It was well into the night when Thorin was finally led back to the cells, his face grim and his shoulders stooped. You remembered how he had stood up for you in the presence of King Thranduil, and got up from your hard wooden bench, walking to your cell door and grabbing the bars, trying to make eye contact with him.
He met your gaze, and you nodded at him in thanks, and saw the corner of his lip rise in a sort-of-smile, as he nodded back at you, his eyes soft. You sat back down on the stony bench and put your head in your hands. Thorin Oakenshield had just smiled at you, which was basically a massive embrace in his terms. You couldn't even remember the last time he spoke to you, let alone tried to save your life. Either he had suddenly developed very strong feelings for you, or he hated the elf King so much he was willing to risk his life to spite him. You guessed the latter. Thorin wasn't a big fan of feelings.
Hearing muffled talking from a cell beside you, you stood up again and quietly tiptoed towards the cell door, trying not to disturb the conversation.
"I could have anything down my trousers..." said Kili, and you could practically see the cheeky glint in his eye.
"Or nothing," responded a smooth female voice, making Kili chuckle.
You didn't recognize the voice, and peeked around your cell wall, your eyes widening as you saw the red-haired elf deep in conversation with your dwarvish friend. A small smile crossed your lips. You could always count on Kili to try to get into the pants of women in any situation, even if they belonged to a race that your ancestors hated with a deep passion.
You sighed and sat back down, and eventually the dull tones of their conversation faded, as the she-elf left and the cells were once again plunged into silence.
Feeling your eyes grow heavy, you nodded your head and closed your eyes. You might as well get some sleep whilst you could.
"Are you well?" a voice whispered, immediately bringing you out of your light sleep.
Years of fighting and battle-reflexes brought you to your feet almost instantly, your hand grazing where your sword should have been.
Heart in your throat and breath coming fast, you turned around, your eyes widening as you took in the sight of Legolas, the elf prince, standing in front of the bars of your door, looking at your state of dishevelled panic with some amusement.
"I hope I didn't startle you," he said, a twinkle in his eyes giving away his good-natured humour, "I only wished to check up on you."
"Shit," you breathed back, heart still hammering.
Legolas smiled, remembering your affiliation with that word, and gestured towards the small stone bench in your cell.
"Please," he said, blue eyes sparkling in the dark shadows, "Take a seat,"
"Well, as you asked so kindly..."
You cautiously said down, and to your surprise, so did he. There was a small set of steps just outside your cell door, and Legolas perched on one of them, looking very un-princelike.
"I'll repeat my earlier question," he began, looking you in the eyes, "Are you well? You're not hurt?"
The questions rang out in the silence of the halls, but there was no sound from the cells around you, suggesting that the rest of the dwarves were fast asleep.
"A couple of bumps and bruises, nothing serious," you replied, looking at him reproachfully. Just because he seemed friendly, that didn't mean you were going to forgive him that quickly. I mean, the guy had locked you up in a cellar for crying out loud...
A look of worry crossed his face as he heard your response, and he leaned forwards, his brows knotting in concern.
"They were rough with you." he said it as a statement, not a question.
"God," you sighed, running your hands through your hair, "Why does everybody assume I need protecting all of a sudden?"
Legolas smiled at that and caught your eye again.
"You fascinate me...," he said simply.
"What do you mean by that?" you asked, not concealing that you were surprised by his answer.
"You're very different from most women I've met," he mused, absent-mindedly rubbing a strand of his long, blonde hair.
"Tauriel, for example"
"The ginger?" you cut in, she was the only female elf you had seen since entering Mirkwood.
Legolas smiled at your mannerisms, "Yes," he replied, "The ginger."
"She may fight, but she holds herself with a certain feminine grace, which you seem to lack..."
"Charming..." you muttered under your breath.
"I watched you fight those spiders in the forest," Legolas continued, unaware of your interruptions, "And your fighting style is extraordinary. You can throw knives with expert precision, and you appear to have no trouble getting your hands dirty..."
He gestured to your tunic, which was still coated in spider blood.
"I find it strange..."
"Let me out of this cell and I'll show you more where that came from," you said with a smirk.
He rolled his eyes.
"Nice try," he said, getting up to leave.
"No, wait! Don't leave!" you urged, "When am I getting out of here?"
