Sorrow's Friend

By Catreen Dragonsword

Chapter Three: Celebnur (Silver Flame)

It didn't take them long for 'Legolas' to establish the fact that Damia was some sort of prisoner. The second, kinder one couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the fact that the girl could lay wounded on the leaf covered floor and still seem threatening. Her eyes held an ice that burned deep into his soul as he grabbed rope from his pack.

"Girl?" He waited for an answer; none came. "Girl, what is your name?" Again no answer. "I can't just keep calling you 'girl', can I?" She sighed.

"Call me..." Her mind kept screaming 'ISHMEL! ISHMEL!' but instead she said "Kat'iana. I'm not going to tell you my real name until I'm sure that you're not going to kill me." Behind the second, 'Legolas' muttered something that sounded suspicecly like 'Clever girl.' but no one could prove it.

"By the way, what time is it?" She asked the elf. He looked up, shielding his eyes.

"About three hours after noon. Why?" His eyes were curious. Truthfully, Damia wanted to know how long she had been out cold, but realized that Middle-Earth and Earth most likely didn't run on the same time.

"Because I asked." She didn't like laying on the ground in pain with two strange men standing over her. She sprang to her feet, quickly discovering that she had kept her backpack threw the trip and there were sever burns running down the right side of her back. She used her good left hand to bend the arm to herself. The first thing she noticed was the cast wasn't there, although the pain was. Next were the burns that ran down her shoulder. Upon seeing the burns, she remembered the lightning flash and the weird feeling that she was dying. The last thought she remembered thinking was: I refuse to die here!

The elf that was with Legolas was a young sword trainer named Fëalhach. He looked at the soft elven rope, thinking that he didn't like tying up young a young lady wondering around Mirkwood alone.

"Look, I'm having a bad day and I would appreciate it if we ALL were a little bit more civil to each other." The girl glared at him. "What does 'Cat Anna' mean, any way?" More glaring. "I know you can speak. Please, answer the question."

"Kat'iana doesn't mean a thing." She said sullenly. Fëalhach approached her with the rope. "There is NO way in God's great green earth you are tying me up, dude!" Damia hissed at him. Fëalhach rushed her and found himself on the ground with a bloody nose.

"Maybe there's a good reason behind my threat, doofus."

"You have not earned the right to brag yet, incompetent nag!" He stood and slowly approached her. She lashed out with her foot, catching him by surprize. Normal girls didn't fight men, especially when they couldn't win.

Legolas stepped in with a quick punch towards her head, but she dodged it and struck him a hefty blow with her bad arm. She growled in pain at the strike, her eyes flashed like the silver flame of lightning.

'I am in my element.' thought Damia as she waved through the men like she was dancing through water. She knew that with her broken arm and severe burns running over her she was at the disadvantage. The men she fought now were trained in these arts, not some grade school punk with something to prove in his own mundane way. Damia was slightly surprized that she was holding her own against these men, but for the most part she was cold. She felt nothing but the will to fight flooding through her veins, heard nothing but her own harsh breathing ringing in her ears, saw nothing but the blue of self-defense.

Legolas and Fëalhach were surprized, too, at the nameless girl's ability to fight. They danced around, looking for an opening in her defense, but no opportunity came. Then Fëalhach saw it. He signaled Legolas to knock the girl unconsious while he attacked behind her. Legolas jumped at chance to burn this girl. When his fist hit the back of her neck he felt, rather than saw her go down. The plan had worked!

Fëalhach tied up the nameless girl with out question. This lady was too dangerous to travel around Mirkwood without some form of supervision. Legolas had been right all along, wanderers are not to be trusted, even the wounded female ones. The men sat down and waited for their captive to wake up, for no one wanted to be caught with her on their back when she woke up.

Four hours later found the elves marching a rather depressed Damia through Mirkwood forest on the way to the palace. She did not open her mouth once, which for Damia, was a first. Never before had she been in such trouble as this.

'From their fighting style, I would believe they ARE from Middle-Earth!' Ran Damia's thoughts as she was trudged over the soft leaves of the forest of the elves. She closed her eyes against dispair thoughts and realized the only thing she feared was being burned at the stake. 'I don't believe elves do that though...' she mused. Suddenly, the procession stopped and Damia ran into Legolas. Ever the leader, was Legolas, and the second one seemed to be the court lackey. She had a hunch that the one following Legolas could think for himself, unlike most thugs, and thus more deadly.

"We camp here." said the prince of Mirkwood sorely. Apparently Damia had taken her toll on the aristocrat, for he had been mumbling all four hours about how he was nearly beaten by a girl.

"Oh, how I'll be laughed at! The prince of Mirkwood, beaten by a lowly peasant girl!" He moaned to the tree tops.

"Shut up, will you! That whining is SO obnoxious!" complained Damia finally.

"Shut up? What means this 'shut up'?" asked the second elf, all in curiosity.

"The rude, 'peasant', way of saying 'be quiet'." Damia explained with as much patience as she could muster.

"I've never heard that expression before in my life, and I've been around peasants for a long time." the poor confused elf stated.

"Let's just say that I'm not from around here."

"I guessed that when I saw you were not an elf."

