#mîr vin universe origin story

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin universe Origin story

Chapter 6 - Mîr, the mime

A/n - I'm so sorry. I didn't updated the story for months.

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The rest of the evening was uneventful for her. She ate and slept. When she woke up, it was already bright sunlight hurting her eyes. "Wow, I slept too well for someone in peril," she muttered. She searched for her glasses. Putting them on, she sat up and saw Feanor standing in the corner, staring at her soul. She let out a strangled gasp. "Feanor, what the hell?" she said. Feanor came close and repeated, "Feanor, what the hell?" with a questioning look. "No, no," she said. "I wouldn't teach you to swear."

She huffed and became silent. Feanor was with another woman. She gave her a tray filled with a water basin, some powder, and tiny clothes. Feanor motioned to her and taught her to clean her teeth. It wasn't her regular toothbrush and paste, but it was still refreshing. They changed her dress. Her new dress was brown with orange and red embroidery at its cuffs. It was a surprising fit for her body. "Don't tell me you sewed it all night," she said to Feanor. Even though Feanor didn't say anything, she just nodded. The lack of communication was frustrating sometimes, but for now, she could deal with it. Feanor called her Mîr. She looked up, knowing it wasn't her name, but the creatures here had started to address her as Mîr. So, whatever floats the boat.

Feanor insisted on combing her hair, but that was a problem. Mîr had been gifted with unruly curly hair, which she stubbornly kept cut in layers. Yesterday, she had tied it in a messy bun as soon as it was semi-dry. Now, it was frizzy and tangled. The poor woman was struggling, and her action hurt Mîr's head.  Mîr was reminded of her poor mother struggling to brush her hair and her grandmother lovingly making her sit down and combing it. She was also hit by a sudden image of herself floating in water with someone calling her hair beautiful from behind. These colliding memories made her head spin. She closed her eyes, finding it hard to remember without two types of memory coming to give her a headache. She opened her eyes to see Feanor giving her a concerned look.  She smiled and guided Feanor to a seat. She took the comb from her and took out a piece of hair, combing it like her grandmother had taught her. Feanor's eyes lit up, and she more or less snatched the comb back, looking at her eagerly. Mîr smiled and sat down. This time, Feanor was seated, and she was sitting by her feet. She repeated the motion to detangle her hair. Mîr wanted to say that her hair had a special affection for getting tangled; it would get tangled in a few minutes. But she was sure Feanor would not understand.

Feanor combed, styled her hair, recombed to detangle, and repeated. Mîr had to agree it did feel nice. When Feanor was done, Mîr couldn't see what she had done to her hair, but Feanor brought two pots. One she patted all over Mîr's face. It was... translucent powder? "Please don't be lead," she thought. "These people remind me so much of medieval times." Then Feanor pulled out a smaller pot and a small brush, putting a red tint on Mîr's lips. When she was done, she was smiling. Mîr couldn't help but smile back. "So, am I your dress-up doll?" she said. Feanor just nodded and said something in her own language, then motioned her to follow.

Mîr was taken across the building, and she couldn't help but appreciate its beauty. There were carved designs, paintings, and beautiful curtains and furniture. It reminded her of many old castles and monuments she had visited. The building seemed to be mostly made of cement with stone pillars, each carved with patterns, the most common being fish scale-like designs. While she was walking and admiring the beauty of the building, she didn't realize they had arrived at a large door. Foolishly, she stood at the door like an idiot, thinking about what kind of wood was used to make it, until Feanor coughed and motioned for her to go in.

Inside were all the people she had met yesterday. On the large stone table were her belongings, all spread out. "So, it's questioning time," she thought, taking a deep breath and readying herself for a round of interrogation.

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Glorfindel watched her with amusement. She looked so adorable, staring at the door as if pondering some deep question. He often wondered what went on in her mind. When she entered the room, her eyes lit up upon seeing her things. She took a deep breath and looked at them, seeming to understand the purpose of the gathering. Glorfindel exchanged a glance with the others, then gestured for her to step forward.

"Please," he said gently, "come closer. We need to ask you some questions about your belongings."

Glorfindel and the others watched her closely, occasionally exchanging glances and murmuring among themselves. She could see they were trying to piece together the puzzle of her life and belongings, just as she was trying to understand their world.

First, she picked up her pouch of vials and brushes. She pulled out a lipstick and mimed applying it to her lips, then did the same with some powder, patting her cheeks lightly. Feanor's eyes lit up with excitement, nodding enthusiastically as if she understood perfectly.

"Ah, like paint for the face!" Feanor exclaimed. "How fascinating!"

Gildor chuckled, his curiosity mixed with amusement. "A touch of color to brighten the day, it seems."

Glorfindel watched her with a soft, smitten expression. "It enhances her beauty," he murmured, almost to himself. Círdan stroked his beard thoughtfully, clearly intrigued. "A curious custom indeed."

