Elrond reined in his horse, its hooves pawing nervously at the ground as the beast in the clearing fixed its glowing crimson eyes on him. A low, guttural growl rumbled from the creature's chest, its bioluminescent scars casting an eerie glow in the dim light. The arrow protruding from its side was unmistakably Elven, but the beast didn't seem to notice—or if it did, it showed no sign of pain.

It stood motionless, its massive form radiating barely contained fury, the growl rising and falling like a distant thunderstorm. The Elves behind Elrond shifted uneasily, their hands gripping bows and swords as they eyed the creature.

Elrond raised a fist. "Halt," he commanded, his voice calm but firm. The Elves obeyed, their horses stamping and snorting nervously as they stopped.

The Orcs that had plagued the plains were gone, scattered like dry leaves on the wind, and the Elf-lord now turned his full attention to the being before him. He studied it carefully, his sharp eyes noting every detail—the shimmering scales along its body, the blood dripping from the wound at its side, and the intelligence burning behind those glowing eyes.

He straightened in his saddle, his tone both cautious and commanding. "Who are you?" he asked, his words cutting through the tense silence like a blade.

The beast didn't answer immediately, its growl deepening as its eyes narrowed. For a moment, it seemed to weigh him, its massive tail flicking once in irritation.

Then, slowly, the creature began to shift. Its massive limbs seemed to contract and twist, the glow of its bioluminescent markings dimming as it shrank. Scales melted into skin, and the hulking beast transformed before their eyes, standing upright as the form of a woman emerged from the monstrous figure.

Mizuki stood there, breathing heavily, blood dripping from the wound in her side. Her crimson eyes glared at Elrond, her expression cold and defiant. She crossed her arms over her chest, her stance unyielding despite her obvious injuries.

"I am Mizuki," she said, her voice low and edged with steel. "And I would ask you the same—who are you, Elf-lord, to loose your arrows so recklessly?"

The Elves behind Elrond murmured in surprise, but Elrond himself remained composed, his gaze steady as he regarded her. "I am Elrond of Rivendell," he replied evenly. "And you stand injured in my lands."

Mizuki's lips curled into a faint smirk, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Your lands?" she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She took a step forward, her bloodied hand brushing against the arrow still lodged in her side. "I don't remember giving you leave to fire on me in your lands."

Elrond raised a brow, his expression unchanging. "We did not know what you were," he said simply. "Your form... is unfamiliar."

"You didn't care to ask," Mizuki retorted, her voice sharp as her glowing eyes burned into his.

Elrond's horse shifted beneath him, sensing the tension in the air, but the Elf-lord remained calm. "We will tend to your wound," he said, his tone shifting to one of diplomacy. "If you allow it."

Mizuki's eyes flicked to the Elves behind him, their weapons still drawn. She let out a sharp exhale, her posture relaxing slightly, though her gaze never softened.

"I'll allow it," she said grudgingly, "but don't think for a moment that I trust you, Elrond of Rivendell."

Elrond inclined his head, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. "Trust is earned, not given," he replied. "Come. Let us tend to your wound."

Mizuki hesitated for a moment before following him, her steps slow and deliberate, her crimson eyes never leaving the Elf-lord. The arrow still lodged in her side throbbed with every movement, but she ignored the pain.

For now.

SCENEBREAK

The Company trudged onward, their spirits sinking as they were led deeper into the Elven lands. None of the dwarves were pleased about their capture, but Thorin was by far the most displeased, his simmering anger barely concealed behind his stoic exterior. His hand never strayed far from the hilt of his blade, his eyes scanning for any opportunity to escape.

They didn't have long to dwell on their predicament. A clear, resonant horn sounded through the trees, the haunting call reverberating across the cliffs. Within moments, Elrond and his riders emerged, their silver armor gleaming as they circled the dwarves with effortless precision.

Thorin immediately called for the Company to form up. "Stay together!" he ordered, pulling Bilbo into the center of the group. The hobbit stumbled slightly, but Thorin steadied him with a firm grip.

That's when Thorin's sharp eyes caught sight of a figure riding beside Lord Elrond—Mizuki.

