A/N: I do not own the works of Tolkien I am just having a little play with a concept in my head. Enjoy, maybe? This could very well be a literature disaster! After all it is 3am here!
I feel myself slowly waking up and sigh feeling the softness of a plush mattress beneath me and my head nestled in a downy pillow. I am so explicitly comfortable and cannot fathom the idea of actually having to open my eyes and get on with the day. Something however is not adding up. I shouldn't be in a bed, not right now, I should be waking up in a sleeping bag to the still half chilly, open air which still lingers in the early months of Spring. Here I am warm and I am certainly not in a sleeping bag outside and I do not hear the morning calls of magpies and kookaburras awakening the new day which behind my still closed eyes seems far to bright already. Feeling a sliver of trepidation entwining itself in my stomach; I open my eyes.
"Oh God the light is way too bright." I mutter as I try to accustom them to the brightness of the day. Ah so much sunlight, what time is it? How much did I drink last night? My head surprisingly does not hurt as I had expected it to and so carefully I sit up, pushing down on the soft bed. Not my swag, not outside. not by the river yet I can hear the river close by. I've either drunk myself comatose and I am in hospital which, will be a very embarrassing thing considering I am only weeks into my placement and this will not be a good look for the newbie, or my mates have pulled some prank of sorts. Oh god I hope it is the latter!
I hear voices coming towards me and can slightly discern figures in the light and through my still unfocused eyes. They are talking but I haven't a bloody clue what they were jabbering on about. A face peers down at me blocking some of the bright light and I presume it is Chloe from the long, blonde hair I can just discern. Then she speaks in a ridiculously melodic, feminine voice which I cannot make out a word of. I mean I have a feminine voice but this? This is overboard. Their silhouette above me however gives me the moment my eyes need to fully adjust and blinking, my surroundings finally come into view, including the face above me. Not only does the chick not sound like Chloe, it is not Chloe.
"Who the hell are you!" I gasp and look wildly around. This is not the local hospital or emergency and I am instantly relieved but it is some sort of medical room. Oh my god where the hell am I? Maybe this is a prank. I look closer at my surroundings. The walls are stony and simple. But there is wooden tables with jars of what look like medicine and bandages and such things. It is almost like some private, medieval infirmary. Then I realize it. I have been pranked. Ingeniously pranked. I sit up properly and smirk at the blonde who I've never seen in my life and the dark haired chick beside her. We are clearly in one of the caves near the river although how on earth the guys got all this stuff here is beyond me. They scared the hell out of me I'll give them that.
"Ruse is up guys, we're in a cave, great set up, was this Tom's doing for all my recent Dr. Who puns?" I grin at the two chicks and they look blankly at me. Who are you two anyway and where are Chloe, Shane, Ella and Tom hiding?" I smirk. "What are you speaking, Latin? Scandinavian, Klingon?" The two chicks look at me in surprise and the one who had been peering at me when I woke up takes a step towards me.
"Baw, Sindarin." The chick says again in the strange language. Pedil Sindarin nethmin?" She smiles and shakes her head like she has done something silly. "I mean do you not speak Sindarin young one?" She translates which causes me utter bafflement. Sindarin? Of which country or culture does this curious language hail from? It sounds almost tribal in name. Perhaps they are speaking in that language they used in the Avatar movie?
"I have absolutely no idea what Sindarin is. Humor me, what is it?" I ask with a smirk. If the guys had gone this far in detail to prank me then I am going to milk it for all it is worth. The set up is pretty damn neat.
"Why it is the language of the elves." The slightly shorter, dark haired chick on the left answers, her voice also melodic but not as bad as the blonde chicks. "It is your language." She says with a confused look. "Why do you speak Westron?" This sparked my temper.
"Western! Ha I do not think so chick! I am rural not western country! Is that your prank? Insulting my pride? Which cave are we in anyway?" I swiftly rip back the blankets and leap out of the bed feeling quite well so clearly no hangover, perhaps I did not drink, I do not remember drinking, and stride out the door aloofly. Wait, door? And into a wide corridor, a wide stone corridor at that which has a swirling pattern which is almost Celtic in style upon the floor but way cooler. What the hell? This is not one of the river caves, not one I know of. This is huge. This is not right. A ripple of fear courses down my spine.
"Daro! Daro!" The two long haired chicks run out of the room looking panicked, holding their hands out calmly to me.
"Where the hell are we?" I demand as they walk slowly towards me. Instinctively I take a step back and then another.
