Prescient

Chapter Five: Ignorance

Anna sat in the library, staring blankly at the ceiling. Beleriand had been sunk. It was lucky she'd somehow managed to refrain from asking where the hell in Beleriand she was. Imladris wasn't in Beleriand. Everything she'd known was gone in some shape or form – whether it be the people who were dead or the cities whose ruins she'd never be able to see. Gondolin was under the sea, never to rise again. Rather than making her cry though, the thought just made her feel horribly numb. It felt like she was lost at sea – every revelation a wave that came to batter her ragged soul. "Brilliant," she mumbled. "Just brilliant..." Anna resisted the urge to laugh. She didn't particularly want to look even more insane than she already did. The scholar sitting at the table nearby was already occasionally sending her a concerned glance or two. Her head made an audible thud when it clunked against the hard wood of the tabletop.

There was no going back to how everything was. That much was certain. Lifting her head from the desk, she threaded a hand through her hair. Her life was an absolute mess. But there was nothing to do... Nothing to do except move forwards with everything and bury her past. A humourless smile found its way onto her lips. "I guess that is what I will do then," she said, pushing away from the table, leaving the library quietly. She really ought to get some rest at least. Maybe it would help heal her mind.

But all she dreamt about was him.

Him and the beautiful white city they'd both once dwelt in.

The scene she walked in on was both adorable and hilarious at the same time. It was early morning, the sun just peeking over the horizon, and somehow she'd been designated on paperwork duty yet again. What exactly her lord had to do with the sheer amount of paperwork he always received at the start of each month, she had no idea. All she knew was that she had to collect the paperwork from its tray and ferry it up to her lord's office – and that was exactly what she was doing.

She'd finally announced the career path she wanted to pursue, much to the concern of her parents. But it was that which she thought would make her the happiest. She'd never been one for dress-making or tapestry weaving. She had little skill with painting too, and she didn't have the patience for music. So being a warrior it was.

She bounced up and down on her feet. Her first training session would begin too in a matter of hours, and she was excited for it. Though she knew it would undoubtedly take her years to polish her skills up to a somewhat decent level. She could be patient for that much, especially with her weird strength.

Knocking on the door, she entered the office of the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, blinking at the oddly cute scene she was greeted with. Golden hair was splayed across the desk, half of it braided, half of it loose, with grey eyes glazed over in sleep. She edged closer, not wanting to disturb her resting lord, but the wet stain on the table by his lips made her snort.

Who knew their esteemed lord drooled in his sleep?

It was adorable, and rather amusing to observe. Setting the paperwork down on a clear patch of his desk, she bit her lip, silently deciding on what she should do. She could leave him, obviously, but clearly he still had things to do. Shaking her head, she reached out for his shoulder – clad only in his white tunic, rather than the golden armour he usually wore. "Lord—"

A hand closed around her wrist almost instantly, and then her back slammed into the ground. She grunted, blinking at the heavy weight of the elf lord sprawled over her now instead of the desk. "Five more minutes, Ecthelion," he grumbled, nuzzling into her stomach, brow furrowing ever so slightly as he continued to nap blissfully.

She blinked, not quite sure to make of the position she now found herself in. Her pride demanded she punch some sense into him, but her brain sternly reminded her he was the lord of her house. She couldn't punch him.