Author's note: Hey guys! Thanks for sticking around to read the second chapter! I COMPLETELY forgot about writing an 'author's note' in the last chapter (oops!). Welp, I hope this sort of makes up for it. And before I forget, the events of this Fanfiction occur somewhere in between what occurs of the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings. Just thought I should mention that in case any of y'all were wondering. Hope you like Chapter 2, and feel free to leave reviews! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR, as much as it pains me to admit it. Ugh, to have Tolkien's imagination.
The darkness welcomes me with open arms. It is an escape from the pain and suffering of reality, and as I drift aimlessly through the black, I feel like I might be able to stay this way forever... in this state of peaceful quiet. At the same time, a part of me is resistant to the seduction of this strange new world. It screams out for me to fight the darkness, to choose life over spending my days adrift in the endless black. At first I am reluctant to leave, but then I hear something that moves me to think otherwise. The sound of softly whispered words, a recent memory, echoing through space and time before reaching my weary ears.
"Do not give in. Fight the darkness and return to the light."
I know that voice. Stirring slightly, I will myself to wake from the strange dream. The darkness is resistant to let me leave, and for a moment I feel as though its suffocating walls might crush me. But, after a struggle that seems to last for an age, I finally manage to break through.
My eyes flutter open and I blink away the haziness of sleep. I start slightly upon noticing that I am no longer in a snow-covered forest and that there is not an endless blue sky stretching out above me. Instead, I am left staring up at a dark ceiling that seems to be made out of some sort of rock. Minute stalactites have sprouted out from it over time and now drip with moisture. A particularly large droplet of water splashes down onto my cheek, and I wrinkle my nose indignantly before raising up a hand to blot it off.
I slowly raise myself into a sitting position and take a quick overview of my whereabouts. The room, if I dare call it that, is so tiny that I can hardly stretch out my legs without becoming cramped. Walls enclose me from all sides, one of them being an enormous iron gate. The metal glints coldly in the flickering light of the lanterns lining the walls beside it, and I feel an enormous wave of anger wash over me.
I'm in a dungeon? You have got to be joking!
Blood boiling, I look down at myself and find that I am wearing the same garments, though they are no longer stained with splatters of mud and smears of blood. The cream-colored fabric is now flawless and seems to glow anew. When I glance over to my shoulder I discover that the torn sleeve has been mended. However, a small lump bulges up from beneath the fabric. I pull up my sleeve to investigate and find the cause of it to be a thick bandage that is wrapped tightly around my injured bicep. The wound underneath still stings, but the pain is mild compared to the immense throbbing in my head. Blinking slowly, I slide a hand up the side of my face and flinch when my fingers meet with an enormous knot protruding from my temple. The term 'headache' is an understatement as a blinding pain spreads out from the point of contact and all across my forehead. I gasp hoarsely and press my palm into my forehead, willing the agony to subside. It eventually does, but I am left sweaty and trembling from stress.
"There's always something," I mutter under my breath, shaking my head before rising to my feet. A pair of slippers account as my footwear, and I shiver when the cold of the stone floor seeps right through the thin fabric. Not only do they—whoever 'they' may be—lock me in their dungeons, but they took away my beloved boots as well? Annoyance creeping in, I stride briefly over to the gate and grip onto the bars with both hands. I squeeze my face through a gap in an attempt to make out where exactly I am.
The cell in which I am locked in is resting upon the edge of a sheer drop. My stomach flutters just thinking about anything related to heights, and I quickly turn my attention somewhere else. A thin pathway arches around the outside of the gate and branches out into a staircase that spirals upwards into a winding bridge above me. The structure spans the entire length of the chasm before dipping down and connecting with the far wall, which is lined with dungeon cells similar to the one I am in.
Speaking of bridges, I notice through wide eyes that the place is filled to the brim with them. They stretch out below me like massive vines, curving and twisting before attaching to the walls or each other. A roaring sound has begun to fill me ears as I gape at the structures, and I look down even further to find that the so called chasm is instead a massive waterway. Foaming rapids cascade down through a tunnel curving out from the left before settling down into a more peaceful turbulence as they flow downstream.
