The first thing Amelia was aware of when she woke was the pain. It was a stabbing sensation starting at her right shoulder, radiating outward from there. Through her arm, her chest, straight to her head. She had to bite her teeth together to keep from screaming.
She forced herself to relax though, knowing tense muscles would only make her shoulder hurt worse. For a moment she lay where she was, cataloguing her body. Beside the pain in her shoulder her head was pounding, but Amelia expected that was just a side effect of her other injury. Other than that she seemed to be in fairly decent health.
With a sigh, she began to slowly push herself upright, unable to resist several moans of pain as she did. She gave up for a moment and collapsed backwards, dimly noting in the back of her mind that she was in a bed. That meant they had reached Rivendell.
Bringing her left hand up, she moved it to her shoulder, gently probing at the area near her injury. She could feel a cloth bound securely around her shoulder, and as carefully as she could she wedged her fingers underneath it.
She pulled back slightly as her fingers came into contact with the hole in her shoulder, and she let out a hiss of pain. She forced her fingers back a moment later, feeling the area as gently as she could.
It had been stitched rather neatly; no doubt an elf's work. As good of a healer as Oin doubtless was, Amelia knew no dwarf could make stitches that fine. Overtop the stitches was a salve, one that Amelia assumed was supposed to speed the process of healing. It felt cool to the touch still, and Amelia guessed it had been freshly applied not that long ago.
Satisfied that her shoulder had been tended to, she began to again push herself up. It took several minutes and quite a few breathless breaks, but at last Amelia had wrested herself into a sitting position. There she sat, blankets gathered at her waist, gazing around her.
She was most definitely in Rivendell. The room she was in was made entirely of graceful curves, wood coming together flawlessly, almost as though it had grown that way. Out the doors to her right she could see a small balcony that overlooked the front of the house she was in- presumably Elrond's. Across the city stretched other buildings, each with the same graceful curves, and in the distance a waterfall shone as it fell to Earth. It was truly beautiful.
Amelia glanced down at herself. She was sitting in a bed carved of dark, polished wood. It was made up of finely woven sheets, so soft they could have been silk, with a pillow she assumed was stuffed with feathers from the feel of it.
Apart from the bed the room was relatively bare. There was an armoire against the wall beside the bed and a writing desk pushed against the opposite wall, a high backed chair with a soft looking red cushion accompanying the bureau.
She was about to attempt to stand when the door opened, and in stalked an elf. She was young looking, though that didn't mean much where elves were concerned, wearing a white gown that was elegant and practical all at once and matching slippers on her feet. Her dark hair was bound back in a braid that reached down her back, revealing finely pointed ears and dark, piercing eyes. Amelia thought the elf maiden was gorgeous, especially with the olive hue to her skin.
The elf paused, a look of shock coming over her face. A moment later she regained her composure, offering Amelia a smile.
"I'm glad you've woken," she said softly. "Though I don't think anyone expected you to so soon. My name is Anwë."
Amelia nodded, returning Anwë's smile. "Hello, Anwë. I presume you know who I am?"
Anwë smiled. "I do," she affirmed. "It is an honor to meet you." Anwë dipped into a low curtsey that made Amelia extremely uncomfortable, and she quickly waved a hand to signal the elf to stand.
"Please, don't do that." She ignored the perplexed look Anwë gave her, beginning to scoot forward on her bed. "How long have I been here? Can you tell me where my companions are?"
Anwë nodded. "You reached Rivendell a little over a day ago. As for your companions-"
"A day?" Amelia's eyes widened, and she automatically shot out of bed. She regretted it instantly, giving out a small cry of pain and stumbling forward. Anwë caught her before she could tumble to the floor.
"Aye." Anwë fixed Amelia with a look of concern. "Is something amiss?"
Just the fact that I've been sprawled out in bed for the past twenty four hours while the company I'm supposed to be protecting gala bands all over Rivendell. What if something had happened to them?
Amelia shook her head to stop her thoughts. This was Rivendell. The Last Homely House East of the Sea. She knew no evil- with the exception of the one ring- would ever cross its borders. Even that she planned to prevent, if her plans worked out.
"No," she stated. "I am sorry. I was simply alarmed to find that I had been unconscious for so long."
