These Lovely Scars (Lord of the Rings Fanfic)

Old Pains

Some say that I fell from the sky.

Others say that I am a gift from the heavens, or maybe a curse. That I appeared from thin air. I suppose any of them could be right. After all, not even I know where I came from. Perhaps I did, in fact, fall from the sky. It would certainly explain the scars. Criss-crossed, jagged, straight, and uneven, I have them all. They mark my body with forgotten memories.

I have no idea how I got my scars. But perhaps it's for the better.

It's almost evening now. I stand at the balcony of my room, transfixed by the darkening colours of the sky. The sky is a deep blue, and a touch of purple is the only trace left of the sun. In my opinion, sunsets have always been the most beautiful in Rivendell. But what do I know? The only sunsets I've seen and can recall have been in Rivendell. I remember nothing of my life before I was found in the forest.

Nothing except for my name. It took a while, but it eventually came back to me. I am Adrianne. It's an unusual name, but I know it's who I am. It's the only thing I came with, besides the scars. It's the only thing I'm sure about.

"Ermherm," the timid voice of a guard clearing his throat awkwardly catches my attention. I turn to face him. He is short, and like most Sindarin elves, has dark hair. I don't know his name, but I've seen him around. He wears blue armour with copper trim, showing that he is part of my squad. He is scared of me, but I don't want him to be. There is no reason to fear me - oh, except for the fact that I am the girl who fell from the sky.

It doesn't seem like he will be the one to speak first. "You have my attention," I say in a kind voice, urging him on.

"Mistress Adrianne," he starts. "Your presence in the courtyard is requested by Lord Elrond." With a curt nod, he turns and quickly walks away from my chambers. I sigh.

I exit my chambers and walk down the moonlight corridors, almost tripping on the hem of my skirts. Tonight I am wearing a midnight blue gown that flows behind me in sheer folds of silk. I have never been quite comfortable in dresses. Although they suit me well, I find pants and form-fitting tunics more practical.

I walk to the end of the corridor and out into the open. The moon is high in the dark sky now, and a breeze ruffles through my dark hair. The air is warm and humid, and I hear the comforting sound of crickets chirping and frogs croaking in the distance. Summer evenings like this feel so familiar, in a way that I can't understand. Elrond is standing in the middle of the courtyard. He is not alone. Next to him stands a tall, old man with a long gray beard and pointed hat. He is cloaked in blue-gray robes and carries a staff with a glowing white rock that is embedded into the wooden base. I know who he is.

"Lord Elrond," I say, making my presence known. He turns to me, smiles, and beckons me to come closer. The wizard studies me thoughtfully.

"Adrianne, I would like to introduce you to Gandalf Grayhame. He is one of the Istari; I assume you are aware."

"Yes," I reply with a single nod. "I am aware."

"I am not sure if news has come to you yet of the arrival of the halfling," Elrond says.

"Halflings," Gandalf corrects. "There are four of them, but only one carries the ring."

Halflings? They must be hobbits, Shire folk. But the ring? What did he mean about the ring? "Anyhow..." Elrond continues, giving Gandalf a look, "The halflings seem to have arrived in perfect time. There will be a secret council held tomorrow, and I would like for you to be present for it." He nods, and I am dismissed.

Before I am out of earshot, Gandalf calls out to me. "The scars on your left arm," he says. I stop in my tracks. How did he know that they were on my left arm only? "They are old pains. Memories. Do not overlook them."

I pick up my skirts and hurry out of the courtyard.

• ⧫ • ⧫ •

My maid, Mellwenna, fills the porcelain tub with lavender scented water. She is the perfect mix between my friend and my mother. Mellwenna has been my loyal maid since the day I was brought to Rivendell and no less. Though all have mixed feelings about me (am I good, bad, powerful, dangerous?), Mellwenna thinks of me as a normal elf, even though I am not the slightest bit elf. She even calls me by my elven name, Velika (which, ironically, means "the falling one"). As in, "the girl who fell from the sky."

I tell her that I will bathe and dress by myself this time, and bid her a goodnight. I want some time to myself tonight.

I slide into the tub and let the warm water wash over me. My hair floats around me in black swirls, hiding my scarred body from my eyes. I push back the thick locks, heavy with water, and study my scars through the clear water. Some are more prominent than others: a patch of wild, criss-crossed lines on the inside of my right leg, a long triangular shaped pink patch on one of my feet, a thick white line across my knee, the angry, horizontal marks on my left wrist, going halfway up my forearm. The ones that Gandalf knew about.

How did he know? Sure, they are kind of obvious and hard to hide, but the dress I had been wearing had sleeves that fully covered my arms. Something about it feels wrong. Almost as if they're too personal, and I don't like people knowing about them. I feel like...someone will be disappointed in me. Yes, that's it. Disappointment. But why? It's not like I did this to myself...these markings are just part of me. No reason to feel ashamed.

And yet, it feels so wrong, so unnatural. These abominations make me less than what I am. I tear my gaze away, avoiding the scar over my heart.