As always, I welcome constructive criticism.

Some of you who started this adventure with me might recognize bits of this nightmare.
That's because I decided it didn't quite fit there, but I really liked the nightmare itself.
So it's been edited a little bit, and now it fits quite nicely in my timeline of events.

Lynn, thank you, I'm glad you like it (and me ;P). The reason I write in smaller bits like that is because I focus better on shorter paragraphs and sentences. I have a hard time focusing on larger paragraphs. Typically, if I'm reading a story and all it has is large paragraphs, my eyes tend to skip over a lot of it because it blurs a little bit together. Hence, smaller sentences and paragraphs. I realize that most books are large paragraphs, but since this isn't really a book, I thought it would be okay to branch out a little bit and keep things more separated. If it really bothers you (or anyone else, speak up people) I will consider editing things together before I post them.

To all those who are very concerned about her lack of sleep, I apologize, but it's going to get worse for a while. *Pat pat* I promise she gets through it.
...Probably...

Enjoy, reading friend people!

It was the end of the first week since Erestor returned, during the late evening when I was in Elrond's private study speaking to them both about reforging the shards of Narsil as soon as Aragorn returned with them, when there was a knock at the door of Elrond's rooms.

Erestor rose, crossing the room in a few elegant strides and opening the door to reveal Elrohir.

He smiled cheerfully, "Pardon the interruption, Father. May I borrow Alyssa? Elladan mentioned her wonderful skills as a musician in our conversation with Legolas, and it seems he now has a great desire to hear her perform."

Elrond looked over at me, doing the slightest questioning head tilt, "Is there anything else you had a need to discuss this night?"

I considered that for a moment, then shook my head.
"Not that I can think of."

Elrond looked back at Elrohir.
"Then you may borrow her, if it is her wish to be borrowed."

Elrohir grinned, trotting into the room and stretching a hand out to offer to me.
I rose from my chair with a stretch and turned slightly towards where Elrond and Erestor were seated.
"Thank you for talking with me tonight. If I think of anything else, I'll bring it to you."

They both smiled, though it was again Elrond who spoke.
"Of course. As always, you are welcome here at any time. Now off you go, you mustn't keep them waiting."
He added in something beautiful in Sindarin at the end as well, giving Elrohir a pointed look.
Elrohir nodded, taking my hand when I offered it and tugging me excitedly out of the room.

He hooked my arm around his as we strolled towards the hall of fire, while I tried to figure out what Elrond had said.

It didn't take long for us to arrive at the Hall of Fire, and when we did it was to find a great many Elves, and all of the Hobbits currently residing in Rivendell, chatting, singing, and drinking merrily.

Some of the elves called joyful greetings when we entered, mostly ones that I recognized from any time I performed.
The cello-like instrument was already set up in a corner, bow and rosin waiting on the chair that was placed for it.
They'd discovered fairly early on that I got mildly self conscious about performing for a lot of people, so they usually set me up in corners where I wouldn't feel so much in the spotlight.

Of course, I couldn't exactly tell them that it was because it was a bunch of thousand year old elves listening to me.
Humans listening? I could handle that.
Hobbits, even.

But elves? How was anything I had learned in my 20 years of playing ever going to compare to a thousand or more years of practice?

I sat at the cello, trying to ignore the eyes of the Legolas, the twins, and the hobbits while I rosined the bow and tuned it.

It had been a few weeks since I had played, mostly because I didn't think music was a priority when compared to being able to defend myself, so my fingers felt a little bit out of practice.
I started off easy with the Prelude to Bach's first cello suite.
I ignored the faces of my observers, falling into the music as I always did, with closed eyes so that I could enjoy it as much as them.
I went into the theme from Schindler's list next, followed closely by the cello solo the Swan, by Saint-Saëns.
It was after the Swan that I stopped, my arm starting to ache, already tired from my training earlier in the day.

I glanced up from my cello, having momentarily forgotten that I had an audience, to find a crowd of enraptured elves.
Many among them were not dry eyed, whispering to one another of the beauty and sorrow of some of the songs I chose.

I put the instrument down, to much lamentation from the gathered crowd, and was making my way over to the twins when I caught sight of Legolas seated next to them.

