Disclaimer: I don't own any of the LOTR characters or settings (that's all Tolkien's) ... regrettably ... what's mine are the OC's … and the mistakes … yep, that's about it.

Chapter 6

I was at loss; I didn't have any idea of what was going on. Something changed while I slept, I could feel it. I felt calm, eerily so. My head was usually full of thoughts and emotions, so it was weird to be awake … yet not quite feeling like it. The world void of emotions or thoughts felt different, bleak. As if all the colour washed out and I was left with just different shades of white and grey. It was cold. I shuddered. I felt lost, I wandered… Or at least my mind did … looking for something that wouldn't be so bleak.

I was still in the same room I remembered from what must have been last night. Almost everything looked the same. The only two exceptions being the light streaming through the window, clearly stating that it was no longer nighttime and Estel's sleeping form slumped in the chair beside the bed.

It didn't look like the most comfortable position. Should I wake him? The thought barely crossed my mind before I dismissed it. He looked utterly exhausted, obviously needing any sleep he could get, no matter how poor it might be.

It didn't take more than a few minutes before Estel's sleep was disturbed anyway. Surprisingly, it didn't take much, just the sound of doors opening was enough for Estel to wake, focus his attention on the door and inconspicuously reach towards the dagger he carried behind his belt.

"Is this a new way of greeting, Estel?" one of the two strangers in the doorway asked, amusement lacing his voice. Not so inconspicuous after all. Yet Estel didn't appear the least bit bothered by it - quite the opposite. His expression transformed into one of pure joy, and without hesitation, he sprang to his feet and embraced each of them in turn.

The strangers, a little taller than Estel and carrying an air of maturity, mirrored his delight. It was clear they were just as pleased to see him.

"I see you fell asleep on the job," one of them teased, pulling me from my thoughts.

What fascinated me was Estel's reaction. Instead of admitting it, he pushed back. "I didn't," he retorted, his tone defiant and almost childlike.

"Are you certain?" asked one of the stranders while nodding in my direction. Belatedly I realised that maybe I should have pretended to be asleep instead of just watching them interact, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Turning his attention back to me Estel's expression soon mirrored the strangers' amusement "It seems like I was mistaken."

"Mistriel, these are my brothers Elladan and Elrohir."

Brothers? I could believe it - partly. Elladan and Elrohir did share a striking resemblance. Twins, perhaps? But I found it hard to imagine that they were so closely related to Estel.

True, all three shared dark hair and light, greyish eyes, but the resemblance seemed to end there. Estel lacked the effortless grace that radiated from the twins. He wasn't clumsy by any means, yet standing next to them, he seemed younger, more unpolished, as if the weight of their experience had yet to touch him.

Not wanting to seem rude, I offered a polite nod in their direction.

I almost regretted that, for once I met eyes with them, I could see their faces growing solemn. And although they reverted to their carefree, friendly demeanour soon enough, it unsettled me. The question that seemed to come out of nowhere right after that, didn't help

"How old are you, little one?" I stiffened. Did he know?

Sensing my discomfort the other man interfered with a meaningful look and "Elladan".

Maybe this would be for the best, them figuring it out. I could just own up to it. I took a deep breath and here it goes.

"I am not little; I'm twenty-five." Despite my best efforts, the feeling of injustice and frustration crept into my voice. Still, I counted it as a small victory that I managed to keep it steady. I stared at Elladan, searching his expression for any sign of a response, my heart caught between hope and dread.

But nothing came. No retort, no accusation of being a liar, no barrage of questions. He just stood there, motionless and silent, his piercing gaze fixed on me. Then, to my surprise, he took a step back, his composure faltering. For the first time, he seemed unsettled by my presence, his confidence replaced by something closer to an unease. It was as if he thought I might vanish at any moment, like a ghost in the mist. I hated that look—it made me feel like I didn't belong, like I wasn't real.

I glanced at the others for support, desperate for some anchor in this strange encounter. Estel's expression mirrored my confusion, his brows furrowed as if trying to piece together an impossible puzzle. Elrohir, on the other hand, seemed to be aware of what was on Elladan's mind. His eyes held a new solemnity, a depth that hadn't been there a moment ago. Still, it was his voice that broke the uncomfortable silence

"Mae govannen! Man eneth lîn?" His words flowed like a melody; each syllable woven with an otherworldly grace. The meaning of his words was instantly clear, resonating in my mind as if it had always been there: Well met! What is your name?

Sufficiently distracted from Elladan's unsettling behaviour, I found myself responding in kind, the same soothing, lyrical language slipping effortlessly from my lips. The words felt ancient, powerful, and yet deeply comforting as though they'd been waiting to be spoken aloud.

"Len suilon mellon. En eneth nîn Mistriel. Man en eneth lîn?"

"Im Elrohir. Len nathlon na Imladris!" Imladris… The name was familiar.

"Gellon len covad."

"Thank you, the honour is mine"

I frowned at Elrohir's sudden change of language; I much preferred the one we had been using before. It felt more familiar, more grounding. Just as I opened my mouth to protest, Elrohir nodded toward Estel and, with a curt "If you'll excuse us," practically dragged Elladan out of the room.

The abrupt departure left me momentarily stunned. It wasn't until the door clicked shut behind them that I began to realize something unsettling. Strange as the encounter had been, their presence had acted like a buffer, keeping something intangible at bay. Now that they were gone, the world seemed to dim again, its vibrancy seeping away like water from a cracked vessel.

