Chapter 7 – Burning Chambers

A/N: Hey guys, thanks again for reading this story and for the reviews I've got! This chapter is a little bit shorter than usual and I found it kind of hard to write, so I would appreciate any kind of feedback. Enjoy!

In the evening, Dáireann was sitting in her chamber and looking at the vague moon's shape that could only be found in the night sky thanks to a few rays of moonlight that managed to penetrate through the dark clouds onto the plains of Rohan. She didn't like how quickly the weather had changed in the course of that day; the pending thunderstorm seemed to her a constant reminder of the about-to-be-unleashed chaos that was hurtling towards them with the speed of a lightning.

Every now and then flashbacks of that day's afternoon shot through her troubling thoughts. She was surprised to see Legolas open up to her about his worries, but what surprised her even more was the fact that she was worried, too. Not about herself, but about him. Worried that in the situation such as it was, he might really not come back from the battle. She didn't know why, but that afternoon she felt closer to him than before; she felt as if he started to let her see deeper inside him, and Dáireann found she was intrigued by what she saw. However, she felt as if she wasn't doing the right thing. After his reluctance to let go of her grasp and the silent moments in the library, however pleasant they might have been, she realized the Elf's charm had been digging its way through her mind and into her heart. But was that all really worth it? What would he think of her if he knew? He was a Prince, after all, not to mention an Elven one. There were far too many things that only entrenched Dáireann in believing that what she was slowly starting to feel was wrong.

With all those thoughts swirling through her head, Dáireann lay down to sleep, hoping she could tear herself away from the worries of the real world and slip into a better, worry-free place.


Legolas woke up because of something tingling on his face. As he opened his eyes, he almost gasped with shock: he found Dáireann lying next to him on his matress, stroking his face with her long fingers. He immediately felt a wave of uneasiness and wariness spread across his body. She was looking at him, but he knew it wasn't really her. Her irises had turned strangely black, a kind of pitch-black he had never seen before in anybody's eyes.

"Dáireann?" he found himself whispering.

She didn't reply. A wide grin slowly spread across her face as she leaned in closer and whispered to his ear:

"It is over."

She then slowly stood up, the creepy grin lingering on her face, making her otherwise pleasant features seem kind of distorted.

How come he didn't hear her come in? Legolas wondered whether it was even possible for his Elven senses to have failed him. He noticed Aragorn get up from his matress, too.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking at Dáireann and as he got no reply, he turned to Legolas. He could see on his frowning face that he too felt something wrong was happening.

"It… is… over." said Dáireann again, adding more stress to the disturbing words.

"Wake up, Dáireann." said Legolas, eyeing her suspiciously.

She only kept grinning, saying nothing else. Suddenly, with one quick motion of her hand, a fire started spreading across the whole room, leaving only a small space in the middle where they had been sleeping. Aragorn jumped up from his matress and ran to the exit, but found the heavy wooden door locked.

"Dáireann, wake up!" Legolas shouted louder, hoping to tear her away from the dreams that had such power over her, but to no avail.

The rest of his companions jumped out of their beds coughing and in panic as they opened their eyes to face the burning flames.

"What's going on?" yelled Merry, covering his face from the smoke that made his eyes swell up with tears.

Legolas was at his wit's end. There was panick all around; he heard soldiers and servants running to their chamber from the other side of the door and banging on it; Merry was screaming and trying to put out the flames with his blanket; Aragorn was trying to break the lock on the door with his sword.

He himself tried whatever he could think of to wake Dáireann up. He shook her, screamed at her, but nothing seemed to help. She just stood there numbly, the creepy grin still distorting her face.

And then, at that very moment, a huge splash of water landed on Dáireann's head, sending waterdrops in Legolas' direction as well. It seemed as if for a brief moment everything stopped in time. They all looked at her in amazement, and then looked over to Gimli, who was holding an empty jar in his hands. As stupid and ridiculous as it might have been in the current situation, that very simple act of a grumpy Dwarf whose beard had cought on fire actually worked.

Dáireann woke up with a deep gasp, as if she had been drowning underwater and was finally allowed to breathe again. She stood there stupefied, watching the strange scene that was unfolding in front of her, not understanding what was happening.

Legolas could see a growing fear in her eyes as she was beginnig to grasp what had happened. He had no time to explain; a few short moments after she was pulled back to reality the Rohirric soldiers, along with Aragorn, finally managed to break into the chamber. As they poured inside, carrying heavy barrels full with water, panic unleashed all around; people were streaming in and out, trying to put out the flames that were slowly climbing up the wooden pillars and walls, threatening to sneak into the neighboring halls of the palace.


