Thank you for all of your continued support. Your reviews help immensely.
In response to Aralinn, I originally wrote her being very wary of the touch of men, but it felt stilted and out of character for myself (weird thought, that I can write myself out of character). I think because the elves are so very different than the Dunlend men who attacked her, it would be easier to separate them in her mind. (Also weird referring to myself in third person). Either way, it feels like it flows better without the major trauma I added before. Maybe she'll have difficulty in the beginning with Aragorn or Boromir?
Who knows? I guess I should...
In response to Biku-sensei-sez-meow, when I started writing this story I didn't want it to be another tenth walker story, but I might have to go that route. I'm a bit conflicted.
It feels cliche and overdone, but the things she (I) know and could potentially help or change are pretty much only main storyline events. Thoughts?
When I updated the previous chapters I forgot to add the bits of author-commentary at the top that are a little bit relevant to the story.
I am a musician, and music is a big part of my life, so for the sake of being able to impress the elves with some awesome music skills, I am adding an instrument similar to a cello, kind of like a Viol Da Gamba, without the frets. There is a bowed, non-fretted instrument in the 'blunt the knives' song in the hobbit, so I don't think it's too much of a stretch. Tis a little, fluffy thing that doesn't really change anything, but adding things like this makes me feel like there's more depth to the story.
I've been having difficulty finding exactly how tall most elves are, but what I have found has been that females are generally around six feet or taller, with males being around six and a half feet or taller. There was nothing cited to prove this correct on the forum I was looking on, but since I'm partial to tall people, I'm going to go with that.
Because tall people. Yum.
Enjoy
A lot happened in that first week out of the healing house.
Maeben showed me to the stables where they were caring for Valen and Arron, and I got to reunite with them.
They actually seemed to recognise me, and rubbed their heads all over me, bringing out a bit of laughter.
I gave them an apple, provided by Maeben, and spent an hour or so being taught how to care for them, with the promise of more the next day when we had to part ways.
Later that week he introduced me to his wife, Athae, who greeted me kindly, and with more concern over my health than I expected.
Maeben and Athae took great joy in showing me their home.
Athae seemed overly pleased when I shared that I had made a number of my own clothes before I came here, and was happy to share her sewing tools and supplies, offering me refuge in her sewing room should I ever need a quiet place to get away.
For the first couple days after the offer had been made, I resisted, thinking I would be a bother.
Eventually I made my way there, hesitantly asking if I could join her for an evening.
She gently pulled me in, offering food and drink should I want it, and we spent the rest of the evening conversing on and off about sewing, how I was healing, what I wanted to do next, and other quiet pleasantries.
As I start feeling more physically recovered, I begin to sleep worse, finding myself lying awake at night, staring listlessly at the ceiling.
By the end of the week, I only slept during my naps in the garden, which grew in frequency.
By the beginning of the second week, the twins had put a wooden chest containing a number of blankets underneath one of the benches in the gardens, and I started sneaking out during the night to sleep under the stars, finding that after such a long time traveling and sleeping outside on the ground, walls and ceiling made it difficult for me to fall asleep, making me feel confined, and the bed was too soft.
I tended to pick hidden places, occasionally curling up in low tree branches.
I was never bothered, though I often found various elves, known and unfamiliar, sitting nearby when I awoke.
The nightmares still plagued me, though I rarely remembered them anymore.
It was a week and a half after leaving the healing house when I finally made my way to the library after the midday meal, Elladan and Elrohir having had to go on their turn patrolling, giving me a bit of leisure time.
Erestor sat at a wooden table near the front entrance, and looked up immediately upon my entering.
I had thought he'd jump right into Sindarin, so was surprised when instead, he smiled and asked after my health.
"You look much better. How are you feeling?"
"Ah..I'm alright. Could be worse."
I wasn't sure how much detail he wanted.
At least when the healers or Elrond asked that, I knew they wanted a detailed answer so they could help more.
