One Ring||Reader Insert

5 ~ The Last Homely House

You wandered down the stone pathway until you reached the entry bridge to the gorgeous city. It led over a lake that connected to a waterfall below, and you found yourself looking down, unlucky that a fear of heights was a big deal for you. You continued over the bridge to an enormous circular platform that had white markings cut into the gray stone. A thunderous sound followed you over the bridge.

Turning to look, you watched an army of archers crossing the bridge on horseback. The dwarves brought up their arms, doing the opposite of Gandalf's request to be cordial, as the captain trotted forward with his bow slung over his back.

He was beautiful. Not handsome in the way some mortal men were, but simply stunning. He had flawless skin, pointed ears, and long hair that flowed elegantly down his shoulders. All of his party did, and you could guess that every elf was born with unmatched beauty.

The captain spoke to Gandalf in his native tongue. Though you didn't comprehend, you were enchanted by his gentle tone. You did, however, understand the call of Gandalf's name from the steps that led into the city.

Another man, this one with raven hair crowned in a silver circlet on his forehead, was descending slowly down steps that you would've tripped on in a gown that long. Did all elves wear dresses?

"Lord Elrond!" Gandalf called to the graceful one.

They too began an elvish exchange. Elrond did not look pleased as he spoke, looking down at the dwarves. However, once Gandalf extended his arm toward you, Elrond's eyes widened. He whispered something, as if he did not want even the archers to hear, and Gandalf nodded.

"Welcome Thorin," said Lord Elrond as he turned to the dwarves. "Son of Thrain, son of Thror. I knew your father when he was still King Under the Mountain."

"Really?" Asked Thorin, lowering his sword. "He made no mention of you."

Elrond's polite smile fell. He muttered something elvish that stirred the party.

"What's he saying?" Asked Gloin, raising his axe. "Does he insult us?"

"No, Master Gloin," answered Gandalf, smiling at Elrond's clever jest of switching tongues. "He is offering you dinner!"

"Dinner?" Asked Bomber, the largest and hungriest of all of them, at all times, even if he had just feasted. "Why didn't you say so?"

Their weapons were sheathed rapidly. The fastest way to a man's heart, especially a dwarven man, was food.

Your stomach growled. You hadn't eaten for a day! Not even a drop of water! Those stupid trolls had intervened at the wrong time. Eager to eat, you followed after the dwarves as the hunting party led them up the stairs.

"Wait, dearest," called Elrond to you. He and Gandalf were staying on the platform with their eyes on you. "I must speak with you."

"Do you know about...this?" You tilted your head. The light of the setting sun settled on your marking as you held up your sword, engraved with the same shapes.

"I may," he said. "We must convene."

"(Y/n)?"

You looked up the stairs to the platform where the first building rested. Bilbo, Fili, Kili, and Bofur were staring you down, and Balin lingered momentarily before following his people. You nodded to them and called out.

"Go on! I'll be there in a sec, okay?"

The four men said something you couldn't hear then walked off to the building where they were sure to be greeted by a grand feast or a warm bath. Smaug knew you could have used both.

"Such strange speech," Elrond said, pulling you along gently. "You surely come from the other world."

"You know about Earth? My Earth?"

"Come now, child, we have much to discuss."

---

Elven healing magic was the stuff! Elrond had taken you to a house that had a waterfall running through it where he handed you off to a group of elven women dressed in white. They treated the few wounds you had gotten, minor injuries and bruises, with gentle voices and soft hands. They led you to a tub near the waterfall, which they filled with the falling water and heated with coals. You asked them to leave so you could take your first bath in what felt like an eternity, to which they gave you odd looks. They insisted on helping you bathe. It took a minute for you to register that that was something done for nobles in the old times, and you were apparently a guest of Lord Elrond.

That didn't make it any less uncomfortable. They wouldn't leave until they cleaned you from head to toe and mended all the wounds on your skin. They brought you fresh clothes that smelt of lilac and brushed your hair until it was the softest it had been in your life. Oil of the yellow grass, they said, harvested from a valley nearby. You would be snatching some of that.

The dress was silky, colored pastel (f/c) and decorated in silver designs. It was draped over your shoulders so that your chest was exposed, the enormous blue mark made obvious for everyone to see. You felt like a princess when they sprayed you with perfume and escorted you to a pavilion at the very top of the tallest rock spire in the city.

The pavilion was looking out on the valley and held a single round table. It had a glass roof and silver railings. Waiting for you were a few people that you recognized and some you had never seen.

Lord Elrond was sitting at a table with a man with sleek white hair and matching robes, along with a staff longer than Gandalf's and more intimidating. Gandalf was speaking with an elven woman with curly platinum hair and a motherly face; she was breathtaking framed in the moonlight. She smiled at you as you entered the pavilion, abandoned by the nurses.

"Lady (Y/n)," she smiled. "Eat, your journey has been long."

The moon lady gestured to the table. It had a small meal set out of fruit and vegetables along with a cut of meat. A glass of wine in a chalice was waiting for you. Famished, you sat down to the pleasant meal and dug in with the least grace of anyone here. Realizing they were staring, you slowed down to the amused gazes of all but the white haired man.

"Sorry," you said, using the napkin to wipe your mouth. "I'm starving."

"You are quite alright," said Lord Elrond. "But while we can, may we speak of your situation?"

You instantly went into your story. Anything for answers. You went from waking up in the meadow to the attack by orc, speaking very lowly of Thorin most of the time. You were subconsciously rubbing at your wrists while you spoke.

"And your marking?" Asked the white haired man, who Gandalf had introduced as Saruman the White and the lady as Galadriel. "Where did it come from?"

"I don't know," you said. "I was hoping you could tell me."