Lumion crossed his arms, his curiosity begrudging but present. "Seems unnecessary," he muttered, though his eyes stayed fixed on the demonstration. Gildor chuckled, his curiosity mixed with amusement, while Glorfindel watched her with a soft, smitten expression.  Next, she picked up a book. She opened it, miming reading and flipping through the pages. She pointed to the words and pretended to be engrossed in the text. Gildor leaned forward, genuinely interested, while Círdan nodded approvingly. Glorfindel seemed more focused on her expressions than the book itself, his gaze never leaving her face. Lumion's suspicion seemed to wane slightly as he watched her mime the familiar act of reading. "We know what books are?" Lumion said dryly. The tone of his voice made her stop.

She moved to next item. Her clothes were next. She picked up a short and long tunics of vibrant colors and patterns and mimed putting it on, then did the same with a pair of breeches with unique fastings. She showed how they fit by patting her body and pointing to the clothing. Feanor clapped her hands, excited by the demonstration, while Gildor smiled broadly. Glorfindel's eyes twinkled with admiration as he watched her every move. Círdan continued to nod thoughtfully, his curiosity unwavering. Lumion still seemed a bit suspicious, but his curiosity was undeniable.

"Such interesting garments!" Feanor exclaimed. Círdan continued to nod thoughtfully. "Her world must be very different from ours."

Lumion still seemed a bit suspicious, but his curiosity was undeniable. "They seem functional," he admitted grudgingly.

The next item was a challenge. It was same rectangular object tbat seemed to be made of glass and metal with rubber covering. She held it up. She touched it . Like before it lit up but this time the picture changed. Everytime she touched it, the portarits inside the glowing box changed. She picked it up and mimed swiping, tapping, and making a call, holding it to her ear and pretending to speak. As Mîr attempted to mime the concept of a cell phone to the elves, their confusion only deepened. Glorfindel, ever patient, watched her gestures carefully, trying to decipher their meaning. He tilted his head, furrowing his brow in concentration.

"Do you mean a communication device?" he ventured tentatively, gesturing with his hands in an attempt to mimic her actions.

Mîr nodded eagerly, relieved that he seemed to grasp the idea. She continued miming, showing how one holds a phone to the ear, taps on a screen, and even takes pictures. Gildor, who had been watching with interest, chuckled softly. "Ah, I see! You're trying to tell us about a talking device, perhaps one that shows pictures?"

Mîr nodded again, smiling gratefully at Gildor's understanding. Círdan, who had been observing quietly, spoke up with a thoughtful expression. "It sounds like a wondrous device indeed, but such things do not exist in Middle-earth."

Feanor, always curious about new knowledge, leaned forward. "Could it be a tool from her homeland? Something we have not encountered before?"

Lumion, ever cautious, raised an eyebrow. "Regardless of its nature, we must proceed carefully. We know little of her origins or the capabilities of these devices."

Glorfindel, having pondered Mîr's gestures, spoke gently to her, "Thank you for trying to show us. Perhaps in time, we will understand more."

Mîr nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and hope. Despite their confusion, she appreciated their efforts to comprehend her world and not throwing her in dungeon while  accsuing her of witchcraft. She thought it better to honest with them and show them the rather than hiding it. If they found it later, it could cause mistrust or even chaos.he mystery of the cell phone remained unresolved.

She then picked up her bag, showing them how she wore it over her shoulder and mimed putting things inside. She demonstrated taking items out, as if she were packing for a journey. Gildor laughed heartily, clearly entertained, while Feanor's eyes sparkled with understanding. Glorfindel watched her with a soft smile, clearly smitten by her efforts. Círdan's wise gaze remained fixed on her, analyzing every detail. Lumion's suspicion seemed to ease further as he saw the practicality of the bag. "At least she's organized," he said with a nod.

Finally, she picked up her glasses. She put them on and pretended to squint, then took them off and mimed having difficulty seeing. She put them back on and smiled, showing how they helped her vision. Feanor nodded vigorously, her excitement almost tangible.

"Ah, to aid her sight!" Feanor exclaimed. "Ingenious!"

Gildor chuckled, clearly amused by the simple yet effective demonstration. "A clever invention indeed."

Glorfindel's smile widened, his admiration for her growing. Círdan's curiosity seemed satisfied as he nodded approvingly. Lumion's suspicion finally gave way to understanding as he realized the practical use of the glasses. Instead of any snide comments he decided to be silent.

Mîr sighed in relief, hoping she had conveyed enough for them to understand. The elves exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amusement to deep curiosity. She could see that each of them had their own thoughts and questions, but for now, she had done her best. She looked at them expectantly, waiting for their response.

"Thank you, Mîr," Círdan said, his voice warm and kind. "You have given us much to ponder."

Gildor nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed! Your world seems full of wonders."

Mîr couldn't understand a word but she felt a sense of accomplishment and hope. Despite the language barrier, she had made progress in communicating with the elves. She smiled at them, feeling a bit more at ease in their presence.

They escorted her out. Lord Círdan had mime the motion of reading and then pranced around. Glorfindel, ever the chivalrous elf, escorted Mîr to his horse, a majestic and imposing creature. As they approached, Mîr's eyes widened with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Glorfindel, noticing her reaction, smiled gently.

"My lady, have you seen such a grand steed before?" he asked, his voice soft.

Mîr shook her head slowly, her eyes fixed on the horse, which neighed and stamped its hoof. She took a step back, clearly intimidated. Glorfindel's brow furrowed in concern. "Perhaps in the lands you come from, horses are not so common?"

