to be interested in the surrounding landscape.

"What does it mean, the name Shyloh?" Elrohir asked one afternoon as they sat beside another small stream. They were cooking a small rabbit on a fire, and she was curled up in a ball against a tree trunk, covered up once again with the blanket.

"I have never heard it before, and it is not a Sindar or Quenyan name," said Elladan.

"And it is not a typical name among the race of Men," added Glorfindel.

Shyloh bit her lip and stared into the fire for a moment, trying to decide how best to describe it.

"Well, you're right, it's not elvish. But it is from the race of Men, at least, where I'm from. It's an old name that descends from Hebrew origin, meaning 'his gift,'" she explained and already she could see confusion on their faces. "But of course, you probably don't know what Hebrew is so..."

"Where exactly are you from?" Glorfindel asked, raising an eyebrow. She was pretty sure all the words she'd just spoken were as foreign to them as their elvish language was to her.

"Well, I guess technically I was born here," she said, hardly believing the words herself as she spoke them. "But I grew up somewhere else. It's complicated, and I know it doesn't make any sense. I'm still trying to put the pieces together myself."

Silence followed her words as they pondered them and for a little while the only thing they could hear were the soft rustling of the tree branches in the breeze, a swish of the horses' tails, and the babbling creek that flowed slowly just a few feet away from them.

Elrohir frowned and fixed her with a curious look. "How old are you?" He asked the question so carefully that it sent a tingle up her spine, and she blinked.

"Twenty-three," she said, but then she remembered her mother's words from her last dream. "Well, back home I was twenty-three, but my mother said I was born sometime during the Second Age, but I have no idea what that means at all. We didn't go by 'ages' back home, just years, unless you were referring to a specific time period."

Elladan's jaw went slack and Glorfindel's fork halted halfway to his mouth.

"The Second Age?" Elrohir finally managed to ask as he blinked away his surprise.

"What does that mean exactly?" she asked. "What's the Second Age?"

"We calculate our years here by ages," Elladan explained. "There's been two ages before this one, so the First Age was a little over 600 years long. The Second Age was over 3000 years. We are in the Third Age now, and we figure it to last for 3000 years or so. The year is 2937 of the Third Age."

It was Shyloh's turn to freeze. There was no way that could be possible. Her head started spinning as it did the math. That would put her well over 4000 years old and that was completely laughable. No one could be that old.

"Just how old do elves get in this world?" she asked cautiously, and Elrohir raised his eyebrows.

"Elves lead the immortal life," Glorfindel explained, and she could tell the question bothered the three of them. The brother's looked at her like this was something she should know, and she felt her mouth go dry.

"This world changes though, where we do not. Many of our kin are already sailing to Valinor."

Shyloh let out a shaky breath, hardly believing her ears.

"That's just," she choked. "Not normal."

Elrohir laughed but his tone was dry and humorless. "It is normal for us." He motioned to the three of them.

"Were you not an elf in your other world?" asked Elladan curiously, and she shook her head.

"There's no such thing as elves back home."

The surprised expressions she was expecting but what she wasn't prepared for was the screech that filled the air. The three companions were on their feet in a second; bows at the ready. Shyloh barely had time to react when an arrow whizzed past her head, missing her by inches, only to sink into the tree trunk behind her.

"Orcs!" Glorfindel hissed as he raised his bow and took aim.

"Move!" Elladan ordered her as he knocked an arrow to his bow then fired. Glorfindel and Elrohir had already fired when another awful scream tore through the trees. She was on her feet in an instant. Elrohir reached for her arm and dragged her behind a tree, slamming her back into the rough bark just as another arrow zoomed by, barely missing his shoulder. She never realized just how strong he was until her breath was knocked out of her chest.

"Stay put!" was his command, and she did as she was told. She didn't even dare look around the tree she hid behind as the sound of metal clashing filled her ears. Panic built up in her chest and she tried to remember how to breath when a massive, ugly figure whipped past the tree into her line of view. Her first instinct was to run like hell, her second was to scream like hell. Neither of those things happened though, because her joints seized up and she froze out of pure terror.

It was like nothing she had ever seen before. Foul wouldn't even begin to describe the creature that she was looking at. One of the twins, she'd lost track of who was who, with a skill she decided only a seasoned warrior would have, felled the head off the monstrous creature with a swift blow of his blade. The head came clean off and hit the ground with a heavy thud before the blackened body of the creature fell in a heap; its arms going limp at its side although it still held the blade it had been wielding.

