Chapter Text
Soft, fragrant grass. The corners of (Y/N)'s lips lifted in a slight smile. She wondered how long it had been since she had felt the grass on her face. She opened her eyes, finding herself lying under a tree on a little hill. She sat up. The grass swayed with the breeze, sprawled across the rolling hills, as far as the eye could see. Behind her stretched a forest, calm and relaxing.
This is gorgeous, but why am I here?
(Y/N) stood, stretching. She clearly remembered going to bed in her bed last night, tucked under her covers. Could this be a dream? It felt so lifelike, it was almost hard to believe. But it had to be true. What else could explain it? This place was unlike anywhere she’d ever seen in her waking life.
As she looked around, still marveling at the sights, she noticed a spot on the horizon. It appeared to be moving toward her. She squinted, furrowing her brows to see what the spot could be. As it got closer, it was apparent that the spot was made up of a group of five or six riders on horseback, all holding weapons. That did not bode well.
Though she was relatively sure this was a dream, (Y/N)'s instincts still kicked in, urging her to move away from the pack of riders. She had no idea if they’d spotted her, or if they even intended on coming toward her in the first place, but it was better to be safe rather than sorry. She moved into the forest a bit, slipping behind trees to stay as hidden as possible. It was now clear that this place did not exist in real life. Everything about it looked familiar or very similar to her world, but it was slightly different.
The sound of thundering steps and snarls from behind her forced her to freeze in place. She ducked behind a tree, trying to calm her frantic heart.
“Find her,” a voice growled out behind her, causing a strike of fear to shoot through her. What an intense dream.
)Y/N) shut her eyes tight, attempting to wake herself up. This was by far the most frightening nightmare she’d ever had the displeasure of experiencing. Suddenly a searing pain shot through her shoulder and she was forced backward against the tree, eyes shooting open in shock.
“I’ve got you now.” an orc sneered into her face, disgusting breath causing her to recoil.
She turned to look at her shoulder, the source of the pain, and saw a spear had gone clear through her shoulder and pinned her to the tree. Her vision blurred a bit and she felt faint, her mouth hanging open in mute shock. Blood seeped through her clothes as she swayed. This was certainly not a dream.
The orc unsheathed a sword. Well, this was it. Whatever had happened to make her end up here in this strange world, she didn’t last long. She closed her eyes, bracing for the sword. As her eyes were shut, she heard the orc in front of her shriek. Startled, she opened her eyes to see two arrows lodged in his head and chest. Her eyes widened in shock as she watched him fall to the ground. Another arrow flew through the air and found its way to the orc’s heart, killing him.
A tall man with long brown hair suddenly appeared in front of her. His eyebrows went up a bit when he saw her against the tree. She barely registered his presence before blacking out completely.
“Come quickly. It appears they had found someone. She needs treatment immediately.”
The room she awoke in was incredibly beautiful. Sun shone in through the large open windows, a gentle breeze pushing the sheer curtains gently. The walls and floors were lightly colored and had intricate designs etched into them. She wore a flowy but plain gown. Was she dead? Was she in some kind of afterlife?
A sharp pain in her shoulder proved her incorrect. She somehow made it out. The memory of a handsome man killing the orc with arrows came back to her. He must have taken her here. Her shoulder was wrapped and her upper body was slightly elevated with cushions. A woman with long blond hair walked into the room and appeared surprised that she was awake.
She entered further, carrying folded clothes to set aside. She said nothing until she approached the bed, holding new bandages. She reached out and began taking off the bandages, then replaced them.
“Someone will be in shortly to speak to you.” the elven woman said simply before walking out of the room.
She was right. It was not ten minutes before an eerily familiar man with brown hair entered the room, accompanied by a younger male. Her brows furrowed as she attempted to recall how she knew him.
“I hope you are feeling well,” he said, standing near the corner of the room. The younger elf stood by the doorway.
“Better than before,” she said, her voice slightly weak from not being used.
He had a strange look on his face before nodding. “Our healers are quite skilled.” he paused. “You were found in a… rather precarious situation. Why were you so near the river Bruinen?”
“I… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I woke up there, but I don’t know how I got there. I’m confused, I don’t even know where I am now.” she said, beginning to feel a spike of anxiety.
The elf seemed troubled by this answer. He considered her seriously, perhaps considering how to proceed.
“It seems your memory has been affected. What is your name?” he asked. She appreciated his gentleness. He did not approach as an enemy, but rather as a friend.
“My name is…” she trailed off, coming to the realization that she could not recall her name. She felt it was blocked somehow, as if it was being kept from her. “I don’t know. Something has happened to me. I don’t think I am supposed to be here. Everything is wrong.”