Before Mîr could respond, Gildor approached, laughing heartily at the situation. "Oh, come now, Glorfindel! I'm sure they have horses where she comes from. Maybe she has just never ridden one."

Gildor's amusement quickly turned into action as he lifted Mîr and placed her onto the horse. Mîr's glare at Gildor was so fierce that it made both elves shiver slightly.

"Looks like she's a fiery one," Gildor huffed, still smiling. "Take her to the library while Lumion arranges a study for her."

As the horse began to ride, Mîr clung to Glorfindel for dear life, her grip so tight that he could feel the pressure against his waist. He blushed, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the discomfort.

"You are holding on quite firmly, my lady," he remarked, trying to sound light-hearted despite the slight wince in his voice. "I assure you, you are safe with me."

When they finally arrived at the grand library, Mîr's fear was replaced by sheer excitement. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the sight of the vast collection of books. She almost squealed with delight, her earlier discomfort forgotten. Glorfindel dismounted and helped Mîr down. "Welcome to our central library," he said warmly. "I hope you find it to your liking."

Mîr could hardly contain her enthusiasm. She looked around, her eyes wide with wonder. "This is amazing," she breathed, though Glorfindel did not understand her words, he understood her tone and the expression of pure joy on her face. He smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction in seeing her so happy. "Please, feel free to explore. I will be here if you need anything."

As Mîr wandered off into the aisles of books, Glorfindel watched her with a mix of curiosity and admiration. Despite the challenges they faced in understanding each other, he felt a growing respect for this strange and fascinating woman. Glorfindel couldn't help but admire Mîr as she roamed the library. She seemed so fascinated by the structure and designs of the building, moving from shelf to shelf, examining each one. She pulled out many books, but none of the scripts were familiar to her.  She tried her best to communicate with Glorfindel, and he, in turn, tried his best to translate whichever books she held out. Despite the language barrier, they both put in effort to help each other. They exchanged a few words, and to Glorfindel, her language, while less melodic, was pleasant to hear. As they worked together, Glorfindel arranged the books they had pulled out, while Mîr decided to explore another corner, eventually heading to the balcony. He smiled and continued his work, but after a while, he went to check on her, only to be greeted by a rueful sight.

Mîr was crying, seemingly in a trance. Alarmed, Glorfindel jolted her awake, but she didn't respond. Instead, she melted into his grip, unresponsive to any communication. He glanced out at the view from the balcony, wondering what had caused her distress. Gently, he held her against his chest and rode back to the manor as slowly as possible, not wanting to startle her further. By the time they arrived, she had fallen asleep. Glorfindel looked at her peaceful face, then gently carried her back to her room. He instructed a servant to call for Feanor and sat there, looking at her sad expression, pondering what about the view of the sea had affected her so deeply.

Feanor arrived shortly after, concern etched on her face. "What happened?" she asked softly, glancing between Glorfindel and the sleeping Mîr.

"I found her crying on the balcony, looking at the sea" Glorfindel replied, his voice tinged with worry. "She seemed to be in a trance, unresponsive to anything I said or did. I brought her back here, but I have no idea what could have caused it."

Feanor looked at Mîr with a sympathetic expression. "Perhaps the sea reminded her of something painful from her past," she suggested gently. "We must be patient and understanding. She is far from her home and everything familiar."

Glorfindel nodded, still watching Mîr. "I just wish I could understand her better, to help her more." Feanor placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "In time, we will. For now, let her rest. We'll be here for her when she wakes."

Glorfindel sighed, but nodded in agreement. As he left the room, he couldn't shake the image of Mîr's tears and the mystery of what had caused them.

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Constructive criticism is highly appreciated

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Mîr Vin Universe Origin Ch 3

A/n - Sorry for the delay. I just delved to deep into what will Elves think of the technology and items unfamiliar to them. I made way to much dialogues for it and the chapter became too long. So, I removed it all together. If you want to read it I'll but it in a bonus chapter.

Any back to the story

As the elves delved into the mysterious woman’s belongings, their initial intent to find potential harm transformed into an intriguing exploration of unfamiliar artifacts. Among the items, they discovered clothing of a similar fashion to what she wore, confirming the uniqueness of her attire. Strips of expensive fabric hinted at a meticulous attention to detail in her possessions. The food items, unlike anything seen in Elven or Middle-earth cultures, sparked curiosity. Exotic aromas wafted from packages that bore no resemblance to the lembas or other fare known to the elves. Moreover, the elves encountered objects previously unseen in Middle-earth. Mysterious in both form and material, these items were beyond their realm of knowledge. They exchanged glances, realizing that the answers to the woman’s origins might be hidden within these enigmatic possessions.

 The mystery deepened, drawing them further into the enigma that had unexpectedly arrived at their haven but their curiosity was put in hold because of the maid servant announced that the creature woke up, behaved Frantically and fell into fitifull sleep again. They all exited to see the creature

As the woman stirred, her eyes gradually opening to the unfamiliar surroundings, the elves observed her with a sense of reverence. The air was charged with anticipation, for in her waking moments lay the promise of unlocking the enigma that had woven itself into the fabric of their haven.

