Chapter Text
Bells rang in the white city, their footsteps silent as she and a couple of others of their household accompanied their lord to the grand palace in front of them. They’d passed across the pavilion of fountains, sunlight sparkling off the crystal clear water as it sprayed up in the air. A fine sheen of light mist had already covered her, her hair slightly damp. Goldilocks was fine though, and that irritated the living daylights out of her. Why did he have to be so annoyingly good at everything he did? It was driving her up the wall. Couldn’t he fail at something?
As if sensing her thoughts, he turned, smiling brightly at her. Was he trying to seduce her or something, just like he’d seduced half the city with his golden locks and bright grin? She shuddered, scowling all the wider at his irritatingly cheerful expression. She wasn’t falling for those annoying smiles. She knew him better than most of the Gondolindrim, thanks to him being her sole sparring partner throughout her training, and you learnt a lot about someone through their swordsmanship. He probably trained her thinking she’d drop out under the harshness of each of his lessons. She smiled smugly. As if. She’d be a warrior. A good one too.
“Now, you all know the drill, so please do try to stick to the correct etiquette—” static sounded in place of her name “—I am looking at you here. Please try to refrain from opening your mouth at all possible costs.”
“Rude,” she muttered, folding her arms in a huff. “I can be polite.”
Snorts sounded, and shockingly enough they didn’t come from the golden-haired ellon in front of her. They came from the other members of the House of the Golden Flower, all of them sniggering at her words.
“What are all of you laughing at?” she barked, hands curling into fists, and a hand patted down on her head, musing her hair even more.
He chuckled, ruffling her hair like a child. The thought made her rage simmer, irritation cracking through her expression. “You have a reputation, reckless idiot.” He tapped her lips. “You have a habit of opening these without thinking, and today that will not be tolerated as much.”
“I can be quiet,” she muttered, face reddening under all the stares directed her way. It didn’t help that she looked small compared to all of them, the top of her head just barely reaching their chest-height. “I will be quiet,” she corrected, her voice small as she hunched into herself at all the attention. She was fine at having his and only his attention directed towards her – it helped with her training – but having everyone staring at her? It was uncomfortable to say the least, and she sorely wished she could hide. But she was a strong warrior, and strong warriors didn’t hide.
“Well, with that said,” he spoke, opening the doors. “You all know what to do,” he said, winking at her as they travelled their twenty paces down the hall, coming to a stop and kneeling. They were one of the later groups to arrive, many of the other Houses of the Gondolindrim already present and kneeling in orderly rows. Their lord continued on, walking closer to the throne as they waited patiently at the back of the hall for the meeting of sorts to begin.
She waited there quietly, second from the back in their little line and for a while it was peaceful. It was fairly obvious which households each line belonged to from their armour and gear. Silver was the armour of the House of the Fountain, their shields and longswords left behind, red and black accents were the House of the Hammer of Wrath, though they had yet to arrive. It was to their left that knelt the House of the Fountain, and there was where she found a problem to test her self-control.
“Manwë’s breath, how did a little elfling slip in?”
Her eyebrow twitched, feeling the eyes on her annoyingly small body. Patience and calmness were key. She could survive a few quips about her height, because that’s what an elleth her age would do.
“Does Lord”—static sounded yet again—“really allow them to join up that young?”
Sighing, she turned to face them. “I am over three hundred, now please cease with your chattering. We are within the Halls of the King,” she said, resuming her silent kneeling second later, hoping that’d be the end of things.
It wasn’t.
“There is no possibility about you being over the age of three hundred. You are in your late thirties at most,” the same voice sounded, and her face twitched. Hold it in. Hold it in, she reminded herself. She was there representing the House of the Golden Flower. She was representing her parents and herself. She couldn’t afford to lose her cool right then and there. “Your arms look like sticks—”
Her arm lashed out almost instantly, irritation twisting her expression into something ghastly as her fist slammed into his side. She was only intent on showing him she was strong enough even with arms like sticks, and a powerful punch should’ve done that. It should not have sent him careening on unsteady feet to a distance halfway across the hall with a loud clatter.
The silence that fell all of a sudden was deafening, and she wanted to curl up into a ball and vanish.
“You have really done it this time,” the ellon in front of her muttered, shaking his head slightly along with the rest of the representatives of the House of the Golden Flower.
“How was I supposed to know he could not recover from such a light tap?” she hissed, blinking as the ground vanished from under her feet. Her legs dangled in the air, the firm grip on the collar of her armour making her freeze as she finally registered the presence that had managed to creep up behind her.
His hair was red, an unusual colour amongst the Gondolindrim, armour laced with red and black accents on the silvery metal, the cloak over one shoulder, held in place with a large red pin embossed with a black hammer and anvil. House of the Hammer of Wrath. Coincidentally, their leader just so happened to have red hair… and also happened to be one of the strongest elves in the city who could probably pick up her miniature self with ease. She was doomed. Totally doomed. Static sounded as he yelled her lord’s name, and she flinched, feeling the eyes of everyone in the forefront of the hall snap to where she was. “I am borrowing this one!”
“Eh?” She blinked, hanging there limply as she was carried out. Something deep inside her told her it was pointless to fight… plus she was getting away from the awkwardness of the hall and all the eyes she could feel boring into her, even if she was being carried off like some mischievous puppy.
