A/N: Ever wonder what it would be like if we were all living life in according to someone else's rules? I found myself questioning that today, like someone could be writing my lines as we speak, making me question whether or not we are all like the sims... maybe I'm just weird. Anyway, here is chapter one of Faire Arato.

Enjoy~

The first thing she was aware of was the creaking sound, like that of a wooden wheel spinning round, and the humming of a song. An earthy smell reached her nose, she must be in the countryside, or in a world where they've yet to discover the Industrial Revolution. By the jarring of her body, they'd yet to discover roads, or cement. She groaned and sat up, rubbing absently at her head, a headache had formed behind her eyes, and she feared it would become a migraine.

'Headache, my dear?' the voice startled her, the wand holstered on her arm dropped into her hand. Turning, she found herself looking into an old and wise face, he smiled at her, his wrinkled face light and good. He was not a bad guy.

'Dying will do that to you,' she told him softly, her voice full of grief, his smile saddened and he patted the seat beside him. She climbed over, settling comfortably on the bench-like seat, he placed a hand over her forehead and with a whispered word her headache was gone. 'You're a wizard?'

'Aye,' he nodded. 'Though folk in Middle Earth call those like me Istari. My name is Gandalf the Grey.' He gave her a lopsided smile. 'Though you may call me Gandalf.'

'Istari?' she questioned before shaking her head. Hermione would have her head if she forgot to introduce herself, the thoughts of her friend sent a pang of longing through her heart. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, Gandalf, I am…' she paused a troubled look came over her face.

Who am I?

Amaryllis Potter was dead.

But who was she if who she was is dead?

'…I do not know who I am,' she mumbled. 'I knew who I was, but I cannot be her anymore.'

'Perhaps you shall rediscover yourself,' Gandalf made an hmm noise, before pulling out a wooden pipe. He began cleaning it and replacing the tobacco within. 'Often we find many things on the roads we travel. New and old. What matters is the actions we take, those are what define us, my dear.'

'Someone else told me something like that,' she told him, fondly remembering her godfather.

'Ah,' he winked at her, 'then they were very wise.'

'Not really,' she laughed, 'it was a rare moment.' She fell silent, thinking of Sirius had her thinking of those lost in the battle, of those she left behind. Her heart hurt. She did not realise she was crying until Gandalf gave her a handkerchief.

'An Istari is a wizard,' he told her as she dabbed at her eyes. 'Sent to Middle Earth by the Valar, our job is to guide those around us. There are five of us in total. Saruman the White, the head of our order, me, Radagast the Brown, he's a bit… odd…' he laughed and she smiled, picturing someone rather like Luna in her mind. 'Then there are the two blues… I can never remember their names.'

'Only five people with magic?' she asked in shock.

'Six now, if we are to count yourself among us,' he snapped the reins and urged the horse a little faster. 'But your magic is altogether different from ours. We ask the elements to lend us their powers, you simply create them, without our staffs we cannot do magic, but you can.'

'How do you know so much?' she asked, blown away by his knowledge of her magic.

'I was forewarned of your arrival, as were two others,' his eyes began to twinkle, reminding her a lot of her old headmaster.

'Then you know of what I must do? Of Mo-'

'Do not speak of it, child,' the voice of Mandos sounded in her head, stopping her speech and making her frown.

'Why not?' She asked confused.

'There are some things best left unsaid. If you were to foreworn him and others of Morgoth's return, then they will focus on that, and not on Sauron.'

She huffed and looked away from Gandalf, she did not like to keep secrets, especially from potential allies. She wondered if she should just tell him regardless.

'Tis not wise to go against the Valar,' Gandalf said with a smile. 'They reveal what they must, but to know the future is a risky thing.'

'How did you…' she trailed off, a pout forming on her face. 'You're the reincarnated version of Dumbledore… I swear it.'

Gandalf knows shit, Dumbledore knew shit, I suppose I can join them on that train. I know shit too, though I wish I didn't. Though Gandalf liked to speak in riddles, he was good company, and good with a sword. She found that out when they were accosted by a species Gandalf called Orcs, he may be old, but he had style. He knew how to hunt for food, skin it and cook it, a blessing to Amaryllis who did not know how to do either of those things. She asked him, one morning two weeks after her arrival into Middle Earth, where they were heading.

'To Rivendell,' he told her, 'where I will leave you in the capable hands of Lord Elrond, who, I've no doubt, will want to teach you a few things. I must travel to the Shire, and hope this little detour doesn't make me late for old Bilbo's birthday party. A hundred and eleven is a remarkably long life for a hobbit.' The last sentence was said quietly, more a musing for himself rather than a piece of knowledge for Amaryllis. She disregarded it as unimportant.

