He gripped the handle resolutely and then let it go as though it were white-hot. A scream, more human, yet piercing enough to hurt his ears split through the door and echoed down the hallway. It reminded Legolas of the shriek a rabbit gave when caught in a trap- a cry of exquisite pain.
Legolas nervously turned to look over his shoulder, forgetting how far from the mainstream he was and how abandoned the eastern wing was. As an afterthought he reasoned that the hall must have been deserted for this very reason- the unsettling cries of whatever lay beyond this hidden door.
With hesitancy this time, he lightly gripped the handle and pushed the door open, nearly screaming himself at the sight that met his eyes. If the room had ever held anything ornate or beautiful in it, it was no longer there. Every wall was flat and roughly cut from the rock, as though the room had been an oversight and had never been completed. The flat, gray stone color was broken only in patches by pale orange candlelight. There was nothing in the room save three stools and one bed- and it was the occupant of this bed that held Legolas' full attention.
At first glance he thought the mysterious being was an animal. He realized why he had entered unnoticed by all present- every available pair of hands in the room was working to control the kicking, wailing mass of flesh upon the bed. Another scream, this one so painful Legolas had to cover his ears, erupted from the thrashing heap and a leg suddenly shot out from the heap- a human leg. It upset a small wooden stool and tossed it nearly all the way to the opposite wall.
"Grab her leg! Hold her! Hold her!!" One of the elves Legolas recognized as Andoion, the head of the house of healers. Assisting him, Legolas assumed, were two of his apprentices, one of whom had a serious cut from the bottom lobe of his left ear down the length of his face and nearly to his chin. All three of their faces were beaded with sweat and for a moment, Legolas was certain that whomever was being wrestled down was about to win out. Then suddenly, the writhing mass came to a full and abrupt stop, leaving silence save the three healer's heaving chests and labored breathing.
Legolas, still unnoticed, looked down at the woman they had restrained. Her body was covered by the traditional white tunics used by the healers, only hers was spotted here and there with a dark brown substance Legolas could not help but recognize as blood. Her face was covered in thin lines extending from just above her eyebrows down the apex of her cheekbone. What struck him as most unusual about the woman was her hair. It had been cut short as to almost be non-existent. Only a fine, uneven layer of hair, so light it could only be taken for white, protruded from her skull where, Legolas noted, two oblong scars ran very nearly parallel from ear to ear.
"You! What are you doing here?!" The assistant without the cut had noticed the presence of the prince and as he pointed an accusatory finger at Legolas, Andoion was quick to silence him.
"Quiet Arlammoth! You shall wake her again!" Andoion turned his frustrated glance towards Legolas and spoke in a desperate whisper.
"For goodness sake close the door! Come in…come in…there is nothing to fear now." Legolas quickly closed the door behind him, however he found it difficult to move any closer towards the bed. Now that the din had subsided, he noticed that in addition to the bleeding cut of the second assistant, Andoion himself had scratch marks riddling his arms and Arlammoth boasted a cut across his neck that had just begun to heal.
"What is she?" Legolas remained at the door and fixed his eyes upon Andoion, not daring to look upon the bed. The healer in turn gave an ironical laugh and motioned for him to come closer. He reached over and turned the woman's head to the side, exposing the left side of her face.
"Come closer my Lord. She is sleeping now and will not harm you. Come and see for yourself just exactly what she is…and what she has become." Fighting with his instincts to remain distant from the being, Legolas moved forward until he came to the foot of the bed.
"Closer! Her sleep lasts for a full hour- every time. She exhausts herself quickly. She shall not hurt you." Legolas came up to her side and withdrew instantly in horror. The lines upon her face were not lines at all but the unmistakable tracts of fingernails running over and over across her eyelids. They were not so horrible as what Andoion had intended him to see- her ear. When it had been the ear of an elf, it must have been perfect, but as it was now Legolas hardly had the heart to gaze upon it. The top of the ear had been cut away, leaving a mangled, shapeless mass behind.
"It is the same on the other side…clipped as though she were a wild animal. From the way she responds to all of our attempts to help her, she must have been treated as such. She doesn't speak, she doesn't eat unless we force her, and she only wakes every hour for a few minutes, screaming as though she were on fire." Legolas had been listening but his eyes had remained upon her ear, it reminded him grotesquely of melted wax.
"Who…" Legolas tried to speak but his throat had gone dry. How long had he been standing there without swallowing or blinking? The second assistant, whom Andoion introduced as Laifen now spoke as he held a bandage against his cut.
"Who did this to her? We have no theories. She wandered into Mirkwood and was found by Lord Araorë…"
"Araorë?" Legolas' head shot up.
"Yes. He brought her to the palace unconscious- or so we thought. She had merely fallen asleep. When she awoke she gave Arlammoth his memento and very nearly killed one of the stable hands who helped to bring her inside." Araorë- Legolas' mind was spinning. So that was the reason for his odd behavior, he was trying to keep the secret of this woman to himself, perhaps to discover her past on his own. The explanation sounded well enough in his mind, but something else that refused to be ignored was bothering him.
"Why all of this secrecy? Anxious minds are creating fantastical stories…why has no one been told about her?" Three doctors exchanged nervous glances before Andoion spoke with the same earnestness that Carandoliel had used in the hallway only a short while ago.
"We received orders that she was not to be spoken of to anyone."
"Who gave you these orders?" Arlammoth coughed and rubbed the scar girdling his neck as his eyes fell to the sleeping woman and then up to Legolas. Again it was Andoion who spoke, this time with something of a shocked tone to his voice.
"It was your father who gave the order." It was Legolas' turn to be surprised as his eyes searched the three elve's faces, only to find affirmations of the truth he had been told. His eyes rounded again on the sleeping woman and he took a few steps closer until his calves were resting against the bed frame. She was breathing quickly in her dream and her eyes were darting about madly, as though she were seeing and feeling things the four of them could not sense. Suddenly her open eyes fell upon Legolas and with a startled gasp he realized she was not sleeping at all.