I don't know how long I have been out here. It feels like ages. The thick canopy of trees overhead has long blacked out the sun, and I am unaware of time and space itself. I sleep with my hands wrapped around the handle of my dagger, holding it outwards, ready to strike. I awaken suddenly with my hair tangled in piles of soft rotted leaves, and I am still lost- every time it is the same. How did I come here? My memory only extends back by a few days at best. The rest of the time I am consumed with a madness, dark voices whisper in my ear, shadows move and just when I think I have found my senses, I lose them again, over and over. My blade, my hunger and my terror are my constant and only companions. There is something that hunts me here. I try to get away, I cannot say from what, but when I see the orc, or the spider, then I remember. When I have time I scrawl a symbol on a tree I pass, only to have some kind of marker, so I will know I have been there. I have not seen any trees with a mark yet. I am well and truly lost. I hope to find a place that I have been before, so at least I know I have an idea of direction. How deep is this wood? How far have I come? I have been lost for so long. I cannot remember anything. I cannot see myself.
The spider's mouth silently opened, long threads of poison suspended above my head. I remain motionless, my legs drawn tight like springs beneath me, though they ache and burn with weariness. It had not been long since I stopped to rest, at least it seemed that way. The rough dry bark of the tree I had slept against must now give me the sure surface I need when the time is right to jump. I had feasted on some berries and fell asleep after drinking from the river, only to be awakened by the sound of the ancient and relentless hunger of my enemy. The same predator that stalks me over and through the woods, the same that finds me no matter where I hide. Matters not what malevolent form it takes. I always see The Eye there, reflected back at me in the orbs of whatever tries to kill me next- the all-consuming flames. Burning, scorching death awaits me there.
I found my footing and jumped up, driving the long blade into the gaping maw as it made its last attempt to sink fangs into my flesh. A horrid squeal escaped the arachnid as it fell upon me, dying, and the stench of its putrid blood caused the bile to rise in the back of my throat. I wrenched my blade free, knowing there would be more coming, and I would be powerless to stop them all alone.
No amount of exhaustion could prevent me from leaping far from the oncoming rushed rustling roar that I detected with all of my senses. Death was bearing down on me yet again. I would run and find the place to hide, and cheat them, yet again.
Only I wasn't supposed to get bitten. I don't know why it surprised me when it happened. I could not expect to win against the darkness that wanted me so desperately, and I not knowing the reasons why any of this was in the first place, acting solely on my instincts alone. One wrong step was all it took. As my reality quickly slipped away in a soundless tunnel, I could see a pair of violet eyes hidden in the woods, glowing in the enveloping darkness, regarding me without malice. Even in the urgent separation of my soul from my body, I heard my voice as it rang out-
"…Cirasya! Uhimsaa!"
The wizard fussed over the body the elves had left him to inspect. The dingy heap barely breathed, but Gandalf knew within his first rapid assessment, there was something altogether different about this individual. The puzzle before him appeared, at the very least, to be of the female persuasion, and even that was not yet a surety in his opinion.
"Gandalf. We must away. Leave this to my father." Legolas had resupplied his weapons stock and packed his satchel with waybread for the next leg of their journey, and he did not want to tarry in his father's halls for any length of time other than what was necessary.
The wizard harrumphed. "Legolas Greenleaf, if you did not hurry through life I would worry you were ill. I know you are eager to depart, but please, will you give me a little time with this one?"
Legolas shrugged. "There are very talented healers in the Greenwood. You need not worry, Gandalf." His restless blue eyes scanned the Hall of Healing, and rested on the sight of two very young elleths that were ready to assist when called for.
"I am not worried, Legolas…just concerned."
The ellon sighed heavily. "So it is, you are forever concerned, curinir." Gandalf glanced at Legolas as a kind of warning, and with that the ellon left the hall, deciding to find something to divert himself away from a potential run-in with his father. Thranduil was much changed, but not enough to warrant his son's complete trust, not yet.
Nonetheless, King Thranduil of the Wood Elves would not be kept in the dark with just a nibble of a report from Ryvvik, commander of the Woodland Army. He sent for Legolas and Gandalf immediately, and became increasingly irritated with the long wait he endured.
"Mithrindir, I expected to see you sooner upon your arrival." Thranduil stood from his throne and made his way down the stairs to the lower dais, where the wizard and his son stood. Legolas gave his father a guarded smile, and set his fist against his chest with a bow, leading Thranduil in a similar gesture.
