I will admit that at first, I spent a ridiculous amount of time in the library with Lirior, or in the stables with Padfoot and Korova. Partly it was because being in the library was my sort of job while I was here, and my animals were pretty much my family. But mostly it was because it kept me from interacting with the elves. I wasn't strictly comfortable with them, being a species I had long assumed wasn't real, and the sheer vitriol Krumran had always thrown their theoretical way (now that I knew the word 'elf' meant 'elf'). It didn't help that they were mostly distant if I did come across one of them. I wanted to stay away from the normal elves, as well as the famous ones. I had to interact with Elrond, simply because he was in charge of the place, and the healer trying to figure out my oddities.

I was avoiding his children like the plague, Arwen especially. Aragorn was probably stashed away somewhere, unless he was old enough to be wandering around as a ranger, or perhaps not arrived here yet. His age would be a good way to tell where I was, or rather when I was, in the story. But it wasn't worth having to interact with more canon characters. As it was I had caught sight of Glorfindel at one point when in the stables. Tall, golden hair, blue eyes, the 'joy-filled face', but mostly I identified him by hearing someone say his name to catch his attention. He seemed nice enough, but he was super important to this world in ways I could barely remember. So I stayed out of his way, curled up on the rabbit fur and deer pelt blanket I had left in the corner for Padfoot. The dog had predictably sat on me the moment I was on the ground, effectively blocking me off from sight.

I kept away from the stables at noon when it happened a second time and I realized that's when he always went to check on his horse. I did the hiding thing for almost a month before Esegar burst into the stables, holding my bow and quiver. I wanted to be angry he'd gone into my room, but I had basically lived with the guy for months. I was a bit used to not having privacy from him. He shoved them in my hands and grabbed the hood of my Batman hoodie that I had decided to wear, dragging me with him. I waved at Rochian, who watched us go, eyes wide. The way he freely showed emotion like that made me think he was on the young side for an elf. Then again, maybe I'm getting my elf-legends mixed up.

Esegar let me go when we arrived at an archery range, mostly deserted. There were a few elves going at each other with swords in a corner, and I tried not to stare. Yeah, these guys could easily tear me to pieces. The surly ranger poked me in the arm to get my attention, not bothering to lower his voice, apparently not caring if the elves heard him.

"Just because you're all safe and tucked away here with the elves doesn't mean you should stop practicing. I'll not let my hard work go to waste."

He named the targets verbally, one through seven, left to right, and started calling them. Elves called out tips that I filed away for later, but ignored at the moment. Having Esegar staring me down wasn't the time to start experimenting. When I ran out of arrows I didn't have a chance to go collect them because the elves that had been watching swarmed forward to check my aim. I felt a muscle in my face twitch and noticed that Esegar was trying to fight back a smile.

"Don't take it personally, girl, they don't get to test the skills of men often."

I took a deep breath to fight back the annoyance, instead, trying to get past them to get to my arrows. They were chattering in Sindarin, ignoring me thoroughly. I gave up, walking back to Esegar.

"Just tell me what I did wrong then, by the time you're done they'll be bored and I can get my stuff back."
He raised an eyebrow, "You're going to outwait an elf?"

I did a quick headcount, "Five of them actually."

He raised his eyes to the heavens, as if asking what he did to deserve such an idiot for a student.

"Elves are not as likely to abandon something interesting. I imagine it comes with having all the time in the world to pursue it, so they tend to take as much as they'd like."

I shrugged,

"Or maybe the feats of a daughter of man are fleeting, and thus not worth some of that infinite time. I honestly wouldn't understand if they stayed for much longer."

I was right, they dispersed after a while, back to their corner. I elbowed Esegar gently,

"See, what'd I tell you? Perhaps it's the perception of time that becomes different or something other."

I retrieved my arrows and went back to Esegar. We finished up the session in peace, and the ache in my arms had me wishing Lirior didn't have something he had to get done that evening.

Esegar stayed silent as I retrieved my arrows. When I returned to where he was standing he crossed his arms.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

I ignored the stab of fear I felt at being left with the elves, because honestly I couldn't leave if I wanted Elrond to make any progress. Esegar knew this of course.

"You will be staying here, Lord Elrond wishes for more time to observe your health. The range is open to you always, do not fall back on your practice. Behave yourself, do not let that pet monster of yours eat anyone."

I snorted, "He's hardly a monster, the very definition of the word is 'hideous'. You have to admit he's cute."

Esegar just huffed, still not willing to admit the dog had grown on him in the end.