He was leaned forward in his chair, towards the music, arms propped on his knees to support the forward lean.
What really struck me, though, was that his eyes were closed, and I could just barely make out tear tracks on his face in the firelit hall.
His expression was one of yearning, awe, and when he opened his eyes to look at me as I sat, wonderment.

I looked down quickly, curling my arms around myself and responding quietly to the thanks and praise of the elves who were now filtering away.

He waited until most of the listeners, including the Hobbits, had gotten their thanks out and wandered off to sing or drink with someone else, before rising fluidly from his chair and crossing to sit next to me
"That was magnificent. You are quite beautiful when you perform. How long have you played this instrument?"

I had been about to recite my usual 'Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it' spial that I used to get around praise, but found it totally derailed by the second compliment, and could do nothing but stammer out, "Wh...what?"

"Tis truly a language, and you speak so comfortably through it. So many emotions were conveyed. How long have you been playing?"

"..aahhh..Since I was three and a half years old."

He leaned forward slightly, watching me with the same intrigue from the first time we met, though somehow...softer. More gentle.
"Remarkable."

I looked away, the intensity in his eyes making me want to curl up even more.
Looking away had the result of finding the faces of Elladan and Elrohir where they sat across from us, silently watching.
They glanced at one other, and then back at us, sharing matching expressions.
Peculiar, fascinated expressions.
The fact that they were twins, and looked exactly alike made it just that much more disturbing to see the exact same expression on both of them.

"...What…?"

Elrohir leaned forward a tiny bit, looking at Legolas now.
"Legolas, I just remembered that father wanted to discuss something with us. Would you mind escorting Alyssa back to her room whenever she's ready?"

Elrohir's eyes practically twinkled at me with the force of the mischief in his smile.
"'Tis quite dark out, and she occasionally has difficulty navigating."

I gave him a dirty look, trying to ignore the amused laugh coming from Legolas.
"I do not have difficulty navigating! It's just that I'm not some ridiculous cat eyed elf, so I can't actually SEE in the dark!"

Legolas nodded, laughter still bubbling up in his voice at the disagreement between me and Elrohir.
"Of course, Elrohir. I'd be happy to accompany her."

I threw my hands up in mild dismay, giving an exasperated sigh.
"I am right here! Have I suddenly turned invisible?"

When all three of them turned to give me amused looks, I raised my eyebrows at them, giving them a pointed look.
"Not invisible, then. I appreciate the thought, but I do not need an escort. I'm perfectly capable of finding my room on my own, thank you very much."

Legolas tilted his head slightly, voice somehow both casual and playful at the same time.
"Then perhaps I shall simply wish to retire at the same time that you do, and since we're going to the same area, we will quite coincidentally end up walking together."

I let out a mildly disbelieving laugh.
Seriously, what was with elves?
"You are absurd. What happens if I just decide to stay here all night?"

I glanced over towards Elladan and Elrohir, only to find with moderate surprise that they were no longer there.
When had they left?

Legolas glanced about the Hall of Fire contemplatively.
"Well, I suppose I could assist you in gathering some of the cushions to create a bed. You would likely sleep better in your own bed, though."

I started to rise, withholding a groan at the sore muscles that never seemed to go away.
"That does sound fun, though. Maybe I'll make a pillow fort. Not today, but at some point."

Legolas rose as well, towering over me again.
"I made many a pillow fortress in this hall when I was younger. There are blankets in a few chests along the wall that are quite useful, and I can guarantee that if you put the idea forward to Elladan and Elrohir, they would be happy to assist you."

I hazarded a glance at him, then started walking out of the Hall of Fire towards the main building.
"Only they would help?"

He walked alongside me and I caught a touch of surprise in his expression.
"Ah, well of course I would help you as well, if you asked."

He looked contemplative for a moment, "I believe the four Hobbits that have been joining you for combat practice would also assist you, if you needed extra hands. I'm sure Hobbits are quite well suited to pillow fortress creation."

"Ooh I bet they are! That's a great idea! What do you think is the most structurally sound pillow fort set up? Maybe a dome of pillows? Like an igloo? Or just straight lines for walls?"