The head rolled a way before coming to a stop in front of her. She slapped her hand to her mouth to keep from screaming out loud. Its black tongue lolled out of the side of its opened mouth, grotesque teeth bared, dark blank eyes opened wide. She'd never seen a decapitated head before and her stomach lurched at the sight. She'd grown up helping her aunt and uncle butcher chickens and turkeys for their freezers and saw deer skinned and gutted while hunting with her brother and dad. She'd always felt like she had a strong stomach but this...this was a different kind of death.

And the air was rank with it.

She didn't even notice that it had gone quiet around her as she sank back into the tree behind her, ignoring the stinging of her freshly bruised back. All sounds seemed to fade in her ears, and she wondered for a moment if she was going to pass out, when a hand reached for her, and she jumped violently.

Elrohir paused in mid reach and held up his hand to show her he meant no harm. When his eyes fell on the head in front of her a look of understanding crossed his face, and with a swift kick of his foot, he kicked the orcs head away as if it were a soccer ball.

"We need to move," he said, and he held out his hand to her again. With trembling fingers, she accepted it and he gently tugged her along behind him.

"Someone will have heard that," Glorfindel mumbled as he used his cloak to wipe clean the blade of the sword he held. The blood that stained it was dark, black almost, completely unlike any blood she'd ever seen before.

"Is she alright?" Elladan asked, as he stepped over another headless body like it was simply a fallen tree branch instead of a person.

"Shaken, but unhurt," Elrohir confirmed as his eyes swept over her.

"Let's move then," Glorfindel said, and he lifted her up on top of his horse before climbing aboard behind her.

"Don't look at them," instructed Elrohir quietly, and she peeled her eyes away from the decapitated body they just passed, dully noting it was missing an arm.

There was no time for Shyloh to process what the hell just happened, so without a backwards glance, they made their escape before someone else came to find them.

The Bruinen river rushed before them, crystal clear and sweet smelling compared to the heaviness of the air in the forest they just stepped out of. The ford was shallow enough for the horses to walk through without too much difficulty, and Elrohir explained that they had now passed into the lands of Rivendell. The borders, they also explained, were well protected so they need not fear orcs as they rode.

There was something different about these trees compared to the trollshaws. It was as if she stepped into a completely different universe. The air was light and clean, and it sent a tingle through her body like she'd never felt before. It was as if a sense of peace had filled her and she gripped the sensation mentally with all her might, afraid it would leave her, and she'd be plunged into the dreadful despair she'd come to know over the last few days. Was magic the right word to describe the feeling?

No one spoke as they rode, but she noticed that the brothers and Glorfindel seemed more at ease; their shoulders less tense. They stopped before nightfall and ate what provisions they had left. They would reach the last Homely House by noon tomorrow and she couldn't help but groan inwardly at the thought of more riding.

"You know," Elrohir said, leaning casually against a tree trunk, looking at her with curiosity written on his face. "Considering everything we have just been through, you in particular, you seem to be holding up fairly well."

The others were silent as they gauged her reaction to this fairly obvious bit of information and they waited, quietly, for her to say something.

She opened her mouth a few times to speak but nothing came out. She looked at her muddy boots instead and took a deep breath.

"Don't worry," she said dully. "I promise to have a complete mental breakdown the moment I can figure out how to process what the hell just happened, and then I won't be coherent for days. Things just tend to hit me a little slower I guess."

It was true, things did tend to sink their claws into her at weird times and much slower than perhaps other people. The loss of her brother and father was sure to come, the same way as it did her mother, and she knew it was when she was finally alone that the grief would come to collect its due. Unfortunately, unlike back home when she had her father and brother to lean on for support, here, she had absolutely no one and that fact alone would bring her to pieces.

She felt eyes on her as they rode down the road towards the house of Lord Elrond. Anticipation built up beneath her breastbone and she suddenly became very aware of her appearance. The twins and Glorfindel never seemed to get dirty – and oh, how she envied them – but even they looked a little travel worn from sitting on the ground and roaming through the woods. The oversized sweatshirt she pulled on how many days ago now, had her dried blood on it even though she'd attempted to wash some of it off without any luck. Her Muck boots felt heavy on her feet but at least her toes were still dry. Her hair was probably a complete disaster, but she tucked the stray strands behind her ears while the rest she pulled into a sloppy bun on the top of her head.

