Prescient

Chapter Four: Revelations

The revelation that she was living in the Third Age took a while to sink in. There was no denying the fact she'd been thrown back into Middle Earth thousands of years after when she'd left. When she'd died. Anna stared around the darkened room. She didn't like it. Didn't like the way it reminded her of those halls forever bathed in darkness, a blanket of glowing starlight shapes high above her head the only vague source of lighting. Pale moonlight flitted through the open doors, the flimsy white curtains fluttering in the cool breeze. But she wasn't in the Halls of Mandos, nor was she on her mundane little earth. She was in Arda, though she still had no idea whereabouts in Beleriand she was – only that she was in a settlement called Imladris.

It seemed peaceful there, though, and for that Anna was grateful. She doubted she'd have been accepted so easily, had things been chaotic or if there'd been a war on their doorstep. She might've woken up under guard otherwise, until her motives had been proven. As it was, she was left to mourn in private. Mourn the years she'd lost, and the city she'd seen fall.

Her feet carried her outside, her eyes and face dry, her tears already having vanished, and she'd hidden all traces of her little crying session as best she could. Her pride had demanded it so. The same pride and idiocy that had left her facing five balrogs. She'd wanted to prove the golden idiot wrong, and... she hadn't wanted to watch him die when she could've done something to prevent that outcome. She was selfish like that. How could someone as pure and honest as that golden-haired idiot loved her the way she loved him?

She huffed, sinking into the seat on the small balcony, a wicker one with a nice comfy cushion she pulled her feet up to. The view was different. Everything was different. Anna stared out across the moonlit city, mind already drawing up all the differences to all the times she'd stared out across Gondolin. The word was like ashes in her mouth. Imladris was more earthen colours. More wood as opposed to white marble. More silver as opposed to gold. Less gleaming armour. Less fountains scattering a rainbow of colours across the pavilions.

No House of the Golden Flower.

No purpose.

She tucked her chin into the groove formed by her knees, staring determinedly at the ground, that same thought ringing out through her mind. The Valar chose wrong. They should have just sent her back to the Halls of Mandos. That was where she'd slipped out from. She wasn't supposed to be outside the dark halls. She wasn't ready.

She hadn't accepted anything.

All of a sudden she stood, gripping down on the fencing around the small balcony as if it could change something. Anything. She could still hardly believe everything that had already happened. But it wasn't like she could press a rewind button. Stone cracked under her grasp, her expression dark as she stared out across the night skyline. At least the stars were the same... well, aside from one of them... Her shoulders sunk, and she brushed her hair back from her forehead, glancing down at the slight indents she'd made in the stone. She had the overwhelming urge to hit something... and seeing as there was nobody there to watch over her, she left the room. There was too much energy pent up inside her. Too many volatile and conflicting emotions. She needed to hit something, and then she needed to read. She was already tired of having bombshell after bombshell dropped on her.

Tired of having to believe them because all the facts were in alignment.

The night air was cool on her skin, the breeze shielded from her by the buildings all around her as she walked out of the House of Elrond, the darkness hiding her as she slipped into the forest. After all, the best place to find things to hit were either in the training grounds or out in the woods. Seeing as she had no idea where the training grounds were, nor if they'd be open in the seemingly peaceful little valley, the woods it was. The armour everyone wore was completely different to that which she'd used to, indicating just how peaceful the place was. It was nice to think of that fact too.