She first met him when she was just a little elfling. They were walking together down the Alley of Roses, and she was careful not to prick herself on their lovely thorns. Her parents had stopped all of a sudden, and, curious, she looked away from the pretty white roses.

There he was, dressed in white and gold, his bright hair braided and streaming out behind him as he stopped walking to speak with her parents. Then he wasn't in front of them anymore. He'd seen her. All of a sudden he was in front of her, crouching down with a wide smile on his lips, radiating a warmth that the childish side of her found comforting and safe. "I am—" static sounded, the name locked from her memories "—little one. What might your name be?"

Nervous, she cast her eyes over to where her parents stood a little ways behind, only speaking up when they nodded encouragingly. Static sounded yet again, and his grin widened.

"Well met, little one," he said, that sunny smile still in place. "Your parents have served me well over the years. I hope you will follow in their example." His hand ruffled her silvery locks and then he was gone.

She didn't meet him again until she was an adult.

Anna groaned, rubbing her head as she sat by the river, scenes flashing before her eyes as she tried to gather her wits about her. She'd been hit by a car, and she'd woken up in a forest completely uninjured and looking like the elleth from her dreams. Said elleth had told her that they were one and the same, and that meant her dreams hadn't been dreams. Her hands went to her ears, feeling the defined point to them – all the proof she needed that they were most definitely real. She was an elf. A goddamned elf.

She bit her lip, slapping her hands to her face. "I can deal with this," she whispered, choking back the sob that threatened to burst from her throat. Who was she kidding? Water rushed by under her feet, tears welling up in her eyes the longer she stared at that picture perfect scene. It was like something out of those nature documentaries Mira always insisted on watching. But now she was dead to Mira. She took a shaky breath. She'd died. Again. A bitter chuckle escaped her. She'd been living as a human, as one of the edain, for the past thirty years or thereabouts. Her perception was off by a mile. Those thirty years had felt like an age, all because she'd believed herself to be mortal. She wasn't. But she was only just remembering that, and it hurt. She'd never had mortal friends before. Not in Gondolin. Few of the edain had ever witnessed the beauty of that White City. The same White City her heart longed for, but it was gone by now. She'd witnessed its destruction with her own eyes. Flinching, her nails dug into the smooth unmarred skin of her arms. She'd died in that city. Maybe that was why she found the sound of rushing water so soothing. It was the complete opposite of the fire that'd killed her.

Her hand moved to cover her mouth, stomach twisting as she remembered the hours before her death. Her first death. The vaguely human-ish part of her wanted to throw up at the memory of her first death. The one she'd thought was just a nightmare. It wasn't. She'd died from flame and sword, at the hands of a grotesque monster. A balrog. The elvish part of her thought nothing of death and rebirth. At least not in the same vein. Death and rebirth was natural. Her soul was eternally tied to the world. Her trip through the void had proven that much. She'd always return there, because there was home.

Rochel, Shannon, and Mira… her dear friends were now out of her reach, just as she was out of theirs not that they knew it. Forever. But it would've happened eventually, the voice in the back of her head reminded her. She was an elf, and she'd always been one even if she hadn't remembered. Lifespans of mortals were but the blink of an eye to their kind. It didn't make the loss hurt any less though.

"Still this is no place for me to linger," she murmured, pulling herself out of her thoughts, finally trying to take stock of her surroundings. She was by a stream in the middle of a forest with no weaponry or armour anywhere in sight. She was vulnerable. Anna didn't like being vulnerable. Not in her short mortal life, nor in her long elvish one. There was no conflict between the strong human emotions still raging through her, and her even stronger elvish emotions flooding through her. Really it should've been the other way around, but she'd always been a very strange elleth.

Brushing the dirt off her white dress, she climbed to her feet yet again, staring once more at the flowing outfit she was wearing. It was something her parents would've tried to make her wear… well, back when they were alive. The slight weight about her neck made her blink, her hands lifting up to find the same golden pendant she'd worn all those years ago. Did time flow differently between earth and middle earth? She bit her lip, silently wondering how many years she'd been gone. She wondered where he was… that golden-haired self-sacrificing idiot.

He'd survived Gondolin, had he not?

Her pendant felt warm against her chest, one hand curling around it. Everything else was new, but the pendant was constant. Well, along with her appearance. That hadn't changed from before. But why would the Valar give her that small measly pendant… it was an inconsequential thing… if they had given her the trinket then why not any of her armour or her precious sword… unless…

"You will know what mission we have given unto you in your heart. 'Tis not a difficult one, but the pain will not be a simple matter."