"Will you stay, ion nîn?"
Legolas nodded slightly. "There is a council meeting in the halls of Rivendell, Ada. Lord Elrond has summoned men, dwarves and elves." He watched his father's back stiffen, his expression turn to ice. Legolas pressed on. "It is of the utmost importance I depart immediately."
Thranduil's eyes swept towards Gandalf. "And you? Are you summoned as well?"
Gandalf nodded briefly before lowering his gaze. "Yes, my lord."
Thranduil spun on his heel and reached out for a carafe of wine that waited on a nearby table. He poured three glasses and passed them out.
"Seems as though Elrond is overreacting. What could be so pressing, I wonder?" Thranduil's eyes burned like cold fire, but his audience was not afraid of him. Legolas's lips formed a tight line as he struggled to find patience.
"Ada, you cannot tell me you have not felt it. Isolation can only protect you for so long."
Gandalf interrupted to avoid a potential argument. "There is a possibility that the One Ring of the Enemy has been found. I am going back to the Shire, and then on to Rivendell for the council."
"Aragorn waits for me in the forest. He is trying to track Gollum. How did he escape, Ada?"
Thranduil's face flushed. "He had help. There are things in Mirkwood that share his agenda." He drank his wine down, noticing his son had not touched his. "You know the horrors of which I speak."
Gandalf had made it through half his glass. He knew there would be no relief to the tension in the room between father and son. So much unspoken that could be resolved, if only...
"Lord Thranduil, as far as the...creature discovered in the wood. She is a mystery."
"She?" Thranduil's eyebrows arched, from irritation or surprise Gandalf could not discern.
"Yes, she. Elvish ears. Human hands. But a shapeshifter unlike any I have seen before."
Thranduil recoiled at the word. "I will not have it in my halls."
"She is near death from the spider's poison. Let her attempt recovery. At least that you could manage, Thranduil? She may have some useful knowledge. She looks as though she has been running for some time."
"Yes, running from my guards I am sure. I have had reports of strange creatures about and runes carved into trees. I am concerned this creature is more dark magic than shapeshifter." Thranduil bowed his head briefly in Legolas' direction. "You did me a great service, ion nîn. Le athae."
"I tracked her for hours. Aragorn wanted to observe her- he, too, is puzzled by her. The spider made it easy to finally catch her."
Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "I will go to the Halls of Healing to see this strange creature for myself. Only then will I decide whether to let it...her, stay."
"I depart for Rivendell, my lord father." Legolas rested his fist to his chest and bowed in his father's direction, and Thranduil returned the gesture.
"No dirweg. No i Melain na le." Thranduil watched the wizard wish his son well, his face impassive and his eyes glacial. Gandalf looked back at him expectantly. "You are coming with me."
"Of course. But time is short." Gandalf followed Thranduil out of the throne room. Two guards joined with them soundlessly as they made their way across the cave. The beauty of the carved stone structure left Gandalf in wonder, even as Thranduil swiftly led him through the narrow passages and wide halls. It did not take long at their pace to reach the Halls of Healing, where four elleths worked on the intruder. They had removed her filthy rags, and cleaned her as best they could. She lay still and unmoving on the stone slab bed, a white sheet covering her from breast to shin. Her skin was ghastly pale, and her dark hair hung in long wet skeins off the edge of the slab. Gandalf and Thranduil approached her slowly.
"Any change?" Gandalf asked. The healers shook their heads, all lovely young elves they were.
"We have done everything we can."
Thranduil raised his hand. "You are dismissed. For now." Gandalf looked askance at the king as he raised the sheet and folded it upwards, revealing a smattering of runes on her thigh. He gasped as he read it aloud.
"A curse. She must be executed, not allowed to recover here in my halls."
Gandalf shook his head. "It is a binding spell. Someone was working on her. Perhaps it is why she was running." He looked at the ageless face of the intruder. "She has a story, Lord Thranduil."
The king shook his head slowly. "Not one I care to hear. Already I risk much having her in these halls. The damage she could do now that she is inside could be catastrophic."
"Then return her to the dungeon. But please, keep her here until I can make my way back. There is much she could tell us, I fear."
