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*** Note I – Apologies for the later update: I'm in my final year of high school and the work is demanding~ ;_; ***

*** Note II – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic, it really lifts my spirits~! You people are awesome~! :D ***

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~ 001 – The First Day of Her New Life ~

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"Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin."

~ Mother Teresa

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She woke up to an eyeful of bright oranges, yellows and purples. Dawn? She thought, how long was I asleep? Wait, 'asleep?' I died! She felt weak as she attempted to sit up, so she stayed on her back. She turned her head to both sides and adjusted her eyes to her surroundings.

The grass was very green and the sky was clear, save for a few white clouds. The air seemed to be quite light and free of pollution; as she could easily sniff out the greenery and the trees in the far distance. It was quite refreshing for her. There was a freshly made fire a few feet from her side.

Her body allowed her to sit up this time, and so she did, as she stretched her arms out in front of her. She noticed that she was wearing a long and thin plain white dress, the style of it not being something she was familiar with. She ran a hand through her straight, platinum blonde hair and became puzzled as she brought some of that hair to her front, down her left shoulder. The last time she had checked, her hair came mid-back; but now, it came to her waist.

She gazed down and noticed that she had been "sleeping" on a lovely, hooded turquoise travelling cloak. The cloak had intricate golden leaf patterns on its edges that shined in the sun, which became much more noticeable in the sky.

A soft whinny brought her attention to the other side of the fireplace: There was a white stallion that seemed to glow. He was sitting and nibbling at some grass, but then turned his attention towards the elleth when she rose. Eryn stared at her intently yet curiously, and she stared back.

From some distance behind her, a feminine voice stated something in a language that the elleth had never heard of before.

Said voice became a radiant woman of graceful steps, as she sat cross-legged near the fireplace and began to skin a rabbit. The elleth observed her actions, but was entranced by the woman's long and wavy pale blonde hair that glowed in the now sun-filled blue sky. It was up, almost like a high ponytail, but hung much more loosely. There were a few smaller braids that looked delicate and some of those came down her front right shoulder. It was then the elleth realized that this woman had pointed ears, and was therefore not really a human. So, she's an elf? But they don't exist!

Thranéal placed her knife down and picked up a long and smooth stick, to pierce through the now-skinned somewhat large rabbit. She held onto the end of the stick as she had the rabbit hover over the fire. Thranéal turned her head towards the lost-looking elleth, who seemed to be observing her. The elleth flinched a bit and casted her eyes downwards.

"Man i enetheg?" Thranéal inquired softly.

The elleth seemed confused and she panicked slightly, but then met her purple, amethyst-like eyes to Thranéal's deep turquoise eyes. "I – I'm sorry. I am completely unfamiliar with the language you're speaking."

Thranéal smiled, "Well, you are in luck, for I also speak in the Common Tongue!" She dropped her smile and cocked her head to the side. "But how can you not know the language of your people? Unless you speak in a different Elvish tongue?"

It was the elleth's turn to cock her head to the side and furrowed her brows. "'My people?' 'Elvish?' But I am a human!"

Thranéal straightened her head and stared at the elleth with a deadpanned expression. "If your pointed ears are not obvious enough for that fact, then I do not know what is."

The elleth quickly rose both hands to her ears and gave a small gasp. They were pointed. This slightly made more sense to her, with the fact that her hair was longer and her senses seemed heightened. Her voice also seemed softer and lighter. I probably grew too. Hurray for not being short! As a human she stood at five feet and five inches: Not really considered short, be she had felt short.

The platinum blonde elleth stood up and picked up Thranéal's turquoise cloak. She estimated that she stood at five feet and seven or eight inches. Eryn whickered and also stood up, but did not move. Thranéal beckoned the elleth towards her, and she complied. Why, oh, why am I bare-footed?! The elleth felt awkward with that fact but was glad that the grass felt like pillows, despite tickling her feet. She plopped down beside Thranéal and gave her back her cloak, who in turn, gave her the stick with the readily cooked rabbit.

