Disclaimer: I am getting so sick of these things. Are they even necessary? I DON'T OWN THE STUPID STORY, OKAY?!?!? I don't even own a copy of the Two Towers!! ::whimpers::
~oOo~
Chapter 5: They Would Not Come
Sure enough, evening passed morning came and I had not slept at all. Since I was already awake and had nothing else to do, I got up. And paced. And worried. What, exactly, does one say to an Elven king? Especially one like Thranduil. I swallowed hard, remembering Thorin and Co.'s imprisonment by the Elven lord in The Hobbit. What would he do if I could not tell him what he wanted to know? I didn't think that the whole barrel-escape thing would work in this case. Blast it, what time was it? Windows would have been nice just then. I felt that it had to be some time in the morning but wasn't exactly sure. How would I address the king? 'Good morning, King Thranduil'? 'Greetings, Your Majesty'? I grinned at a sudden thought. 'Hey, Your Highness. Where's your hot son, Legolas?'
gasp! What if I met Legolas that day?! It certainly would make sense, this being his father's kingdom and all! Why, oh why had I not thought of this before? What if he wanted to question me?! What if he was as cute as Orlando Bloom?! I groaned and sat down on the edge of the bed, bringing my hands up to my temples. And to think, only a few days ago I had been worried about a math test!
It's really too bad that Becky's not here for this, I thought. Then I smiled slightly to myself, imagining the look on her face if she were to meet Legolas, face-to-face. Oh man, she would freak! But my smile was soon replaced with a frown. Would I ever even see my best friend again? Or my parents? My little sister, Kristi? What about all my friends from school? How would I ever get back to them if I didn't even know how I got here in the first place?
I knew that it had to have something to do with those weirdoes who had tried to kill me. Unless this was all some sort of strange dream that I would wake up from soon (oh please, oh please, oh please!), I had no other explanation for all these strange happenings. Other than, of course, that I was actually, somehow, in the world of Tolkein. Who knows? Stranger things have happened. Anyways, back to the purpose of this paragraph, I knew that those cowled dummies had to have known something about how I got here. And, while many of those in blue had been slain (don't you love that word?) by my rescuers, some had escaped off into the woods. If I recalled correctly, all of the browns had shoved off soon after the fireworks began. I hadn't even seen the one in white at all after the Elves had arrived, but things were so hectic, how could I have even noticed? So I knew that they were still out there, hiding behind a tree somewhere. Well, if they were still in Mirkwood, my Elven friends would undoubtedly hunt down every last one of the bastards, and then I would be able to do some interrogation of my own. And if not, then I would just go after them! I lost too much this past year, I thought, gritting my teeth as the painful waves of memory washed over me. I've got to take action this time. I will find the way home.
I was so distracted at that point that I jumped about ten feet when the door suddenly opened. Yikes, don't Elves knock? More out of habit than anything else, I jumped to my feet and stood at guard as the Elf entered the room. It wasn't Neume, as I thought it might be, but was instead a tall male Elf. Why do I even bother to mention that he was tall? All Elves are tall. Okay, from now on, when I describe an Elf, just assume that he or she is tall. Gosh, I ramble a lot.
Anyways, where was I? Oh yes! The door opened and in walked a male Elf. His hair was sort of brownish-blonde and fell to his shoulders (yay!), and his eyes were the same green as new leaves, not muddy-green like mine. He wasn't dressed in the usual green-and-brown garb, but had on instead a white tunic and tan leggings. I rather liked the combination. Around his waist was a brown belt with several pouches either hooked or sewn onto it. It was sort of like Batman's utility belt, only... brown. Whatever. When the newcomer saw me standing there, he paused for a moment and looked startled. Then he apparently shook it off and grinned. "You are looking well for one who has been through such as you have," he said. Then, "You are Elizabeth, are you not?"
"At your service," I answered, bowing slightly (just so you'll know, I didn't do that because he was an Elf, but because I just do that for some strange reason. Go figure). Then I inquired, "And what is your name, friend?"
He smiled and bowed back. "I am Veon, head healer of the realm of Mirkwood."
So it would be dumb of me to ask him what he was doing here. Oh well. "And what brings you here, Veon, head healer of the realm of Mirkwood?"
"I am to examine your injuries," he answered, "If you are healed sufficiently, you are to have an audience with my lord."
Oh. Great. "Thanks for your concern, but I feel fine," I said, backing away. I have a horrible fear of doctors and hospitals and everything that has to do with them.
Veon cocked his head to the side in puzzlement. "Why do your fear? There is naught to be afraid of." He took a step forward and extended his hand before continuing, "If I could only have a moment to discern whether or not your knife-wound is healing..."
Wait a sec. Knife-wound? When did I get stabbed? "Umm... There's some kinda mistake, Veon," I started, still backing away. "I remember being shot, kicked, socked in the face, and basically dragged through a knothole; but I'm damn sure I wasn't stabbed."