I wonder where that leads to, I think absentmindedly. That is when I notice the dark shapes bobbing up and down in the waters. I squint as I try to make out the objects in the dim light, but they disappear into the shadows before I can identify them.
Sighing tiredly, I am just about to turn back to my gloomy cell when the sound of footsteps captures my attention. Peering through the gate once more, I watch in nervous excitement as two figures appear out of a dark archway on the far wall. They walk out onto a bridge extending out towards my cells, and I can barely make out their words.
"…they grow more in numbers every day then we would in a century. Their boldness increases with their population; never before would an Orc dare to venture this far into our realm."
"I agree. You are not the only one having brought the matter to my attention. The dawn patrol recently reported having heard strange whispering among the trees; they claim that the creatures spoke as if they were afraid of something. Though what that something is, whether it be Orcs or something far more menacing, I have yet to know of."
"Nor I." As they near, one of the figures glances briefly in my direction. I crouch down as to be hidden in the looming shadow of the gate. Being caught snooping in on what sounds to be an important conversation would not be the best first impression for my captors.
Especially when said captors are speaking in Elvish.
"Have you checked on her lately?" says the same voice in a hushed whisper. The figure extends out an arm to point at me.
No, not at me, I correct myself. At the cell. They can't see me.
"Not since sunrise, though I have been told that she has yet to wake from her deep slumber. She was badly wounded, I recall. It has been rumored that the she might never wake at all."
"I do hope that does not come to be true. I would rather like to hear the story she has to tell; the Prince said that she claimed to have no memory of arriving in Mirkwood."
The Prince? As in the Elven Prince of Mirkwood? I am so flabbergasted that I begin to feel light-headed. Since when did the Prince know about my...
"My friend, I believe the girl has awoken."
A strange cold sensation races down my spine as the figures come closer and closer towards me. They see that I am awake. What will they do?
One of the Elves steps up the gate and looks down at my cowering form. He towers over me, his silhouette dark and looming, though his gaze is far from menacing. Not wanting to seem any weaker than I already am, I quickly stand up to my full height,
"I see you have awoken," he says in common tongue. "How do you fair?"
"I feel better than I did," I answer with polite honesty. "I appreciate your concern, though I do not quite understand why I am locked in the dungeons like a criminal. Have I done something to offend you?"
"Goodness, no! Far from it, actually. I pray you will forgive us for your unpleasant accommodations. The King is wary of outsiders, and for good reason. The forest is not like it once was. Dangerous things lurk in its depths, and though I certainly do not think you to be one of them, it is always good to be careful."
I nod my understanding, and the Elf smiles brightly.
"Now," he says, turning to his companion. "The young lady seems deserving of a walk, if I do say so myself. She has been cooped up long enough." The dark-haired Elf behind him gives a curt nod before pulling something from his tunic pocket. A low clattering sound gives away the identity of the object, and my eyes light up when I find it to be a key ring. He steps forward and, fingering through several keys, singles one out. He slips it into the gate lock and turns it sharply to the right. The gate gives a low moan before swinging ajar. The first Elf pulls it open before gesturing for me to step out. I swallow hard as I glance down at the sheer drop several steps in front of me, but nevertheless do as he says.
My footsteps are harsh compared to the light footfalls of the Elves, but I try to ignore the fact as I stride purposefully out of my cell. The raging rapids beneath me seem hiss out taunts as the gate closes with a snap behind me. They are eagerly willing me to stumble and fall down into their murky depths, never to surface again. Droplets of sweat break out across my forehead. I may be able to face Orcs and Wargs, but heights are a whole different story. I have always been terrified of cliffs and other tall places to the point of fault.
The Elves, or at least one of them, seems to sense my distress and glances at me sympathetically. His almond-shaped green eyes are kind, and I allow myself to become lost in them for a moment.