When all that was over and the only thing left of the blazing flames was black smoke rising from the tiny window of their chamber and penetrating through the door and into the hallways, Legolas found Dáireann sitting in the hallway's corner, her head in her hands. Without saying a word, he sat down next to her on the stone floor which was surprisingly warm, heated by the recent fire, and put his blanket over her soaked body.

She lifted up her head and looked at him. He noticed that she had probably been crying; her eyes were a little bit swollen and her voice shook as she spoke.

"This madness has to stop." she almost whispered. "You all could have been killed!" she said as if she herself couldn't believe what just happened.

"Dáireann…" he tried to think of proper words to make her feel better, but he found none.

Instead Legolas opted for a comforting touch of his fingers on her back and remained silent. He couldn't deny, at least after the events of that night, that she was dangerous, no matter how much he'd wished otherwise. In a situation like that, he would very much appreciate the advice of someone as wise as Gandalf; but Gandalf was in Gondor, and he felt helpless.

Dáireann suddenly straightened her back, her gaze aimed to the distance, as if she was in deep thought.

"I'll go to my room." she slowly stood up.

Before she started leaving the smoky hallway, she turned around and looked at him. "You know, I just wish my life was back to normal."

With that, she left Legolas alone in the hallway, wondering whether he should say something; but the words simply didn't come out of his mouth.


Back in her chamber, Dáireann didn't waste any time and quickly grabbed a small leather bag she had brought to the palace and began stuffing it with whatever she found important. She was aware that her dicision to leave that very night was probably too harsh and not very well tought-out, but what was she to do? What other way was there to prevent anything similar from happening? They were lucky enough the flames didn't penetrate through the whole palace, which was built almost of nothing but wood.

By that time Dáireann had already noticed that Legolas and his companions were playing a major role in the war with Mordor; it was therefore very important not to endanger them, or anybody for that matter, any further. She didn't know where she would go or what she would do after she left the palace, but she tried to silence the little voice inside her head that was telling her she was being stupid. Dáireann was desperate; all those dreams, muffled voices, the burning eye, and now this… This was too much. She had, ever since those dreams started appearing, hoped that somehow Sauron would be defeated without her having to be part of it. But now all those hopes were lost, and she knew she could stay in the palace no longer.

Very early, before dawn, when the whole palace seemed to become quiet once more, Dáireann sneaked into the stables and, trying to cause as little commotion as possible, set out through the wide plains of Rohan towards the dark hills whose peaks were still covered in storm-clouds. She had no destination, nor had she any idea what she would do after she had reached that unknown place. The only thing she knew was that a war was approaching, and for the sake of the visitors who were ready to protect her country and for her own sake, she'd better got as far away from them as possible.


Legolas was lying in a new bed in another chamber they had been given, still wide awake in spite of the late night hour. He wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep after the strange incident that happened earlier; he heard his companions toss and turn in their beds every now and then, Gimli even adding a few swears about how his night was ruined along the way.

At first he considered going after Dáireann right then and there, in the hallway, but then decided against it. He had nothing soothing to say and later thought it may be better if she had some time alone. Instead he chose to visit her early in the morning to see how she was doing. Also, some precautions would have to be made; although, as they hoped, it was only a matter of time until the torches would be lit and he would have to give Dáireann Gandalf's pendant, they couldn't simply leave the matter unresolved and hope nothing would happen until the time came.

As soon as he saw the sky outside grow lighter, he got up and looked out of the window. It was morning already, but only few people could be seen outside. The dark clouds above their heads were threatening to turn into a storm any minute and strong gusts of wind bended the trees and took anything that was light enough with them.

Quietly, he slipped out of their chamber and made his way towards Dáireann's room. When he reached it, he gently knocked on it, wondering whether she was still asleep; or whether she had been sleeping at all. However, he got no answer and as he made to knock once more, he noticed that the door was open. Surprised, he slowly opened it only to see an empty bed on which her night-gown was lying. All of the drawers were open and almost empty. The room had been left in quite a chaotic state, as if someone wanted to leave fast and didn't bother with tidying up.

Legolas had a bad feeling about it. Could it be Sauron had taken possession of her once more? Or worse, could she have left by her own will? He couldn't imagine what a girl like her would do out in the wild Rohirric mountains, with a thunderstorm threatening to break loose any minute.