Thranéal had a feeling on what the elleth was going to ask, so she shook her head. "My stomach does not required food at the moment. I have some bread and fruit stashed in the packs on Eryn, my horse. I had assumed you to be very hungry . . ." As if on cue, the elleth's stomach growled furiously and she blushed lightly, to which Thranéal smirked.

The elleth thanked Thranéal and began eating. Thranéal stood up, tied her cloak around her and walked to her horse. Eryn nuzzled into her left hand when she brought it up and seemed delighted. Thranéal reached into a pack and brought out a red apple with her other hand and fed it to the horse.

"Now, as I have asked you before in Sindarin," Thranéal started and snickered at the memory of the elleth's beyond-confused face, "May I know your name?"

The still-hungry elleth, who had already finished eating the rabbit, looked up. "My name's Lyrial."

Thranéal turned around and tossed an apple towards Lyrial, who caught it with ease. "That is a lovely name." Lyrial smiled but became fearful. Most people in her past have made fun of her name; saying that it was 'weird' and not 'common enough,' and assuming that her parents read a too excessive amount of fantasy to be unable to differentiate between reality and fiction. Currently, she did not know what to do or to really say: Would she even believe me of my situation? She hoped that Thranéal would not ask her of her origins and whatnot.

"I will save you your breath and not ask you anything private now. Your harmlessness is obvious," Thranéal began. "But you shall have to answer those questions to my brother, the king of the realm I am – or rather we – are travelling too."

Lyrial bobbed her head in acknowledgement and panic struck her amethyst eyes. She could lie, tell the truth, or do both. She did not want to be considered a crazy, lying lunatic and then thrown into prison. She collected herself and asked, "So, you're a princess?"

Thranéal nodded, "Of Eryn Galen, known in the Common Tongue as Greenwood the Great. I am Thranéal."

"Pleased to meet you. And . . . This 'Eryn Galen' is where we're going?"

"Yes. You can see it from here." The Sindar princess drank some water from her water skin and pointed to a large vast land of forest in the distance behind Lyrial, who turned to view it.

Lyrial turned forwards and stood up to stretch her now long legs. "Where are we, exactly?"

"In the Wilderlands."

So that's the area . . . "What about the continent?"

"'Continent?'"

"The land mass."

"Middle-Earth." Thranéal was shocked, but did not press the matter. How could this elleth not know?

Lyrial, on the other hand, was surprised. She had died and re-awoke in another world, where elves and possibly other beings lived? I wonder if dragons exist here . . .

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They had travelled through a distance of grassy plains with Eryn happily trotting. Lyrial found it quite uncomfortable to be sitting on a horse with a leg on either side whilst wearing a dress, so she sat side-saddle. I hate side saddle, but it's better than having this dress ride up my legs. Lyrial held her arms securely around Thranéal's waist.

They had stopped briefly as their path became blocked by a band of thirty well-equipped human soldiers, a few of them held longer spears with a blue-black flag of a white tree and stars. The man at the front had more intricately designed armour and was very regal-looking, an aura of royalty. This man had rose a right fist to his heart and slowly released it, giving a nod to Thranéal as she did the same. An Elvish greeting gesture.

Lyrial, however, was attracted to a certain golden ring that was hanging on a thin silver chain around the man's neck, for all to see. Despite it being a simple golden band, it was quite beautiful, and it shined ever so brightly.

A whistle brought Lyrial's attention to a few of those soldiers, who stared at her with suggestive smirks. She was puzzled until she glanced down to her clothing, and blushed as the direct sunlight made her thin white dress almost see-through. She looked up with narrowed eyes and held up her middle finger to those soldiers, who then had puzzled faces. Ha! They probably don't what this means. The soldiers looked away, Lyrial triumphantly smirked and Thranéal giggled.

When the last of the soldiers on their well-groomed brown horses passed by, Thranéal brought Eryn into a light gallop.

