To Live Again {Lord of the Rings/ThranduilXOC Fanfiction}

1. The Rescue

"Yea okay! I know, I'm sorry it's just I have a deadline and if...look I promise...please Ted just this once...I'll work double at the weekend...Ted? Seriously did you just hang up on me? Ugh!"

The ancient receiver hits the pay phone with such force that it clanks loudly, making the passers-by on the college mall stop and gawp for a moment too long. I scowl furiously at them - determined to muster my best 'piss right off,' look - but still they continue to stare or giggle.

The heat of shame and anger rises up my neck and into my cheeks, so I do what I know best - I storm off.

Only it does not go as smoothly or as dramatically as I would have liked. Instead, the strap of my satchel gets caught on something, god only knows what? And my folder full of clippings and sketches tumbles out of my arms and all over the ground.

If I did not have the attention of the entire hallway before I most certainly did now.

The early pink flush on my cheeks intensifies until I am pretty sure it is a delightful beetroot colour. I am aware that there is audible laughter in every direction and as I scurry to pick up my mess I chance a peek and sigh when others duck to avoid eye contact with me.  Ugh, effortlessly awkward as always!

Honestly to be invisible would be perfect, people who complain about being invisible are lucky for at least then they do not have to be the butt of everyone's jokes! I am not invisible, at six foot tall with bright blonde hair, usually with a streak of colour, it is hard to miss me. Don't get me wrong I don't want to be invisible but sometimes I wish I was less noticeable for my awkwardness and more visible for my positive traits...which at the present moment none come to mind...but give me a minute, I'll think of something.

Once gathered together I shrug my tatty green cardigan tighter around me, and cling to my belongings, like they are all I have in the world, before dashing for the safety of the art studio.

Art...yes, art is one of my positive traits. There, I knew I'd think of something.

It's not far from here, the art department; it is usually a rather empty place. Ireland is not exactly renowned for being the hustle and bustle of the arts world but it has a certain charm. I throw open the doors and scuttle to the back of the large 'creative,' space, as the tutors like to refer to it as.

My canvas is still there untouched and beckoning me to pour all my free time into it, as I have to this point. It's my baby, my first love, everything that I love in this one painting. It's a woodland, but not the usual kind, it is full of wonder and life, like it could belong to the realm's outside of this world. Something from a fantasy where anything is possible. I've added bits and pieces to this world, things that I love hidden in the dense overgrowth; mystical beings, elves maybe, or fairies? Right here in front of this picture it is all possible for them to exist and I lap it up, for my reality is hardly as fascinating.

I frown at my childish ridiculousness and grip a fine paintbrush to begin working on the glinting stars in the navy sky above the enchanted forest. I want them to appear ethereal and captivating to look at, like silver gems pinned to dark velvet. For a few hours at least I can pretend I am not a lonely twenty something, with no friends her own age, and lack of a family. Here I can live in my head and create any story I like where I am the lead, the warrior queen, capable of ruling her own fate and not having her life dictated to her.

My reality is something different, something blander and less interesting.

Born Clara Josephine Riley, I was more affectionately named Josie after some well to do great aunt who was long dead before I ever came to be. I did not know my mother, she took off before I could count to three, fell for some American banker who offered her much more than my Da ever could. As the tale goes she apparently never wanted me and felt pressured into mortherhood and married life.  So she saw her chance and got out. Da could not cope with the responsibility of raising a kid on his own and off loaded me onto his sister, Tricia, setting him free to return to the single life with gusto.