Oddly enough, for the rest of the walk back, we discussed pillow fort ideas.
It was a conversation I never thought I would have with an elf, and yet it was an extremely enjoyable experience.
Legolas looked unusually delighted the entire time, and after the first few ideas, he responded with just as much enthusiasm as I did.
We ended up accidentally wandering the halls of the Main House for over an hour, because I was so engrossed in the conversation that I wasn't looking where I was going, and Legolas didn't know where my room was.

Eventually, I noticed we were at the hall that my room was in, and I went in that direction, stopping at my door.

"I think there has to be a good mix of pillows and blankets for an optimal fortress, however…"
Legolas paused in what he'd been saying, glancing at the door.

I indicated the door, "Ah..This is me. Thank you for walking me back. It was really fun talking to you."

I glanced up at him, and briefly caught what might have been a mildly crestfallen expression, though it was replaced so quickly with a smile that I couldn't be sure that I hadn't just been seeing things.

"Of course, thank you for allowing me to walk you back."

With a conspiratorial smile, he leaned down slightly and spoke, his silken voice a bit softer than before, and much more mischievous.
"We shan't tell the twins, we'll let them think you struggled and tried to escape the whole way back."

I let out a soft, surprised laugh, then replied in the same soft volume, "Capital idea. How many times did I escape? We need to have our stories straight, in case they interrogate us separately."

He grinned, "Oh, I think at least three times. What can I say? You're really quite sneaky."

I snickered and smiled at him, reaching to open my door.
"Goodnight, Legolas."

He returned my smile with a soft one of his own.
"Goodnight, Milady."

He always called me Milady. What was with that?
I had introduced myself as Alyssa...I don't think he'd ever actually said my name.
I paused for a moment, then looked up at him again.
"Ah..I'd like it if you'd call me Alyssa."

He bowed his head slightly, maintaining eye contact, and with that same soft smile, and silken voice, he responded, "Of course. Sleep well, Alyssa."

I don't think my name had ever sounded more beautiful.

Another week passed by, much the same as the first.

Oddly enough, I found myself running into Legolas a lot more in his later weeks in Rivendell, far more than in the first one.

Of course, we still interacted similarly in training, though he started asking small questions here and there, about my family, my home, and things I enjoyed.

What I could, I answered honestly.
Though I made sure to steer clear of anything regarding the technology of my world, or anything that would outright give away that I wasn't from Middle Earth.
Which turned out to be a lot, not surprisingly.

He poked a few times for more clear answers, but eventually stopped when I told him point blank that some things were private, and couldn't be talked about to people I'd just met.

He'd seemed mildly baffled at that.
"How do you intend to become closer to new people if you cannot talk about the things one would normally use to get to know someone?"

"People can't become closer overnight, Legolas.."

As the week progressed, my sleep continued to deteriorate, and I found myself snapping at people and having a difficult time with things that had once come easily.

One morning, while training swordwork with Elladan and Elrohir, after having repeatedly had my sword dashed from my hand, much to their amusement, I snapped.
I'd been getting progressively more frustrated as the morning wore on, but their laughter at the way our training was going set me off.
"How am I supposed to learn if all you do is make me drop my sword and laugh at me?!"

I ignored the matching looks of startlement.
"You're not helping! Go do something else! I need to practice, and clearly you're only here for your own amusement!"

I turned away from them, trying to ignore the hurt I'd seen on their faces, and stooped to pick up my sword, moving across the training field from them.
They tried to apologize, but I brushed it away, and eventually they left.
Clearly they weren't trying to help me. They didn't know how important it was that I learn to defend myself. They didn't think I was strong enough to survive.
I would show them.

Another week passed, and my frustration only grew. My eyesight was almost constantly blurry now, eyes aching from the lack of sleep, mind sluggish, reactions slow.

Legolas was confused when I stopped training with the twins, but still continued to train me in archery, nonetheless.
"Why did you cease to learn from Elladan and Elrohir? If you want to learn, would it not be best to accept any teaching you're offered?"

"They weren't teaching, they were just playing. I'm just an amusement to them. They don't take it seriously."

He raised his eyebrows, reaching up to correct my arm position for what had to be the tenth time that morning.
I exhaled sharply, irritation spiking. Nothing was ever good enough for him. He was always correcting this, fixing that, why couldn't he just let me shoot?