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"Those men back there," Lyrial began, "Thranéal, do you know their leader? The one who greeted you?"

The trio swiftly arrived at the Greenwood forest gate and Thranéal brought her Elven stallion to a trot. They were now travelling through a path the elves have made for easy and quick access to the Eryn Galen kingdom. The trees were condensed, but Lyrial found it quite comfortable. Some of the leaves seem to be turning colour. It's autumn already?

Thranéal sighed. "Briefly. He, his father and their army fought together with my peoples' and many others. That was the son of Elendil: Isildur, the High King of Gondor and Arnor."

"That ring that he wore around his neck was stunning."

Lyrial could not see, but Thranéal's eyes hardend and she mockingly scoffed. "He should have destroyed it when he had the chance. That ring is pure evil. And now he has claimed it as an heirloom to his kingdom. The fool!"

Lyrial was confused; so she asked Thranéal, who gave her a mini story-telling session about the great rings, Sauron and the War of the Last Alliance. She had even mentioned the death of her father to which Lyrial offered her condolences and tightened her grip around Thranéal's waist to hug her in comfort. Wait, should I even be hugging her like this? We're technically still strangers, and she is a princess.

"Valar, child! How could you not have known that? Where were you when all of this happened?"

Lyrial loosed her grip. "I couldn't have. I'm not from around here . . ."

And she left it.

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She was impressed as they approached the gates of the Elvenking's cave, and was in awe as they entered it. Lyrial whipped her head up and down and side to side, like a child in a chocolate shop, to which Thranéal giggled and glanced at her in amusement.

The cave did not entirely look like a cave, as it had shades of browns and looked as though many trees had woven together. There were flowers and plants adorning it, many of which Lyrial had never seen before. There had seemed to be a golden shine, or sparkle even, throughout the cave. Lyrial wondered why that was, so when she closely inspected one of the walls, she had found small, intricate golden nature-like patterns adorning it. Damn, this had probably taken awhile to carve in . . .

Lyrial had also discreetly ogled every elven-guard who had happened to gracefully pass by. Why are they all so damn gorgeous?!

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Standing before the Elvenking of Greenwood in his halls, Lyrial felt intimidated, even with Thranéal right beside her.

The young elleth curiously observed Thranduil when he and Thranéal engaged in a short Sindarin conversation. Lyrial found him to be simply ethereal, an embodiment of regal majesticness. It doesn't quite help that he's breathtakingly attractive. What if he's a jerk? She had noticed an autumn-themed crown upon his head of platinum blond hair. It was of stylized twigs – maybe not, but it seemed that way to her – with carefully woven in leaves and red berries. Are those berries real? If so, I wonder if he snacks on them.

The Sinda king then bore his intent eyes towards the curious elleth, who slightly blushed and looked at the floor. Her bare feet had begun to feel uncomfortable on the hard stone floors.

"My sister had just informed me of her finding of you," the Elvenking began with an unreadably neutral expression. "'Lyrial' she said is your name. I am Thranduil, king of Greenwood. Lyrial, how did you end up unconscious in the middle of the Wilderlands? From where do you hail from? I can perhaps send an escort with you to your homeland . . . ?"

Lyrial snapped her head up at the Sindar king. The questions she had been dreading had been asked; and she did not want to lie, as it would have caused problems later on. Thranduil seemed like he meant well and Thranéal had been kind to her, but Lyrial was not sure as to how they, or the others in the large room, would handle her information.

"Your Highness, I don't know how I got to be lying unconscious in the Wilderlands . . ." She stopped for a moment and felt queasy.

"Continue."

Prior to waking up in this world, I was stabbed twice and killed. But they don't have to know that. He wouldn't care for a stranger. Lyrial felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

"I was in a hurry to get somewhere, I don't remember where to or what for. I messed up my footing, fell down some stairs and was knocked out cold. When I awoke, I found myself in this world." Lyrial felt embarrassed that she briefly portrayed herself as a klutz, yet she definitely did not want to explain her murder. She would have ended up crying in front of all of these elves.