Anwë gave a small chuckle as she stepped back, allowing Amelia to balance on her own two feet. She remained close by though, ready to jump forward again should Amelia fall. Amelia for her part wavered slightly, but managed- barely- to keep her feet.
"You were shot," she reminded Amelia. "I've seen elven warriors who have not recovered with the speed and endurance you possess."
Amelia nodded and accepted the compliment silently. Her ability to heal quickly was the one gift from the Valar she would always be grateful for.
"My companions?" she urged.
"They are washing for dinner," Anwë informed her. She frowned. "You don't mean to join them, do you?"
Amelia gave a one shouldered shrug. "Why not?" She started towards where her little bag sat on the desk, glancing down distastefully at the white sleeping gown someone had put her in.
"You just woke up," Anwë protested. "You should be resting. Please, let me bring your food to you."
Amelia waved a hand. "I need to move around. Trust me."
Behind her Anwë sighed, sensing there was little point arguing with Amelia. "At least allow me to aid you."
Amelia bit her lip. She really did dislike having people mother over her. She also knew though that if she refused Anwë the elf was likely to go fetch a couple of others in order to subdue her, and Amelia wasn't going to let that happen. Reluctantly she nodded, forcing herself not to roll her eyes as Anwë gave a sigh of relief.
There was a bathing room adjoined to the room Amelia was in, and Anwë hurried to fetch water to fill up its tub. Amelia had insisted she was fine using the more public pools she knew were featured in Rivendell, but Anwë had insisted that Amelia allow her to treat her. Apparently she thought it was an honor to treat someone from legends, someone even Lord Elrond had only heard of, yadda, yadda. Amelia didn't really pay attention to her reasoning; the special treatment was already growing annoying.
As she waited she began to meditate. It would be a while before Anwë had the tub filled, and the pain in Amelia's shoulder was growing quite distracting. Meditating, she had learned, both helped with the pain and helped her to heal faster.
She forced herself to ignore Anwë's curious glances as she settled on the floor with her pillow under her, crossing her legs. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to relax, settling into the position that had become natural to her over the years. It took several minutes for her to completely unwind, but when she did her breathes began to come slower, easier. Amelia opened her mind to the world, allowing sounds to drift over it- the chirping of birds, the wind in the trees outside- but didn't focus on any one.
After some time she opened her eyes to find Anwë watching her silently, curiously. Offering a sheepish smile, Amelia pushed herself up.
"How long have you been standing there?" she asked.
Anwë shrugged. "Not long. I didn't want to disturb you."
"No, it's fine."
Amelia was actually glad Anwë hadn't paused her meditation, but she decided not to say that. Instead she stepped forward to glance at the tub of water, which had several pink rose petals floating on the surface. Steam was rising from the top: Anwë had gone so far as to heat it. Amelia sighed uncomfortably, making a mental note to do something for the elf to make up for the courtesy.
It was easy to slip her nightgown off her left shoulder, but Anwë had to help her with the right sleeve and with getting the fabric over her head. Amelia settled happily into the water, unable to help a soft moan of pleasure as the warm liquid washed over her. It was the perfect temperature, and Amelia felt herself beginning to relax all over again.
She only allowed herself to soak for a few minutes. Then she grabbed the soap sitting nearby and set to scrubbing her body down. Anwë helped her with what her shoulder wouldn't allow her to do, and Amelia watched as the water in the tub began to turn brown.
Anwë chuckled as Amelia crinkled her nose. "It's not so bad," she promised. "Your dwarves turned the fountain in the courtyard black, they were covered in so much mud."
Amelia blinked. "The fountain?"
Anwë nodded. "Aye. They refused to accept Lord Elrond's offer of private rooms and baths."
Amelia groaned. She hoped they hadn't been sleeping outside on the pavement this entire time.
"Don't worry," Anwë elaborated. "They've since moved into the house. Mostly, I think, to keep an eye on you. They've been very concerned."
Amelia glanced up in surprise. "Really?"
Anwë nodded. Amelia studied her face, and found no traces of a joke there. The elf was telling the truth.
She had expected Kili to be concerned; the dwarf was, despite Amelia's best efforts, growing increasingly attached to her. Bilbo as well, and perhaps even Bifur. Not the others though.
