Chapter 7

When Legolas had said palace, Emma's idea of it was nothing compared tp what it actually looked like.

It made the CGI in the film look like an infant school painting.

It was magnificent. It was beautiful. It was huge.

Emma gazed up in wonder at its oaken doors that towered above her. Ivy wound its way up the bare wood and small white blossoms could be seen nestled in with the leaves.

Legolas released her hand and pressed his onto the door. He then muttered something almost inaudible to Emma, but she just about caught it.

It was obviously elvish and Legolas' voice was like silk as he spoke.

What was weird though, was that Emma could understand it.

He'd said one word.

Open.

The moment he said it, the great doors swung open and the smell of pine and wildflowers filled Emma's nostrils.

It was wonderful.

The scent was sweet, comforting, homely even.

She breathed in the sweet aroma and then realised why she liked it so much.

Legolas had the same scent, it was the last thing she'd smelt before she'd blacked out.

And she was just about to enter a place that smelt like it. She could feel her heart rate increase again and Legolas came and stood beside her one more. He laced his fingers with hers once more and led her inside.

He guided her down a complex maze of corridors and passageways, passing statues, other elves and doors leading to unknown places on the way.

The ceiling is quite high along the passages and Emma could barely see it.

They turned one final corridor and started to walk towards another set of oaken doors.

Legolas opened them with a small push and Emma let out a small gasp.

The room that lay before her was huge. Its rocky walls were decorated with intricate patterns of flowers and various other plants. At the middle of the back wall was a throne, but not any old throne. It was not the tacky gold thrown, bejewelled with gems and other precious rocks, instead, it was made of wooden branches, intertwined and linking in a complex, yet stunning, design. But the throne looked like it hadn't been used for quite some time.

It looked almost dusty.

There was no roof and sunlight poured into the room.

She and Legolas entered and the doors silently swung shut behind them.

Legolas noticed Emma's stunned expression and his fair face contorted with worry.

"What is wrong Lady Aéneth?" He asked.

"Nothing," Emma replied, "Wait, I'm sorry, but what did you call me?"

"Lady Aéneth. That is your name isn't it?" His expression turned curious.

Emma was just about to reply, when she heard a voice inside her head.

Emma, it said, Your name is Aéneth here.

But why did Legolas call me Emma when he was in my room? She asked in her mind.

I spoke through him; I said your name, not him. He does not know that name. You see, the name you have in your world, is different from the name you have in this one. He knows only your Middle-Earth name.

Oh, was all Emma could think to say.

Her mind cleared and she looked at Legolas once more. It took her a moment to remember his question, but she did eventually and answered.

"Yes."

He smiled and Emma, or Aéneth as she was called in Middle-Earth, smiled back. She went to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and skimmed the top of it.

It was pointed.

Then she thought.

Ok, elvish dress, elven hair-style, amazing skill with a bow, ability to understand elvish, pointy ears. That can only mean one thing. But I can't be an elf! I'm just a girl!

But whether or not she believed it, Emma was an elf. Sorry, Aéneth.

Her face was white as chalk and noticing this, Legolas stepped towards her. He bent his head so that their faces were inches apart.

"You are safe here; there is no need to be afraid."

"I am not afraid," Aéneth said.