Please read Chapter 1 of Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl's Spectrum: The Harpist's Tale before this chapter for things to make sense.

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It was a strange sensation, to open my eyes and find that I knew everything of my surrounding. I was cold, but there was soft warmth wrapped around me. My hair was still a little damp, and I felt it spreading around me and laying under my shoulders. The taste of sea salt was still on my lips and I licked them, enjoying the sensation.

I heard the sound of breathing and I looked to one side. A man sat some distance away, watching me. No, not a man. An elf. His grey eyes locked on mine and for a moment I couldn't breathe. I knew those eyes. I shrank back from him, unable to give a name to the terrible fear that beat against my chest and pounded in my head.

He said something in a tongue that I couldn't understand, reaching towards me. I flinched away from his hand. He withdrew and gazed at me for another long moment. There was nothing threatening about his person. His hair was cut shoulder-length and groomed carefully. His clothing, while old and travel-stained, was of a simple fare, showing humble origins. He wore gloves to shield his hands from the cold. I saw no evidence of weapon or sorcery about him.

"You have no need to fear," he said in Sindarian, but the words were rough and hesitant, as though he had almost forgotten how to speak. There was curiosity in his face, and trepidation as well. "How did you- Why-" He fell silent for a moment, struggling with himself. "What is your name?" he asked eventually.

"Ninniach," my voice whispered, almost of it's own accord. The sound of it surprised me.

"Ninniach," he said softly. "Rainbow."

I slowly pushed myself up, and became aware that I was clothed only in seaweed and a blanket. I clutched the cloth to my chest, eyes widening again. The elf looked at the floor.

"Forgive me, I am so full of questions that I forgot- it has been a long time since I have seen another Elf," he said softly, turning to a nearby bag, made of a strange, stiff material.

I am not an Elf, I thought as he pulled clothing from the bag. He held them out to me, but I didn't move. He set the clothing down and then stood.

"I will step outside until you dress," he told me, and, sensing my continued unease, kept to the edge of the cave as he exited.

I waited until his footsteps disappeared before unwrapping myself from the blanket. I peeled away the seaweed that clung to me like a garment, and then dressed quickly, keeping a wary eye on the entrance to the cave. The trousers were too long for me, but to my surprise my waist was hardly thinner than the Elf's, and though I struggled with the strange fastenings on the shirt, I dressed quickly.

Feeling a little safer within the clothing, I skirted to the entrance of the cave and peered out. The sun was low in the Western – returning to Valinor. My heart ached suddenly, wishing that I was in that vessel, returning to the place where I knew I belonged. The descending sun left a long, reflection in the ocean, which had grown placid. The light on the water looked like a bridge, and I stepped out of the cave, wondering, if I was quick enough, if I could run along its path to the Blessed Realm.

A second light caught my eye in the western sky. I stepped forward, my eyes widening. The evening star, my mind supplied as I gazed upon the smaller light that was at once less magnificent and yet far more dear, Earendil's Silmaril.

The star seemed to twinkle brighter for a moment as I gazed at it. A smile blossomed across my face and I took another step forward, only to have my foot meet air and not solid rock. I pitched forward. The waves rose up the rocky side of the cliff. A scream rising in my throat as I threw out my arms to catch my balance.

Suddenly, arms caught around my waist and pulled me back, away from the edge. I glanced at my rescuer, the elf. His arms were tight around my waist and his presence scared me more than the prospect of falling. I pushed against him and he released me. Stumbling back against the cliff face, I gasped for breath while staring at him.

"I will not harm you," he said, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "Please do not be afraid."

I made no reply. He stepped forward cautiously, so as not to frighten me further, but I pressed myself against the rock.

"I have so many questions," he said, and there was something burning in his eyes that I couldn't name. "But first, how did you come here?"

The question seemed to delve its way into my skull. Instantly images, feelings, flashed through my mind. Beauty being snatched away, drained but a horrible dark creature. Being locked away, hidden, jealously guarded only to have blood spilled and an evil hand grasp me. Helplessness as the dark cloud surrounded me, locking me in cold iron with my two siblings. A terrible battle, seeing the shining Maia and Valar march upon the one who held me bound and freeing me. I saw the red eyes flash in anger, I heard a shout of hatred, an oath that I and those like me would never return to Valinor. I remembered the hands of the Blessed tenderly placing me in safety. And I remembered being taken from the hallowed light and grasped by another corrupted hand.

I gasped, flinging myself away from the elf as a name broke into my mind. A hated, bitter name. Melkor.

The elf stepped forward, stretching out his hand to grab me. I struck away the hand and then pushed him hard in the chest. He tilted dangerously towards the edge of the path. Without waiting to see what effect my actions would have, I turned and fled from before him. I scrambled over the rocks, feeling their shards pierce my skin. Soon blood dripped down my feet. I stumbled many times, bruising my knees and hands, but I pushed myself back up and continued to run.

When I made it to the beach, I plunged into the ocean. The waters were cold and large waves broke against me, pushing me back towards the land. "Ulmo!" I screamed, my voice more piercing than the cries of the gulls. "Take me back!"