My days after he left were much the same, only I went to the range frequently as well. Padfoot followed me. Sitting at my side and accompanying me to get my arrows. It gave him a chance to stretch his legs. This was how the elves were exposed to him. It took a while, but eventually, some of the braver ones stepped forward and asked if it was safe to pet him. At the time his tongue had been lolling out, and he was flat on his back, stomach showing. I had just given the elf my best 'don't be an idiot' look.

"He's perfectly safe to non-threats."

So he made a wonderful distraction so the immortally skillful elves wouldn't laugh at me. It didn't take long, however, before one of the elves who preferred swordcraft dragged me over for a lesson with a short lecture about diversity of skills. The first time I ended up flat on my ass Padfoot let out a growl, staring at the elf who was holding out a hand to help me up. It had taken a bit of fast talking for me to keep him calm, and then he'd had to inspect the elf in question. Hastor had been accommodating, letting the dog decide he was worthy to throw me around before continuing. Using a sword was difficult with my size, but Hastor was an expert with weapons and found a slimmer, shorter sword, that was honestly more like a dagger in his larger hands. It was more suited to someone of my size who would most likely slip under someone's guard using small stature and speed. I was going nowhere fast, but Hastor found it brilliant to finally have someone who needed actual teaching. Apparently just telling an elf what to do and having them learn it perfectly got annoying, even to other elves.

My work with literature was going well, though I tended to deviate from classics and try to translate the pop culture stories that I loved, 'translate' applying to both language and otherworldly concepts. Harry Potter was easy to explain in concept, with witches, wizards, and the like. However, the Express was difficult as well as explaining the places, the way of life, and why the Dursleys hated magic. It took almost a week of dedicated work to get down the first book. It took a lot away from the story to edit out a lot of the references to my world, but it added a lot of things to the story whenever we had to explain 'where' Great Britain was, or Hogwarts, or the train, well, magic horseless wagons that ran on fire, but were acceptable to those who didn't 'know' about magic, that was a project in and of itself.

Just telling about some of it took another day of explanation. Lirior was great for pointing out plot holes in everything, including the whole 'How did no one put together the monster of the house of Snakes would be the king of snakes?' as well as a few other childhood ruining points, such as how no one bothered to check why his letter said 'cupboard under the stairs'.

The story of Artemis Fowl was butchered, with the technology having to be changed into magic of a human-accepted sort with 'human magic' and 'fairy magic' having harsh divergence from one another, which took a while honestly. The internet changed into a magical web of information accessed through special stones that could be bought for a price. That took months. The classics, actual myths, and history up to the Industrial Revolution were also recorded. Lirior knew that I held back on history, but he had assumed that I was protecting secrets of a long-gone state, most likely out of habit. Several times he had assured me that our secrets would be safe with the elves, so somewhere in the tail end of my first year in Rivendell I edited out most technology, explaining it through magic in a way that made sense to the elf. He'd honest to god pouted when I explained I didn't have the tools needed to make any of the things I told him about. Laws of science were recorded as human 'theory', though he understood what we meant by 'what goes up must come down' and various other obvious things.

Naturally, he picked up phrases in English, though the first time he used one I had nearly hyperventilated from the shock. From then on he dropped hints to Sindarin, and gave mini-lessons. When I protested he had explained that elves didn't guard their language as a secret, like the Dwarves did with Khuzdul [him saying it made me miss Krumran]. He said it was only fair that he shared his language with me, since I was sharing mine with him.

I barely noticed time was passing, such is the magic of Rivendell. When I had been there for two years I was called to meet Lord Elrond. He stood looking out a window in one of the halls of healing, and when I entered he faced me, expression stoic.

"I have found nothing to suggest that your health will suddenly fail you like those of your kind who have traveled through our lands. From what you have translated of the journal it seems to me that any sudden change would have happened already, were it going to. I had only one last test that I wished to do, and it has proven this hypothesis to me."
Two months ago one of the Female elves had trimmed my hair slightly, making it even shorter. It had grown. The same rate it had before I got to Middle Earth, and it had stopped the moment it reached the length it was when I arrived, bangs just brushing my cheekbones, the rest of it feathering barely above my chin. Having already given them Krumran's request for magic hair growth they had then done a few experimental hair oils, finally finding one that worked. It took a light bit of magic, and making the hair oil was the only magic that they would teach me. According to Lord Elrond, they'd learned their lesson on teaching too much magic to children of men, he wasn't really allowed to teach me more. This was for my health, in a way, so it was fine. The final test was cutting my nails to the quick (irritating as fuck to live with) while still using the hair oil. My nails grew out to where they were previously but stayed there. The oil wasn't a fix-all, apparently.

