**Re-edited 12/16/03

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Chapter 2- Another
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I woke up when it was dark, rested but not anymore at ease with the fact that I had been transported to a world that, to my knowledge at least, had previously only existed in books. And now I was stuck, without any idea as to how or when or why I was where I was. Scrunching up my face, I thought hard and the last thing I could remember was asking for Hans to kill me, the firing of the gun and the following pain.

As I stood up the white lacy gown swirling around my feet as a soft breeze blew around me which caused me to shiver, despite the comforter covering my shoulders.. Walking into my room, I noticed how it had candles glowing in the corners and on the dresser table there was a neat pile of black fabric next to scissors, thread, and needles. Ignoring them for a few moments I went over and opened the trunk and took out my ripped and bloodstained clothes. When I saw the neat hole in the left side of my shirt I whistled in spite of my self: The place where the bullet passed through my clothes was in the left side but far enough to the side for me to know that a scar would be the only permanent damage to my body, thanks to Elrond's handiwork. Carefully I laid out the clothes on the floor and smoothed them out as best I could. I went back over the dresser and gathered to various supplies up and set them on the floor next to my outspread clothes. Five minutes of cutting and pinning later, I had new clothes ready to be sewn. All I had done was cut along the edges of my old things, and pinned them in place.

While trying to thread the needle I noticed how dark it was where I was sitting and solved the problem of seeing where I was sewing by clustering candles around the spot on the floor where I was working. Satisfied with the lighting, I plopped back down and got to work on sewing some respectable clothes. I don't know how long I spent working, but when I had tied the last knot many of the candles were flickering low in pools of wax that had spread across the floor and several had gone out. Stretching, I set down the needle and my new pair of pants and considered which was more urgent, my need for a bathroom, food or sleep. My bladder won out, and after stumbling out of my room, I began searching the halls for a friendly person, er, Elf, to tell me where the dang restrooms were. Approximately twenty sleepy minutes later I exited what was the bathroom and went in search of food, my dumb nightgown swirling in the most annoying way it could possibly swirl behind me. I stumbled into what looked like a small kitchen, and upon spying a bowl of fruit I nearly inhaled three yellow apples. Munching on the fourth, I got up and found meat, cheeses, and bread and one-handedly made myself a sandwich, which was next to enter my ravaging stomach. Appetite nearly diminished, I snagged a few more apples and staggering from intense weariness, fell into my bed and slept.


~*~


The songs from twittering birds outside thrust their way past the dark curtain of sleep that had fallen on me. My eyelids fought the heaviness of sleep and fluttered open to gaze around at the room. Old clothes were lying in a discarded heap next to the folded ones I had created last night. Slowly I slipped from underneath a cover and tiptoed over the floor to my new things. Five minutes later I emerged from behind a screen that hid where I changed from the rest of my spacious and airy room. Seeing no mirror, I ignored the brush and hoped my hair did not feel as bush-like as it felt, and walked out my door. With no real goal or purpose, I took to wandering the hallways and attempting to fix the places I saw in my mind. As a thief and street kid, I also noticed things that looked to be of value, such as the numerous paintings adorning the wall or elaborately carved tables with vases full of picturesque flowers.

The few Elves I met only nodded politely in passing and glanced at my attire, which was, I suppose, rather odd to a people who wore long pants and fluffy shirts or full length dresses in pastel colors. My clothes were entirely black, and my shirt long sleeved and form fitting, modestly low cut and ended just below my breasts, leaving my bandaged side and tan stomach free for all to see. The sleeves were as tight as a second layer of skin, outlining my decently muscled biceps. My pants were low cut and tight at the hips, but not uncomfortably so. The legs were comfortably loose, close to baggy but not quite. Each leg had two pockets sewn in, one on the thigh and another on the calf. Then there were my clunky combat boots. My boots were probably my favorite things I had ever stolen, but maybe because I stole them from some Army dude while he was in another room. The guy should learn not to leave his window open in such a crime-filled city. You never know when that Shadow Cat person will rip you off.

If I ever thought, I would never stand out any more, I was dead wrong. Having a pierced belly button was probably something of a freak show qualifier to the Elves, as none so far had any piercings whatsoever. My ring was rather pretty, if bordering dangerously close to girly for me: a pale blue crystal star swinging free on a silver chain held in by a tear shaped diamond. My ears were pierced, one medium stud in my right and one medium and small stud in my left with the cartilage bearing a silver ball so tiny most people never even knew it was there. Kara's ring was hidden just inside my shirt but the sparkling chain was clearly visible.

