A/N: I own nothing.
"Stupid fucking movers..." I muttered to myself as I hauled the last box out of my rented u-haul van. Grunting slightly under the weight, I kicked the trunk door shut and stumbled down the driveway to the front porch of the house I'd just purchased.
It was a small cabin in rural Vermont, surrounded by tall maple trees, and I'd fallen in love with it the moment the realtor showed it to me. I'd grown up in the area, and after spending my college years in New York City, I was thrilled to be back so close to nature. However, I am not too thrilled with the movers I hired- bastards never showed up so most of my day was spent moving everything into my house by myself.
Kicking the door shut behind me, I let the heavy box of books drop on to the kitchen counter with a small huff. I mentally patted myself on the back for not being a total lazy-ass today and collapsed in a wooden chair that had come with the house.
As soon as I wiggled into a more comfortable position, my cell phone started to ring and I groaned, heaving myself up to search for it.
"Y'ello!" I chirped, answering the call without checking the ID. "Hey ma! Yeah, just got the last box in-no I don't need you and dad to come help unpack." I told my mother, rolling my eyes slightly as I switched her to speaker phone. As she fired off question after question, I grabbed a frozen dinner out of the freezer and plugged in my microwave.
"I can't believe those movers never showed up! Oh, I wish you had just let your father help you-" My mothers high-pitched, worried voice sighed over the line. She was the type of woman who worried over everything, and being the baby of the family meant I was subject to the most of her mother hen-ing.
"Mom, dad is a sixty one year old man with a back problem, he is in no position to help me move in to my house." I tutted as I set the timer on the microwave.
"Oh don't let him hear you say that!" She giggled. I huffed out a laugh as she continued. "Well, darling, give us a call tomorrow and let us know how you've settled in! My shows are coming on!" The line went dead before I could respond and I rolled my eyes.
"Love you too, mom!" I muttered sarcastically, grabbing a box of my clothes to sort while I waited for my frozen lasagna to cook. Might was well keep up the productivity, or it was never going to get done.
I stopped short when I entered my small bedroom, staring at the tall wardrobe. "You weren't here earlier..." I spoke aloud, slowly putting the box down on the floor. I padded over to the ornately carved wardrobe I swore hadn't been here when I bought the house. It was quite beautiful- dark stained wood with intricate carvings all over it. Various woodland animals mixed with a pretty leaf pattern, I could even make out a few hidden doors on trees.
Maybe it was a gift from the sellers? I opened the doors carefully, surprised to find it to be deeper than it appeared, going about three feet back into the wall. I was even more surprised to find two rungs for hanging clothes- the one closest to me empty, but the one behind it lined with beautiful silk shirts and leather vests. I leaned forward to reach past the clothes, and gasped when I felt a wooden handle. I jerked my hand back, wide eyed, and stepped back from the closet. There was another door back there!?
Gulping quietly, I back tracked into the kitchen, ignoring the microwave's alarm as I rummaged around for a flashlight. Biting my lip, I glanced nervously to the unopened box of kitchen utensils, but shook my head and walked back to my bedroom. What was I expecting- some horror movie torture chamber behind a closet?
The closet was just as I left it, doors swung wide open with the clothes visible. Inhaling deeply, I flicked on the flashlight and pushed the clothes to the side. On the other side was a set of similar wooden closet doors. Mentally preparing myself, I slowly pushed one open.
My mouth popped open in wonder and I climbed forward into the closet, sticking my head out into the largest, most elegant looking bedroom I'd ever seen in my life. The ceilings were taller than my house was high, and the floors were a beautiful polished oak that looked like it was just one big slice out of a trunk, and not planks like I had in my home. In the center of the opposite wall laid the largest bed I had ever seen with large, beautiful branches acting as the posts. The room was lit by candles scattered around the room, but there was a large skylight that let the moonlight shine down into the room. Off to the left stood a small table with two expensive-looking wooden chairs, and there was even a fireplace and an elegant couch. All and all, it looked like I had stepped into a home design magazine.