She wanted to protest at being left behind, desiring to stay with Gandalf, but it was a childish need that her wanting such things. She was not a child. She could handle herself without Gandalf. Perhaps her need stemmed from those she had lost, she was in a new world, and Gandalf was the only person she knew. The only one like her. She shook her head, ridding herself of the childish possessiveness. If Lord Elrond was willing to teach her, she would be an avid student and learn all she could of Middle Earth.

Lord Elrond was very willing to teach her and she found he was rather like Professor McGonagall, stern and strict, but fair and just. When he had the time spare to teach, he expected her full and undivided attention. When he was not teaching her history he had his daughter, Arwen, teach her Sindarin. Speaking the language came easy to her, a small gift from Mandos she later found out, but writing Tengwar was another thing entirely. Her chicken scratch was no match for the beautiful and fluid script of the elven language. Arwen had given up on teaching her to write, leaving her to write in English – or Common, as they called it in Middle Earth – and sought to simply get to know the girl-who-had-no-name. She had not given them the name her mother gave her, for as she told Gandalf, she was not that girl anymore. Her name came three months after her stay, Arwen had finally gotten fed up of not having a name to address her with.

'Kuru,' she announced one morning, throwing the thin curtain that separated the bedroom and balcony aside, 'I name you Kuru.'

'Thanks, mother,' the newly christened Kuru groaned, throwing the blanket over her head, she snuggled back into the sheets, content to fall back to sleep.

'Up,' Arwen spoke, lightly tapping her on her backside, 'the sun has risen, there is no use wasting the day away. I want to show you the stables.'

'The stables?' her head poked out of the blankets. 'Horses?'

It was every girl's little dream of owning her own horse, Arwen knew this, and was fully prepared to exploit the weakness of her friend. 'Of course there are horses in the stables, what do you think they are used for?' she laughed and shook her head, before revealing the package she had placed on the chair when first entering the room. 'It's a dress for you. You've spent far too long in breeches and tunics, it's time to look like a woman.'

'But Arwen,' she groaned, turning her pout to maximum. 'I don't like dresses. I'm fully prepared to look like a guy.'

'But I am not prepared to let you,' Arwen gave her a placating smile. 'It's for your own good. Ada agrees with me on this.'

If there was anyone who could get the witch to agree to anything, it was Lord Elrond. He frightened her, not in a bad way, it was as though he were her father and she didn't want to disappoint him. She stretched her body after standing from the bed, grinning at sound of Arwen's tsking at her choice of night clothes. The shorts and tank top were comfy, no amount of disapproval was going to change her mind, besides, it's not like anyone would see them beyond Arwen who was her wake up call. 'Okay then,' she agreed. 'Let's get me into that atrocious thing.'

'Do not act as though wearing a dress will bring about the end of the world,' the beautiful elleth rolled her eyes.

'Kuru,' she whispered to herself in the looking glass, dipping a cloth into the water basin, she cleaned her face from the sweat of sleep. Her fingers lingering on her cheeks. 'Kuru,' she whispered again. It meant magic, a fitting name, though not exactly creative. 'I am Kuru,' she told herself, a beaming smile highlighting her face.

'And Kuru is a beautiful woman,' Arwen said behind her, holding up a stunning green gown. 'This dress will only enhance that.'

'I don't know how you dare call anyone beautiful,' Kuru laughed. 'I was very jealous of you when I first glanced at you.'

Arwen had not been there for the first month of her stay, having been in Lothlorien, and during that month she had rarely left Lord Elrond's side. He was old and wise, she had much to learn from him, he quickly grew to be a paternal figure. He too, seemed to view her as a daughter, and allowed her access to his private library. Then Arwen returned and jealousy struck, not only for the beauty the elleth possessed, but for her relationship with her father. She hated herself for it, but every time she saw them together, her heart would clench and she would hate Arwen. So she distanced herself, choosing to be alone, until Arwen marched over to her, took her to one of the many teaching rooms, and began to teach her Sindarin. She realised that Arwen was beautiful inside and out, and her self-loathing only grew. It was Lord Elrond who set her straight. Arwen was his daughter by blood, but she also held a place within his house.

'Most mortal women are,' Arwen laughed with her. 'Though you are not mortal,' her gaze grew sad, pained, and Kuru got the feeling she knew what laid ahead. 'I am glad you left your jealousy behind you.'

'As am I,' Kuru replied, slipping the dress over her head, allowing Arwen to tie the strings. 'You are my best friend, Arwen. Just like Hermione,' the name was uttered with such fondness. 'Sometimes you remind me of her.'

'Will you tell me of her?' Arwen asked.