She pushed thoughts of the company aside and allowed Anwë to help her out of the tub. Once dry, Amelia began searching for her extra pair of clothes in her bag; the ones she had been wearing were covered in blood and had likely been disposed of. She made a mental note to ask about them later, wanting to see if there was a way to salvage her jacket. Anwë cleared her throat, and Amelia turned to see the elf holding up a blue dress. It was delicate looking, with long sleeves that would trail behind Amelia as she walked. She immediately rejected it.
"Do you have any pants?" she asked.
Anwë frowned. "What's wrong with this?"
Amelia rolled her eyes. "Try fighting in it. I guarantee it'll be impossible."
"Why would you need to fight?" Anwë looked offended. "Do you not feel safe here?"
Amelia sighed and placed a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Forgive me," she murmured. "I meant no offense. I simply like to be prepared for all things. I don't doubt the safety of Rivendell, however I should like to be able to move freely. It is more for my peace of mind than anything else."
Anwë nodded, an understanding smile flickering across her face. "Of course," she said. "Wait here. I think I can find you something."
She slipped quickly from the room, and Amelia sank gratefully onto the bed. The pain in her shoulder, though much more manageable after meditating, was still quite distracting, and Amelia was glad to not have to pretend to not feel it. She allowed a grimace to pass over her face, squeezing her eyes shut to block against tears.
By the time Anwë had returned Amelia had reassembled her composure, and she surveyed the clothes the elf presented to her. There was a pair of trousers, a dark earthy brown in color, as well as a green tunic. The material seemed much sturdier than that of the dress, though still light.
"Thank you." Amelia began to step into the trousers, pausing with her right foot raised. Her gaze drifted to Anwë's tall, slender form, then back down to the pants. "These are children's size, aren't they?"
Anwë didn't respond at first, but the twinkle in her eyes gaze her away. Sensing this, she allowed herself a small laugh as she nodded in affirmation. "Aye, they are. A teen's, to be fair to yourself." She chuckled again. "I did not think a larger size would fit you."
Amelia sighed and swallowed her embarrassment. It wasn't her fault elves were so tall. Again Anwë helped her with the tunic, carefully pulling it over the woman's head and shoulders. To Amelia's indignation, it fit perfectly. A moment later a brown belt was tied around Amelia's waist, the same color as the trousers, and Amelia stepped into the matching boots. They were made of several layers of cloth woven tightly together, and seemed, after being poked at for several moments by Amelia, surprisingly sturdy.
Anwë gave Amelia a sling to hold her arm in place, and reluctantly Amelia slipped her arm into it, hating how much it really did help. Next the elf forced Amelia to sit as she combed through her knotted hair, then wove it into what Amelia could assume was an elaborate braid. When that was done Amelia focused for a moment, letting her weapons shimmer slightly, and once she was satisfied that they were all in place she nodded. Anwë slipped from the room, and Amelia followed.
Elrond's house seemed deserted; not a single elf looked to be around. Amelia didn't hold that at any consequence though, the pointy-eared folk were so light of foot that there could be an entire army behind her and she wasn't sure she'd know. Anwë padded silently ahead of her, and though Amelia herself was quite adept at moving silently, she had to admit that even she wasn't that quiet.
"They have been eating in the courtyard," Anwë told Amelia. "The weather has been pleasant, and Lord Elrond senses your dwarves' distaste of being within his house."
Amelia nodded. They were already nearing the courtyard, and she could hear a jumble of voices issuing from it. Most were caught up in relatively small talk, and Amelia pushed it out of focus. Instead she wrapped her ears around the one voice out of all the others that seemed rather upset.
"I want to see her," demanded Kili.
As Amelia drew level with the courtyard she could hear the angry pout in the dwarf's voice. She hid in the archway and watched Kili, Fili, and Thorin talk mere feet away, curious to see how things would play out.
Thorin scowled. "I know, lad. But you have watched over her enough. We all have. You need to eat."
Beside him Fili frowned. "Are you sure she's safe here?" he asked.
Thorin paused for a moment, then nodded. "I believe so. Elrond seems as enamored by her legends as Gandalf is, and even elves have some sense of honor. I don't think they would harm her." His tone of voice made his true thoughts clear. Amelia might be safe from unwanted attention, but Thorin didn't think the rest of the company was. He didn't want any of the dwarves splitting off from the group, where they might be caught unawares.