I missed the target, and Legolas let out the tiniest of sighs.
"Perhaps you should take some rest? You're clearly too tired to aim properly."

"If you're so tired of me, you go rest. I have better things to do."

He watched me for a long moment, a touch of sadness in his expression.
I gave a huff of annoyance and turned away from him, choosing a different target to practice on.
He wasn't helping either. All of his corrections were contradictory, none of the things he fixed made sense.

He continued trying to help for another few minutes before he excused himself for the midday meal.

Towards the middle of that second week, I started to see shadows move that I logically knew weren't actually there.
I became jumpy, startling at the slightest thing.
I did my best to hide it, but it only grew worse as time went on.
The twins tried to pull me into the Hall of Fire, I jumped at a pop from the fire burning in the hearth, and fled to my room, knowing I would only keep jumping at any noises.
Legolas turned the corner, coming into sight suddenly, and I startled, gasping in mild fear and having to make excuses for what had happened.
Erestor set a book on one of the tables during our lessons, and the sound made me jerk, hitting my knee on the table and knocking a different book off, for which he scolded me mildly.

The final straw was when, during a break in training with the four Hobbits, after being continually offered food and turning it down due to nausea that grew worse every day, I snapped at them.

"I'm not hungry! Stop trying to fatten me up! I'm not a hobbit!"

The matching expressions of hurt confusion they gave me cut into my heart.
I had to leave. I couldn't be around them. How could I say something like that?

I stammered out an apology, jumping up and escaping the training grounds.

I began to withdraw again.
My progress in training slowed again, and I ceased practicing with anyone, choosing to go early in the morning or late at night.

I stopped attending lessons with Erestor, and outright avoided Elrond.
When they looked at me, I felt that they could see the dark thoughts in my mind.

Their looks of concern slowly faded from my vision, until instead I saw only looks of suspicion and distrust.

I caught glimpses of family members or friends in the faces of elves I interacted with, and pulled away every time, disturbed that their faces weren't their own.
A near constant dizziness waited just beneath the surface of my mind, making little things difficult, and big things impossible.
My thoughts darkened as a mild paranoia set in, and I started to question the motives of those around me.

The voice was a near constant presence in my mind, twisted and slippery in it's vile whispers.

Multiple mornings were spent in the safety of my room, rubbing furiously at the scars on my arms and legs as I started to see them move, as if there were bugs crawling under my skin.

I was determined that no one could know. I had to be strong.
I hadn't needed anyone before.
I didn't need anyone but myself now.

It was a little over four weeks after Legolas arrived, and almost six since Gandalf, Glorfindel and Aragorn had left, when Gandalf and Aragorn returned with Boromir.

It was late in the evening, another long, lonely evening of hiding in my room until most people were not about anymore.
I peered around the edge of my door, trying to ignore the dancing shadows, filled with monsters and traps.
The hallway was clear, so I dashed down it, hugging the wall despite the shadows that reached for me.

I'd started sneaking into the kitchen at night to steal the barest minimum of food for the next day.
There was always a plate set out, filled with small, easy to digest things, covered with a soft cloth.
I was sure it was for one of the hobbits. It was likely that they snuck into the kitchen, similarly to me, to get a snack.
Though, they probably did it for different reasons.

I turned the corner, not slowing at all in my confidence that no one would be up and about, and met an unyielding form at full speed.

A yelp escaped me, my arms flailing a bit as the force of the collision caused me to fall back.
Someone grabbed one of my arms, tugging me towards them, and when I looked up, all I could see was scruffy, unshaven, dirty faces, and long filthy hair.
It was the face of the dunlender who'd raped me, with the other older one, standing right next to him.

I screamed, shoving as hard as I could and kicking out frantically.
My voice was distraught and filled with terror, choked with the growing panic that squeezed my chest and stole my breath away.
"You're dead! Let me go! I killed you! Don't touch me! Get away from me!"

The grip was unyielding for the briefest of moments, and then I was free, falling backwards in my haste to get away.
I huddled against the wall, tears blinding me, black spots dancing in my vision.
All I could hear was the rushing of the blood in my ears and the harried sound of my own heartbeat.
Another hand touched me, and I flinched back violently, shoulder meeting the wall hard in my attempt to get away.
I lashed out with the little strength that I had, meeting nothing but air.

