Disclaimer: I am not JRR Tolkien, I don't even have his initials, so I
don't own what is his. I'm not even sure if I have claims to my original
characters since they would be based all on his world, but whatever. I
will not let go of this story, had a major brainstorm, so fear not!
Chapter 8
"What is your lord's name?" Legolas had the question out before he even comprehended who he was talking to.
The she-elf glanced back at him, not bothering to break her stride. She answered with her head turned back to face forward, not giving him the satisfaction of actual contact when she spoke to him. "If he has not deemed that you should know then you will not."
Legolas' patience was thin. "Am I at least worthy enough to know the name of my prime tormentor?" he asked softly.
Yet the she-elf heard anyway, as he had thought she would, and whirled on him, slamming him against the wall before Legolas could even react. She glared at him and spoke through her teeth, "If you are referring to me, then no. You are not even worthy to be in this house, and if it were up to me you would not be." She pulled her arm away from across his chest where it had been threatening to crush his lungs. Legolas was still struggling with his instincts as to not fight a female, no matter who they were and what they did to him. So he did not move a muscle the whole time, merely hoping she would not choose to do anything more to him.
The she-elf bared her teeth in a kind of snarl and turned to leading him back to the room. Within moments they were there, and the she-elf looked as if she had to contain herself from wanting to throw Legolas inside of the room. Legolas, of course, did the only thing he could to annoy her without actually causing her physical harm, he walked slow and dignified past her. The door slammed the second he was entirely through and Legolas started slightly at the loud sound. He glanced back, and sure enough, the door was made of iron.
Legolas sat lightly on the edge of the bed in a lotus position and closed his eyes half-way. He did not move a muscle and went into deep thought. He now had several pieces to put together, but it was still an extremely large puzzle that he was not sure he would ever be able to figure it out. When he had first been brought here, he had been positive that these were simply rogues and were merely intent on torturing and killing him. Now that was not the case. They were elves and had an intricate society, one that he had not been aware of no less. They knew who he was, what his status was, and were apparently familiar with the other races of elves. They even knew of the darkness that had been threatening Mirkwood, or he assumed they did anyhow.
Even with the information he had gathered in the few days he was here, there were still glaring problems that did not fit. He did not know exactly who these elves were, where they came from, how they fit into everything, and most importantly, what they wanted with him and Mirkwood.
He recalled the strange conversation he had just had with the elf- lord. He was going to help whether Legolas wanted him to or not, so it was better to cooperate. What was that supposed to mean? If it was true help for his people, why would Legolas even want to resist? Too many questions that could not possibly be answered at this time.
Legolas' thoughts began to wander away from trying to solve his complex situation and he found himself thinking of his father. He knew Thranduil had to be extremely worried about him and sending every runner out to search for him. Or at least he thought he knew. The recent dreams and visions he had had of his father left him with disconcerting feelings.
'What is the use of being an heir to a throne that does not even exist?' The voice of the she-elf in his dream drifted towards him. There was a throne, and he was the heir, and that was as simple as it got. There was no reason to question any of that.
But a tiny stab of doubt slivered into him.
He had been told and been aware that the time of the elves was fading, his people leaving. It was soon to be up to men to take it all over. So there actually was a very good possibility that he would never actually be able to rule, the time would be over before his father was gone. And there was no usage for hierarchy in the Gray Havens.
Legolas shifted uncomfortably and opened his eyes all the way. He stared at the blank, cold iron walls that made up his prison. He did not wish to think anymore, he did not want to have anymore disturbing thoughts. The young prince stretched out his legs and rose gracefully from the bed. He walked to the single window that was in his room, one that was much to small to attempt to do anything with it.
Something about the panes of the window interested him. Legolas stretched out a slim hand and touched it. He drew it away slowly and thoughtfully. The windows were not made of the same thin substance used in Mirkwood, but were of a harsher crystal that appeared to be just as fragile and thin, but he knew without even testing it that it would be virtually impossible to break. Another odd thing about these elves. They had access to and used crystals that Legolas had no idea what they even were.
Suddenly feeling extremely tired and discouraged, Legolas turned back to the bed. He felt his spirit wilt almost inexplicably and the pride that had been sustaining him throughout the last few days fell away from him. At this very moment, he felt more hopeless and vulnerable than he ever had. Legolas dropped himself onto the bed and closed his eyes. This was not a time for the light sleep of the elves, he wanted complete and utter unconsciousness so that he might make this nightmare pass more swiftly.