Glorfindel looked at the creature, she looked restless right now. Her pretty features were marked with distress. The woman began to stir again. Glorfindel could feel Gildor’s posture suddenly going rigid. The woman woke up again, looked at them with a bewildered face and blurted out something in foreign tongue which Glorfindel could only make out as

“What the Fuck”

 

 In the hazy moments between sleep and wakefulness, she felt the disorienting shift from the rhythmic motion of the train to an unfamiliar stillness. Her eyes fluttered open, searching for the familiar contours of her train compartment, but instead, she found herself in a spacious room filled with vibrant colors. A jolt of panic surged through her as she realized she wasn’t alone. The bed beneath her was soft, unlike the cold, impersonal surfaces she associated with kidnapper scenarios in movies. The room exuded warmth, a stark contrast to the chill of fear that gripped her. With trembling hands, she reached for the glasses she habitually kept within arm’s reach. The world around her remained a blur, causing her heart to pound against her chest. The absence of visual clarity heightened her sense of vulnerability. Where was she? How did she end up in this unfamiliar place?

As she fumbled for her glasses, her fingertips grazed a loose tunic of soft cotton that draped over her. It wasn’t the attire she remembered wearing when she fell asleep on the train. Her hair, usually secured in a bun, cascaded freely down her shoulders. She could make out were she was but everything felt like blurry shaking mess. The spaciousness of the room and the absence of ominous shadows began to alleviate the intensity of her disorientation. She fell down on the bed again.

The next time, she was awake of her surrounding. She dared not open her eyes fearing that realistic nightmare was a reality. She started to feel her surroundings, the warm blanket embracing her form, the gentle lighting that bathed the room, and the absence of any immediate threat. So, she was still here. It was not a dream. Her heart pounded in her chest. Everything felt too much. She couldfeel her body trembling. The question lingered—how had she transitioned from a moving train to this mysterious haven?

She refused to open her eyes till her heartbeat began to slow down. As her racing heart began to steady, she pondered the possibilities. Was it a dream? A delusion? Or had she truly been transported to a place beyond her understanding? The answers lay shrouded in the enigma of the unfamiliar room, waiting to be unveiled as she navigated this unexpected journey. She finally found courage to open her eyes. In the disorienting blur without her glasses, she found herself surrounded by figures draped in unfamiliar attire. Their voices melded into a symphony of incomprehensible sounds, leaving her bewildered and struggling to make sense of the situation. She saw tall figures standing near her bed. She screamed "What the fuck!".

She looked frantically to see clearing, her hands flying around her to find her glasses but everything seemed different. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She closed her eyes again. No, this is not real, she thought to herself, just take a deep breath, even if its real, its better to face reality with less adrenaline rush. She heard an unknown voice speaking in an unfamiliar language.

"Please let me focus", She muttered but incomprehensible chatter continued. The voices seemed to get closer to her. She decided to face them. She opened her eyes again. The figures were closer. The were....men dressed in.....robes?They were speaking something but she couldn't understand a word. She attempted to respond, her words stumbling in an attempt to bridge the linguistic gap.

Wait, where am I? Can anyone understand me?”

 The room echoed with a language she couldn’t grasp, and the figures, seeming more like shadows in her blurred vision, continued their conversation in more unintelligible speech. As the frustration of being unable to communicate mounted, her panic intensified. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision even further. The alien surroundings, the strange language, and the inability to make herself understood became overwhelming.

“Please, someone, help me understand. Where am I?

The figures exchanged glances, their expressions indecipherable. One of them, seemingly perceiving her distress, gestured for her to follow. With a mixture of fear and desperation, she stumbled after the shadowy figure, her cries echoing in the unfamiliar room.

 “Why can’t you understand me? Where am I going?”, she muttered to herself while walking.

The figures continued conversing amongst themselves, the strange language closing a linguistic barrier that seemed insurmountable. The room’s colors blurred into a mosaic of confusion as she clung to the hope of finding answers. As they led her through the mysterious realm, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being a lost wanderer in a place that defied explanation yet seemed to her very familiar, her cries of confusion echoing through the walls of palace.

 Lord Círdan, Glorfindel, Gildor, Lumion, and Fearon came in the room where their mysterious guest was staying. When they saw her walking up and saying something in a melodious voice. They began to talk. Lord Círdan was first to speak, “Greetings, traveler from beyond. Can you understand our words?”

The creature responded with a stream of sounds that were foreign to the elven ears, leaving the wise beings perplexed. Glorfindel ears perked up, he said to Lord Círdan, “Her language eludes us. We must find a way to bridge this gap and understand her plight.”

Lumion, quiped in, “I’ve never encountered such linguistic diversity. Our words seem to dance away from her understanding.”

 As the creature grew more distressed, her attempts at communication turned into heart-wrenching cries. The elves, moved by compassion, sought a way to ease her turmoil.

Fearon, seeing her pretty face distressed was unable to contain her worry. She sople softly, “We cannot let her suffer in confusion. There must be a way to connect with her. If we cant understand her, we can at least soothe her. There's nothing more soothing that nature. Lets take her to the gardens.”Gildor mused, “Look at the patterns on her belongings. They speak of gardens and life. Indeed, let us bring her to the haven’s garden.”