The king's face soured. "You don't understand, do you? If I allow her to rot in my dungeon until you return, I will do what is necessary to keep my people safe, should she prove to be exactly what I fear she is. She may not be here to tell you her story later, Mithrandir." His voice, smooth as silk, dripped with venom. Gandalf found himself wincing.
"I am aware of that, O Thranduil the Great. I only ask that you try." With that the wizard shuffled out, his walking staff thudding loudly with each right step. The king stayed behind, staring at the face of the intruder, his expression puzzled and dismayed. He lifted the sheet and found more runes on her ribs, and he dropped the sheet again, disgusted.
"See to her." His voice rang out as he marched away. The sight of her made him sick with worry. The healers rushed back to her, their heads bowed low with their task. And the intruder slept on.
I was saddened by own awakening. I dimly remember the spider biting my leg, the eyes that watched me fall. But I was alive, painfully so. Every joint burned in agony, every movement, no matter how slight, caused my mind to fill with fireworks of blinding pain. I stilled myself and opened only my eyes, and was confused by my surroundings. Whites, browns, sounds of rushing water, and a carved ceiling above me, glittering, pale stone bathed in torchlight. Where was I?
I rolled my eyes downwards and saw the sheet. My clothes were gone. The sudden realization that I was bare beneath the sheet made me flush with shame. I could hear a chanting song reverberating from somewhere, and it calmed me, smoothed my restless soul. I sighed heavily, and beneath me I felt cool stone, porous yet smooth. I wanted to get up, but I knew I wasn't ready for that yet. My left calf throbbed as if a hot knife had shredded my leg and remained stuck in the bone itself. A whimper escaped my lips, and the face of a tall, beautiful young lady came into focus. She was standing over me with a kind smile.
"Pedil edhellen?" Her accent was lovely, but I couldn't understand her question. She smiled again and I tried to smile back. "Can you understand me?"
"Yes." I tried to raise my head, but it caused me so much pain I went partially blind again. Her hand was cool on my forehead.
"Stay still. You must rest."
"What happened? Where am I?"
"You were bitten by a spawn of the Ungoliant. You were dead when you arrived." The young lady smiled brighter. "You are in the Halls of the Elvenking."
I shook my head. She might as well be speaking a foreign language. "Where?"
"Do you not remember anything?"
"No." I tried moving again, but it was useless.
"You are strong-willed." I heard her say something in that strange beautiful tongue again, and two more ladies were suddenly present. Three faces peered down at me now. "We have been seeing to you. We are healers. You are in the Woodland Realm of the Elves. King Thranduil oversees us all. It is only by his grace that you are here."
"You must try and remember. Anything would help." The sheet was lifted and I immediately tried to pull it back down. "You have runes cut into your skin. Do you know where you received such marks?"
I was filled with an unspeakable terror. Runes? My hand instinctively came to my ribcage. I was freezing all over as my mind raced, my muscles turning to stone. My heart was pounding and my throat threatened to close off my breathing. I found myself gasping loudly, and tears poured out of my eyes, over my temples and into my hair. I was losing consciousness, I could feel myself slipping away, falling backwards into the dark.
"Na janami...zarana!" I could feel my body spasming, but I was so far away.
The king sat on his throne-like chair at the dining hall. His elven people were all around him, passing plates of food to each other, chattering excitedly. Tonight was the Feast of the Harvest, something to honor the coming Fall. Ryvvik had just returned from a meeting with the Master of Men, trading herbs for wine. He came to the side of the king and waited until he was called for.
"What news, Ryvvik? Did all go well?"
"As always, my lord. The people have finished the last of the rebuilding. Bard is a good leader. The people are flourishing."
Thranduil nodded, his eyes on the crowd of elves happily dancing out on the floor. He was lost in memory as Ryvvik spoke. His heart hung heavy, as the battle of the five armies had cost his kingdom dearly. The elves had only recently made a comeback, as his people had become despondent with sadness. Elves from Lorien and Rivendell had come to the aid of the Elvenking- Thranduil was not exactly thrilled at the thought, but there were many needs in his Kingdom that could not be met, and he had lost over a third of his people in battle. At long last, marriages were made, and little elves were born, some already in training for the Woodland Army. Joy had found its way back into the wood. It made the king's heart glad to see his people living again, but inside he felt unsatisfied. His loneliness weighed him down, and his attempts at finding empathy and compassion were riddled with failure. No one was a harsher critic than the king himself, and he revisited the past, wishing he could correct it. As a result, any happiness he felt for his people could not reach his heart.