Kuru remained silent for a long while, slipping her feet into the soft slippers, she allowed Arwen to loop their arms together and begin a slow walk to the stables. 'She was my best friend, my sister in all but blood. I love her greatly.' She began softly, as though unwilling to disturb the peaceful memory of her friend. 'I was eleven when I first met her, we didn't become friends right away. She was very clever, always in the library, and I thought her to be a stuck up know-it-all.' She laughed as the image of the bushy haired girl, with a slight buck tooth, her arms wrapped around a book or two, swam to the forefront of her mind.

'What changed?' Arwen asked curiously.

'A mountain troll was let into the school,' she told Arwen who gaped in horror. 'Ron had said some rather nasty comments about Hermione, she overheard them and fled to the bathroom in tears. She didn't come out for the Halloween feast, so when the troll came into the school she didn't know. We'd been told to follow the prefects back to the dormitory but Hermione was still in the bathroom, I couldn't leave her there alone, so Ron and I snuck out of the group.'

They'd reached the stables and Arwen greeted the horse master, he returned the greeting, and allowed them inside. Kuru was introduced to Arwen's horse, a beautiful chestnut mare, who whickered in greeting at the sight of her master. Arwen fawned over the horse making Kuru smile, it was clear to see the bond between them. She wandered the stalls, peering inside to watch the horses, lingering to watch a young foal and its mother a while, before looking into the last stall. A white stallion met her gaze, he gave off a pure aura that had her gasping in awe, he seemed to glow with light and within his white mane she spotted silver bells. Hesitantly she reached out a hand to pet his head.

'I would not do that,' Arwen called. Kuru paused to look at the elleth. 'Asfaloth does not allow any but Glo-'

The sentence died on her lips, Asfaloth stepped forwards, moving his head and covered the distance between Kuru's raised hand and his head. Startled, she looked back to the horse and smiled, lightly rubbing her fingers against him. 'Beautiful,' she whispered, the horse seemed to preen under her compliment.

'Once again, you prove how strange you truly are,' Arwen laughed. 'As I was saying, Asfaloth only let's Glorfindel touch him, but it seems you are the exception.'

'There is always an exception to a rule,' she responded with a grin.

'I see that now,' she grinned. 'Will you continue your tale?'

She petted Asfaloth, her grin becoming sad as she returned to her story. 'We ran to the girl's bathroom, only the troll had gotten their first, Hermione was trapped in the cubicle, she barely huddled on the floor before the troll destroyed them with its club. I shouted for her to move, we got the troll's attention by lobbing bits of wood at it. Hermione moved under the sinks, but it spotted her, would have squished her with its club had she not moved in time. I drew my wand, but I had no idea what I was going to do. I'd only just begun learning magic after all. Somehow, I ended up hanging upside down from the troll's fist whilst it tried to batter me its club. My wand was up the troll's nostril and all I could do was dodge the blows. Ron drew his wand, using the only spell we'd properly learnt, he cast it and the club hovered in the air, escaping the grasp of the troll. It confused the thing. Ron released the spell and club hit the troll and knocked it out. We ended up with five extra house points, a few bruises, and of course my wand covered in troll bogeys. But Hermione became one of my best friends, the bruised ankle was definitely worth it.'

'They say great peril brings people together,' Arwen laughed. 'Though I shudder at the thought of troll bogeys.'

'As do I,' she laughed.

She lost herself in her memories, watching them play before her eyes like a movie projector, at first she laughed at them. But laughter soon dissolved into heartache. Arwen had left her some time ago, and Kuru was grateful for that, her only comfort was Asfaloth. The horse seemed to understand, for he shifted closer and whickered softly. She closed her eyes, pressed her forehead against Asfaloth's, before her closed lids she saw her trip around the world. She saw Ron propose to Hermione, she saw them fall into the waters of Venice as Hermione flung herself at him in happiness. She saw the Duomo, the wedding and the stunning white gown they'd rented from the old lady across the street from the villa they'd also rented from her. She saw the last moments she'd had as a member of the Golden Trio.

'I miss them so much,' she sobbed, her tears dripping onto the horse, her arms wrapped around him. 'Remembering them hurts. It hurts too much. But what can I do? Memories are all I have.'

'I've found that memories are often bittersweet.'

For a moment she thought it was Asfaloth who spoke, she wouldn't put it past the elves to teach their horses how to speak. The melodious quality to the smooth masculine tone was how she'd picture Asfaloth speaking, if he could, but the voice came from behind her. Turning she found herself looking at a very handsome elf she'd only ever seen in passing. She'd heard of Glorfindel, how could she not? The elleths liked to giggle and gossip about the strong elven lord, and of course Arwen told her about him. She'd seen his beauty from afar, but up close like this, he was simply radiant.