The words rang in her mind as she stood there, hand clutched around the golden jewel like it was her lifeline. She could still remember the surprise at finding the small thing on her pillow however many years ago. The night after Lord Rog had given her that sword and said she had a tongue of silver. She stared down at it. Had he been jealous all the way back then? she wondered, running her finger along the finely crafted chain. Could he even be jealous? Or had it just been his way of ensuring she had a gem in the colouring of the House of the Golden Flower to match the one given to her by the House of the Hammer of Wrath?

"He is our emissary, and the sea is calling to him even as we speak."

Anna closed her eyes, blush rising in her cheeks. She knew. She knew exactly what her mission was, and she wasn't sure she liked it one bit. The Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, her lord, had somehow landed himself as their emissary. He needed to do his job, and yet he was called to the sea.

Back to Aman.

But he still had his duties to carry out. And she had a horrible feeling she was the reason he longed to hurry back to their homeland. She'd kissed him selfishly before dying. She wasn't sure what he'd felt towards her at that moment in time, but he'd definitely felt something, hadn't he? Now she was going to have to face up to what exactly it was… if it was anything at all. But Mandos had taken awhile to find her when she'd slipped through a crack in his halls and somehow found her way into the void. How long had he been there in middle earth, conflicted or tormented by what she'd done? What she'd taken… She was fairly sure he'd never kissed anyone before, so she'd stolen that from him. A sigh escaped her.

She'd fought five damned balrogs before, she shouldn't have been so damned scared. Fire nipped at her hands, burning at her throat. Anna scratched at her neck, shuddering at the memory. The human part of her wondered what the hell she'd been smoking when she'd made that decision, and Anna snorted. Those different parts of her would merge eventually… those human thoughts and assumptions would vanish with time, though she'd carry the memories forever. That was just how elves were.

Not that other elves had found themselves in a different world as mortals.

"No more moping," she whispered to herself, willing her feet to move – to take her away from that spot where she'd just been reminiscing. "I am one of the Eldar… I was never mortal…" Flames smothered her body, the smouldering corpse of one of their brethren at her feet before the last of its flames vanished and its body crumbled down into ashes, narrowed red eyes that seemed to burn with that same fire glaring down at her, one with a large gash struck through it. "I would never have been able to slay that balrog otherwise," she murmured, remembering how the flames had burnt through her body. Just taking down one of those damned cursed beings had taken every last drop of her unnatural strength. "But there is no fire here." Her fingers dug into the skin of her neck, desperately trying to convince her mind there was no burnt flesh there. "I am not there anymore. I am alive," she mumbled, flinching at the memory of that burning whip cutting off her air supply. Those red eyes that watched her die would be forever burnt into her memory.

Well, they weren't the only sets of eyes that watched her slip away to the Halls of Mandos.

The grey eyes of her kin were there too.

Anna smiled sadly. She could still hear the sounds of flutes echoing in her ears as they arrived far too late to save her. She could still remember the blurry scene of that gleaming silver longsword dancing about underneath the fiery assault.

Those whispered words to her which she'd carry in her heart forever.

"You did well, little warrior. Rest now and be at peace under the stars…"

Tears trailed down her cheeks, and furious, she rubbed at them. She was still a horribly emotional elleth. Death and rebirth hadn't changed that in the slightest. He'd probably hate her on sight the minute he saw her. She'd been selfish, the very opposite of his usual actions.

Yes, she thought sagely. Why would he still want someone like her after all those years?

She'd probably just imagined that look in his eye back on the bridge.

Her hands curled into fists. The Valar had chosen wrong when they sent her back. She stepped forwards, noting the way her bare feet sunk into the soft mud ever so slightly. They should've sent back Ecthelion… someone better than her… someone greater than her. Who cared if she'd slayed a single balrog? Lord Ecthelion had slayed at least two, if not more. Plus he was actually on good and speaking terms with the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower.

Scowling, she hurried away, following the path of the stream, hoping it would lead to her to some place she was actually somewhat familiar with. That would've been ideal, but she hadn't travelled out of Gondolin all that much, and she didn't even recognise the trees standing by them. They were quiet, unlike the trees she'd passed through before – the ones that had sung. These trees were silent, as if asleep. Her eyes narrowed, and she refused to acknowledge the sliver of fear trickling down her back. She could deal with situations like these ones. She was three-hundred and something, nearly four-hundred, including her days as a mortal.

But she was in the unknown and horribly lost.

Surely the Valar wouldn't have been so cruel as to drop her back anywhere dangerous?

The sound of wolf howls answered that question.

She'd always had such an unusual luck when it came to danger. How could she possibly forget that fact? Cursing under her breath, Anna ran away from the baying of creatures who'd probably love nothing more than to rip her throat out. "Why couldn't they have given me a damned sword?"