A giant wave like a hand came towards me and I opened my arms, ready to be received back in the arms of the ocean. But instead of embracing me, the wave shoved me back. My feet slipped from under me and I fell below the water. The salt stung my eyes and wounds. I opened my mouth to entreat for Ulmo's mercy. The taste of the sea burned my tongue. I felt hands take hold of my arms, pulling me back. I let them.

They dragged me onto the beach again and coughing I looked up, cringing as I saw a male face. But then I realised that this was a man, with fair hair and blue eyes, and he was not alone. There was another man with him, dark-haired, as well as two women, both with brown hair, though one had hers cropped close to her head. They spoke in a strange tongue, leaning over me, helping me to my feet as I expelled the ocean from my lungs. One of the men removed his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders.

I gazed at the setting sun with dismay, tears splashing onto my cheeks as it sank into the ocean. "Take me with you," I whispered as the Mortals began to shepherd me up the beach.

I glanced back at the cliffs and saw the elf watching me. He stood there, not moving, in shadow. Blood trickled down his forehead, and he made a move to go forward but grimaced and stopped. His gaze never left me, and I felt the terror threaten to overwhelm me again. I could see in his grey eyes that he would not stop pursuing me.

"You're all right now," one of the women said to me and I turned my gaze from the elf to her. "You're all right," she repeated.

"You know Sindarian?" I asked, but by the frown that crossed her face I could see she didn't understand me.

One of them men said something that I didn't understand, and then the other one replied, "It doesn't matter."

I frowned as I listened to them speak, some words that I didn't understand and some I did. Slowly more and more of their words registered in my mind, and soon I was able to determine that they were going to take me to a place of healing. I glanced back at the cliffs again, but this time the elf had moved or the shadows had consumed him.

"What were you doing out there?" asked the short-haired woman as the group reached a well-paved road.

I licked my lips and tried to use my newfound understanding of their language. "I need to return to Valinor."

"Sorry, I didn't understand that," she replied, and the fair-haired man said something about a tourist.

"We don't get tourists," the woman told him with an edge to her voice. "I'm going to run ahead and get a car."

"Car," I repeated, turning the strange word over my tongue. By the grace of the Valar, an image came to my mind of a metal box on wheels, rolling faster than a chariot. I shuddered. "No car."

"Well, she understands that much," the dark-haired man murmured, and then in a reassuring voice, he said to me, "It's okay."

I would not be imprisoned in metal again. I straightened, pulling away from the consoling arms that were around me. "No, it is not. I will not be put in a car, and you would do well to respect my wishes."

I looked at the young faces, and saw shock and awe in them. The woman with long hair glanced at her companions before speaking. "You speak English."

I nodded. "The Valar have given me a gift of learning, it seems."

"The what?" the fair-haired man asked, his brow furrowing. By the expressions of his companions, all of them felt as confused as he.

I frowned. "Have the Valar been forgotten, then?"

The dark-haired man muttered the word crazy to the long-haired woman. I quickly shrugged the jacket off my shoulders and handed it back. "Thank you for your assistance, but I no longer require it."

"No offence, but you're soaking wet," the fair-haired man replied. "I don't think that we should..."

As he trailed off, my frown deepened. The elf was still out there. Perhaps it would not be wise to so hastily shrug off the companionship of these mortals. Slowly I nodded. "Yes, of course. I apologise. It has been a trying day for me..."

He put the jacket back over my shoulders. "My name is Alex, by the way, and these are Ryan, Amelia, and her sister Emilie."

"I am Ninniach," I informed them.

"That's an unusual name," the short-haired woman, Emilie, responded. "Your contacts are amazing, by the way. Like little rainbows. Where did you get them?"

"Contacts," I repeated, but the meaning of the word did not register. I elected to ignore the question. "Where am I?"

"Happisburgh," Alex replied. "A place with no past, and no future. If you were looking for the most invisible town on the planet, you've found it."

"It's not that bad," Amelia objected.

I looked up at the stars that were slowly appearing in the sky. For a moment, I could see white walls rising around me, could hear the laughter of children and the songs of elvish voices. I closed my eyes, allowing Alex to guide me down the road, and a deep sadness fell over me. I knew suddenly that it was not just the language and peoples that had changed since the time that the Valar were known and revered. The land had changed as well.

"A great city once stood here," I murmured, opening my eyes again and pulling the coat closer around my shoulders. The Mortals didn't comment, and I did not share with them that the name Lindon had entered my mind.

"Your feet are bleeding," Emilie said suddenly.

"I'm fine."

"No, here, let me carry you," Alex offered.

"I'm fine," I repeated. I had spent long enough being borne to and fro with no limbs of my own with no say in the direction I went. "I want to walk."

"Your feet-" Alex cut off as I shook my head. The mortal's brow furrowed as he contemplated me, and then glanced at the others for help, but none of them spoke. As I glanced over them, I saw that it was not confusion that held their tongues bound. No, I saw something akin to awe, or perhaps unease, in their eyes.

"How much farther is the-" I paused a moment, searching for the right word, "hospital."

"It's about ten minutes to the car-" Ryan started.

"I will not enter it."

"Walking, it's a good hour."

I nodded. "Then I will walk."