"Are you frightened?" he asks me softly. The rigidness of my stance must be enough of an answer for him, because he reaches out and takes my forearm in a large hand. "You need not be. Follow close to me, and I will not let you fall." I nod stiffly. The Elf's shimmering silvery hair seems to glow transcendently, mesmerizing me for a moment. Candlelight flickers across his face, turning his cheeks a warm auburn. He smiles at me before releasing my arm. Turning from me momentarily, he then leans in to whisper something in dark-haired Elf's ear. Then, after a short exchange of words, they appear to reach an agreement and nod to each other. The second Elf then casts a glance at me, dips his head, and then hurries off towards the staircase to my right and disappearing around the bend. My gaze follows his retreating form for a moment before flickering back to the remaining Elf. I raise my brows.
"I sent him to alert the King of your wakening," he tells me, as if reading my thoughts. "We have been given orders to escort you to his court for questioning. He is eager to learn of the reason you are here." The Elf studies me a moment before continuing. "As am I. Come now; we best not keep him waiting, and I'm sure you could use a good walk to warm your aching muscles." I give him a half-smile, the best I can do at the moment. He extends an elbow, and I loop my arm around it gratefully as he begins to lead me across the bridge from which he came. His form is elegant and smooth as he walks, whereas mine is stiff and slightly hunched. Images of the bridge collapsing beneath me have begun to creep into the dark corners of my mind. Would I die from the fall, or would I survive only to be drowned by the powerful river beneath? I shudder at the thought, keeping a firm hold of the Elf's arm.
As we walk in silence, I distract myself from the sheer drop by thinking about the Elven king. What will he look like? Will he believe the story I have to tell, or will I be thrown back into the dungeons as a liar?
My father had once mentioned to me that Mirkwood's King-Thranduil, I recall, was his name-was a very lithe and tall fellow, with pale features and eyes as grey as a winter storm. He was imposing and cold at times, yes, but never foolish. He wished only to protect his people and would do whatever it took to keep them, and his only son, safe. Other kingdoms did not concern him; he looked out for the Woodland Realm, nothing more.
"Tell me, what is your name?"
The Elf's words startle me from my thoughts, and I turn to find him gazing down upon me.
"Keira," I say lowly.
"Well met, Keira," he says, dipping his head. Not knowing what to do, I return the gesture awkwardly. "I am Taluharn of the Elven guard. From where do you hail?"
"I..." Heart pounding, I give him a quick shake of my head. Questions of that sort should be answered to the King, and to him alone. Taluharn gives me a curious look before promptly changing the subject.
"Your name... what meaning does it have among your people?"
His question catches me off guard, and I raise an eyebrow before answering.
"It means 'dark-haired'. My father thought it had a nice ring to it, but I personally think he picked it partially because of its meaning." The Elf's gaze travels down to the tangled ebony curls that rest on my shoulders, and then to the rounded ears peeking out from beneath then. He does not comment. "Some prefer to call me Vera," I say quickly. "It means 'faith'. They think it sounds better, I guess; more exotic."
"I think both suit you quite well," Taluharn says finally, looking me in the eye. "Which do you prefer to be called by?"
"I have no preference," I state blandly. "People could call me Mud or Dirt for all I care; such names might suit me better, even."
"Do not speak so lowly of yourself. I have only known you for a few minutes, yet you already seem perfectly respectable." His kind words give warmth to my saddened heart, and I smile up at him gratefully.
"Thank you, Taluharn." He nods to me before turning to look ahead of him.
We walk on in a thick silence. I look down at my feet as he leads me around a sharp curve, nausea sweeping over me. Don't slip, don't slip.
"You can relax now, Kiera. We are off the bridge."
My head snaps up and I let out a sigh of relief. Taluharn has, in fact, led me off the bridge. He strides lithely through the archway, me in tow, we now make our way into a dimly lit tunnel.