Thranduil began to feel suspicious, and maybe a little puzzled, but kept his unreadable expression. "You just mentioned 'world.' Care to elaborate?" Although it was much more of a demand than a question.

Lyrial took a deep breath. "I, uh, had absolutely no knowledge nor familiarity of Middle-Earth, or even what this whole world is called. Because I came from a different world of higher technological advancements, known as 'Earth.' It is a world inhabited by humans: Elves did not exist; and if other humanoid or magical beings live here in this world, they would not have existed in mine. I had no idea that I was an elf until your sister had pointed it out, for up until I woke up this early dawn, I was a human of twenty-five years."

She levelled her head straight, amethyst eyes boring into the stairs that led up to the bejewelled antler-like throne. Lyrial suddenly felt self-conscious, as she heard some of the elven-guard covering up small laughs and whispering to each other in mock amusement. The hurt elleth, although not understanding Sindarin, knew that they were saying some not very nice things about her.

Lyrial heard a rustle of clothing and footsteps, to which Thranduil made way to her sight and stood at the base of his throne-steps. She casted her eyes to the floor after quickly glancing at the Elvenking's expression. It was of the same neutrality. But why do his eyes look so angry?

Thranduil took a few steps towards her. "And should I take your word? How do I know that you are not lying?"

Lyrial snapped her eyes towards the ellon in shock, but quickly recomposed herself. Her anger, however, was visible on her features. "I do not expect you or anyone else to fully believe me; but I assure you, I am not lying. If I was, I wouldn't have said what I had said."

Thranduil, now standing a few feet from her, rebutted: "Or you could have said what you have said in order to cover up true motives. Possibly true motives in which are not entirely your own."

Her eyes widened in shock but then narrowed, meeting the Elevenking's. Lyrial's hands were slightly shaking at her sides. She did not like where this argument was leading to. "In all honesty, Elvenking Thranduil, I don't know what you are talking about. Are you implying that I am a –"

"A spy for the enemy? Yes. That is exactly what –!" Thranduil interrupted, finally raising his voice, only to have his older sister interrupt him.

"Muindor, I highly doubt these assumptions to be true!" Thranéal rose her voice above Thranduil's and continued with her arms crossed. "I have been battling the enemy since before you were even conceived, so I think I know an enemy spy when I see one! She was genuinely lost and unknowing of this world; otherwise, I would have brought her here in shackles."

It was now Lyrial's turn to shout. She hated this; the energy was too hostile. She had blinked back a few tears yet again. "I understand what you are getting at, but how can you say that about me? I honestly mean no harm, I mean, how could I? Princess Thranéal is right, I was genuinely lost and unknowing and even scared! And I still am! You don't know anything about me, so what actual right do you have to call me something I'm not?! You have no right! An enemy spy and liar? How dare you call me those! How dare you assume such bullshit about me! How dare you put me in this unfavourable position!"

Deep breaths and a silent room.

She wanted to cry and rid her current feelings, but she decided against it. Never in front of them. In front of him. That jerk of jerks.

The elven-guard present were shocked. Galion, the butler, was in shock. The king was almost never talked to in this manner, voice raised, pointing his faults and injustices and all. Thranduil's eyes widened in fury and clenched his teeth. Only Thranéal smirked at her brother and is quietly cheering for Lyrial to put him in place.

The Elvenking narrowed his eyes at the livid elleth. "'How dare me,' you shout? Elleth, who do you think you are?! How dare you to shout at me in this manner, you Valardamned –!"

"I don't care! I don't care who you are! I will stand up and protect my rights by any legal means necessary! YOU ARE NOT MY KING AND I SHALL NEVER SEE YOU AS ONE!"

Her throat felt dry and she coughed a bit.

Some of the elven-guard gasped at those daring remarks.

Galion did not know what to think.