She washed her face and hands in the creek at least, as the others had done that morning. This was as good as she was going to get. Thoughts of Boss plagued her as they walked, and she felt a twinge of loss creep up on her. If he made it into this world, there was no way he'd be able to outrun the orcs. Perhaps she'd never see him again and she fell into a sullen mood as they rode. Her head didn't help anything. It pounded just as much as it ever did since she fell, except it seemed to radiate down into her body now. Lord was she tired. Glorfindel eyed her curiously, noting the blank look on her face again as she sat in front of Elrohir, but he didn't say anything for which she was thankful.

Shyloh thought she was imagining things at first, but then she strained her ears to listen more carefully. Was that...singing? Were there really people singing in the trees around them as they went? It was so soft at first but then it grew gradually, and the brothers smiled.

She looked up into the trees, but Glorfindel nudged her with his elbow. "Even if you can't see them, they can see us. They sing to welcome us back home, and for you too."

"Me?" she squeaked. "They don't even know me."

Glorfindel smiled. "You are elf kind," he said with a shrug. "That makes you one of us."

She pondered this for a minute before sighing and saying quietly to him, "It's all so confusing."

"I'm sure it is," Glorfindel agreed with a nod, and they fell back into silence.

They crossed a bridge wide enough for the four of them to ride two by two, but they didn't. The twins led the way over the rushing waters below and the sight that met Shyloh was one she knew she'd never forget.

The house was massive, stretching out in every direction with open balconies, walkways, and bridges. It was as if it was carved out of the very earth itself. The early afternoon sun cast it in a warm, golden hue, making it all so welcoming and inviting. Waterfalls cascaded down the roaring mountains behind it and everywhere she looked her eyes were met with carved stone that was so intricately detailed she almost gasped at its beauty.

They stopped at the bottom of a great stair and at first, she didn't know why because she was too busy looking around. Elrohir dismounted, then reached up for her. As her feet landed, she felt her knees buckle slightly underneath her. He took her elbow and steadied her just as someone seemed to appear out of nowhere to take the horses. Glorfindel came and took over for Elrohir. Her eyes swept the stone courtyard they were in, and she noticed the guards standing halfway up on a short landing on either side of the stairs, but they weren't what caught her eye. Walking down the steps, dressed in deep, brown robes was a tall elf. His face was what she noticed first, as it was very similar to that of the twins that stood before her. His dark brown hair was pulled back from his face and fell over his shoulders, revealing his pointed ears. The braided band of silver he wore on his head gleamed a brilliant shade and outlined his fair features even more.

Shyloh and Glorfindel stood back while the twins met him at the bottom of the steps. While he wasn't old looking by any means, his deep gray eyes showed that he wasn't young at all. There was a hint of wisdom that gleamed from his eyes that she'd never seen in someone before. It was intriguing and daunting at the same time.

He spoke to the brothers in elvish and in turn greeted each of them with a hug; apparently pleased with their return. It wasn't like she'd never seen her father hug her brother before, but it had always been more of a quick embrace followed by a clap on the back. The hug this elf gave to her two companions caused a twinge of jealousy to swirl in her stomach. It was a hug like her father would have given her if he hadn't seen her for many months like when she was in school, and she suddenly felt like she was intruding on their family time, so she looked away.

It suddenly dawned on her though, that this was Lord Elrond in the flesh. She didn't know how she knew that exactly, but there was a hint of familiarity about him that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

When she did look up, the tall elf had stepped away from the others and turned to face her and Glorfindel. His eyes met hers for the first time and she caught her breath in her chest as she blinked up at him. His face softened as he stared at her, and she felt herself growing uncomfortable under the gaze of all four of them. She had no idea how she was supposed to greet a Lord, but she had a feeling she was doing it all wrong. It was like she'd frozen in place, and even though her mind told her she should bow or curtsy or something, all she could do was stand there like an idiot.

He took a couple of slow steps towards her, his face now blank as he looked at her. As his eyes searched her face he seemed to come to some sort of understanding and a look of recognition crossed his eyes.

"You look just like your mother," he said gently, and she blinked furiously. Her mouth opened but no words came out, so she closed it. If the twins and Glorfindel exchanged confused looks it went unnoticed by Lord Elrond.

She tried to keep her face blank but the pain and hurt showed easily in her eyes and he suddenly looked sad.

"Forgive me," he said. "But I thought I was looking at your mother for a moment. I never thought I would see this day come to pass."

Gulping, she quickly found her voice. "What day?"

"The day my great niece came home."