Lord Círdan looked at her shaking form and sighed. He did not expected such fearful reaction from this little creature. He gently guided her to the garden. She followed him,her eyes downcast and form shivering. He wanted to hold her and tell her she was safe but he was fearing that might trigger intense reaction in her. Guiding the creature gently, he led her to the serene sanctuary of the garden, where a tapestry of flowers and foliage unfolded. He saw her looking at the flowers. He gentky smiled, “In the language of leaves and blossoms, find comfort. Let the garden’s beauty speak when words fail.”

As they walked amidst the vibrant flora, the creature’s tears began to subside. The intricate patterns on her belongings seemed to resonate with the natural tapestry surrounding them. The creature, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the fragrance of blossoms, started to calm. The elves, though unable to decipher her words, shared a moment of understanding through the silent language of the garden—a universal solace that transcended the boundaries of spoken communication.

 Her mind began to clear from the fog of confusion. Determined to understand her predicament, she made a gesture, a silent plea, for her glasses. She looked at the creatures that surrounded her. She looked at the bearded old man. As they had eye contact, the man seemed to freeze. It seemed like her was lost. What happened to them? she thought to herself, What the fuck is going on here!?

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I'm on a chapter which is making me sad. So, I'm going to make it everyone's problem and share a sad edit I made for it.

Ps - it's my first time making an edit. Hope it's good

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Mîr Vin Universe : Origin Story

Ch 4 : Of names and maps

The creature looked at a bearded man . Bearded man was looking into her eyes, absolutely still, as if his only goal in life was to gaze into her eyes. She turned her gaze away, causing Círdan to return to his normal self. She dared not look at anyone else but still asked for glasses. The old man looked at her briefly and said something in his sing-song language. She didn't know what was happening. Her heart was still hammering in her chest. Everything felt too much. So she decided to just look around. While she stared at plants, she realized she knew them but also didn't know them. They're plants she had studied about, but there's something off about them, as if the color and the size were different. There were many flowers she had seen before, but she couldn't recognize. She wandered around, avoiding eye contact. The old man's reaction had scared her. She wandered around as it was helping her calm down. She spotted them, white as she had always known them - lilies. She smiled and went to them. She had never inspected a lily so closely. She sat there, studying every curve of the petals that adorned the flower.

She was calm enough now. But now what next? What are these strange beings trying to do, she thought to herself. She had no idea how she's here. Is this all a dream, or has she been transported somewhere? But where is this somewhere? Calm down, she said to herself. Calm down... wait, what is she called? She tried to recall it but remembered nothing. No, she's called something. She remembers it. She has a name. How could she remember she was in a train, what she does for a living, but not her name? What sort of memory loss is she facing?

She was distracted from her thoughts when she felt someone coming close to her. She dared to look up to see a lady holding out her glasses. She snatched it off her hand, wiped it, and put it on her nose. Her vision cleared. She was about to look at those creatures, then she stopped. What if they freeze like the old man? But she can't know where she is until she tries to strike a conversation, and conversation without looking at someone is hard. She dared to look up again. This time she could see their faces, and she felt goosebumps. They were not humans, she knew it. There was something off about them. They had a leaner bone structure, and their skin was a little translucent. Not enough to make them an entirely different creature but something that resembled humans. She dared to observe more and noticed their pointed ears. Not enough to be different but just enough not to be called human ears. She felt her heart beat pick up pace again. She looked at them longer, and her heart stopped pounding. She didn't know how long it had been, but it felt that staring at them made her eyes focus more on their human features than their non-human features and trick her brain into thinking that they were not an immediate threat.

She was surprised that none of them spoke. She thought, are they frozen again, or do they just not speak to strangers? Let me be the first one to speak, she thought to herself. Only let's do English; it's a universal language, right? They look like what is it called? Elves! Pointy-eared beings. She knows about them, and somehow she's sure that they're elves. Her brain just knows. Ah yes. Aren't elves English creatures? Well, I have heard all their stories in English too, let's try.

"Hello!"

They moved. So not weeping angels. Good. Okay, one more try. "Hello." They began talking to each other. The golden-haired one came in front. She remembered him. She had seen him somewhere. She understands. Everything feels like it's somewhere between her knowing everything and her knowing nothing. She was drowning in her thoughts again. She decided not to muse much but to focus on the present. She could only know what's happening when she focuses on what's happening in front of her eyes.

She realized she had been staring at him, and he was staring at her. Just don't freeze like the old man, please? She thought. The golden-haired man? Elf? Whatever moved and began to undo the buttons of his robe. She stared at him with a puzzled look. He undid his upper robe and presented his robe to her. She looked at the arm that was holding the robe extended towards her. Is she supposed to take the robe? Is it a good gesture, or are they about to kill her for insulting their mother? She decided to just stare at the robe, expecting it to give the answer to her confusing situation. But the robe remained silent. She looked up when she felt that the golden-haired man spoke something. They had a brief eye contact. He just smiled and put back his robe. They started talking to themselves and her. She realized they were switching languages. She switched languages too, greeting them in every language she knew, hoping somehow they'll know what she's trying to say. Yet none of the languages was able to break the language barrier. She could feel disappointment and dread setting at the pit of her stomach. If she can't communicate, how will she know what's happening? She felt like crying again. No, she said out loud. No, I need to get hold of myself. I need to figure out what's happening. I can't just sit and keep crying. She looked around again, searching the faces of everyone present there in hopes of one of them somehow understanding her predicament.