"My lord? Are you well?" Ryvvik could tell his liege lord had drifted away from his report a long time ago. Thranduil snapped back into the present.
"Yes, commander. Join the feast. Enjoy yourself." The king nodded ahead towards a certain young elleth that smiled at Ryvvik from afar. The commander laughed softly and put his fist to his chest.
"Thank you, my lord." And just like that, the king was alone again. The food served looked and smelled delicious, but he could not bring himself to eat. The wine was filling enough, and it wasn't until his fifth bottle that he decided to propose a toast to his kin.
"My dears." He stood, his feet finding the floor well enough but his legs a little shaky. All the elves stopped their dancing and the music cut abruptly. Ryvvik tapped his fork to his wineglass and the room went still.
"My dearest kin," the king began again. "The Fall is upon us again, and harvest time is here. But the true reason we feast tonight is the tenacity of this realm. I am so pleased with all of you, having overcome insurmountable grief and hardship. We have been through the wars far too many times, and our losses have been great." The king smiled now, and the crowd felt lionized by his countenance. "But look at you now. I have wished for nothing more than to see you alive and full of joy once again. I wish to thank you all for everything you all have done to unite the tattered ends of our kingdom and strengthen our bonds with each other. Our land lives in each one of you, our kingdom lives on because of you. I am invigorated in the light of your joy." Thranduil lifted his glass, and the crowd of elves return the gesture, many with tears in their eyes. "This is for you. All of you. Savo 'lass a lalaith!"
The shouts went up, the elves returning the cheer. "Hail to the King! Hail Thranduil!"
The king raised his glass up high and then drank the wine down, with elves following suit, and the cheers became a joyful noise.
The racket grew in intensity, and I opened my eyes with a frown. Awake again. I sighed heavily, and one of the healers was instantly at my side.
"What is going on?" I asked, my voice cracking painfully. I tried to swallow, my tongue thick in my mouth. The healer placed a wet sponge to my lips and I sucked on it gratefully. There was not enough water in the world to quench my thirst.
"It is the Feast of the Harvest." The healer looked up and around with a smile. "The king has toasted his people."
"Why aren't you there?" I noticed for the first time her eyes were a sparkling grey, lit from the inside. It reminded me of the opal necklace she wore at her neck. She smiled beatifically down at me.
"I am there in spirit. I chose to wait with you, in case you awoke again." Her hand was on my forehead, and it radiated a calm coolness throughout my body. I shivered and sighed. "Your fever is still very high."
"You should be there. With your people." I tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace of pain. "I will be fine."
"No, my friend. I have taken responsibility of you, personally."
I shivered again. "Responsibility?"
"Yes. The king is...concerned. He wants you in the dungeon, but I bade his patience. I know you are not going to harm any of us."
I tried not to look alarmed. "Harm you?"
"Yes...you have outwitted the guards many times. We knew you were out there, we just didn't know...what you were."
"I didn't know...I thought I was alone out there. Nothing but spiders...and those twisted orcs chased me constantly."
The healer looked shocked. "Orcs?"
I narrowed my eyes and stared into her illuminated gaze. "Yes. Many orcs."
It was her turn to shiver. I felt bad for making her feel uneasy. "I am sorry. Thank you for caring for me...I would feel better if you would set me free."
She shook her head. "I know my king, and he won't let you go now that you're here. You have a long road ahead of you, my friend. Sometimes the younger spiders have stronger venom than even the oldest ones. Your leg is necrotic."
I breathed out slowly. "Do you think it can be saved?"
Again the kind smile. "That is why I am here. I will do everything I can."
I stared at an ornate carving on the wall ahead of me- a relief of a starry sky and the woods beneath. It made me think of being out there, wishing I could see the sky. I would have felt joy at the sight of stars. "I wish I could remember something. I only see the woods when I think back. I feel like I was out there for ages."
She smoothed my brow, and I felt at peace, if only for the moment. "When your leg gets better, I will put you in our hot springs. You will enjoy it. It cleanses the spirit. Would you like something to eat?" I noticed how she carefully ignored my statements. I think she was worried I would pass out again. I was not sure I wanted to try and eat anything. My stomach was numb and aching.
"I don't know...may I ask your name?"
"My name is Maith."
