Three weeks...

For the first several weeks of her imprisonment, Evelyn wept and cried. She pleaded with the guards and begged them for an audience with the King. After four more audiences in the throne room where she attempted to explain that she was unsure as to how she gained her wings, but if he would only tell her the year she could answer some of his questions, they stopped entertaining her requests.

During her last visit to the throne room she attempted to explain how the stories of Middle Earth were written in her world as mere novels and that as such was the reason why she knew things that only a spy would know. Instead of gaining acceptance, Thranduil became even more enraged and reaffirmed his stance that Evelyn must be something of evil and mischievous intent. He refused all requests to entertain her and instructed for his guards to speak not with their strange prisoner. Evelyn even suspected that he had ordered for only guards who spoke no English, or Common apparently, to stand by her cell and bring her thrice daily meals.

Eventually, Evelyn gave up attempting to speak with them.

All humans, even those lovers of solitude such as Evelyn, need some form of social contact. It is in the very nature of the species to seek out solstice in others, and Evelyn had none. Over the weeks her raw fear dissipated as the body can only produce so much terror before it grows weary. Instead her fear was replaced with anguish. She was lonely in a way that bore deep into her soul. Not a single being would speak to her, the guards refused to even acknowledge her presence, and there was nothing for her to occupy her time with save the slow dripping of water in one damp corner of her cell.

She spent her days in a listless haze, thinking of all that she missed in her world, and all that had gone wrong in this one. She went over the conversations in the throne room with meticulous detail in her mind and found every single fault in the conversation, every single place where her words had sealed her fate. This analyzing however proved to be the doorway to a dangerous route. She soon found herself walking down a path which wove and twisted in perilous ways, questioning every word, every movement, and every breath that she took in Middle Earth. Perhaps if I had not mentioned Legolas, perhaps if I had asked the guard more or fewer questions before reaching Thranduil, perhaps if I had spoken with more force, perhaps if I had bowed lower... the list went on. In truth, such introspections seemed less and less productive with every moment spent in contemplation. The circumstances never changed, but her mind warped them nonetheless.

She found herself drawing her knees up to her chest, resting her chin upon them and wrapping her wings around her body, rocking slowly back and forth for some form of comfort. Her wings, though strange and wrong in her mind somehow felt comforting and warm. When her hands ran across them she found lean muscle and smooth feathers black as a starless sky. She would slip her fingers beneath the hard flight pinions and tickle the soft underdown. It was a small but vital comfort that she took.

One day, her loneliness was broken in the most unexpected of ways, she had fallen asleep on her manger straw pile and was awoken by a soft, scuttling sound. Opening her eyes, she was confronted by a rat, a tiny, tawny brown thing with a pink nose and twitching whiskers. Massive black eyes gazed at Evelyn and she found herself staring back, unblinkingly. Moving slowly, as to not startle the creature, she traced her hand across the stone until she came to her half eaten lunch. She pinched off a piece of the stale bread and offered it to the rodent. The little creature sniffed it with suspicion for several moments before lifting it in its tiny front paws and nibbling on it delicately.

Evelyn smiled. This was the first creature in weeks to actually look her in the eyes. She had forgotten that warm feeling in ones chest that they get from a friend. A friend, yes a friend. She smiled as she offered her fingers forward, watching with mild surprise as the rat sniffed them and allowed for her to touch its soft fur. Her grin grew as the little creature crawled into the palm of her hand, snuggling its ticklish whiskers against the flesh of her thumb, maneuvering itself into a comfortable position.

This little creature, one whom the elves would likely consider vermin, trusted and loved her for the sake of just a small morsel of stale bread. It was the first living being to offer warmth and companionship, the first friend for her in this strange new world. Oh how that created soothed Evelyn's aching soul.

"You are very quick to trust my little friend," she whispered, voice hoarse from disuse as she had given up on speaking when it became clear that the elves around her understood her naught. "I supposed I must give you a name."

As she spoke those words the rat yawned and stretched out like a mini cat, dexterous pink paws looking all too human like as it flexed its digits, and scratched its side like a dog might. Yes, Evelyn thought, I think this must be my new friend.

"Perhaps I will call you Tawny, for the color of your fur," she said. The little creature snuggled closer into her hand in what must have been some form of accepting its new name. Evelyn moved her hand containing Tawny to snuggle against her breast quickly falling back asleep with the steady, if rapid, rise and fall of the sleeping rat's chest beating near her heart.

Four months...

Weeks turned to months and all traces of fear faded. Fear is a temporary emotion, it cannot be endured long. Instead, Evelyn became bored.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen... and seventeen.

She counted the paces in her head. Every day, approximately 1800 seconds after the fourth changing of guards, a soldier would open the door with a slight creek and walk the seventeen paces to her cell. This, without fail, was how she received her breakfast of mashed gruel each morning. She knew it was morning as oat porridge would only make sense as a breakfast and as she sometimes could watch the third set of guards yawning and attempting to pretend that they were not sleeping with their eyes open. Also, her little rat Tawny always became most active during the shifts of the third and fourth guard and she knew rats to be nocturnal creatures.