"I've noticed you cavorting with the twins occasionally. It's good to see that you remember how to smile and laugh after your ordeal."
He gently closed the book he had been reading, still looking at me.
I tried not to wince, was that supposed to be a subtle warning not to cause trouble with them..?
"I've never really had difficulty smiling and laughing, a little hardship isn't going to change that."
Hopefully...
He stood, moving around the table to pull out a chair, indicating I should move from my awkward hover by the entrance.
I did, hunching my shoulders a little as I passed him and sat.
The last time I'd seen him, I'd been sitting in bed, and he had sat next to me in a chair.
Walking by him was a major perspective change from that.
He was, as it seemed all the elves were, very tall.
I felt like a mouse, surrounded by a bunch of very large, graceful cats.
He moved another chair out next to the one I was in, sitting in it gracefully with impeccable posture, and I realized that sitting didn't make him seem any shorter.
He watched me for a moment before speaking, "I did not mean to chide. It truly is good to see you in good spirits. Your condition was..quite dire, when you arrived."
I hunched a little bit more, feeling bad that I kept automatically thinking the worst of everyone.
He let out an exasperated sigh, "That was not chiding either. Sit up. If you curl any more you'll be under the table."
I quickly uncurled, sitting tall, if not a bit stiffly.
"Take a deep breath. Relax. Now, have you been looking at the books I gave you?"
He opened them both to the first page, and started speaking softly, and just like that, the lesson started.
We continued meeting every day for about an hour, and soon found that I had absolutely no talent for learning languages.
My tongue tripped on the pronunciations, and I had a difficult time comprehending the tenses and order of the words.
He was endlessly patient, which was very helpful, as I got frustrated easily with my lack of understanding.
It was another week before I managed to put any more weight on, looking more like a human and less like a skeleton.
I also had the last of the bandages taken off, Elrond deeming my ribs healed enough to start physical training.
I couldn't help but fidget uncomfortably as he removed the bandages, flinching away every now and then when his fingers grazed skin, vulnerable and fresh from having been covered so long.
The bandages came off easily, not sticking anywhere, and for the first time in the last few weeks I'd been in Rivendell, I was completely free of bandages.
I felt exposed.
I trailed a finger down the bare skin of my arm, disliking the sensitive feeling of new skin that it had.
The lotions and ointments they'd used on me had done an amazing job, my skin felt fresh, new, and soft.
All the callouses I had built up over my twenty two years of life had been healed away.
Hiking callouses on my feet, cello callouses on my fingers.
Many scars I knew I previously had were faded to near invisibility, gone with the layers of skin that had been burnt away by the sun.
The ointment, despite having been put on well after the worst of the burns occurred, had been able to keep my skin from tightening and pulling, so I had full mobility.
I was not devoid of scars, however.
The bruise from my broken ribs was mostly faded, only a greenish yellow color left.
There were a multitude of scratches that had healed into thin, slightly raised white lines, spiderwebbed along my legs, down to my ankles, along my feet, as well as along parts of my arms from the many times I'd fallen.
My hands had tiny white lines running all across them, along with a slight shake.
The bottoms of my feet were littered with slightly raised, thick white lines.
Any skin that wasn't taken up with cut scars was covered with burn scars.
The burn scars were worst on my shoulders and arms, leaving veiny lines and ridges that bulged out slightly, leaving an odd, textured look to the skin.
Between the veins and ridges the skin looked a bit waxy, like someone had taken a candle and dripped wax in the recesses of my arm.
My face wasn't quite as bad, as I'd often tried to keep it angled away from the sun, or used my arms to protect it, but even that wasn't unscathed.
Similarly to my arms, there were white lines of slightly raised skin that reached, like small branches of a tree.
They traced down the left and right sides of my face, from my forehead, down along my temples and cheekbones, reaching all the way down my neck and disappearing underneath my dress.