However unpleasant a feeling he might have had, he decided not to lose his head and chose to ask someone about her instead. Maybe it all was completely different; although he hardly considered that an option.

Just as he turned the corner, he almost bumped into Éowyn who was running along the long corridor.

"Legolas!" she cried in surprise.

"Oh! I am sorry, my lady."

"No, it is my fault. There's pure chaos down by the horses. They feel the pending storm. I have to go get our stable master." she said, her speech interrupted by her heavy breathing. "Also, it seems one of the horses ran away. Pure chaos, I tell you!"

"Ran away?" Legolas frowned. It all fitted together, only making him more sure that Dáireann wouldn't be found anywhere in the palace.

"Princess Éowyn, have you seen Dáireann since yesterday's incident?" he said with concern in his voice.

"No, why do you ask? Isn't she in her chamber?"

"No, she is not." he said and without explaining any further, he turned away and ran in the direction of the palace stables.

Éowyn was telling the truth; it was pure chaos everywhere. The servants were trying to calm down the neighing and snorting animals. He ignored them and ran over to his own horse, which was much more peaceful than the others, but Legolas could still feel uneasiness emanating from his animal companion.

"Do not worry, my friend." he whispered to his ear in Elvish.

Just as he was about to jump on the horse, a voice stopped him.

"Legolas! What are you doing?" cried Aragorn, trying to outshout the turmoil in the stables.

After dodging the restless horses and the desperate stablemen, he reached his Elven friend.

"You have to stay here." he said. "The torches might be lit at any moment. Besides, it is impossible to ride in this weather." he added, motioning with his hand to the dark sky.

"Dáireann is gone." Legolas said, ignoring his friend's reasoning. "But she could not have made it too far. I will be back soon enough."

Aragorn seemed to be surprised to hear about her disappearance. He was thinking for a while and then simply looked at Legolas with a glance that revealed concern for his friend. With a sigh, he said:

"I hope she is worth it, my friend."

Legolas looked at him and simply nodded. "She is."

Without any further words, he jumped onto his horse and spurred him on in the direction of the hills cloaked in the dark veil of the approaching thunderstorm, relying on his Elven senses to track down the woman that simply wouldn't let him rest.


Ever since the moment she passed through the gates of Edoras, Dáireann hadn't turned around and tried to concentrate on what lay before her, but the strong gusts of wind that brought small particles of sand and dust into her eyes made that nearly impossible. She had to rely on her horse which, regardless of her presence, rode on and on towards the mountains. She had no idea how to command the animal and so, thinking she had no particular destination anyways, let herself get carried away from her native city.

After hours of riding they slowly passed from the flat plains onto higher hills that surrounded the valley in which Edoras lay. On one of the hills Dáireann spotted an old ruin behind which the line of mountain forests already emerged. Since it had already begun to grow dark, she thought it not too clever to travel in the gloomy woods; she could also feel that the thunderstorm was at the brink of breaking loose, and so the only smart option seemed to be finding shelter somewhere between those old stones covered in moss.

It took her some time to direct the horse exactly where she intended to. He resisted at first, but after a few tries allowed Dáireann to spurr him in the direction of the ruin. They found a conveniently built stone wall that, at least as she hoped, could protect them from the raging weather. She even tried to light a small fire for the night, but the strong wind always put the flames off immediately after they were set.

Dáireann didn't know how much time had passed since they came to their nightly shelter. She couldn't fall asleep; partly because of the cold and the fear that the dark forest stirred in her, and partly because of the thoughts that refused to leave her mind. Was Legolas worried about her? Could he be looking for her? A tiny part of her wished it was true, slowly realizing what a stupid thing running away with no plan whatsoever was. But that would be exactly the opposite of what she had intended; besides, was there a reason for him to be looking for her? Ever since the afternoon in the library she had been wondering whether it actually meant anything to him. One surely does not behave like that with someone they barely know for no reason, she thought. Then again, maybe she was only hoping for something that, for many reasons, could never happen.

She was pulled back from her thoughts by something she heard coming from the dark. Voices, she thought. They gradually grew louder and louder and Dáireann realized with horror that they belonged to a horde of Orcs coming in her direction. A shiver went down her spine. She tried to lean as close to the cold stone as possible, hoping it would somehow make her invisible. What worried her more was the horse; if those filthy creatures intended to pass the old ruin, they would surely be found.

Just as she was considering her options, she felt a pair of hands tangle around her waist and pull her away from the stone; one strong hand covering her mouth, making her instinctive attempt at screaming nearly impossible.