He turned around and smiled cryptically, before imperceptibly shaking his head and turning his back to you.
And with that he walked off into the shadows, leaving you again with nothing but darkness and snoring dwarves for company.
"Breakfast!" shouted a loud voice, jolting you out of your light sleep.
The bright sun caused you to squint your eyes, and the grumblings of many disgruntled dwarves filled the halls. A light shiver ran through your body, and you hugged your arms closer to yourself, trying to conserve heat.
"Eat up," said a tall, brown haired elf, throwing a lump of square bread through the bars of your cell and giving you a smug smile.
Gah. You hated elves.
Your mind wandered back to last night, and the conversations that had passed between you and the price of Mirkwood. The jokes and the teasing, but also the way that he seemed to truly care about whether you were hurt.
Well, you hated most elves, anyway...
Glancing suspiciously at the square of crisp bread you had been thrown, you cautiously brought it to your nose and inhaled deeply. You couldn't smell anything on it, but in past experience, you knew that didn't always guarantee safety. You had been drugged many times by undetectable poisons. And what even was this type of bread anyway? It was unlike anything you had ever seen. You turned it over in your hands to examine the other side of it, but it was much the same.
A loud crunch from your side caused you to look up in shock and surprise, and your eyes widened as you saw Legolas, sitting on the same step as let night, a half-eaten square of elvish bread in his slender fingers.
"It's called Lembas," he said, gesturing to the food in your hand, "Elvish bread. And it's clean, trust me."
"Shouldn't you be off doing princey stuff," you asked him, biting into a corner of your bread warily, "You know, having balls and meeting princesses and suchlike..."
He chuckled at that, and smiled at you, "I've never been much of a dancer," he admitted.
"And honestly, most of the princesses I've met are incredibly dull..."
"So what do you do all day?" you enquired, noticing that you hadn't keeled over yet and taking that as encouragement that the bread was safe.
"Mostly I hunt," he replied, dusting his hands on the knees of his trousers, "Those spiders you fought. They are rife in our forests and I must do all I can to rid us of them."
"So THAT'S why you found us," you mused, remembering how the elves had popped up out of nowhere in the Mirkwood forest.
"Yes. We were on a patrol when we heard shouts, so our company diverted to adress the problem. Then we found a band of dwarfish trespassers."
"Not a dwarf." you replied, pointing to yourself and earning a small smile from Legolas as he remembered.
"Of course," he remedied, a twinkle in his eye, "As you keep telling me."
You were interrupted as a large elvish guard came up to your cell and unlocked the door. You immediately jumped to the balls of your feet, you fists forming a guard stance in front of your face.
"What is the meaning of this?" asked Legolas angrily, getting to his feet and towering over the much shorter elf.
"With all due respect, your majesty, the king wishes to see her."
Your heart leapt up at this, what could the king want with you?
The guard finally succeeded in opening the door, and was immediately met by your fist connecting firmly with his nose, you heard a sickening crunch and blood sprayed from the centre of his face. Quickly, you were restrained by five other elves, and though you struggled, you couldn't escape.
Legolas, who had been watching the display, widened his eyes in amazement.
The guard you had punched was still lying on the floor of your cell, moaning as he cradled his broken nose and blood poured out through his hands.
"We must take you to the king." stated one of your captors, holding your lean arms tight behind your back to prevent you from causing anymore injury.
You looked helplessly at Legolas, desperate to avoid seeing Thranduil again, but to no avail. He simply mouthed, "I'm sorry," and bowed his head. Fat lot of good he was...
You were led off, your heart full of dread at what your meeting would entail, but as you left, you heard loud dwarfish shouts following you.
"Punched the bastard right in the nose!" yelled Kili, and his voice was followed by rounds of thunderous applause, and a few whistles.
"Show him what you're made of!" that might have been Dwalin, or Balin.
"Good luck, lassie," the thick Scottish accent definitely came from Gloin.
"Give him a right hook from me!"
"Nice one!"
"Did she break it?"
"By the amount of blood coming from that elf's face, I'm going to say yes."
More cheers and applause followed this, and as you were led through winding tunnel and twisting path, the voices of the dwarves continued to echo through the halls, giving you a sense of safety and strength. You were not alone in this.