I was sobbing now, harsh, difficult to draw breaths as terror, horror and despair overwhelmed me.

The hand brushed against me again, gentler this time, and another sound started to come through.
A soft voice, dark and silken.
Words that I couldn't understand, but that pierced through the panicked haze of my fear.

The hand grasped mine, slowly tugging it away from where it had been curled around my face, and pressing it against another hard surface.
I felt the barest hint of something beneath my hand, more than just the pressure of whatever it touched.
A rhythmic beating.

Another hand touched my face lightly, stilling for a moment when I flinched, then slowly brushing some of my tears away and tilting my head up.

My eyes were bleary still, but I could just barely make out a gleam of silver to go along with the silky voice.

He tugged me slowly towards him, still seated and leaning against the wall, and moved my head to his chest to replace my hand.
Exhaustion weighed down on me, adrenaline having passed quickly.
Consciousness slipped away from me, guided by the beating of a heart that was not mine, and my thoughts slipped away as sleep claimed me, followed closely by a whole new set of terrors and horror.

This nightmare started with the dunlendings, except after I killed them, they turned into the twins, throats open and gushing blood, expressions filled with betrayal and hate.
I turned, to find the caves of Moria, filled with the broken bodies of the elves of Rivendell.
I ran, trying to get away from all the death, only to come upon the bridge of khazadum, where I watched helplessly as Gandalf was caught by the Balrog's whip, and pulled over the edge, the cries of the fellowship ringing hollow in my ears.

Only this time, when I looked down into the abyss, it wasn't dark, or endless. There was clearly visible ground, and on it, was Gandalf's lifeless body, stabbed viciously through with the Balrog's sword, with the Balrog standing over him.
Flames engulfed Gandalf's body, and moments later he rose again, burning and dark, as another Balrog.
Their heads turned up, eyes of flame burning through me.

I staggered back from the edge, turning to run out of Moria, only to find the bodies of the fellowship scattered in my path, burnt and bloodied.
Boromir, pierced by countless arrows.
Gimli with his axe stuck in his body.
Merry and Pippin's bodies broken, and torn, as if pulled apart with great force.
Sam impaled, an orc sword in his side.
Frodo, cut nearly in half by the sword of the Balrog.
Aragorn, head bashed into the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him.

Legolas wasn't there.
I turned, looking for him frantically, only to see Saruman standing over them all, holding the ring with a look of absolute greed and hunger on his face.
He turned to me, and his face morphed into a strange, almost pleasant expression.
He smiled gently, and extended a hand, speaking softly. Kindly.
"Come away from the edge, my dear. You are safe now. Nothing shall harm you while I am here."
My body moved on it's own, taking a few hesitant steps towards him.
I could do nothing.

He opened his arms as if to offer a hug, and my body moved into them as I screamed inside my mind, trapped and broken.
He spoke again, still so kind, so gentle, "There now, dear. They meant to harm you. They meant to turn you against what you know to be true. It was for the best. You did well."
I looked down at my hands, finding them to be clutching a knife and completely covered in blood, which I knew inside my heart belonged to the fellowship.

Saruman carefully pried my tense fingers from around the knife, taking it from my grip.
"You need not worry any longer. It is time for you to rest."

With that, he plunged the knife into my heart. I felt no pain, no betrayal. I felt nothing.
Cold engulfed me, darkness spreading across my vision.
My eyes lifted slowly to his face, only to find that it was no longer Saruman before me.

No, the person who held the knife was myself, tears in my eyes, blood on my hands.
The false me opened her mouth to speak, and my voice came out.
It was choked and harsh as she cried. "You did this! You caused this! You should have died when you discovered where you were! Why didn't you die?! Everyone is dead!"
Towards the end of her grief stricken speech, her voice calmed, morphing into that beautiful, silky voice that I was coming to know so well.
The face shifted, and suddenly it was Legolas staring at me, emotions replaced by an emptiness that looked so very wrong on his expressive face.
"Everyone. And there is no one to blame but you."

Then he smiled, all teeth and anger, hate and disgust.
He twisted the knife in my heart, snarling one word as a spike of pain ran through me.
"Die!"