And I sure as hell knew my house didn't extend this far out.
I listened intently for a moment, and when I was sure there was no one else in the room, I stepped out of the wardrobe. My bare feet hit the cool, polished wood and I shivered a bit. The room was cold- no one had been in here for a while, if the dead fire place was anything to judge by.
"This is some Narnia shit..." I whispered as I padded out into the middle of the room. Catching sight of a book on the bedside table, I glanced around once more before picking it up from the table. The book was bound with dark brown leather and was embossed with a beautiful gold-leafed boarder.
I didn't know what the hell language it was written in though. I majored in language and world history- I worked at a museum! I could pick out almost any language and tell you what it was- this was completely unlike anything I had ever seen. Hmm'ing, I put the book back down and turned my attention to snooping through the rest of the room. There were two sets of doors- a pair of sturdy wooden doors (Which were also ornately carved- I'm sensing a theme here.) that obviously led further into wherever I was, and a set of glass doors that seemed to lead out into a balcony.
But still, it was fucking freezing in here. I rubbed my bare arms in an attempt to warm up as I padded over to the, again, beautiful fire place. Whoever made this place was loaded and had a thing for wooden décor. There was a small stack of wood, kindling, and old-looking matches in a wooden box. With the practiced ease of a woman who grew up with wood-stoves for heating, I had built a suitable fire within minutes. Smiling to myself, I stood back up. At the same time, I heard footsteps echo outside of the door.
My eyes widened and I froze, glancing between the strange book and the closet. Mentally berating myself, I grabbed the book off of the table and made a dash for the wardrobe, nearly diving into it just as the door started to creak open. Landing solidly on my bedroom floor, I scrambled to close the other side of the wardrobe as quickly and quietly as possible, before closing mine as well. I waited anxiously to be discovered, but after ten minutes of staring in horror at my wardrobe, nothing happened. Exhaling shakily, I glanced down at the leather book in my hands as I tried to rationalize what just happened.
3rd person POV, Mirkwood.
King Thranduil internally sighed as he sat atop his throne, the grand room empty save for himself. It was very late in the evening, and he had sent his personal guard to retire for the evening. He had spent many a night this way since his son, Legolas, had left after the Battle of Five Armies. The strain of the aftermath of war and his only son leaving had left the King in a constant state of stress, flashbacks from battle keeping him from resting.
Feeling the weight of his fatigue, the elven King rose from his throne and descended the steps, intent on spending the remainder of his night finishing the book he had started the evening before. He walked in near silence, the only sound being the light tap of his boots on the floor as he navigated the winding halls of his kingdom with out any real attention paid to his destination. He could find his way around these halls deaf and blind- but so wouldn't anyone else, having spent centuries in their home. The King's eyes showed just how far away he was, his mind taking him back to the dragon, whose flames still haunted him whenever he closed his eyes.
As he approached his bedroom, he picked up on the sound of... footsteps? In his chambers? Eyes narrowing in annoyance, Thranduil increased his pace, pausing just outside the door. The footsteps in his room sped up- whoever was in there was running across the room. Quickly, the Elven king entered his room, just barely missing the doors to his wardrobe shutting. He scanned the room sharply, checking every spot someone might hide (accept for his wardrobe...) and came up with nothing. It was then that he noticed the fire burning strongly in the hearth. Examining the fire, he guessed that it couldn't have been burning for more than a few minutes- his room was still rather cool by normal standards.
Frowning to himself, the King wrote it off as a concerned servant who didn't want to be caught doing their duties late and went to find his book. It wasn't where he left it this afternoon, and Thranduil mentally cursed whichever servant took it upon themselves to return his book to the library.
A/N:
Hey all! Thank you for taking the time to read the first chapter, please feel free to give me constructive criticism. Not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but the idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone. I'm pretty rusty as far as my writing is concerned right now (especially first person point of view), so forgive me for any mistakes. Thanks!