Chapter 8
"What is your lord's name?" Legolas had the question out before he even comprehended who he was talking to.
The she-elf glanced back at him, not bothering to break her stride. She answered with her head turned back to face forward, not giving him the satisfaction of actual contact when she spoke to him. "If he has not deemed that you should know then you will not."
Legolas' patience was thin. "Am I at least worthy enough to know the name of my prime tormentor?" he asked softly.
Yet the she-elf heard anyway, as he had thought she would, and whirled on him, slamming him against the wall before Legolas could even react. She glared at him and spoke through her teeth, "If you are referring to me, then no. You are not even worthy to be in this house, and if it were up to me you would not be." She pulled her arm away from across his chest where it had been threatening to crush his lungs. Legolas was still struggling with his instincts as to not fight a female, no matter who they were and what they did to him. So he did not move a muscle the whole time, merely hoping she would not choose to do anything more to him.
The she-elf bared her teeth in a kind of snarl and turned to leading him back to the room. Within moments they were there, and the she-elf looked as if she had to contain herself from wanting to throw Legolas inside of the room. Legolas, of course, did the only thing he could to annoy her without actually causing her physical harm, he walked slow and dignified past her. The door slammed the second he was entirely through and Legolas started slightly at the loud sound. He glanced back, and sure enough, the door was made of iron.
Legolas sat lightly on the edge of the bed in a lotus position and closed his eyes half-way. He did not move a muscle and went into deep thought. He now had several pieces to put together, but it was still an extremely large puzzle that he was not sure he would ever be able to figure it out. When he had first been brought here, he had been positive that these were simply rogues and were merely intent on torturing and killing him. Now that was not the case. They were elves and had an intricate society, one that he had not been aware of no less. They knew who he was, what his status was, and were apparently familiar with the other races of elves. They even knew of the darkness that had been threatening Mirkwood, or he assumed they did anyhow.
Even with the information he had gathered in the few days he was here, there were still glaring problems that did not fit. He did not know exactly who these elves were, where they came from, how they fit into everything, and most importantly, what they wanted with him and Mirkwood.
He recalled the strange conversation he had just had with the elf- lord. He was going to help whether Legolas wanted him to or not, so it was better to cooperate. What was that supposed to mean? If it was true help for his people, why would Legolas even want to resist? Too many questions that could not possibly be answered at this time.
Legolas' thoughts began to wander away from trying to solve his complex situation and he found himself thinking of his father. He knew Thranduil had to be extremely worried about him and sending every runner out to search for him. Or at least he thought he knew. The recent dreams and visions he had had of his father left him with disconcerting feelings.
'What is the use of being an heir to a throne that does not even exist?' The voice of the she-elf in his dream drifted towards him. There was a throne, and he was the heir, and that was as simple as it got. There was no reason to question any of that.
But a tiny stab of doubt slivered into him.
He had been told and been aware that the time of the elves was fading, his people leaving. It was soon to be up to men to take it all over. So there actually was a very good possibility that he would never actually be able to rule, the time would be over before his father was gone. And there was no usage for hierarchy in the Gray Havens.
Legolas shifted uncomfortably and opened his eyes all the way. He stared at the blank, cold iron walls that made up his prison. He did not wish to think anymore, he did not want to have anymore disturbing thoughts. The young prince stretched out his legs and rose gracefully from the bed. He walked to the single window that was in his room, one that was much to small to attempt to do anything with it.
Something about the panes of the window interested him. Legolas stretched out a slim hand and touched it. He drew it away slowly and thoughtfully. The windows were not made of the same thin substance used in Mirkwood, but were of a harsher crystal that appeared to be just as fragile and thin, but he knew without even testing it that it would be virtually impossible to break. Another odd thing about these elves. They had access to and used crystals that Legolas had no idea what they even were.
Suddenly feeling extremely tired and discouraged, Legolas turned back to the bed. He felt his spirit wilt almost inexplicably and the pride that had been sustaining him throughout the last few days fell away from him. At this very moment, he felt more hopeless and vulnerable than he ever had. Legolas dropped himself onto the bed and closed his eyes. This was not a time for the light sleep of the elves, he wanted complete and utter unconsciousness so that he might make this nightmare pass more swiftly.