Elrond explained it to me, "As the body takes internal movement in order to live there is obviously the constant beating of your heart, but the length of your hair, your height, your age, things like that, were set in place. They can only return to where they were originally. As for weight or muscle mass, that is always in flux either way, along with the internal health."

I had figured that, but still. It was different having it confirmed by an elvish witch doctor, or whatever the fuck he was. I was stuck. At sixteen. Obviously, I could grow mentally, I'd been learning languages and how to fight. Perhaps that was because I was frozen at that time when learning was easier because brain cells are still replaced if they get fried. Nothing close to the mental elasticity of toddlers and smaller children, but better than 'adults'. Well, that was suckish. I wouldn't be able to grow old unless Elrond was wrong, unlikely, and it hit me like a car bomb at some random point later in life. That meant that in this world I would likely never marry anyone. I remembered that Dwarves and Elves had their 'one' that they found, I assumed it was sort of like the soulmate principle, unless that was fanfiction that I was confusing with the real deal. Since I was from another dimension none of the longer-lived races would be a match for me because of the simple fact that my soul would be made solitary like all others from my world. Anyone of my own species would die of old age, and since no one from home was coming to me, and I obviously could think of no way to go to them, I was screwed. Even my dog would die.

"So I'm an oddity."

Elrond tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brow.

"Most children of men would be thrilled to hear they can cheat death."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, it is exciting to know I won't slowly decline to a painful end. Death frightens most people. But the thought of just...being, forever...it's unnerving. I'm going to stay the same. None of my race are going to want anything to do with me and my strangeness, but I think the worst part is probably going to be outliving my dog. He's middle-aged now as it is."

"...your...dog."

I scowled at him,

"Yes, the dog. He's the only one alive who remembers my home. I've never lived outside of my home without him. I've never been alone here, because I've had him. When I don't…"

I sighed, crossing my arms. Being in Rivendell wasn't fun for Padfoot. I know he hates having to live separately. He's always stupidly excited whenever we accompany those taking riding trips, or the occasional scouting party that I was sure didn't include Glorfindel or the twin sons of Elrond. Yeah, it was time to go.

I was certain that none of 'my people' who had been sold were still alive, not based on how Kyle had recorded their health in their 'receipt' information (gag). But at the very least I could find out where they were buried (if they'd been buried), and pay my respects. Maybe there was a miracle and someone was alive for me to help out.

I straightened up,

"Since my 'health' is done being observed, and I've finished relaying the history of my home, would I be allowed to leave?"

A dark-colored eyebrow disappeared into his hairline.

"You are of course 'allowed' to leave at any time. Did you have a destination in mind?"
"More or less. The journal had…sales records. From the information on the other's health, I doubt they were alive even by the time I was captured and learned anyone else made it out. But I would still like to find them, lay them to rest properly and not in chains, at the very least."

His expression turned grave, "A noble goal. If that is what you wish then I shall not stop you. Though you should be careful, this is a dangerous path to tread."

Convincing my few 'friend' type figures that I had made that I had to leave was difficult, especially without really telling them that I was probably going to end up hunting slavers for sport. Rochian had understood that I wanted to travel with Padfoot and Korova, he knew how close we were. Hastor had spent my last week there shoving as much knowledge of fighting into my head as humanly possible. My dagger/sword I returned to the armory, opting instead to use the dagger I'd bought from Krumran. He wasn't happy about it, but recognized that I would probably do better with it, and grudgingly judged the quality of the dagger to be top-notch. Lirior, surprisingly, was sad to see me go. It was strange, knowing that I had managed to worm my way into an elf's heart. He was the only one I told about my aging issue. He knew the most about my world, so it was much easier to just let it out. He had found it interesting of course, from a scholar's viewpoint. He apparently was going to keep tabs on my mental health, being of the 'race of man' but living longer than my fellows. He told me to check back in every thirty years or so. Well, I'm sure to an elf that didn't sound so harsh, so I resisted the urge to punch him right in his too-perfect nose.

I was given a cloak for traveling, Lirior had managed to find something similar to the green and grey dappled 'Rangers' camouflage cloak from the stories I told him. I packed all my things once again, and Padfoot and I left Rivendell before dawn. Lirior had gifted me with a map, mostly to ensure that I didn't have an excuse for not showing up and checking in with him. In exchange, I left him a gel pen with purple ink. The further we got from Rivendell the more Padfoot seemed to realize we weren't heading back after a few days. When we left the familiar country around it where we usually camped he seemed happier than ever. Yeah, I suppose it's strange making important decisions heavily factoring in what the dog would like, but he's all I've got at the moment, and he won't be around forever.

/

I know, late again, but it's not seven years at least.
~TimeLordOfPie