Evelyn had taken to counting to ease her boredom and had quickly memorized the habits of the guards. She counted four changes of guard a day with the dismissal of the fourth batch as the morning shift. She knew how many paces it took to reach her cell, the door, and the small table where the night guards would occasionally indulge in a game of cards to stave off boredom.

The routine of the guards was terrifyingly simple and soon Evelyn found herself tiring of counting their every move. Instead, she turned to watching the guards themselves. She knew that each set of guards were a pair and meant to be guarding the entire dungeon, within which she was the sole prisoner. Although there were four sets of guards a day, there were six different shifts of them and they seemed assigned in a steady and rotating schedule. This of course made twelve guards and soon Evelyn knew them all.

She created nicknames as they were careful to keep information, even as simple as their name, from her...

There were the "oak brothers," for she was certain they were brothers, who had dark brown hair the color of aged oak and both were quite stern. As Evelyn of course suspected it was an act each brother put on for the other. As they were elves, their ages were difficult to tell, however she could certainly identify the slightly taller one as the younger brother as though both bore the markings of the same rank, he always differed to the other...

There were also the "secret lovers" as she saw the way the ellon and ellath looked at one another when they thought all backs were turned. The pair was a handsome couple if Evelyn were to admit it, however the way their eyes lingered on each other at times felt nearly sickening. Evelyn took secret glee in knowing their secret as they seemed to believe that they had the kingdom fooled...

Of course, there were the other four pairs who she knew just as well, noting every detail, no matter how small, about them. She also quickly noticed something that Tolkien never mentioned in his books, that is- the braids. It seemed that all the elven warriors wore their hair in some sort of braid, most often the same small braids along either temple that she wore. Part of Evelyn seethed at this as she did not like the idea of styling herself after these pretentious immortals, but another small part of her remained attached to the style she had born for so long. Due to this, Evelyn ensured that the hair atop her head always covered her two small braids, just as it had when she was first captured and dragged before Thranduil.

Evelyn soon knew their schedules, their movements, and about as much about them as she could and she was terribly bored.

As her mind grew bored however, Evelyn turned to training her body. She began slowly at first with push-ups, squats, and even pull-ups on bars of her cell that she had not done since middle school fitness tests. As time moved on though, she began more complete movements. She began to stretch and pull on her wings, prating beating motions with them until she felt the muscles ache for it was better for her to feel bone weary and ache all over than to feel nothing at all. She fought imaginary enemies with sweeping kicks and hard punches, always making sure to do so when the guards were far enough from her cell to not suspect much.

As Evelyn trained however, she quickly noticed something odd, her body responded as it had never done so in the past. Her limbs were more flexible, more supple, and she seemed to grow in strength far more rapidly than she had ever done so before. She was becoming strong.

Soon, each time Evelyn curled up on herself she could feel the muscles bulging beneath the silky feats of her wings, she could feel the subtle curve of her calves which had completely healed from the spider bite. Every part of Evelyn's body grew into lean muscle whilst her movements become faster and more precise.

With this training she found herself no longer in the throes of despair or the utter indifference that came with boredom, instead something else was growing in her heart- rage. Not even her small companion, Tawny, who always came back to her side could ease her heart. These creatures, the elves, despised her for no reason but her strangeness. She heard what they called her, Crebain, like the evil ilk birds of Sauron. They saw her wings and deemed her evil.

"How can they judge my heart when they know me not," she whispered to the little rat as she stroked its fur. "I only wished to help them and they scorned and forgot about me."

She now often found herself speaking to Tawny, sometimes outlaid and sometimes in her head. Nevertheless, the tiny creature always seemed to understand and Evelyn swore she could occasionally see it nodding its head. There were some days where it seemed to speak back. Once, an elf who Evelyn could only assume to be a captain came unexpectedly into the dungeon for a spot check. Evelyn had not been expecting another elf for at least two hundred and forty minutes and was midway through a drill of kicks and jabs that she had made up for herself when Tawny came bursting into her cell, squeaking in alarm. Some sort of instinct within Evelyn caused her to immediately understand that someone was coming and she dropped into the furthest corned, curled into a ball wrapped with her wings, and tucked Tawny deep within her feathers.

Minutes later, the "Captain" marched in with an air of importance, spoke with the guards rapidly in Sindarin, and then marched up and down the dungeon several times, each time peering into Evelyn's cell as if he expected for her to suddenly decide to run.

Evelyn met his gaze each time, rage simmering below the surface. How dare he. She found herself nearly shaking. He knew nothing about her and judged her so. I know more about their pompous King than he will ever know about me. She thought, these words and found her rage only grew as she contemplated her grand dreams to help Mirkwood be returned to Greenwood the Great, how she once wished to save lives and maybe even Middle Earth.