She sat upright, her posture steady despite the obvious weariness in her frame. Her crimson eyes still glowed faintly, though her face was pale, and a dark patch of blood stained her side where the arrow had been.

"Mizuki!" Fili and Kili cried in unison, their voices ringing with relief as they spotted her. Their joy was so palpable that it cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Mizuki turned her head toward them, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Though tired, her expression carried an air of reassurance that seemed to lift some of the weight from the Company's shoulders.

Gandalf, standing at the front of the group, let out a slow, measured breath. It was a rare display of emotion from the wizard, but the relief was unmistakable. She was alive.

Elrond dismounted gracefully, his sharp eyes scanning the Company before nodding to Gandalf. Then, with a quiet but commanding presence, he turned back to Mizuki and reached up to help her dismount.

She didn't argue, though her movements were stiff as she leaned on him briefly, the pain in her side evident in the faint grimace that crossed her face.

"Lindir," Elrond called, gesturing to one of his attendants.

The silver-haired Elf stepped forward immediately, taking Mizuki's arm with a steadying hand. Elrond handed her over without a word, trusting Lindir to guide her where she needed to go.

"Take her to the healing chambers," Elrond instructed quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Mizuki gave the Company one last glance as she was led away. Her gaze lingered on Thorin for a moment, as if daring him to say something. But the dwarf king remained silent, his jaw tightening as he watched her disappear into the halls of Rivendell.

The dwarves muttered amongst themselves, their unease growing. "Where are they taking her?" Fili whispered to Kili, though neither of them dared speak too loudly.

Gandalf, sensing their rising concern, turned to Thorin. "Do not worry," he said, his voice calm but firm. "She is in good hands."

Thorin didn't respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as he watched Mizuki vanish from view. There was a storm brewing behind his cold blue eyes, but for now, he said nothing.

Instead, he turned to his Company and gestured for them to fall in line. Whatever the Elves had in store for them, he wasn't about to let his guard down. Not here.

SCENEBREAK

The healing chambers were serene, their high arched windows casting soft light onto shelves lined with all manner of herbal remedies and gleaming tools. The air smelled faintly of lavender and rosemary, soothing to both mind and body. Mizuki felt a rare flicker of contentment as she sat on a neatly made bed draped in fine linens, the cool fabric a welcome contrast to her weary frame.

Lindir bowed politely before stepping back toward the doorway. "If you need anything, we're just outside," he said, his tone as measured as his movements.

Mizuki gave him a faint nod of acknowledgment, her crimson eyes glinting faintly under the gentle light.

Soon after, a group of Elven healers approached her, their movements graceful and precise. One, an elder with silver hair braided intricately down her back, gestured toward Mizuki's torn and bloodied garments.

"Your clothes need tending, as do you," the elder healer said gently.

Mizuki hesitated for only a moment before complying. She shrugged out of her tattered attire, her battle-worn armor falling away to reveal bruised skin and the faint shimmer of her bioluminescent scars. The healers worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning her wound with water that was cool and soothing. Their touch was gentle but firm, and Mizuki winced only slightly as the remnants of dirt and blood were wiped away.

After tending her injuries, they directed her to a nearby bath, its basin carved from pale stone and filled with steaming water. Mizuki stepped into the bath, letting the warmth seep into her muscles as she sank beneath the surface. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, her mind easing for the first time in what felt like days.

It was good to finally be clean again.

When she emerged, the healers provided her with fresh clothes—a soft, flowing gown of deep gray-blue that shimmered faintly under the light, its fabric light and comfortable against her skin. They bound her wound with a clean dressing before declaring her healed to the best of their abilities.

Afterward, an Elven maiden with delicate features escorted her to a private chamber. The room was modest but elegant, its walls adorned with subtle carvings of vines and stars. A bed draped in pale silks sat in the corner, and a small table held a jug of water and a bowl of fresh fruit.

"You will be invited to a meal with the Lord tonight," the maiden informed her, her voice melodic. "Be ready by the moon's final rays."

Mizuki nodded in understanding, her mind too tired to form a reply. The maiden gave a polite bow before departing, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Left alone, Mizuki flopped onto the bed, the soft fabric of her nightgown brushing against her skin as she stretched out and stared at the ceiling.