"But Uncle," protested Kili. "I'm worried about her. What if…" He trailed off, unable to finish his thought, and Thorin sighed. He reached out to place a large hand on his nephew's shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.
"I know how she looked," he rumbled. "And I know it must be frightening."
"She looked like death," muttered Fili. He too now sported downcast eyes, and Amelia's heart clenched in sympathy that they had been so worried.
Thorin reached out to grasp Fili's shoulder too, leaning forward and butting his head gently against each of his nephews'. "I know what you're thinking," he soothed. "But she will live. She is strong. You must believe that."
Both Fili and Kili nodded, and while Fili looked slightly reassured, trusting his uncle's judgement, Kili still looked close to tears. Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the raw emotions on display before her, Amelia decided it was time to make her entrance.
"Besides," she said, stepping forward into the courtyard. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."
All eyes in the courtyard flashed towards her, and Amelia was surprised to see that each member of the company looked relieved to see her. Bilbo looked about ready to faint from happiness, while Gandalf laughed at her dramatic entrance. Amelia's eyes moved quickly to the line of Durin, and though she saw that all three looked relieved by her presence, Fili and Thorin both looked embarrassed that their display of emotion had been observed. Kili however, had no such reservations.
"Phoenix!"
Kili rushed forward, grinning broadly. Before Amelia could react he had seized her in a great big bear hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. Amelia laughed, forcing herself to ignore the flaring of pain in her shoulder as she returned Kili's embrace with her good arm.
"Kili," Gloin barked. "Put her down. You'll hurt her!"
Instantly Kili dropped Amelia, and she stumbled slightly. She hid her wince carefully though, rolling her eyes at the concerned look taking over Kili's face.
"I'm fine," she said, cutting off the apology she knew was coming. "Really."
Kili nodded, for once not objecting to her statement. Amelia sensed he was feeling rather embarrassed about aggravating her shoulder, and was eager to put it behind him.
"How do you feel?"
Amelia glanced down sharply at Thorin, not used to seeing such concern in his eyes.
"I'm fine," she reassured him.
Thorin nodded, shuffling his feet nervously. Amelia barely held back a groan, knowing what was coming next.
"You saved my life," he pointed out.
Amelia shrugged, careful to only move her left shoulder. "I did my job. Anyone else would have done the same."
For a moment Thorin studied her, working through her words. Then he shook his head.
"No matter," he said. "What you did caused you injury, an injury you were not required to receive. If it weren't for you I would not be alive. Thank you."
Amelia sensed he had to force the words out of his mouth, but he sounded truly sincere, so she decided to be nice and not point that out to him. For a moment she simply stood there, unsure of how to respond. Gratitude was foreign coming from the dwarf king, and Amelia was loathe to do anything to disrupt the newfound trust it seemed to be igniting in Thorin.
Her upset was only increased when behind Thorin the company began to exchange handfuls of gold. Even Bilbo and Gandalf.
"Really?" she asked.
Dwalin shrugged as he pocketed his bags of money. "Why not?" he asked.
Thorin looked annoyed, but it seemed to be a good natured kind of annoyed. He pulled his nephews into head noogies, and Amelia was glad that at least the dwarves' bet had diffused the tension in the courtyard.
A moment later Amelia turned, feeling a presence watching her. She found, to her surprise, an elf standing in the archway she had just emerged from. Tall, taller than even Anwë, who Amelia guessed stood at about six feet, the elf was clothed in fine yet deceptively humble robes of red and tan. He sported a long length of dark hair, small sections of which were braided in front of his pointed ears. He gazed down at Amelia with dark eyes filled with centuries of wisdom, thrown into shadows by brows that could, Amelia knew, be drawn into a near perfect V on his forehead.
As their gazes locked the elf stepped forward, a gracious smile tainting his lips. The entire courtyard was instantly aware of him; despite the fact that he entered silently, he commanded an air of respect that naturally drew the eyes of all present. Behind her even Thorin shifted uncomfortably, and Amelia knew Gandalf was the only one who was undaunted by the elf.
She pushed aside her own nerves, dipping her head down in a sign of respect. When she straightened she saw the elf's gaze had never faltered from her, deep brown eyes unreadable.
"Greetings," Amelia said. "Lord Elrond."