After I opened a few doors and explored the different rooms, but found nothing of interest. Finally after a few hours of exploring, my stomach began to audibly speak in rumbling growls. So, in order to appease my demanding appetite, I searched until I found my way back to the now-bustling kitchen. There I snatched a few things and left unnoticed, one of my many talents that made me an excellent thief.

Walking and munching along, I found my way into a vast room. There was absolutely nothing unusual about the fact that it was probably at least the size of a football field. Or two. No, the jaw dropper was the fact that this gigantic room was filled with rows upon rows of books, and old scrolls, and yellowing parchments. I could see three fireplaces merrily cackling away to ward off cold and woven rugs covering the floor. I walked down one, my booted feet sinking into the thick rugs and my fingertips trailed along the spines of innumerable books. Turning the corner I found several hardwood desks elaborately carved and some overstuffed and comfortable looking chairs.

My eyebrows shot up a mile at my last thought. They appeared to be very comfy, judging from the drool accumulating on a sleeping man's tunic, as they were called. I grinned in spite of myself, the guy sprawled in the chair was pretty damn hot. Shocks of dark brown hair fell into the sleeper's closed eyes. His slightly flaring nose added character and the full lips were serenely smiling. A fist dug into one cheek and smudged with the same ink visible on his other hand. There is no sure way to tell on a slouching figure, but he seemed tall and muscular, but not overly so. He looked like a lean fighter, one with a good reach with a knife. Papers with small script were lying on his lap, and a few had spilled over onto the chair and floor. A pot of liquid ink and, believe or not, quill were on the floor next the papers. It looked as if Sleeping Beauty had decided to write before taking his beauty nap. I snorted, but a smile crossed my face nonetheless. I tiptoed over next to him, leaned over and peered into his peaceful face. He seemed so content, sprawling across the chair. A shadow began to linger in the corner of my mind: Kara was always happy. I shook my head to clear away these unhappy memories and stalked behind the sleeping persons chair to peer over his shoulder to read what he had written.

I got about two sentences in before I started to tremble uncontrollably. This person, this man had not written in Elvish, or any language I should not know but somehow do. No, for all the papers in what I am assuming was his handwriting, were in plain English. The writings were like a diary of sorts, saying he was here, in a fantasy land and yet did not know how. I turned my back and took a few steps away from the man. My breathing became shallow and slow, like it always did when I become upset.

My curiosity got the better of me and I turned quickly around and stealthily slipped the papers from his lap. The man merely moaned and shifted ever so slightly, never waking. I considered that quite a feat, considering if he had moved a fraction more he would have been touching me. My breath had been so close to his face it had gently blown the hair on his forehead. Mission accomplished, I gathered up the other papers at his feet and took them with me to a seat a few chairs over. I wanted to be close enough to keep an eye on Sleeping Beauty, but stay far enough away to escape quickly should he rouse unexpectedly. Then I immersed my self into his tale of how he got to Rivendell.

Approximately half an hour later, I looked up, finished with his story. It seems he had been walking to a party when a car jumped the curb and nearly ran him down. He remembered a dull ache and blinding lightning in a place so dark it was as if the blackness would overwhelm even the lightning bolts. And then he was staring up into the face of Elrond. Apparently, this man read the same stuff as Kara. I smirked and winced at the same time because of my thought.

He then went on to describe how he, like me, had spent his time awake exploring his surroundings. This guy, unlike me, knew of this place and had read of it in books. Apparently they were his most valued possessions, the way he carried on about how the Elves were just as he imagined, or he thought the surroundings were poorly described in the book compared to the real thing. Only this person did not have my ability to understand and speak any language spoken to me. He had picked up a little of a language called Sindaren, but that was all. He had accidentally told a young Elf woman something in Sindaren that was rather offending, only he thought he was telling her the flowers in the garden were nearly as lovely as she. I laughed silently at his error. He had left out an 'e' sound in the beginning of his sentence, and therefore changed it completely.

I glanced up to look at the person who had made such a terrible mistake only to find sleepy blue eyes gazing into my own alert green ones. I stifled my gasp and swiftly put the last page on top of the others and practically ran out of the room, mentally berating myself and yet   unsure of why I was running.

**Re-edited 12/16/03: Yeah. Redid this one, too.