"That's lovely." I felt so sleepy, and I couldn't help it when I slipped away again.
Thranduil stood in the entrance to the alcove where the mystery intruder lay. She was breathing easy now, and the elleth that watched over her was curled up in a nearby chair, fast asleep. The torchlight was low, and it was very late. Or very early in the morning, either way. He was feeling heavy from the wine he had consumed, aggravated by the intruder's presence in his kingdom, and confused by her, not knowing where she had come from, what she was running from, and how she had managed to avoid arrest- until his son found her. He reached back into his belt and unsheathed his dagger, and closed the distance between them. Silent as the grave, he stared down at her sleeping form and pressed the dagger to her flesh. She did not wake, not that it mattered, he wanted to see her bleed. He needed to know what she was, and her blood could tell him so much. As his blade pressed into her arm sideways, he muttered a string of Sindarin, and thick red blood ran. The intruder's eyes flew open and she whimpered at the imperious visage of the enraged king as he stood over her, his voice an inaudible curse. There was an insistent biting pain in her upper arm. His thorny crown and glowing icy stare terrified her even further, and she cried out now, waking the sleeping healer.
"My lord! No! Please..." Maith was on her knees before the king now, and it did naught to stop him.
"Leave me!" he hissed. He withdrew the blade and stared down at the intruder. "Who are you? Where do you come from?"
The intruder shook violently, and her eyes rolled back in her head. "Ekakini bhawitumicchami!"
The king stepped backwards. He had never heard that dialect before, and he didn't know what to make of it. The healer quickly stepped in and tried to stop the intruder from swallowing her tongue. It was almost useless alone, until another healer came rushing in the room to help, guards right behind her.
"Are you hurt, my king?" The guards surrounded Thranduil and escorted him out. He threw one last look back, and watched as the sheet fell away from the intruder's body. The runes on her ribs and thigh stood out against her pale skin. The king shuddered as he turned away.
"No. I mean to stay that way. I want her in a cell."
It was dark and cold. I wasn't in the place I was before, no. This place was wet and unfriendly. A lone torch burned somewhere in the distance, and as my eyes focused I could make out the telltale bars of a prison gate. My leg was killing me, and I could feel a sharp sting in my upper arm. How did I get here?
"Hello?" My voice was broken. I didn't think anyone had heard me, until I saw Maith standing outside the gate. "Maith..."
"I am sorry my friend." She sounded like she had been crying. "You are to stay in here now. I will still see to your wounds. I am still here for you."
"Why am I in here?"
Maith put a hand to her mouth. "You don't remember? The king was with you when I woke up."
"King? No." I shook my head. That was a mistake- the pain was crippling as it shockwaved through my brain. "I don't remember!"
"Your fever was terrible. He came in, I do not know why, maybe to check on you. He..." Maith took a deep breath before continuing. "He had his dagger on your arm. He...he cut you."
"What? Why? Maith, please, get me out of here!"
"No. I cannot do that!"
"I will die here! I do not even know your king and he wants me to die! Please, I would rather take my chances outside."
Maith shook her head vigorously. "No. You will surely die outside, my friend. You cannot even stand yet. Your leg is full of poison."
I could not believe what I was hearing. I was a prisoner in a realm I had not even known existed, and I was too sick to escape. I was almost swallowed up in the wave of emotions to think.
"Why are you still caring for me, Maith?"
She rested her head on the bars, and I could see the tears as they fell from her cheeks. "Because, as I told you, you are my charge. I took the responsibility of caring for you and returning you to full health. The king sent me here, too."
I sighed heavily. "Then, I release you."
"It doesn't work like that. Only the king can release me. It seems he wants to punish me as well."
I felt the stirring of rage welling within me. "You do not deserve any punishment. You were doing a job. How is any of this fair?"
Maith didn't answer, she only wept at the predicament. I, however, was incensed, and it caused wild feelings to sweep my mind.
"This won't last forever. You are healing quickly, I am sure it is the elven blood you carry-"
"Elven? You mean...I am like you?" I pondered the statement with a sense of wonder.
"Yes. You have some elf in you, your ears are like ours, and your healing is advanced. I am sure there are other things, but...when you remember who you are, we will know more."
I reached up and felt the curve of my ears, and sure enough the tips were pointed. I felt even more unsure of myself than ever before, and it must have shown on my face. Maith stared at me in the dim gloom of my cell, and she shook her head in disbelief.