"You're in the mighty halls of the Woodland Realm, of Greenwood the Great." The blondie says as my head swivels around almost doing a one eighty as I try to figure out where I really am. Before the two chicks come any closer I whirl and sprint along the corridor and enter another one. Where am I? I hear the soft sounds of boots as I am pursued and more fear courses through my veins. This is not right, something is wrong! My feet are bare and nearly silent as I race through this long corridor and I pass two more people who I do not recognize who are dressed similar to the others. I suddenly remember the Other's in the TV series, Lost, who had their freakish underground medical facility on the Island where they captured and took the blonde chick who was pregnant as I come to another entrance and dash through it. My wild imagination is now in overdrive and my heart is now pounding in my chest in fear as I realize I am now sprinting along a narrow bridge and it seems I am in caverns. Caverns which have been wrought to be livable like this by someone or something. There is nothing like this in the Ranges. I am now officially freaked out. There is no way in hell this can be a prank.
"Daro!" I hear a male voice command loudly behind me and fear grips me and I keep running, leaping across to another of the bridges before I reach the end of the last one, looking wildly ahead. I see sunlight streaming through an entrance and bolt towards it. Whoever is now pursuing me is damn fast for I am fast and can outrun everyone yet whoever chases me is almost gaining, almost but not quite. There is no way I am letting them catch me, I am getting out of this madness!
"Stop I insist you stop!" Their voice calls out again this time in English as I race out the wide entrance and find myself running upon another stone bridge leading away from wherever the hell I woke up. I can hear the sound of water flowing ahead. Thank god the river is nearby but the trees around me are all wrong. Where are the river-gums? I hear more boots pursuing me now and suddenly there are strange people running towards me with determined expressions. I am shocked to see they are clad in pewter and silver armor with rich dark green tunics. One of these men, who strangely have long, dark hair, runs towards me, arms outstretched to grab me. His hand catches onto my arm and reflexively I use the force of my speed to twist and haul his arm down and flip him to the ground. I stagger from the effort. Defense and Body combat take that! I think as I make to race ahead again but other hands grab mine and growling in anger and truly a large dose of fear caused adrenaline; I kick out viciously at the man holding me. He groans as I kick out at him again and I feel him sinking to the ground but he isn't loosening his grip on me and I go down with him. I struggle to get away from him and then more arms are grabbing me and fear grips me entirely.
"Let me go!" I scream as I struggle against these people who are talking dangerously in that language again. I see an opportunity and twisting my head around, sink my teeth into the hand of one of my captors and they cry out in surprise and rage and then I freeze as ten arrows are aimed at my head from very powerful looking re-curve bows. Where was a .22 rifle when you needed it or even my own compound bow although even with rifle or bow I was still oh so royally screwed.
…
With ten pointy arrow heads keeping me very still, one of these men make fast work of binding my hands together with thin, silver rope and another carefully gags me, I suppose so I won't go biting anyone again, and then I am hauled to my feet and frog marched back the way I have come, through the wide entrance and into a hall but where before I had come from a bridge to my left, I am now taken, still by arrow point, to a path on the right which seems to wind gradually down. I realize I can still hear the sound of the river and as we cross a couple more of the bridges in the large caves and turn a corner I behold the sight of an actual underground fall cascading down alongside the path we walk as I am taken deeper into these caverns. The fear within me is all-consuming and I fight desperately not to shake, I am not going to show weakness, not for a moment. I am lead to a row of barred cells within the stone wall and I realize this to be my current fate; to be imprisoned in here. I'm not royally screwed; no I am right royally screwed. A gate is opened and I am unceremoniously shoved inside and one of the armor clad men, who has dark brown hair and looks to be rather young, perhaps my own age, although everyone I have so far seen looks between eighteen and thirty, locks the bared door with an elaborate looking key which reminds me of something out of the Secret Garden. The man who I suppose I should call a guard looks at me almost regrettably as he walks away, speaking again in that strange language, their 'Sindarin', as they leave me alone in this cool and damp feeling place where my only comfort is the sound of the rushing water.