My torso was littered with a few small cut and scrape scars here and there, but it was by far the least scarred.
It all looked both a little bit cool, and quite disturbing.
I hadn't realized they were that bad, and suddenly understood why I got so many looks of concern from elves that saw me.
None of the scars were painful or stretched, I was sure I had the ointment to thank for that.
I wasn't sure how to feel about them, and ended up spending the rest of the day sequestered in my room with a small hand mirror, looking at all the scars, tracing them.
I felt like I didn't recognize the person I saw.
The next day when I got up, I resolutely looked at the person in the mirror.
They weren't ugly or unsightly, nor were they terribly eye catching, blending quite well with my already naturally pale skin.
I made the decision then and there that I would appreciate any scar I acquired, because it meant I was alive to see it.
It made me look oddly..younger, but older at the same time.
I left the room, returning the mirror to Elrond, determined to focus on more important things, like getting something to eat.
It was a day later when I was approached by Glorfindel, while wandering towards the stables to visit Valen and Arron.
For a moment, I thought it was Legolas.
There before me, an elf stood tall and straight, hair shining gold in the orange light of the setting sun, a gentle and joyful smile on a fair, young face, as he watched a group of elves practice archery and swordplay nearby.
Then he turned, smile somehow brightening upon seeing me, and trotted over to me, calling out in that same exotically accented and beautifully melodic voice,
"Milady, what a delight it is to see you up and about! Has Elrond stated you well enough to start training yet?"
That, coupled with the incredibly striking figure, was enough to indicate who it was that stood before me, as I only knew of one golden haired elf that regularly took up residence in Rivendell.
He stopped in front of me, clasping both of my hands gently in his and lifting them up slightly, while he himself leaned down to peer in my face.
I moved my head back, eyes widening.
Was that an elf thing?
No personal space?
The twins were very touchy as well.
Arwen was a little bit more restrained…
Maybe it was a male elf thing?
Elrond wasn't like that...Neither was Erestor..
"Hmm, you're still quite pale, and your grip is weak as a kitten, but we can work on that. How are you feeling?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, stunned to silence for a moment by his rather overwhelming proximity.
He simply watched me, smile never wavering.
If anything, it got wider, the longer I was silent.
I inwardly cursed.
These elves were enjoying toying with me.
"I'm better than I was. I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced yet."
I tried to force my voice to be light, attempting to push past the slight awkwardness that had occurred from my delayed response.
He bowed shallowly, sweeping one arm down and to the side as he introduced himself,
"Of course, my apologies. I am Glorfindel, Milady. I will be training you in combat. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of requesting that Athae make you some garments fit for fighting, you should find them in your wardrobe tonight. I had hoped you would rise at dawn with me to begin training, you will have to completely recondition your body after so long confined to bed rest. It would be best not to wait too long."
I was unable to stop that tiny bit of suspicion at how eager he seemed to help me.
What was up with everyone being so nice?
"My name is Alyssa, nice to meet you, Glorfindel. Erestor did mention that you had volunteered to train me. I greatly appreciate your help."
I tried not to fidget awkwardly.
He nodded slightly, accepting the thanks.
"Of course, though I'm sure in the coming days you'll be cursing my help much more readily than thanking me."
I let out a surprised laugh at his joking tone, "Challenge accepted, I shall say nothing but cheerful, positive things."
The way I figured it, I couldn't think of anything he could do that would be worse than my first few weeks here in Middle Earth.
His smile became slightly predatory in a sly, teasing way, "I shall hold you to that."
He walked me back to the garden, looping one of my arms through his.
I noticed shortly into the walk that he was forced to shorten his stride, and attempted to compensate by lengthening mine.
It did little to help, his legs being considerably longer than mine.
He did smile, though, not commenting on it.
He left me at the entrance to the main garden, parting ways with a few final words,
"I shall call upon you at dawn. Dress comfortably. Good day, Milady."