"You really don't remember anything, do you?"
I felt tears prick my eyes. "No, I don't. I feel so lost. Maith, thank you for helping me. I am sorry it is causing you grief."
She shrugged, and I could hear her smile in her voice. "I would rather be here with you. I can watch you, make sure you are restored. That is my goal. I am only in training, and if I can heal you...then I know I am ready for the title."
I sighed again, wondering at the nature of elves and what they had to teach me about myself. I never thought about my origin long enough to even wonder what I was, but learning I had elf blood was at least one puzzle piece I could have, with the intent of completing the entire picture. Maybe one day.
"Are you hungry now, my friend?"
I tried to sit up on the uncomfortable stone slab I was on. After much grunting and cursing, I found myself sitting upright. Sweat poured down my face, and my entire body was wracked with pain.
"Yes Maith, please. I am so thirsty. Thank you."
She nodded and was gone, leaving me there to gather myself. I was going to stand next, and I knew what that would cost me. I needed the energy from food and drink to do it.
"Tell me, Ryvvik. How is it that you and the guard could never catch the abomination? How is it possible that she outmaneuvered you?" Thranduil stood by the divining pool, his thick robes swaddling him. The carafe of wine waited for him, but he wasn't ready for it yet.
"I wish I knew, my king." Ryvvik was not as tall as his liege lord, but close. He still found himself cowering under the icy stare Thranduil pinned him with.
"You trained alongside my son. You showed incomparable strength and agility. How could she have outrun you for so long?"
Ryvvik shook his head, his dark hair half bound in a thick braid. He pleaded his king with his emerald eyes, but the king gave no reprieve. "Your majesty, believe me when I say we did everything in our power, besides shoot her down-"
"That is precisely what I meant. She should have been dead by now. Instead she rests in my halls, eats my food, drinks my wine, and the medicine used on her could be used on someone far more deserving."
Ryvvik lowered his eyes. "I am sorry, my lord. She did not seem a threat. I suspected her a runaway child from Bard's lands. I did not want to start a war with the men should she be someone's daughter."
Thranduil cocked his brow. "Ah, now there's the truth. I would expect nothing less from you, Ryvvik. Mercy is not a weakness. But it can be used against us. We must always be prepared for the unexpected. Which is why I put her in a cell."
"With your permission, I would like to visit Bard. He may know her, or at least know of her."
The king's silent stare almost caused Ryvvik to crumble, until finally he smiled wryly.
"Yes. Fine idea. Take only a few guards with you. Bring him some bread, Ryvvik." The king poured himself some wine. "It is the harvest, after all. Bard's people will appreciate the gesture, I'm sure."
Ryvvik saluted his king and left hurriedly, thankful he still had a job. Thranduil drank down his wine and poured another, and then sat at the table by the divining pool. He picked up the dagger he had sliced the intruder with, and inspected it for the hundredth time. Reddish-brown, like it should be. He could detect no rot or corruption, no black orc taint. The scent made his head spin, iron and flowers and something else...He did not feel a threat there. She would die, like any other mortal. The runes on her body were, as Mithrandir said, a binding spell. Someone was working magic on her. Maybe she escaped. Maybe the inability to remember was from trauma. Or maybe, the king surmised, it was all part of the plan. She would keep up the ruse until she had the trust of the kingdom, and then she would spring the trap.
"It will never work, my dear," the king said aloud, and tossed the dagger back onto the table. His third glass of wine went down a little smoother than the first two, and after a few more, he found himself in front of the intruder's cell. Maith was away so he had time to stare at her. She slept deeply, now dressed in a shift, and the blanket wrapped around her was piteously small. Thranduil thought of the dagger and how far away it was. He let his robe fall as he wrapped his fingers around the bars. It would be nothing to pull the gate away from the frame, to get inside and kill her.
Maith's timid voice ended his violent daydream. "My lord..."
"Damn." Thranduil picked up his robe and gave Maith his best withering stare. It worked. She shriveled under his gaze. "Has she spoken? Do you know anything you didn't before?"
Maith shook her head slowly. "No, my lord. She only talks of orcs and spiders. When her fever rises, she speaks that strange language... I do not recognize it at all."
Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose you can continue. I can only hope you extract something from her. And soon." He stalked past her and left the dungeon. There were many other things for him to worry about, and he was already beginning to tire of this.
