Thank you for the continued reviews, favorites, and follows. This one is a bit longer (at 1700 words, it is the fourth longest chapter so far), so I hope it makes up for the wait somewhat. Please enjoy, and as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

Avalon sat on the corner of the couch, gazing at the doorway behind which her young charge was taking a nap, but only after an explosively angry tantrum. She had screamed herself hoarse, and Avalon was sporting a swollen cheek from the force of the little girl's (perhaps justified) fury.

"Merrie, we can't go home just yet," Avalon said gently, trying to soothe the girl, whose face was steadily growing redder.

"I. WANT. MAMA," Meredith insisted, at the top of her small lungs.

"Honey, we're stuck, Mama can't come get us right now, so we have to just wait and be patient," Avalon said more firmly. Meredith began flailing her arms, and Avalon tried in vain to grab and hold her hands, missing and wincing as a tiny fist landed right on her cheekbone. "MEREDITH. You do not hit people! You know better than that!"

"I WANT MAMA! I WANT MAMA! I WANT TO GO HOME TO MAMA AND DADDY AND SISSY AND SANDY!"

She wasn't proud of simply sending the girl to her room to cry it out, but Avalon had never had to handle such a tantrum before. The child wouldn't see reason—which, Avalon reminded herself, shouldn't be surprising; she was six. After about ten minutes of silence, Avalon had opened the door carefully, and found that the girl had utterly exhausted herself. She had moved Meredith from her sprawled-out position in front of the door to the bed, removed her shoes, and arranged her dress to be more comfortable, then left her to nap.

Avalon gave a frustrated sigh and sunk further into the couch, gingerly touching the blossoming bruise beneath her eye. She turned toward the door at the sound of a light knock. With a sigh, she stood and opened the door a crack. From the hallway, Aragarwen smiled sheepishly.

"For you," she said hesitantly, holding out a small tray with a small bowl of ice and a towel. Avalon smiled and pulled the door the rest of the way open.

"For my bruise," she said softly, indicating the dark spot already forming.

"For you bruise," Aragarwen repeated with a gentle smile. Avalon took the tray and invited Aragarwen into the room. She settled at the table and gestured for the elleth to join her even as she wrapped a piece of ice in the towel and pressed it to her cheek.

"Meredith okay now?" Aragarwen asked. Her vocabulary was not quite as wide as Elladan and Elrohir's had become, but the elves, Avalon determined, were much quicker learners than humans.

"Yes. She is sleeping," Avalon said, folding her hands and closing her eyes in pantomime of the act.

"Sleeping," Aragarwen repeated. Avalon smiled and nodded. Aragarwen sat silent for a moment, then, with a look of concern. "You okay now?" she asked gently.

"Yeah, I don't think she got me too bad," Avalon said, removing the ice and testing the bruise with her fingertips lightly. Aragarwen reached for her hand.

"Not... broose? You, Avalon, okay?"

Avalon blinked. After a moment, she nodded. "Yeah. I think so," she said with a sad smile. It would only get worse, she figured, after a week of the holding pattern they had entered. She understood that there was some tension outside of Thranduil's halls as well, so her own situation was being put off for the time being. It had taken some time to get used to the idea that they were in Middle Earth, and even now it didn't seem real. But, then there were moments, when they went outside and saw the towering, ancient, twisted trees of Mirkwood, that she was socked in the gut with the realization that they were nowhere near 'home.'

Explaining this to Meredith, however, was a trick. Avalon was at a loss for how to handle her. There were no daycares for elf children—Avalon hadn't seen anyone who seemed younger than what might be the equivalent of young adult, although she wasn't sure what translated in terms of ages and development stages in elves. If she remembered, Elrond was somewhere around six thousand years old when he traveled to the West. Elladan and Elrohir were maybe... two thousand? Three? They looked like young men; it was impossible to tell with elves.

Avalon regret never being good at timelines, facts, and numbers. It would help her now, she was sure, but all she could remember under pressure was that her saviors existed—and that they belonged in Rivendell. Imladris. Wherever, she mused.

For her part, Aragarwen bore Avalon's pensive silence well, and smiled a bit secretively when she heard the footsteps of a pair of elves—Avalon, however, would be startled by the knock. It amused Aragarwen to be reminded of how dull human' senses were in comparison.

Avalon stood and went to the door, opening it tentatively.

