You wake up in someone's arms and open your eyes, but the sky is too bright for you to see anything, and you close them again, and you notice that whoever is carrying you, their arms are warm, and caring-feeling.
You try again and open your eyes slowly and look up to see your carrier: Legolas. You smile at him, though he is not looking at you. You follow his gaze and see a large castle made of stone. Helm's Deep! You try to sit up in his arms, but you grimace and stop moving. Legolas notices this.
"Hey y/n. How are you feeling?" he asks.
"Alright, I guess."
"That's good." He smiles and looks ahead. You are now entering the stronghold. Everyone there is preparing for battle.
"Legolas! I have to fight!" you say.
"No, I'm afraid you can't. You are injured far too badly."
"But I can't let these people die!" You say in Elvish so that no one else will understand what you say. "They have no experience with battle! When the wargs came, they just ran ahead. They did not fight! They will die."
Legolas responds in the same tongue, "Yes, I know. But you cannot help them. You are too hurt." He lays you down in a bed, deep within the fortress. "The nurses here will attend to you, ok?" He gestures to two ladies. They walk over to you and they smile.
"I'll see you later, alright?" Legolas moves to walk out of the room.
"No! I want to fight!" You try and sit up but the nurses pull you back. "Let me fight!" Legolas has left the room, but you hadn't noticed, because you are too busy fighting the nurses. But you give up, you are too weak.
And so you sit there on that uncomfortable mattress that is too small and let the ladies do their thing. A blonde lady rolls up your shirt to handle the wound. It still bleeds, so she wraps your stomach in a bandage. "Here, sip this," she says as she puts a bowl up to your lips with an amber liquid. It tastes sweet-honey. You smile and so does the maid.
You realize that you don't know the names of these women. "What are you called?" you ask.
"I'm Sarah, and that's Freida over there," says the woman caring for you. She points to a brunette across the room. "You need rest. Feel free to yell for us anytime you need something." Sarah steps out, and Freida follows, closing the door behind her.
You look around. There is only one other person in this makeshift infirmary. A man in his late fifties (about the age of the women) with graying hair and a beard. Freida had been caring for him only moments earlier. Now, the man soundly sleeps, snoring. Oh great, you think. How am I ever going to get any rest with him making such a racket? But a few minutes later, you're asleep, disregarding the fact.
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You wake up, now that the room is dark. The moon shines through a window onto the foot of your bed, and you realize that you can now use your powers. You make sure that no one is awake in the room. Then, you try to conjure up something that might help you remember something, anything. You let your hands float and do their thing, and when they stop, you see what they have made.
An elf, with brown hair on his head that bears a crown. His face is old, with wrinkles, but it is regal. You start to have a flashback and the elf starts talking to you.
"Y/N, you are not like the rest of our family. You have the potential to do great things. But that will have to wait. I know it may be confusing at the time, but you will understand it all later. I love you, my sweet y/n. Be safe." And then the elf is gone.
Something clicks in your brain as you realize who the elf is: Your father. Lord Elrond. Ok, well what does he mean that you're not like the rest of your family? Wait, who is the rest of your family? Arwen, your sister! And your mother, Celebrian. They are all elves. Are you?
"Sarah!" you call. She comes in. "May I have a mirror?"
"Certainly." She walks out and comes back with a piece of glass just large enough for your hand to hold. You hold it so you can see your ears. They are...somewhat pointy.
"Sarah," you ask, "Am I an elf?"
She chuckles. "Why, I do believe so. How is it that you are just finding out? Maybe because it's very late and you are very tired. I will leave you now to sleep." And she does.
The room is silent, but there is noise coming from outside. Fighting. Wait, fighting? Fighting! You try and get up again, but your wound keeps you down. If only there was some sort of magic. You gasp, for you can try such a thing.
You focus your hands around your injury and inhale deeply. You say some words in a language forgotten, with fingers floating all around.
You dare to see if it worked. You take off the wrap, stained with your own blood. Then you look at your injury, except there is no injury to be found!
So you leap up from the bed that once bound you and go find the armory.