Like Asfaloth, he seemed to glow with an unearthly aura, a light that could not be touched by darkness. His golden hair fell down his back, luscious and luxurious, like that of spun gold, his blue eyes watched her with a sadness that spoke of understanding. He too had lost a great deal, though she didn't know what. He was taller than her, but that was common, all elves were tall and she was small.

He lifted a hand, placed it against her cheek and wiped away a few stray tears, he smiled softly at her. 'I've found that new memories lessens the pain,' he told her, the sadness in his eyes melting away to reveal a mischievousness that she'd only ever seen with Fred and George. His hand moved to capture her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze full on, his thumb brushing tenderly across her lower lip. 'I'd be more than happy to create some very good memories with you.'

She wasn't naïve enough to miss that innuendo, her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped and she could not think of a reply. All the elves she had seen were very uptight, though Arwen was a slight exception to that, she hadn't witnessed them doing anything improper. Yet, here she was being propositioned by the most gorgeous elf Rivendell had to offer. She couldn't help but laugh.

'Ah, you see,' he grinned at her, 'I've begun to create good memories with you already.'

'You did that to make me laugh?' she asked between her giggles, her eyes shimmering with tears of laughter.

'Perhaps,' he nodded, 'or maybe, to hide the cold sting of rejection your laughter has caused, I am making it seem that way.'

She laughed harder. His eyes lit up at the sound, before he began laughing with her, a light almost tinkling sound that contrasted her harsher sounding laugh.

'I had not thought to meet you here,' he told her after their laughter subsided. 'Nor did I think to bear witness to the sight of you crying, on my horse no less.'

'Arwen brought me here,' she mumbled, shrugging awkwardly. 'Your horse is rather pretty and seems to like me well enough.'

'Asfaloth is rather picky over his companions,' the elven lord mused, moving around her to pet his horse. 'But for you he makes an exception. I do not blame him. For a maiden so fair, I too, would make an exception.'

'I'm not that pretty,' she pulled a face, wondering if he'd seen Arwen or just closed his eyes when in her presence. 'I'm human, full of flaws and imperfections. You should see me when I wake up, I look horrendous.' She was extending the truth a little, she knew she was considered to be very beautiful, with her snow white skin, ruby red lips, and haunting green eyes, but that was human standards. The elf before her was just trying to be polite.

'I would love to see you wake in the morning,' he told her, his lips quirking up into a smirk, and a playful look entered his eyes. 'Perhaps it is your imperfections that are attractive. Elleth do have a perfection about them, but it is so normal and I find myself lingering upon that which is abnormal. You, my dear, are the very epitome of abnormal. A young maid, from another world, so powerful the Valar think you capable of defeating Morgoth.' He stalked towards her, circling her slowly, watching her as though she were a puzzle in which he longed to figure out. 'You have piqued my curiosity, I wonder though, are you prepared for it?'

Holy shit, this guy knows how to talk.

She found herself both intimidated and aroused by him. She watched as he slowly came before her once more, both hands cupping her face. 'Such a fragile little bird you are,' he told her softly. 'Yet I see power beneath that sadness which clings to your eyes, it is enticing and I desire to watch it grow. If you are to wander this world, you need to be prepared, for that you need to learn how to fight.' A hard look entered his eyes. 'I shall be your teacher. But I shall not go easy on you. It will be hard and rough.'

'I wouldn't have it any other way,' she whispered to him, her eyes brightened and a teasing smile lifted her lips. Blue eyes widened briefly, before darkening with an emotion she did not recognise.

'Oh, aiwe, you are a delight,' he laughed and released her. 'We shall train every afternoon, I expect to see you in the training ring a little after noon tomorrow.'

He turned on his heel and strode towards the exit.

'Glorfindel!' she called, he paused and half turned to her. 'How did you know about Mor-'

'You are not the only with a connection to Mandos,' he told her, cutting off her question before she could finish it. 'Do not wear that dress tomorrow, comely though it is, it is not practical for training. I shall see you tomorrow, aiwe.'

Aiwe means small bird, she crinkled her nose what was evidently her nickname. She did not wish to be called a small bird, but all the same, she did not wish to tell him that. She doubted he'd stop using it even if she did. She wondered what he meant about the connection to Mandos, she turned back to Asfaloth, but the elf lord lingered in her mind.

Glorfindel… what a strange elf you are… I find myself curious about you too.

A/N: I really like writing Glorfindel and Arwen, they are like those sassy best friends we all have. Arwen is the more serious one and Glorfindel is the one you have stupid, but fun, conversations with. Next chapter, Kuru learns of Hermione and Ron's child and finally let's go of her friends. It's serious, but it's intermingled with the thoughts that Glorfindel is secretly out to kill her with his intense training. There also might be a moment when she thinks Elrond is Barney the Dinosaur... Who's looking forward to that?

Please Review.