Tauriel of Middle Earth, Silvan Elf, Captain of the Elven Guard.

Eyes: Green. Hair: Auburn.

Five foot, five inches. One hundred sixty-five centimetres. One hundred twenty-three pounds. Fifty-six kilograms.

Tauriel had never seen so much white in one place...not even in a snowstorm. Nor had she ever sat in a chair so uncomfortable. Unarmed and clothed in strange garb unlike anything she had ever seen in Middle-Earth, she felt like a cornered animal, chained up with light-rope and awaiting slaughter.

Through a clear wall three strides in front of her, Tauriel saw bug-like humans in grey suits eyeing her curiously.

Perhaps this is a dream, and Legolas will wake me soon for the morning hunt.

A dream, yes, that's what this had to be. Where Tauriel had conjured such a strange place from, though, she was unsure. A white box of a room...clothing of the strangest variety...and a cruel metal chair. Oddly enough, Tauriel tried to remember what she had last eaten and could not. All she could remember about her recent actions was fighting in the Battle of the Five Armies...

What ever have I eaten to bring about such a dream?

Tauriel's mind continued to tease her. A circular door opened up on her left, with no rhyme or reason whatsoever. The doorway just appeared, like a gaping black hole eating away at the white walls. Someone stood beyond the scope of her vision, obscured by shadows on the other side of the doorway. A woman, from the appearance of their faint silhouette.

The woman paused for a moment, as though for effect.

Some sort of sign! She must represent something. I'll have to pay attention. Tauriel mused in her mind.

Suddenly the silhouette stepped into the harsh light of the white room, and was a silhouette no longer. The stranger was revealed to be a tall woman in a fitted grey jumpsuit identical to Tauriel's own. She had fiery red hair that dipped to the bottom of her jawline, and piercing blue eyes. From her serious expression and clenched jaw, Tauriel guessed that she meant business.

Maybe she represents my conscience, and she is about to tell me to go out and map those new trails I've been meaning to walk by the river...

The dream-woman spoke.

"I'm Commander Romanoff. Welcome, Tauriel of Middle-Earth."

Tauriel glared at her questioningly, her brows furrowed.

"You do speak English, right?" Romanoff prodded, marching over to Tauriel's side. The Commander crouched down to her level, and met Tauriel's green gaze with her own icy blue one.

"Yes." Tauriel answered hesitantly, not daring to look away. "This isn't real." she added quickly, not bothering to hide her disbelief from the strange woman.

Romanoff continued to look at her quizzically, particularly at the side of her head, at her...ears?

"Why do you stare?" Tauriel asked the dream Commander.

"I've never met an elf before."

"Well I've never met humans who dress like this-" she responded icily, gesturing to the humans beyond the clear wall, "-either. So we're even."

Romanoff stood up and crossed her arms. "I know this is all very difficult to understand-"

"It doesn't make any sense. But it's okay. Dreams don't often instil great understanding." Tauriel interrupted, smiling a little now despite herself.

Arguing with my own dream.

"But that's where you're wrong. This isn't a dream." Romanoff proclaimed.

"Prove it." Tauriel said, raising her eyebrows in visible skepticism.

The Commander was still for a moment, but then she drew a slender knife from a pocket in her left sleeve. Quick as a flash she drew the knife gently across Tauriel's palm, leaving a thin red streak behind. A bead of scarlet blood welled up at the corner of the wound and ran down the side of Tauriel's hand.

Tauriel gawked as she felt the pain of the slash sink in. A superficial wound, to be sure, but evidently a real one.

"Believe me now?" Romanoff said grimly. "Sorry about the cut. I'll have them wrap it for you when we get up to command. Now, if you'll be so kind as to come with me. We have a lot to talk about."