Gilowien held her little brother close. Albeit just over the age of 100, Legolas was only a young Elf, not yet at his majority. He was the human equivalent of a fifteen-year-old. Gilowien was far past her majority, as we're her older brothers. The eldest of them was Aniond, and he was just over four thousand. The twins, Pundil and Fóril were next, almost at three-thousand and five-hundred years. Then was Belaldur who was only fifty-five years from being three-thousand. Gilowien herself was just over two-thousand and one-hundred.

Legolas was definitely the baby of the family, and shouldn't have been in that dark place. The sons and daughter of King Thranduil of Mirkwood had been kidnapped and taken to a cave hidden amongst the Grey Mountains. But they didn't know that. They'd been unconscious or blindfolded during the trip. Legolas had been unconscious the whole time, which had frightened his siblings. Now, in their small cell, only Gilowien and Pundil were awake. The older twin sat next to his sister and little brother.

"Is he in heath, Gilowien?" Pundil asked, worry gripping his heart. "You are the healer."

"He has no fever. And he's not fading," Gilowien observed. "He is in as much health as he can be in a place like this."

"His eyes are closed. They have been since we were taken."

"He suffered a severe blow to the head. And we are all sleeping with our eyes closed. Look around you, Pundil."

It was true. All were sleeping with their eyes closed, trying to keep as much strength as they could. Gilowien pressed her lips to her baby brother's forehead and rested her head against the wall. She began to fall asleep and was vaguely aware of Pundil taking Legolas into his own lap before she fell asleep completely, her eyes closing.

HI! This is my first story on here and I would love it if you would send a review. I would love feedback that is constructive criticism. It would help me immensely. Thank you!