My thoughts grew sluggish, as if wading through a thick fog, each one harder to hold onto than the last. Even the unease I had felt moments ago began to dissolve, leaving behind a hollow, weightless void. Could I really just disappear? Was it that simple? The thought lingered, pulling me further into the haze, until Estel's voice broke through, calling me back. His warm hand pressed gently against my forehead, and the fog lifted slightly. Just like that, I was back in the room, meeting Estel's worried, almost ashen face. Relief washed over him as our eyes met, and he exhaled a long, shaky breath. He sank back into the chair, attempting to project a sense of calm, though the tension in his stiff shoulders betrayed him.

The next few of days, were confusing. In some ways they were similar to our journey. I didn't leave my bed, nor did I talk with anyone. Yet I was never left alone, the constant stream of visitors seemed to be the only thing that kept the fog at bay if only a little bit. I didn't feel quite like myself. I didn't even realise it most of the time. The world seemed to settle on being a colourless, formless blur. Only changing a bit when a new visitor appeared in the room.

Estel rarely left my side. It was as if he believed that leaving me alone, even for a moment, might truly cause me to vanish. A part of me found the idea absurd, but another part could feel the connection to this place slipping away with each passing moment.

I haven't seen Elladan again, but Elrohir stopped by a couple of times seemingly without any purpose. He didn't seem bothered by the fact that I refused to acknowledge his presence. He read to me in that language that sounded like music and if it wasn't for the sadness he sometimes looked at me with, I would enjoy his visits. Elrohir's visits were the only time Estel left the room.

The fog was getting denser with each passing day, and I could see the growing worry in Estel's eyes. Still, he didn't seem hopeless more like if he was waiting for something.

And then, when the world had faded to shades of black and grey, I felt it—a presence so radiant it was like a beacon piercing through the gloom. The light approached swiftly, almost as if it were flying. I couldn't tell how it moved, only that it grew closer and closer.

Slowly, I began to emerge from my haze, the room was suddenly full of people Not people, elves. I corrected myself. I wasn't sure where that thought came from, but I was certain of it. I was no longer in the world I grew up in. I was in „Rivendell" I murmured. I was no longer lost. I wasn't sure when I was or why was I here, but I knew where.

Looking up, I took in the room. There were unfamiliar faces. I saw a glimpse of someone who made me wonder whether Elladan and Elrohir had an older brother. However, my attention quickly focused on the one of whom the darkness seemed to fear.

"The lord of the House of the Golden Flower." I whispered – my memories telling me who he was. I knew that this new elf faced more in the term of darkness than I ever would.

"That is all in the past, little one. You may call me Glorfindel." said the golden-haired elf, his voice warm and steady.

"Will you allow me to aid you?"

His outstretched hand was tempting, and his eyes spoke of no falsehoods. It was a seemingly genuine offer to help me – a promise of a place where I would be safe and a way to chase the darkness away once and for all.

I wanted to trust him. No, I corrected myself I longed to trust him with an ache that startled me. Yet even as that desire took root, I recoiled. My past experiences and everything I had learned screamed against it. Trust never ended well.

It didn't really matter whether Glorfindel's offer was genuine. Just because he wanted to help, it didn't mean he would. The bookshop owner's face flickered through my mind – a stark reminder that meaning well didn't guarantee anything.

No matter the reason, everyone would eventually betray my trust. I had learned that it was not a matter of if but rather when. The only thing I had to do was wait.

These dark thoughts, suffocating and relentless, threatened to pull me under again. The beauty of the elven realm around me faded, its light dimming under the weight of my doubts. The elves nearby exchanged glances, their serene expressions tightening ever so slightly, as if sensing the shift in me.

However. I could see it in Glorfindel's eyes – they wouldn't force me. A hand was offered, a choice was given, now it was up to me. The decision was mine to make, and whatever I decided would be honoured. They wouldn't force me to accept their help if I didn't wish for it.

But what then? I wondered. The darkness would come back the moment Glorfindel left – I was certain of it. Even now, it lurked at the edges, waiting, ready to swallow me whole if it got the chance. And once it did, there was no telling what would happen. Maybe I would wake up back in the cellar – cold, frightened, alone. Or maybe I wouldn't wake up at all.

I shuddered. I didn't like either option.

I didn't want it to end like that. Not this time.

And yet, accepting his help would come with a cost. There would be no going back. The life I'd known would be gone, and so would be my dreams. But perhaps, perhaps that wouldn't be so bad – this could be my chance to step away from the shadows of my past. A chance to be free.

Before I could overthink it, I reached out – placing my hand in his. I'd decided.

I saw relief flash across Glorfindel's features before it was replaced by a reassuring smile. He settled into the chair beside my bed, and as he placed his palm upon my forehead, a golden light bloomed around us. I stiffened. I could feel the change. When I woke up, things would be different. I would be different.

I was afraid. I didn't want to face it alone "Can you stay?" The words came out barely above a whisper.

And yet he responded, his voice cam and full of understanding

"Of course, little one."

Notes:

„Cursive." = dialogue in Elvish = translated to Westron from Elvish

„Normal text."= written as the characters say it

Cursive = thoughts

"Mae lovannen! Man en eneth lîn?" = Well met! What is your name?

"Len suilon mellon. En eneth nîn Mistriel. Man en eneth lîn?" = I greet you friend. My name is Mistriel. What is your name?

"Im Elrohir. Len nathlon na Imladris!" = My name is Elrohir. I welcome you to Imladris (Rivendell)

"Gellon len covad." = I rejoice to meet you.

Author's notes: BTW as I am not native English speaker, I was experimenting with Chat GPT's ability to refine text on parts of this chapter…. So, the question is: Can you guess which parts? :)