The lady who had given her back her glasses came close to her and smiled. She said something, but once again, she didn't understand. She paused, then smiled again, "Mîr," she said, pointing at her, "Meldil Mîre" .Mîr, she said to herself. She thought, That's a good name for now. No, no, it's a good name until I know who they are. What if they can use my real name to control me like a puppet? Mîr, I'm Mîr from now on.

Mîr, she said again, smiling, then pointed at them. Then they all began to speak one by one: Círdan, Gildor, Glorfindel, Lumion, Feanor, Nestor. Mîr looked at them and tried her best to remember their names. Now that they have names, she needs them to know who she is. But she wondered who she is? How will she explain it to someone? It's not just a language barrier. It's just difficult to tell a human-like creature what a human is. Right now, she can't tell them who she is, but she can tell them how she came here. She can ask them what this place is.She looked around and saw a dried branch. She picked it up. She drew seven stick figures. She pointed at the six as the six elves that stood before her, and the seventh one was her. Then she proceeded to draw a cartoonist version of what happened just before she came to this strange place. She drew the train where she was sitting on a berth. She drew herself going to sleep on the cold hard berth and then drew her waking up here, on their bed. Then she used the stick to point out her surroundings and asked to make them say where? The elves looked around. She repeated her gesture. Another golden-haired one repeated what she did with a stick and said, "Grey Haven." She repeated it, thinking she doesn't know what place it is. Maybe it's just what this mansion is called Mîr thought. Maybe she knows this place, and it's just the difference in names due to language differences.

She looked around and pointed to the lily and said lily. She was immediately told the lily equivalent in their language. Mîr was immensely pleased by this, but she realized that she couldn't remember everything they'll say to her. She needs to write it down so she could learn it and have a conversation with them. Now she needs to let them know that she needs a pen and paper. She used the stick again to write Mîr in English. She pointed her stick to Mîr written on the garden floor and then pointed it at her, saying Mîr. Then she wrote the names she remembered and pointed at them, calling them their names after writing each of their names. The blond-haired one - Gildor came close to her and immediately began scribbling something next to where she had written Mîr. He drew a few artful lines and pointed his stick at her, saying Mîr. Then he proceeded to write next to the names she had written. He wrote each word, then pointed at the person present there, calling their names. Good, Mîr thought, now they all are on the same plane of thinking process. But how to ask for the paper and pen.

She looked at Gildor hopefully. She made a writing motion with her hands. Gildor looked at her for a while. She did it again. Then he looked back to his companions. They talked amongst themselves. Mîr hoped that her gesture hadn't offended them. All the things seemed to be going smoothly so far. The last thing she wants is to be executed in a foreign land because she made a motion that was equivalent to "fuck you" to the people who have saved her.

The bearded one, Círdan, gestured her to follow him and took a few steps forward, looking back to see if she's following him or not. She smiled at him and followed. He nodded and smiled at her and took her back to the room she was in before. Lumion and Nestor exited from another door that was present in the room. Feanor gestured for her to sit on a sofa. She waited patiently, hoping for the best. Lumion and Nestor came back with scrolls. They unrolled one to reveal a map. Well, it was not a pen and paper as she expected, but it's still good. At least she can see where she is. To her disappointment, the map was not of the world where she lived. The map showed an entirely different world. Mîr could feel her mind numbing. She looked frantically to see any resemblance to the place she calls Earth. She looks up and sees Círdan's face. He looks equally confused, as if he expected her to know the lands mapped on this scroll. She looked back to make sure that her eyes are deceiving her and she indeed is not looking at the world map. She looked up again and just shrugged, pushing herself against the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Mîr really wanted to cry now. She had been holding her panic and tears for far too long. Within an hour, she had realized that she had been thrown into a different land that is located in distant lands she didn't have a single clue that it existed. She cannot speak the language of the beings that reside here. And most importantly, everything she knows had been taken away by these creatures. The elves, her brain feeds her. But are they elves? She mused. And even if they're elves, it doesn't assure her of her own safety. What if they torture her, starve her, or kill her in the most inhumane way possible? What is she going to do now?

She took a deep breath. She felt her eyes prickling. She took a deep breath and looked at the elves around her. She gave them a smile and looked at them hopefully. She made the writing motion again. This time she pointed at a word written on the map. She didn't even see where she was pointing, then made the writing motion again and looked at the elf named Glorfindel. He just stared at her like she had done some witchcraft in front of her. Mîr was immediately alert. She has done something as the room was filled with silence. She looked at their faces, but all of them looked at each other like they were expecting the other to say something. What have I done, Mîr thought. Please just make it easy for me. Which entity have I pissed off to get thrown into such a situation?