Thranéal could not help but actually smile, for she was both still silently cheering for Lyrial, and was quite amused by this. She dropped the smile, however, when Thranduil advanced towards Lyrial.

Lyrial gave a small cry when the ellon grabbed her chin and yanked her head upwards, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Oh will you, now?" Although he did not really expect an answer. She felt like a scared child all of a sudden, as certain memories passed through her head. What is he doing, staring into my eyes like that? Lyrial felt a presence in her mind, like it was trying to get in and read her. She stared into Thranduil's eyes; those beautiful icy sapphire eyes . . . Oh, she could get lost in them. Wait, he's trying to get into my mind . . . He's trying to read me! Lyrial tried to fight off the presence attempting to penetrate her mind and gave a small whimper as her chin and lower jaw began to hurt from the pressure of his grip.

"I cannot read you," Thranduil whispered gently. "Why is that so . . . ?" He furrowed his brows in confusion, but soon let his impatience show itself. He roughly released Lyrial's lower jaw and her head snapped back a bit.

Thranduil gave a mocking smirk. "I am your king for as long as you will be here. That, and I highly doubt you will leave anytime soon." He turned away and began walking to the stairs to his throne. Lyrial knew what he was getting at, but still could not entirely believe his following command: "She is to be sent to the prison and guarded for extra precaution!"

Thranéal made a mental note to have words with her brother.

Lyrial did not know what to think. She advanced towards Thranduil. "Really, Thranduil? Do you really think –?"

A sharp point to her back halted her steps and her words, followed by a calm yet commanding voice. "Do not even think about continuing. And you will not refer to the Elevenking in such a manner without his title."

"Captain Siraphin!" Thranéal called out in a slight panic, "I highly doubt that the use of weapons is necessary."

The golden-haired captain reluctantly sheathed his shining, almost white Elven sword and took a few steps backwards. He turned and, in Sindarin, ordered two young ellon to escort the "liar of an elleth" to the prison.

And so the three of them made way through the dark corridors.

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She had been sitting in the dark cell for ten minutes and already she felt cold. The stones were almost ice-cold, the breeze freezing and yet it was quite comfortable for the guards outside of her cell. The fact that she had a thin dress and was bare-footed did not quite help her in anyway.

The two elven-guards outside of her cell never really spoken any words with her, but had a few lively conversations here and there with each other. Lyrial could not see very well in the dark, but she had noticed that the darker-haired ellon almost looked reluctant to actually shove her into the cell. Maybe he also disagreed with that dick of a king. Hmmmm . . . Wouldn't entirely count on that.

Throughout the time – now she has been sitting there for about an hour – Lyrial had to blink back her tears that keep threatening to come out. She wished that the two guards outside would leave so that she would release her emotions in private. The dark had reminded her of some unsavory past memories and she buried her face into her knees, but still did not cry.

Lyrial heard some loud talking in Sindarin and looked up to see that her guards walked away, most likely returning soon. She sighed in relief as she now had her temporary privacy. She let her tears fall and quite sobs escaped her delicate yet daring mouth.

To which she cried herself to sleep.

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"You have something to say, so please say it."

The elven-royals were the only two left in the throne room. Thranéal looked up at a sitting Thranduil, with her arms crossed. "I do, but you will not want to listen."

"I will. You are my elder sister and I respect you greatly."

"But you will not acknowledge it, so I will not restate the obvious. Anyways, you could have held her in a proper room, guarded. Is not the prison a bit much?"

"I will keep her there until I see fit."

Thranéal sighed in annoyance with a hand on the side of her head. "Dôl gîn lost, le pen-channas," She muttered and stormed out of the room.

Shortly after, Thranduil sighed, descended the steps, and made way to his study.

But how was I unable to read her?

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Man I Enetheg? – What Is Your Name?

Muindor – Brother (Family)

Dôl Gîn Lost – Your Head Is Empty

Le Pen-Channas – You Idiot

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