Elladan and Elrohir looked concerned as soon as they saw her, still pressing the ice against her cheek.

"Avalon, you okay?" Elladan asked. She nodded.

"Meredith got angry and hit me," she said, miming a punch to her face. Elladan frowned.

"Where is Meredith?" he asked, looking into the room.

"Asleep," Avalon replied, once again miming sleep as she had for Aragarwen. She thought the twins knew the word, but couldn't be sure. "Come in," she invited.

The twins noted Aragarwen's presence with some relief, and spoke to her briefly. She nodded and stood to leave.

"I come again," she said to Avalon.

"Okay, I'll see you later," Avalon replied, holding the door for her as she swept out and down the hall.

"Avalon, we have words about your... car," Elrohir said. Avalon perked up, looking expectant.

"But, not good," he added hastily, seeing the hope in her eyes. Avalon seemed to wilt, letting out a defeated sigh.

"We can not fix your car," he said carefully. "Not like it was," he said. Avalon sunk into one of the chairs at the table and buried her face in her folded arms, breathing deeply.

"Well, what now, then?" she murmured to herself.

"We have... Ai!" He gave a sigh of frustration, saying something in Sindarin. "Elves. Work on your car. But..." He struggled for the words that he did not yet know. He conferred with Elladan for a moment.

"Angry? Hit. Yrch hit us, elves," he tried to explain. Some more Sindarin, and he looked frusrtated. "Thranduil is gone to hit yrch. Do you understand?" he asked. Avalon frowned, sitting up straighter.

"Thranduil... left for a battle?" she asked.

"Battle?" Elrohir asked, testing the new word.

"A fight. Hit many yrch with many elves together," she tried to explain.

"Yes!" Elrohir cried. "Yes. A Battle. Thranduil has left for a battle," he said. "Many elves go with him. No elves can work on your car."

"Okay. I understand," Avalon said, crossing her arms and frowning at the floor. "I don't know what... Ugh. I don't know how to... Explain. To Meredith," she said, looking pleadingly up at the elves. "Today she was angry. She wants to go home," she said. "I want to go home, too. I thought having the car would help, but I don't know what else to do," she lamented. A knock interrupted her train of thought. Elladan was closest to the door—he pulled it open revealing Aragarwen, who was now carrying a basket.

The elves exchanged words and Aragarwen smiled before settling in one of the chairs by the hearth. She opened the basket and pulled out a bundle of cloth and a spool of thread. Arranging her work, she smiled at Avalon.

"I wait with Meredith," she said gently.

"Huh?" Avalon looked between the elves. Elrohir extended an arm to escort her.

"Come with us," he said. Avalon nodded, standing to take his arm. She turned to Aragarwen.

"Thank you, Aragarwen."

"You're welcome, Avalon" she replied confidently, arranging her sewing in her lap. Avalon followed the elves out from her room. They started down the hall towards the kitchens, but took a branch that Avalon had never been down before.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I do not know the word," Elrohir replied. "A room for paper and quill," he added. Avalon thought for a moment.

"A library?" she asked.

"I do not know," Elrohir said with a light chuckle. "This," he added, stopping in front of a door. Elladan opened the door for them, and couldn't help a grin as he saw Avalon's face light up.

"A library!" she cried, breaking away from Elrohir and rushing inside to spin around, taking in the stacks of books, scrolls, and parchment. A table nearby was laid out with blank parchment, quills, and ink, next to a freestanding chalkboard. There were a few scrolls and books piled in the center of the table.

"For you," Elladan said, gesturing to the texts. Avalon looked up at him in surprise.

"What are they?" she asked, even as she reached for the largest of the books. She began to leaf through it gently, taking in the beautifully illuminated designs on the pages. She grinned widely. "It's a picture dictionary!" she cried happily, taking note of the format. Elrohir held out a hand for the book, and Avalon slid it across the table, unable to lift it easily. He flipped to a page.

"Battle means this?" he asked, pointing to the illustration. Indeed, it showed two armies, elves and—it looked to Avalon like—orcs, bearing weapons against each other.

"Yes, exactly!" Avalon said, nodding. Elladan took the book and flipped to another page.

"Asleep means this?" he asked, indicating another image of a pair of children curled up with their mother, all fast asleep.

"Yes, yes," Avalon said, feeling like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. This would take some of the guesswork from their communication, and maybe—just maybe—help figure out a way to get her and Meredith home at last.