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Taglist - @bobitoo08 @asianbutnotjapanese

[justpostsyeet]

So, there's a rant, i don't like how technological differences are portrayed in time travel fanfictions. People who have enver been introducted to the different technology either acts as its dangerous or act like stupid creatures. There's no sense of wonder in them. Where's that adrenaline rushed excitement? The sense of wonder of seeing something new?

In Tolkien's universe, i don't think any creature is ignorant or unintelligent. If given the opportunity,thought trajectory, sources, they could too create the same level of technology whether it be elves, dwarves, hobbits, edain or orcs.

Hence, I'm trying my best to create different mindsets and approaches towards the technology, for different species , in my story - Mîr Vin Origins.

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr Vin Universe : Origin story

Chapter 5 : Maybe I've made a friend

A/n - Mîr just exploring her surroundings. Critical appreciation and questions are always welcomed 😊

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Mîr was tired. They were acting strangely since she had pointed towards the map. She didn't even get the chance to see where she pointed. Not that she would have understood it anyway. They had been talking to each other completely ignoring her. "Yes, ignore me," she pouted to herself. "Well," she thought, "let me get this straight until they're talking to themselves. I was traveling from university to my home to meet my parents. I was in the train, then I'm here. Everything felt so hazy." She tried to summon the face of her parents, but it was too hazy. It felt like 2-3 different faces colliding into itself when she thought of her parents. It started giving her a headache when she thought of them too much."Maybe I just had a whiplash from this sudden travel, so my memory is hazy. I need more time." She tried to convince herself, but she knew something was wrong, so very, very wrong.

Was she being held hostage in a cult? But for some reason, it feels like she knows this place. Why does she know this place? It seemed familiar and not familiar at the same time. It had been happening with a lot of things she saw since she had woken up. She thought again, "Maybe I just need to rest my brain. Then I'll be fine."

They all had left her alone in the room. She kept sitting on the sofa, waiting for them. She was afraid that if she pointed at anything else, it would bring trouble to her, but slowly she got bored. It was almost evening as she could see from the window. She hadn't moved, nor had anyone come. She got up and began walking, exploring the room.

The room was finely made. She could see that. Even the ceiling had beautiful paintings on them. Mostly, they were geometric shapes and scenes of the sea, some symbols of the sea. It was beautiful, as if she had been transported to a palace. "No cult will have such a beautiful palace," she thought. "Not based on what I've heard about cults, but you never know; these people have a lot of money."

"Hey, Mîr, why don't you think anything positive?" she taunted herself. "You're always out thinking some serial killer or demon is out there to get you." She began looking around. Even the furniture was so well-made. These old furniture pieces reminded her of her grandparents' home. It was an old home where three generations of her family had lived; it had many old antiques. It also reminded her of Mandos Hall. Serene and beautiful.

As she was thinking, something clicked in her brain. She had a memory of two people in her brain. The thought made her shocked, but it was true; her memory was overlapping with someone else's memory. There were two distinct memories that came into her mind when she looked at the furniture, but which memory was her own, she didn't know. But it was still progress from her hazy memories. Maybe if she kept thinking without panicking, she would be able to figure it out.

After exploring the room, she just sat on the bed. She dared not to go outside. She didn't want to risk it. The less you know in this situation, the better. The less interested you are when no one is looking, even better. Who knows if she shows too much interest these people begin seeing her as a threat. By the look on their faces, it seemed like they were as shocked to see her as she was to see them. She might be a threat to them too, so she must act carefully. She needed their trust if she needed to know what is happening.

Mîr realized something else too. She was hungry. Her stomach was grumbling. She hadn't eaten since she had woken up, not even had water. She didn't even know how long she had been asleep. She had nothing of her own right now except her glasses. These people had taken away everything she had with her. She had no way of communication. "Well," she thought, "how will I tell them I need to go to the washroom? It'll be embarrassing." She began thinking about it when someone entered the room. She was hit by the smell of food. "Food first, shitting later," she said to herself aloud. The person, Fearon, looked at her and smiled. She kept the food on the table and gestured for her to come. She obediently came. She looked at the food. It looked like a mix of European and Eastern food. There was sliced bread-like thing, but there was also some spicy food that looked suspiciously like Korean stew. They had some freshly cut apples and something that looked like whipped cream. They also had a water jug and a glass, more like a goblet actually.

She drank water heartily. She whispered to the goblet, "You know how much I've missed you. Water is the best beverage."

"Fancy," Mîr thought and began eating. The food was food. The back of her brain was nagging at her for trusting the food so easily, but she was very hungry right now. She didn't even know she was this hungry until she began eating. Now, there was no going back for her, she'll finish her food like a good girl and think about the consequences later. She was a little embarrassed by how quickly she ate the food. "Well, hunger makes you a little pathetic," she thought. She looked up and could see Fearon smiling at her. He put the tray away and came back again to take her to an adjacent room. It was a bathroom. "Good, now I don't have to come up with an embarrassing way to tell them I need to pee. Good," she thought.