Now she just bided her time, training her body and watching the guards move as if they were impassible.

Three years...

Three years had passed... three years of biding her time in hell, the changing of the guards the only indication time passing. Evelyn found her body stronger, her mind sharper, and the her rage had moved from a blazing flame to something much more dangerous, an ice cold spire buried deep in her heart. It was like an icicle sharpened by the howling winds of midwinter: cold, sharp, and absolutely deadly.

The elves had made a mockery of her innocence and after years of imprisonment, Evelyn had the choice of breaking into despair, or rising with fury at her heels. Part of her wanted to reveal all that she knew in one fell swoop, to watch all of Middle Earth die as such foreknowledge would almost certainly result in the failure of the forces of good. But, enough her her childlike kindness remained to tell her that the other races of Middle Earth were not to blame for the arrogance of the elves. The elves alone were to be held accountable for their actions. They were vain, stubborn, and pride had made them foolhardy. They saw all others as beneath them and cared not for the fates of other creatures. It was a wonder how the last alliance of elves and men ever came to pass. Evelyn could not see any of the elves ever working with another race.

The other races deserved mercy, but the elves deserved none. The elves could burn for all Evelyn cared, and part of her wished to make it happen.

As the years passed, Evelyn also became more and more convinced that Tawny could understand her, and that she could understand the rat in turn. The squeaks and chirps that Tawny made came to mean things in Evelyn's mind, not quite in the conventional way that one understands language, but in a deep and intrinsic manner that tugs on ones soul. She knew when Tawny was trying to alert her to an unexpected change of guards, when the elves slipped an herb designed to lower inhibitions into her porridge, and even when it had been a particularly beautiful day outside.

Evelyn also began to communicate with Tawny. She expressed her anger and hatred, her knowledge of the guards, and even her desire to be free of the cells and feel the breeze, see the changing of the seasons. The next day Tawny proudly dragged a single autumn leaf into Evelyn's cell and she treasured the small gift with all her heart. That night, Evelyn cried for the first time in years as she cradled the little rat close to her heart in one hand, and the delegate leaf in the other. She had not seen a trace of the outside in three years.

Towards the end of Evelyn's third year however, she could tell that not all was well, Tawny was growing slow. The little rat took longer to venture in and out of Evelyn's cell, and whenever she returned she was strangely quiet about where she was. Usually, Evelyn's mind would be assaulted with images of the hallways of Mirkwood's caves, counts of the guards and maps to every exit as Tawny seemed intent on assisting Evelyn in escape in any way she could. Now however, it was clear that Tawny was on the final days of her life.

Evelyn found herself quick to tears, often weeping in Tawny's absence as she knew that she did not have long with her little friend. Several times she asked Tawny to stay with her, to not venture out of her cell. Each time however, the little rat only looked her in the eyes and slowly shook her head. She seemed determined to do one last thing in her final hours.

Finally, the day came. Tawny dragged herself back to Evelyn's cell several hours before the third guard shift of the day, in the dead of night. Tawny's breath was labored and she moved with clumsy, arthritic slowness. Tears clouded Evelyn's eyes as she watched the once bright gaze of the rat growing dim. Without a second thought, she scooped the little creature into there hand and snuggled it close to her, eyes blinking away tears as it nuzzled her thumb, whiskers ticking against her hand one last time. The final thoughts that she felt emerging from the little rat were feelings of love, peace... and hope.

Tawny turned her dark gaze to meet Evelyn's brown eyes and slowly slipped away into a blissful sleep.

Evelyn felt her heart break.

She bent over, a sob tearing from her lips as she watched this little creature, her only friend and only companion for three lonely, terrifying, and infuriating years slip from her hold. There was nothing she could do. The rat was old and tiered, but it still had never failed to bring her joy. Now she was gone and Evelyn was alone once more.

For many hours Evelyn wept, hands cradling the little body as it slowly lost heat and are as cold as the stone surrounding her. When she awoke from her stupor of grief however, she dried her eyes, sniffled, and looked around her cell which now somehow seemed so much emptier. Her gaze then drifted to where Tawny had entered her cell mere hours before... and she nearly fell over in shock.

There, in the little corner crack that Tawny had originally entered from those three years ago, was a shining bronze key.

In a scramble Evelyn rushed forward and grasped the little key, turning it over and over in her hand. She knew what it was instantly. It was the key to her cell.

Little Tawny must have spent those last few days hunting up and down Mirkwood, searching for the key to her cell. Evelyn knew, with that same instinct that allowed her to understand Tawny, that this was the correct key, found in some spare drawer or storage locker, likely forged a millennia, ago and forgotten. Evelyn carefully slipped Tawny's small corpse and the bronze key into her pocket just as the third guard shift entered and took their place.

She shrunk down into the corner, curling her wings around her in mock sleep, hiding her smile. She had a plan. Tawny gave her the tools, soon she would be free.