The Elf looked at me as if I had hit my head. "Then what is the nature of that wound on your back?"
"The one on the right?"
He nodded.
"But... But that's where I was... shot...." Did they even have guns in Middle Earth? Did Veon even know what the hell I was talking about? It seemed to me that a God-only-knows-how-old Elven healer would know the difference between the kind of wound made by a knife and one made by something else. Even if he didn't know what a gun was.
My back hit the wall at that point, and the pain it set off in my side made me hiss softly. Curiosity won over fear at that point, and I decided to let the Elf just check my friggin' injuries and get it over with. He didn't seem like too bad a guy, anyways. "Oh, whatever," I sighed. I turned around and lifted up the back of my shirt (not the front, you perv!). "Now tell me, is that or is that not a stab-wound?"
Veon crossed the room and examined my back closely. After a moment he nodded and said, "It is, indeed. I am sure of it." Then, "It is also healing beautifully. You mend uncommonly fast for a daughter of Man."
I was downright baffled. "But... how? How can this be? I was shot, I'm sure of it!"
The Elf shrugged. "I know not of what you speak, but it is possible that you hallucinated during your ordeal."
"Yeah, whatever," I muttered as he went on to feel the damage in my ribs.
"Your ribs, too, are mending properly. It is odd that such healing took place in so short a time..." he trailed off. There was a pause. "No matter. You are well on your way to recovery."
"That's good to know," I responded as I smoothed my shirt back down. The action brought more pain with it. "Owwww, it hurts, though!"
"The soreness should subside before long. By then, you will be on your way home."
You wanna bet? I thought ironically.
Veon looked at me and narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. "Where is your home, Elizabeth? Your accent is unfamiliar to me and your speech is most strange."
"I... uh..." I was fumbling with possible things to say when another Elf entered the room, a servant this time.
He looked at Veon. "If all is in order," he began, nodding in my direction, "the girl will now be presented to the king."
"Should she not be given time to prepare herself?" Veon asked.
The new guy shook his head. "Lord Thranduil wishes to speak with her now."
Veon shrugged. "Very well." Then, turning to me, "Elizabeth, if you would follow Táwarion..."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever," I muttered, not liking this at all. I turned to follow the other Elf, but paused at the doorway, just as Neume had the night before. "Um... Thanks for everything, Veon." Then, before he could respond, I said quickly, "Well, see ya!" and ran to catch up with Táwarion. As nice as Veon was, the fact remains that I. Don't. Like. Doctors.
I followed Táwarion closely, knowing that in my spaced-out state I could easily wander off and become lost in this maze of tunnels again. I had already begun to think of ways of escape should Thranduil take a disliking to me. Then I sighed and hung my head. It was hopeless. There would be no escape if this didn't work out. I would rot away in Thranduil's dungeons, never seeing my family, my friends, my home again.
"Is this realm not to your liking?" Táwarion said, a note of disdain in his fair Elvish voice.
I jumped. Damn, I thought. Is his hearing that good? "Oh, no!" I hurriedly insisted. "I was just, well... worried. That's all."
The Elf nodded slightly. "You have reason to worry, Secondborn," he spat, as if it were a dirty word. "King Thranduil is not so lenient to those who trespass in his kingdom."
I gasped. Would the king really think that I was a trespasser? He thought Thorin and the other dwarves were trespassing, I recalled. Then again, they refused to tell him their business. But what if he doesn't believe me? Will he think I'm lying? "You've got to believe me, Táwarion," I implored. "I was not trespassing in this kingdom!"
He snorted softly. "Save your story for other ears," he said. "I am not the one who will have to swallow it."
Gaah! What a jerk! This was impossible! I pinched my arm frantically. C'mon... Wake up. Wake up! It was to no use, though. There would be no waking up. I was really, honestly here, though I had no clue as to how. I clenched and unclenched my fists to relieve the tension. I felt the seashell locket that hung close to my heart. Give me strength, I pleaded to ears that I so often prayed could hear me. I wish you were here with me. At that moment I felt more alone than I ever had in my life. For the second time that week, I wanted so much to shed some tears to ease the burden on my heart. But they would not come. I hadn't cried since... Oh well. Now was no the time for such thoughts. I wrapped my fingers around the locket. For you I'll be strong, I resolved, and then released it.
Táwarion stopped, and I barely avoided running smack into him. He looked down at me, a haughty expression marring his beautiful face. We are about to enter the Great Hall of my lord, mortal. Keep your head bowed, speak only when you are bidden to, and show the utmost respect!"
"But of course," I stated, feeling new strength flow through me. I lifted my chin and looked him straight in the eye. "Well, what are you waiting for?" I demanded. "Lead on, Táwarion!"
He narrowed his eyes at me but said nothing, and a moment later we entered a great chamber filled with light. The Hall of Thranduil.
~oOo~
AN: Oooh, how's that for suspense?! Don't worry; I won't leave you hanging! (not for long, anyways ::evil grin::) Review please!