Fearon tried her best to explain everything and how it functioned in the room. It was not hard to remember how to use it, but it was hard to remember the names. Fearon was speaking too quickly. She realized it was a bathroom without indoor plumbing. It was very similar to a medieval bathroom, with very intricate design too. There were basins to wash, a huge tank to store water, and a bathtub. The saddest thing was that the toilet seat was just a fancy chair with a pot attached to the bottom. It made her realize that someone had to clean it every day. It made her a little sad to think about it. She had taken a lot of things for granted. Now she could see how hard it had been for people who didn't even have indoor plumbing, which she takes for granted.

Feanor painstakingly told her the names of the bottles near the bathtub. She was too much into her musings about the perils of not having indoor plumbing that she could barely remember the names. But she remembered how to use it and which order to use it. They basically had everything she used: shampoos, soap, even bath bombs, oils, and conditioners. "Something doesn't change at all, does it?" she thought, almost smiling. Seeing her smile, Fearon gave her a smile. Then she began taking water from a huge tank in the bath and started to fill the tub. Mîr couldn't let her do it alone. She grabbed the nearby small bucket, same as Fearon was using, and began helping er. Fearon looked at her as if she had two heads. Mîr just shrugged and smiled and continued helping him. It was a little hard for her. She had never carried buckets of water. She was spilling them a little, but she was trying. She was getting a little out of breath, but she decided to help anyway. By the time the tub was filled, Mîr was visibly panting. Fearon looked at her and gave her a strange smile and took her hand in her hand. Her hand had red marks from holding the handle of the bucket. Fearon patted Mîr's head, saying something Mîr couldn’t understand.

Then Fearon began motioning her to undress."Oh," Mîr thought, "this water must be for cleaning myself." She stripped off the two gown-like things she was wearing and plunged into the water. It felt strange being naked in front of someone. She hadn't been naked in front of anyone since she was a child. She dunked herself in quickly. Fearon was still there. She smiled and began putting oils and bath bombs in the tub. Then she repeated all the instructions to use the bottles' contents again and left. Mîr was left alone. She decided to enjoy her bath. She never knew preparing a bath would take so much time. While she was in the middle of cleaning her long hair, Fearon came again. She couldn't see, due to her lack of glasses, but she assumed she had brought her some clothes. She left again so, Mîr continued washing herself. The cool water on a hot and very confusing day was like a balm to her very tired soul.

She came out of the bath feeling extremely refreshed. Whatever was in those bottles was really good, she thought. She looked at the clothes. A long strip of cloth, maybe a towel. She patted herself dry. Then small clothes like a sports bra and boy shorts, but none had elastic. The bra thingies were a little small, and the shorts were a little loose, but it was still better as they were made of really soft cotton. Then she had similar two gowns, one was very similar, a shade lighter than the other gown that seemed to have intricate embroidery of sea waves on the bodice. She wore them; they were very long on her, but they were really pretty. She liked the green color with blue embroidery. She wrapped her hair with the towel thing and walked out. Fearon was waiting for her.

Fearon looked at her and rushed towards her, immediately bent down and started folding the hem of the gown. It was solid 5 inches longer than herself. Fearon seemed to be personally offended by the length. She looked at her, embarrassed, as if it was her fault that the gown was too long. Mîr immediately said in English, "It's okay, it's okay. I didn't think you would have gotten the right size just by looking at me." She knew Fearon might not understand her, but she still thought maybe the tone of her voice would help. Fearon said something, and she sounded very apologetic. Mîr wanted to tell her that there was no need for apologies. She flayed her hands and head in a no sign. Fearon, this time, got up, started walking, made herself look like she tripped on her dress, then put her palm on her nose. She pointed at her nose and then squeezed both her hands.

So Fearon was thinking she'd trip on her dress and her nose would be....mushed? Are these people's noses so soft? Suddenly, Mîr started laughing. She flayed her arms again to tell her she would be okay. Fearon, too, flayed her hands almost comically, saying something. She was so serious when she repeated the nose-mushing action again, this time pointing at Mîr's nose. Mîr couldn't help but laugh more. She moved at her, but she tripped,tried to hold Fearon making both her and Fearon fall. They both looked at each other and began giggling. Feanor kept giving her looks of "see, I told you," and giggling. Mîr giggled at the irony. It felt good laughing after a stressful day.

After the fit of laughter, Fearon took her to the sofa and began drying her hair with a towel. Mîr tried to stop her but Fearon looked at her like she had killed Fearon's puppy. "Okay, she really wants to dry her hair. I shouldn't make her sad," she thought. She stopped interfering. It felt uncomfortable having someone else touching her hair, but Feanor was gentle. Maybe she had made a friend. Just maybe. But at least it's the little steps that matter.

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Taglist @asianbutnotjapanese @bobitoo08 @crazed-flower

[justpostsyeet]

Mîr vin universe

Tiny tales

Part 1 part 2, part 3 ,part 4 , part 5 , part6, part7 part8 part9, part 10, part11,part12 , part13, part14, part15,part16 ,part17, part18, part19, part20,part21. Part22, part23 , part24,part25, part26, part27, part28, part29, part30, part31, part32, part33 , part34, part35, part36, part37, part38,part39

Origin story

Chapter 1 , Ch2 , Ch 2.5 , ch3, Ch4 ,Ch5, Ch6

Wip

1 , 2