She sighed, her fingers brushing absently against the freshly bound wound at her side. "Not what I'd imagined," she murmured to herself, her voice laced with dry amusement.

Then she chuckled softly, the sound low and fleeting, before closing her eyes and letting the quiet peace of the chamber envelop her.

SCENEBREAK

The knock at the door roused Mizuki from her light slumber, her crimson eyes fluttering open as she rubbed the lingering drowsiness from them. She sat up slowly, the soft rustle of silks accompanying her movement.

The door creaked open, and an Elven handmaiden entered, her steps light and her demeanor polite. "Good evening, my lady," she said gently, inclining her head. "It is time to prepare."

Mizuki sighed softly and stood, allowing herself to be guided toward a tall, ornately carved wardrobe. The handmaiden opened it with a quiet hum, revealing an array of beautiful garments that shimmered under the dim light. She pulled out three dresses, laying them out across the bed for Mizuki to inspect.

"Here," the handmaiden said, gesturing to the choices, "choose any one you want, my lady."

Mizuki stepped closer, her gaze sliding over the options. The first dress was a deep, royal purple, its fabric adorned with intricate embroidery of dragons twisting and coiling in gold thread. The second was a lush forest green, simple but elegant, with delicate leaf-like patterns along the hem. The third was the darkest black, its edges lined with stars that seemed to twinkle faintly, as if the night sky had been sewn into the fabric.

Mizuki smiled, her eyes lingering on the purple dress. The golden dragons seemed to shimmer with a life of their own under the light. "This one," she said, pointing to the intricate design.

The handmaiden nodded and quickly helped her out of her nightgown, her movements practiced and gentle. She draped the fine purple dress over Mizuki's frame, the fabric fitting her perfectly, its golden embroidery catching the glow of the lamps.

Moments later, a small group of hairstylists entered, their delicate fingers working quickly to tend to Mizuki's hair. They brushed and twisted it into a sleek, low bun, allowing a few loose strands to frame her face. Once finished, they adorned her head with a thin silver circlet, its design elegant and understated, with a single amethyst set at the center.

When they were done, the lead stylist, a woman named Lira, stepped back and bowed. "It was an honor to serve you, my lady," she said softly, her voice tinged with pride.

Mizuki smiled faintly, inclining her head in return. "Thank you, Lira," she said simply, her tone warm.

A moment later, Lindir arrived to escort her. He paused as his eyes fell on her, blinking as a faint blush spread across his cheeks. "You look... beautiful, my lady," he said, his voice quiet as he quickly bowed his head to hide his reaction.

Mizuki chuckled softly, a light, almost teasing sound. "Thank you, Lindir," she said, gesturing for him to lead the way.

He offered her his arm, and she took it, allowing him to guide her through the halls of Rivendell. The glow of the lanterns reflected off the golden embroidery of her dress, giving her an almost ethereal presence as they descended a wide staircase into the gathering hall.

The room fell silent the moment Mizuki stepped into view. Conversations ceased, and every pair of eyes turned toward her, their gazes filled with awe. The Company, seated together at one end of the long table, stared openly, their jaws slack. Even Thorin, usually composed, looked momentarily stunned.

Elrond rose gracefully from his seat, a smile playing across his lips as he stepped forward. His calm composure remained unshaken, but there was a glint of admiration in his eyes. "Welcome, Lady Mizuki," he said, his deep voice resonating through the hall. He gestured to a seat beside him, its cushions soft and adorned with silken fabrics. "Please, sit."

Mizuki inclined her head, stepping forward with measured grace. She felt the weight of their stares but carried herself with calm confidence, her crimson eyes meeting Elrond's as she approached.

As she took her seat beside him, a faint murmur spread through the hall, the silence breaking as the Elves marveled quietly at the transformation of the woman who had arrived in such a fierce and battle-worn state.

Elrond poured her a glass of wine, offering it to her with a nod. "Tonight, we feast," he said, his tone light but warm. "And perhaps, my lady, you will share your story."

Mizuki accepted the glass, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Perhaps," she replied cryptically, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief as she lifted the glass to her lips.