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Hi. I know some of you are probably sick and tired of a girl from another world getting toss into Middle-Earth; all I can say is sorry. But please give it a chance! I'll try to keep it away from becoming a Mary Sue, but I can't make any promises.

Well, I'll stop talking so you can read.

Enjoy!

-Lady Healer.

Learning to Trust.

Chapter one: Gift or Curse

           A child of nine walked across the floor of the dinning hall carrying a stack of plates. Her long dark hair was knotted, greasy, and caught in a messy ponytail. Occasionally, she would trip on the rags, once a dress, that she wore. Through the torn fabric, bruises and whip marks could be seen.

A minstrel at court, she reflected, sang about life as a precious gift, to never be wasted. But for her, it was a curse; more terrible than all the demons in Hell. She may be the daughter of a noble but she was treated like a slave. Her father had not wanted her. He wanted a son, and when her mother didn't give him a proper heir, he killed her. The guards were ordered to 'get rid of her.'

But one guard couldn't. His heart wouldn't allow him to harm such an innocent, so he took her home to his wife and they raised her as their own child.

The first five years of her life had been happy ones. She could remember them clearly; helping her mother with dinners, wrestling with her brothers, and listening to her father's timeworn stories. But on her six birthday that had changed. The lord of Rolian heard rumors of a little girl that looked like the ghost of his first wife. She had been living with one of his guards; reared as his child.

The lord summoned the family before the court and ordered them killed while her Father watched. All but two: the youngest son, a child of three and her of course. To this day she didn't know what happened to her foster father. There were rumors that he was locked in the dungeons to suffer for the rest of his life. Others said that he took his own life while awaiting punishment.

Tripping on the edge of her 'skirt' the child lost her balance and the plates went crashing to the floor and shattered. Gray eyes widened at the sound of running feet. Dropping down, shards of glass cut into her knees as she hastily tried to clean the mess up, slicing her hands in the process. The doors of the dinning hall burst opened and a ragged woman in her late thirties ran to the child.

"Lillian, child, are you all right?" Shaking her head, Lillian refused to look up as tears fell from her eyes unchecked. Grasping the child's wrist, the older woman said gently, "Lillian stop. You are hurting yourself."

Shaking her head furiously, Lillian commented softly, "He'll be mad. I'll be punished." Sorrow filled the older woman's gaze.

"I know child. Go to Liz, she will help you with your wounds. I'll clean up the mess."

"But if the master finds you here, Rena, you'll be punished."

Smiling sadly, Rena said, "I know child, it will be all right. You'll see."

"No!" Lillian whispered furiously, shaking her head. "This is my mistake. You shouldn't be punished because of me." Pulling the girl to her feet, Rena pushed her to the door.

"Nonsense. If we both stay here, we will both be punished. And we don't want that. Besides you are already injured. And considering that I am not, it will be I who will take the punishment."

"That's not right." Lillian said flatly. Hearing voices, Rena gave Lillian a harder push.

"Run, child. They are coming closer."

"But..." The child protested.

"Run! Now!" Rena commanded. Glancing once more at her friend Lillian nodded before she fled as fast as the pain would let her. Her eyes became a storming gray as fear for her friend grew. As she ran towards Liz, she didn't realized until it was too late that this would be the last time she would see Rena.



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Ten years later.

Lillian was nineteen now. And the only thing that changed was that her blood father finally took an interest in her; but not as his daughter. No, never as his daughter, his mind was to long lost to wine to realize that he even had a daughter. He mistook her for his long dead wife. He called her by her mother's name, Lylia.

She was ordered to be at his bed chamber tonight. But she would not go. Oh, she told him that she would be there, but she was no fool. Lillian knew that if he thought she would obey willingly, he wouldn't set guards to watch her. Thus he couldn't stop her, and he won't have a chance to do to her what he did to her mother and countless other women. She would not be his mistress; she would not bear his children.

She would die first.

Lillian walked calmly to the fountain in the mansion garden where she sat for a moment. She gazed one last time upon the tiny, imported fish and breathed in the scent of water flowers. Taking a kitchen knife out of her apron pocket she plunged it into her stomach without hesitation. It was one of the more painful ways to die, but she didn't care. If her soul was immortal, she could be rewarded for a life of servitude, or be condemned for not being satisfied with that servitude. Or, she could simply cease to be in any form and end both torment and/or boredom.

As her warm blood spilled over her hands, she did not notice the changed scenery. She no longer lay in the manicured garden of her blood father, but a wild forest. Nor did she hear the alarmed voices of a man and three little hobbits. All she knew was the angelic presence that enfolded her as her mind succumbed to darkness.

Quickly kneeling next to the wounded lady, a scruffy looking man pulled the knife from her stomach after ripping part of his cloak to create a makeshift bandage. After wrapping it tightly around the wound he gently picked her up and took off at a fast pace, calling to the hobbits behind him.

"Hurry! We must reach Rivendell."

Hastily, the halflings followed the ranger while one of them asked, "Strider isn't there anything you could do for her?"

"Rivendell is less than five minutes away. Lord Elrond will be able to help her better than I." Strider replied without breaking glancing back.

"But who is she and where did she come from," asked another hobbit.

"I don't know" Strider answered as he entered the city.

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