I sit down on the cold, stone floor, shivering as my bare legs make contact with it where my light blue cotton summer dress ends at my knees although its thinness does nothing to keep out the icy cold stone my arse is now sitting on. It is times like these I actually wish I had some semblance of fat on my athletic body but muscle was of more use anyway. Muscle and skill had taken down two of those guards and for that I was a tiny bit proud of myself. Now I just had to figure out how to get the hell out of here. Aggressively I take to the ropes which still hold my wrists bound and harrying away at them, manage to loosen them just enough to force first my right wrist out with a lot of twisting and cursing and then my left one. I throw the rope down; my wrists now bloody and badly welted from my effort and use my fingers to loosen and remove the gag from my mouth. Bastards for leaving that on! I stand up again and carefully inspect my prison. There are unfortunately no cute kitten or puppy posters on the walls concealing secret escape routes and truthfully it really is just a hole in the rock. I turn to the gate and experimentally rattle it. As I expected, it does not budge. I stare contemplating the large lock wondering if I can break it. I think back to all those movies when the female character is faced with the very situation I am currently in. Of course hairpins! I run my hands back through my ponytail and locate the single hairpin which I had shoved behind my ear to tame an unruly random curl which looks great if my hair is down but is a bane to my ponytail styling. Pulling it carefully from my strawberry blonde hair and holding it firmly between my thumb and forefinger, I insert it into the lock and begin to fiddle around carefully, listening for any clicks.
I persistently do this for perhaps ten minutes before hearing a distinctive click as metal shifts in the lock and, extracting the pin, I push on the door experimentally and it opens. Yes! I Replace the pin back behind my ear and cautiously looking about, step out of the chamber and consider running for it but then on second thought realize I need to blend in to get out, not go racing through this place and drawing attention to myself. Stealth I am good at, stealth I can do. I pull my hair from its elastic and run my hands through its long lengths, letting it fall in loose waves down my back. I remember the three strange young women I had seen had worn braids holding their hair off their faces and so I quickly twirl a few tresses on either side of my face and tie them back with my hair elastic. Those chicks didn't have fringes but mine was long and side swept so hopefully it would not draw attention in this place. I just have to hope my summer dress which falls just above my knees will not stand out; I am freezing down here and desperately wish for the warmth of the sunlight.
I venture out again and quietly, with eyes wide and my heart pounding so hard and loud I am worried it will be heard, I move cautiously the way I had been brought in. I begin to round the corner and freeze. There is a tall, dark haired guard standing there doing what guards do best; guarding. Shit. Well that way is out of the question for the moment. I retrace my steps and continue the other way through these strange dungeons and to my dismay turn another corner to see another guard, thankfully also facing away from me. His shoulders stiffen and I quickly shrink back and against the wall, holding my breath but after many moments have passed, he has not come looking and so I retreat again to the cell I had been previously locked in and lean against the wall trying to think how I will get out. My eyes catch sight of the rope and I pick it up and began working the knots undone fully, a plan forming in my mad mind.
...
This entire plan would rely on speed and sheer luck, copious amounts of of sheer luck. I hold the rope taut as I stand, flush against the shadow of a small crevice in the stone in the walkway, hoping the pale blue of my dress will resemble stone as I am willing it too. I am stone, I am stone, I am stone. I chant in my mind as my muscles coil, ready to spring away when the moment is right. With a strong and quick flick of my wrist I pull on the rope I have connected to one of the cell gates which is closer to the entrance of this dungeon cavern and with a resounding crash, it slams open into the wall. I hold very still as the dark haired guard flies past me towards the chamber I had been locked in and then I move, leaping from the wall and racing around the rocky corner, descending upward again and around another corner to fly straight into another moving object much bigger than I.
"Ow." I gasp and make to leap back but hands are suddenly holding me firmly by the shoulders and I instinctively make to duck and twist out of this persons grip but find I cannot as the person twists with me, until I am held firmly locked by their arms, back against their chest.
"So you are the one who has been injuring the ellons of my guard and terrorizing my healers." A male voice speaks with a cool, regal tone in my ear. "Who are you, a spy of the enemy? Have you been sent by those Noldor? Speak!" I do the worst thing imaginable, I tremble in fear for whoever this person is they sound important and very irked and I really don't enjoy being yelled at with such harshness, it hurts my ears. But, my pride somehow stupidly precedes my fear, which is possibly worse, and I retort out an answer so imperiously in my annoyance I render him silent for a moment.
"I think it is you who should be explaining to me who you are and where the hell I am and, you are speaking beside my ear, I am not deaf you know." I say temperamentally and hear his sharp intake of breath. Guards suddenly arrive looking shocked to see whoever it is holding me captive, including the young guy who I had tricked with my escape attempt and he looks mortified as he stares openly at whoever holds me and I sense the person whose chest I am crushed against is not impressed and I feel my heart pounding in my chest fearfully.
"My Lord Thranduil forgive me, she tricked us and escaped." The dark haired guard I had foiled gasps out with a half bow. Great, of all the people to run into, I've run into some figure of power. instinctively and possibly stupidly, I try wriggling down and out of their grasp but their grip tightens, holding me still.
