These Lovely Scars (Lord of the Rings Fanfic)

Out of the Hidden Valley

I can't believe I am really going to do this. Just thinking about it makes my heart race. Tomorrow morning, I will set foot out of Rivendell for the first time ever and begin the journey of a lifetime. To destroy the ring of power.

I hurry through the garden, running through the winding paths with ease. I often come here when I feel upset, or when I need to think. But I don't feel upset right now. I don't want to sit down and think either. I just want to go. But first I have to get back to my chambers.

I turn the corner sharply, where my favourite flower grows. The lavender coloured mîlloth has always felt comforting and familiar to me. Not watching paying attention to the path ahead of me, I lose my footing and stumble forwards. I brace myself for the impact, but it never comes. Instead, I feel two strong hands catch me. "Oh! Thank you, I'm so sorry, I - " I stop mid sentence. The hands belong to the Mirkwood elf. The fair haired one who defended Aragorn. The one who is part of the fellowship.

A flicker of recognition passes through his eyes. Does he recognize me as the girl who fell from the sky? The girl with the scars? Does he even recognize me at all? It doesn't matter. He steadies me and exchanges a friendly smile. "Are you alright, m'lady?"

"Oh, um, yes. Thank you."

I'm Legolas," he says, extending his hand. I reach out and shake it, grateful for my gloves that hide the scars. "What may I call you?"

"Erm...I'm Adrianne." Surely now he will know who I am.

But he doesn't show it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Adrianne."

"The pleasure is my own." I reply politely. "Legolas," I add. I try to think of something to say, but the wrong thing comes out. "I must be on my way." Ughh, stupid, stupid, stupid! "I shall look forwards to seeing you tomorrow," I add to make up for my rude dismissal.

"As will I. I bid you a goodnight, Adrianne." With a nod and a warm smile, he continues down the path, and I do the same. Where was I going? Oh, right: my chambers.

Naturally, I will have to become close with the members of the fellowship. So that was a good start, right? I will become friends with them all, but form no attachments. Aragorn is enough to worry about. I will not let my heart become involved with anyone, because I cannot afford a heartbreak. I don't know if I've ever experienced a heartbreak before in my past, but it doesn't take experience for me to know that I am not strong enough for one.

And besides, Silvan elves aren't my type.

What? But I wasn't talking about Legolas! I am talking about any sort of emotional attachment, period. None at all, whatsoever. Nope, nope, never!

• ⧫ • ⧫ •

I lay on my bed, now dressed in a sheer white nightgown. My hair is undone, and it lays in dark waves around me. A cool evening breeze comes in through the open windows, and moonbeams light the room enough that I can examine the object I finger.

I lied when I said I came with nothing but my scars and my name. I also came with this object. It is a little silver dish, about the size of my smallest fingernail. It opens up, revealing a tiny reflective surface on the inside. There is a little loophole on the top, and a black cord is drawn through it. It was around my neck when I was found.

I have the urge to put it on. To wear it. For the last three years, I have kept it close, yet never felt ready enough to put it on. But I am ready now. Sitting up, I comb my hair to one side and draw the cord around my neck, tying three tight knots at the back. The cool surface hangs against my collarbones.

Two quiet taps at my door startle me. I know it is Aragorn, because he always knocks like that. "Come in," I say, and the door cracks open. He, too, is dressed in nightclothes. "What are you doing here?" I ask. It is common for Aragorn to come visit or talk to me (or I, vice versa), but why at such a late hour. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"