“Rog!” Footsteps clattered, his voice sounding as she was spirited away. “Rog, get back here!” he yelled, chasing after them, leaving the other lords and the king behind. “You cannot steal members of my household!”
Laughter bubbled from the one holding her.
“Uncle…” the voice came from further inside the hall, her ears twitching as she just about caught wind of the words. “Why do you let those two do as they please?”
“They are loved dearly by the Gondolindrim because of their dispositions, Maeglin,” another spoke. “It is of no consequence. Besides, we have managed to cover all that we needed to. Let them go—”
“Wake up, Anna!”
Anna blinked, confusion at her own name. Anna. It sounded strange compared to the static of her dreams in place of the name everyone called her there. “What is it?” she grumbled, rubbing her eyes as she checked the time. She’d been asleep for roughly an hour, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. not with the strange dream she’d had. “Ugh. Couldn’t you have let me sleep?”
Rochel rolled her eyes. “We’re at the best part of the movie!”
Glancing over at the screen, she reminded herself why she’d wanted to sleep. Rochel had put on the damned horror movie, and of course she couldn’t just let her sleep through it. Hands were sticking out from under the wreckages of buildings, blood pooling on the flagstone, all of it graphic enough to make her stomach roll.
“Rochel,” Mira hissed. “She doesn’t have to watch it if she doesn’t want to!”
“But look at the sucker,” she said, sniggering. “He’s getting burnt alive. Come on, Anna. It’s not real, and you can so tell.”
“Rochel,” Shannon spoke, pinching the bridge of her nose. “For someone who constantly worries about all of us, you’re really quite dim.”
“Hey! Take that back!”
Shannon growled, eyeing her paling face. “Horror movies aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, OK? So stop trying to force Anna to watch them.”
“But how will she get used to them if she doesn’t watch them?”
Mira scowled. “She doesn’t need to get used to them,” she said. “If you want to watch horror movies, invite one of us. You know Anna can get sick from these, and she’s ill enough as it is.”
“Thank you,” Anna mumbled, oddly transfixed by the flames on the screen before her stomach rolled. She could smell it in the air. The scent of burnt flesh, the acrid taste of coppery blood on her tongue. “Now I’m going to the bathroom.”
Mira’s eyes narrowed, her brown-eyed gaze concerned. “You feeling OK?”
“No, I think I’m going to be sick,” she grumbled, hurrying for the bathroom, wincing at how hot places on her skin felt as she headed straight for the toilet, emptying her guts, wincing at the pain flickering all over her body.
“Here.” Rochel stood next to her as she pulled away from the toilet bowl. “Drink,” she said, holding out the glass of water. “Your mouth probably tastes awful.”
“And whose fault is that?” One eyebrow arched, and Anna took a large sip. Her mouth did indeed taste horrible.
Rochel smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“I forgive you, just don’t do it again… I don’t like fire, and I don’t like blood… I also don’t like seeing people being crushed… or shot with black arrows…”
Her friend blinked. “Nobody in the film was shot with arrows, Anna. Is that another random dislike of yours? You feeling OK?” Her hand patted at her shoulder, sweeping her mercifully clean hair back over her shoulder as she sat back.
The other eyebrow rose to join the one in her hairline. “Hmm…” She looked at the toilet bowl pointedly. “Let me think…”
“Oh.” Rochel slammed a hand to her forehead. “Stupid question.”
“Duh.”
“We good?”
Anna nodded. “We’re good.”
“Wanna watch one of those sappy movies you love for reasons unknown to me?” Rochel asked, tilting her head. “Shannon and Mira have already chewed me out.”
“With good reason,” she said. “Yes to the movie. We got any snacks left?” she asked, flushing the toilet as best she could, spraying the air freshener to get rid of the horrible stench. It only made her feel that much worse, even if she was feeling a lot better after hurling back up most of her dinner.
“Plenty. I brought extras just in case… whatdya want? There’s garlic bread and chips, though we’d need to cook them… or there’s chocolate and crisps…”
“The first option sounds better,” Anna said, not wanting to risk anything too sweet. Not after seeing how unsettled her stomach was. She probably should’ve had a better reaction to horror movies – or at least one not as severe, but there weren’t any small mercies for her. Not with her health and the like. Rochel called in karma for both her apparently healthy last life, and her ungodly luck in her current one.
“Thought so.” She stuck her head out of the bathroom. “Girls! Chuck the oven on! Anna wants garlic bread and chips.”
“Twenty years later and she still calls us girls…” Shannon mumbled, smiling at Anna as she came out of the bathroom with a bright grin. “You two sorted everything out?”
“Yep.” Anna nodded slowly. “But I’m gonna sit down for a bit. You OK with cooking?”
“Ann, I’ve survived ten years on my lonesome, so yes. I’ll be fine with the cooking, so sit your toosh down on the seat and make that idiot put on a nice cheery movie for you.”
“I’m not an idiot!” Rochel complained.
“Current evidence suggests otherwise,” Shannon said airily. “So until such a time as there’s evidence otherwise, an idiot you’ll be.”
“Pff.” Rochel sunk onto the sofa with a huff.
Anna sniggered, an odd nostalgia overcoming her as she sat on the sofa next to her friend, the voice floating through her mind laced with a strange fondness she couldn’t quite place.
“Reckless idiot.”