"Do not bother." He drawls out to me and I stop for he is right, what it the point. Everyone here knows I am trying to escape anyway. I sigh defeated. "How exactly does an elleth escape a locked cell and slip past my guard unnoticed." My captive who now I can refer to as Thranduil, or rather; the prick who has foiled my escape, asks dryly and the man before me looks suitably embarrassed. "She is our only prisoner is she not?" He asks dryly and the guard guy nods warily.
"She somehow unlocked the gate and using the rope she had been bound with, created a diversion to aid in her escape." He stammers out the explanation for my escape and Thranduil is silent a moment.
"Since you are incapable of performing the simple task of keeping one elleth behind bars I shall return her to her cell myself." He declares in an almost bored tone and then the grip in which he holds me changes as he moves his hands to hold me firmly by both wrists and I try not to wince at the pain from my self inflicted rope-burn as I'm pushed along before this Thranduil bloke back towards my dark, cold and damp prison. Into the cell I am thrust although not as roughly as the first time and the gate once again clicks shut behind me. I turn to look upon my infuriating captor. I am far from happy at ending up in the very place I have been trying to escape. Piercing, stormy eyes regard me aloofly from a pale face which seems to be carved from marble for it is flawless, almost too flawless. It is downright ridiculous.
"Do you have a name elleth?" He asks me using that word again to address me in a superior tone which does not mesh well with me at all. Who was he to act so… I suddenly noticed the elaborate looking circlet of twisted silver settled over his long silvery blonde hair and a white stone at its dipped center where it rested upon his brow. He also wore elaborate clothing of richly made green and silver fabrics. That guard had referred to him as Lord and he himself had accused me of disrupting his guards and healers. Where on earth am I? Raw fear again racees through my body, I need answers.
"Why do you call me an elleth?" I demand boldly back at him and he allows an amused smirk.
"Because that is what you are, a female elf." He states calmly.
"Sorry a what?" I spluttered. "Dobby is an elf, at Christmas time there are elves, warranted in folklore there are elves, I am not an elf." I reply incredulously, shaking my head at the ludicrous man before me. "I am far too tall." His eyes rake casually and obviously over my body, causing my stomach to knot in discomfort given my current situation, being locked in his dungeon and all. Another smirk plays on his lips as his eyes return to mine.
"Well you certainly look like a she elf despite the fact you have the rudeness of a dwarf and the strangest accent I have ever heard. Perhaps you are from the western shores and that is why you choose to speak in the common tongue." His words and locations make no sense to me. Dwarves? Perhaps he is high on something, off with the fairies. Soon he will probably be speaking of dragons and unicorns! I decide to stick with my first question, one thing at a time.
"Why exactly do I look like an elf?" I humor him and he gracefully brings his hand up to touch the tip of his ear and I outright gasp for they are pointy like my own. I touch my own ear and then actually look at the guard standing a few feet behind him. His ears are pointy too.
"I, I do not understand. Is this some joke?" I whisper and with a strange expression Thranduil shakes his head.
"Why in Arda would any of this be a joke, I do not jokingly keep elleth captive down here." He replies stoically.
"There is no such thing as elves, or dwarves." I mutter more to myself but he hears me and those piercing eyes glare at me.
"Then what are you then? What am I?" He asks imperiously, his temper seeming to flare again and I glare right back at him.
"By your attitude I do wonder if you are the Goblin King himself!" I retort and his eyes darken dangerously as they now narrow at me.
"How dare you insinuate I be likened to the filth and evil of a goblin! How dare you!" He hisses out, his face close to the bars of the gate, filled with contempt.
"Brilliant so goblins exist too?" I snap back sarcastically and he seems angrier again.
"Of course they do you insolent elf!" He growls back. "Where have you been living, beneath a rock?" He adds and out and I cannot help it, I really can't, I smirk.
"No, I live above ground actually however it appears you do in fact live under a rock." I retort and his face shows utter surprise and I swear I see a small flicker of amusement upon his features before he steps back and away from the gate.
"I have important duties to attend to under my rock." He declares breezily and I almost snort in laughter, he is a prick but he has some semblance of humor thank god, it gives me hope the world has not gone completely balmy.
"Expect to be fully interrogated in the next few days and do not expect to be attempting any escapes in the future." He says dismissively and in a swirl of robes he sweeps out of the dungeon. Well screw you too. I think at him in annoyance as I sink down against the stone, shivering again as my body comes into contact with it. I need a plan B but I don't have a plan B. This is not good. Crossing my legs, I rest my face in my hands, breathing out a sigh of exasperation. I will not lose hope though, one should never lose hope. I cling dearly to that thought as I let my eyes close, needing a moment of peace as I let the sound of the fall wash over me.