The hall is very narrow, and several arches leading into separate corridors line the walls. Taluharn slips his arm from mine in order for us to walk single file. The tunnel's sides seem to be slowly closing in on us, and I begin to feel horribly claustrophobic. Without the pleasant warmth of Taluharn's body beside mine, I feel strangely exposed. His presence comforted me, and having been away from other people for so long, I find myself wanting to seek him out again. The tunnel isn't as dank as the cell I was in, but it is just as dark, and the Taluharn's golden hair is all that is visible as he strides ahead of me. My heart begins to race as I imagine being left alone in the dark once more, even if it was unintentional. I am only human; my legs cannot quite keep up with him.
"Taluharn, wait up…"
I don't see the dark figure approach from the archway. My mind is so preoccupied to catching the fast-paced Elf that I don't notice the person step out in front of me until it is too late.
My forehead collides with something hard, and I let out a yelp of surprised. Stumbling back several steps, I nearly trip over my own clumsy feet when I notice the ominous silhouette. The figure takes a step towards me, and my eyes widen when I see the object clutched in his hand. It is a lighted torch, its flames flickering madly in the dreary light. The person slowly raises the object, allowing it to illuminate his face.
"Forgive me, I did not see you there."
The torch light glows upon the Elf's shimmering golden hair, very unlike the silvery color of Taluharn's, but familiar all the same. He extends a hand to help me up, I am just about to reach up and take it when something in his bright blue eyes lights up. Mine also bug slightly when I begin to recognize him. The Elf squints at me before raising his eyebrows slightly; he recognizes me.
"I see you have awoken," he tells me softly, leaning forward and curling his fingers around my wrist. I in turn wrap mine around his forearm as he hoists me to my feet.
"Kiera, are you—oh." Taluharn appears from down the hall as he begins to make his way towards me. Upon noticing that I am not alone, he stops in his tracks. The blonde Elf turns around to face him, and the flames licking off the torch glint in the whites of Taluharn's eyes.
"My liege," he stammers, bowing deeply.
My liege?
"Well met, Taluharn," the Elf says smoothly. "Where are you planning on taking her?" He nods in my direction, deep blue eyes questioning.
"The King has requested that she be taken to him as soon as she has woken. He wishes to speak to her of-"
"I know quite well what he wishes," snaps the blonde Elf. The venom in his tone surprises me. "She needs time to recover. You of all people should know this, after the most recent battle with the Orc pack."
The silver-haired Elf shudders, as if recalling an unpleasant memory, before straightening.
"I was only doing what the King ordered, my lord."
"I appreciate that, and I'm sure the King does also, but the girl cannot be expected to recover from such a wound in the matter of a day. She needs time to heal before we take her to my father. We do not need her fainting from lack of rest in the presence of Thranduil. I cannot imagine that he would appreciate it any more than I would."
His FATHER?
Taluharn opens his mouth to say more, but judging by the look the Elf shoots him, it is no surprise to me when he closes it without a word.
"As you wish," he says, bowing once more, though the motion seems stiffer this time. "I shall alert the King at once." The blond Elf's features seem to relax slightly, and he dips his head at Taluharn. The guard's gaze flickers to me before quickly dancing away, and he turns on heel before melting into the depths of the hallway.
The silence following Taluharn's leave does not last long.
"I don't believe I know your name," states the Elf. His cobalt gaze is intense, and I resist the impulse to shy away.
"Keira," I say quietly. The Elf blinks with surprise, almost as if he didn't expect me to answer. He seems to catch a glimpse of my anxious expression, and a smile twists at the corners of his lips.
"Keira," he says. "It has a very nice ring to it."
Did he just complement me?
The Elf gives a graceful bow before continuing.
"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, Prince of the Woodland Realm."
Well, there you have it! Ta-da! I know it's not quite as long as Chapter 1, but Chapter 3 should hopefully be long enough to make up for it. Speaking of Chap. 3, I hope to have it up and running sometime within this week. I hate making you guys wait! As I mentioned before, feel free to review. I love hearing from you guys!