The man struggled to hide his frustration at this answer. His brow furrowed and he brought his hand to his chin, deep in thought. She had a flash of a memory, and suddenly everything made much more sense, although it was not made any better.
“Elrond.” she suddenly said, referring to the elf in front of her. He looked up, surprised.
“You know my name, but not your own?” he asked, even more confused.
“And we are in Rivendell. Please, I need to speak to Gandalf. I know I sound insane, but I am in the wrong world. I’m from another realm entirely.” she said, panicked.
Elrond stared at her for a few moments, completely unmoving. He seemed to not know how to react to the word vomit that just came out of her mouth.
“I must consult my council. I will send one of our healers back in to watch over you. Please ask them to fetch me if you come to any realizations.” Elrond said, turning and heading toward the door.
She watched him go, her heart pounding and head reeling as the reality of her situation sank in. She couldn’t remember her name, but she remembered where she knew this place from. She was in Rivendell, an elven city in the Lord of the Rings story. She was in Middle Earth.
-
It had been a full two days since she had spoken to Elrond, and he had finally asked for her presence. She wore an ankle-length cream gown with sleeves that drooped gracefully from her wrists. It was quite unlike anything she’d normally wear, but it was hard to deny that it was beautiful. She felt a twinge of anxiety in her gut. She’d been nothing but polite since she’d been in Rivendell, but what if Elrond still asked her to leave? If she was forced to be on her own, she’d never make it.
She was led to a small pavilion with chairs placed in a circle. She sat down, seeing Elrond, Arwen, and a few other elves she didn’t quite recognize. She nodded politely and was met with a kind smile from Elrond and Arwen. That gave her hope.
“My lady,” Elrond started, clearly not knowing what else to call the nameless woman. “I apologize for the time it has taken me to come to a conclusion. I have asked Gandalf to come to Rivendell to speak with you. Once you have spoken with him, we will decide what the best course of action for you is. Rivendell would, of course, never cast you away to your death.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her lips. This was very good news for her.
“Thank you. I owe you so much. If I can be of any help here, please let me know.” she said, causing Elrond’s face to soften. Perhaps he, too, was anxious about this meeting.
“There is one thing you can do. My daughter, Arwen, will help you with this task. We would like for you to select a name.”
Her gaze moved to Arwen. She was even more beautiful than what she remembered, and her expression gave off a sense of security that comforted her in a way that she had not been since arriving in Rivendell.
“I look forward to it,” she said, smiling softly at Arwen.
“Very well. She will accompany you to the archives. Surely you will be able to find a suitable name there.” Elrond stood, prompting the others to stand as well. She followed suit. Arwen walked to her and glanced at her still bandaged shoulder.
“How is your wound healing?” she asked.
“Surprisingly well. I’ve never had an injury this bad before, but it’s healing very quickly.” Even the healers that had been working on the wound remarked that it was healing much quicker than expected. It was baffling, but she simply assumed that it was because of the elves’ magic.
“Wonderful. Shall we go?” Arwen asked, leading the way down a stony path.
Rivendell was truly mesmerizing. Everything about it was beautiful, down to the very walkways they stepped over. Once they arrived at the archives, her eyebrows went up in surprise. The room was filled with tomes with heavy, leather-bound covers.
“Wow,” she said.
“If any look to be intriguing, allow me to pull them for you,” Arwen spoke.
She browsed the room, finding many of the books to be written in Elvish. She read the spines until she came upon a book labeled “Quendarin i Lirit”.
“What is this book?” she asked. Arwen walked up beside her and pulled it from the shelf.
“It is a collection of poems. They were written long ago. I believe it to have originated in Lothlorien.” Arwen said, flipping through the book. The first half was written in Elvish, but the back half was in Westron. “Would you like to read it?”
She nodded, moving to a table to sit down as Arwen placed the book in front of her. She was thankful for Arwen’s help - it would be tough to get books out with only one good arm. She flipped through the pages, reading the poems. Many of them were difficult to grasp, though one stood out to her. It spoke a woman’s name repeatedly, comparing her to a violent sea, stormy skies, and raging fires. In the end, she turned out to be the writer’s wife, and he spoke of his love for the seas, skies, and fires.
“Elawen,” she said, looking at the name spelled in both Westron and Elvish.
“I remember that poem. It is beautiful.” Arwen smiled.
“It feels right,” she asserted, closing the book and pushing it toward Arwen. “I think I will go by Elawen.”
Arwen took the book and placed it back in its original place on the shelves. She returned to Elawen’s side.
“Then, Elawen, allow me to escort you back to your quarters.”