"Did you notice that I'm dressed a little funny to be from Middle-Earth?" The swordsman nodded, "That is because I'm NOT from Middle-Earth, dipstick!" The elf gave her a strong look of disbelief. "Do you have any other explanation as to WHY I suddenly appear in your forest in blue jeans and a torn up T-shirt and a backpack made of the strangest cloth you will ever see and speak in a manner in which you've never heard?" When Damia got no answer she added, "Hmmmmmm?"

In this instant Legolas finished rummaging in his pack, and tossed the girl a lebombas wafer. He sat, as if waiting for her to make the first move. She sat down and stared into his eyes with that unnerving cold and smiled when a faint shiver ran down his back. He didn't eat yet, though. Fëalhach grabbed a wafer from his own pack and took a big bite. Damia and Legolas sat starring at each other. Finally, hunger broke through Damia's contest. She reached for the food, but found that her good arm was still attached to her broken one, sending pain up her arms in waves.

"Look at that," whispered Legolas to his companion. "She's trying to make us believe that she is wounded."

"Legolas, dear friend?" Questioned Fëalhach. "Do you remember the burns that run over her shoulder? This hazard is wounded."

"Ai, so she is." Legolas answered sullenly.

"Let us put this quarrel behind us!" Exclaimed Damia with her mouth full of food, ruining the solemnity of the moment. Fëalhach laughed at the girl's antics, knowing full well that she acted on purpose. The three soon fell asleep.

Dawn's watery rays fell on Damia's sleeping figure. She was dead to the world until noon, when hunger or nature plucked her from her sweet repose. Her face was peaceful, which was shocking in itself. The fact that she had slept on the ground with bugs and dirt with a lumpy backpack for a pillow was unheard of for any teenage girl, and that this one did so peacefully AND could nearly beat the pants off anyone she met made her one of the strange girl she was.

During the night, a small group of fighting elves joined Legolas and Fëalhach. Unfortunately, so did a band of fighting Uruk-Hi. An hour or so before dawn, the orc half breeds attacked. Needless to say, all were amazed at the un-named one's ability to sleep. After a long while, the Uruk-Hi decided that the girl would make a lovely breakfast and kidnapped her. They had no idea what they were bargaining for.

The sound of a knife being sharpened fell on Damia's deaf ears, but that one small sound dragged her from the realms of the dead, or where ever she went to dream, and into a new mess. 'Well-p,' she thought, 'This just got more interesting.' Her eyes fell on the largest Uruk-Hi.

"HEY, YOU!" She called to him, even though she had just woken up. "ARE YOU AN ORC?" She asked. Damia had a feeling from the glares she was getting that these were the 'fighting Uruk- Hi'.

"NO," the thing finally grunted, after regarding her with a critiquing eye. "Orcs are less foul." The thing snorted. "Besides, orcs don't have our fashion sense. After all, green so doesn't go with yellow."

Damia had a sense of serenity. 'This is a dream... He sounds like Caroline.' She sighed, after all dreams can't hurt you.

"Now, would you rather be made into a meat pie, or a fried steak?" asked the nasty freak in front of her. He breathed into her face and she knew she was awake. Nothing in a dream could EVER smell as foul as that.

"Neither, thank you..." She said, her old sarcasm coming back, "I'd rather be chicken cordon bleu, with a fine sherry." Her eyes were as cold as they had ever been, burning holes into the monstrosities face.

"But those don't go together!" Exclaimed the indignant chieftain. One of the other Urk-Hi stepped forward to speak, when suddenly an arrow appeared in his throat.

"ELVES!!!!" The Urk-Hi screamed, pointing to the trees.

"ORCS!!!" Shouted Damia pointing at the Urk-Hi.

"WE'RE NOT ORCS!!!!" Exclaimed the orcs...I mean Urk-Hi. Soon Damia and the head Urk were in a shouting match, much to the amusement of the elves in the trees. Finally the Urk-Hi chief drew his sword and charged the girl.

Fëalhach, who had been watching the girl in amusement between shooting a volley of arrows, saw now her peril. It was obvious she was an enemy of the foul things of Middle Earth, and therefore a friend of the elves, and now she needed help. He charged from his leafy protection to save a girl who might die, most elves thought him a fool anyways. Just before the Urk-Hi blade made contact with either of them, two things happened. One, Fëalhach touched Damia, and two, a bolt of lightning hit the pair in mid battle.

The battle stopped for a sick, panic-filled moment, when the bolt struck. The Urk-Hi and elves alike looked to see what happened, and were sickened by what they saw. The chief of the Urk-Hi was dead, scorched upon the ground like a rag doll tossed into a fire. Fëalhach and the prisoner girl were gone, probably just cinders by now. Legolas was the first to become composed enough to give clear directions. He ordered the archers to keep firing at the Urk-Hi, killing blows whenever possible. The Urk-Hi fled through the forest. With out a leader, they were nothing.

"Where are we gonna find someone with good color coordination, now?" Asked one rather foul being as he rushed by.

Several hours later...

"Whe...Where are we?" asked a rather dazed Fëalhach. Damia groaned in reply. The girl sat up, looked around for a minute then lay back down.

"Well...This is a new development..." She added, dazedly. The elf started to move off her.

"DON'T!" She exclaimed, "The branch is almost broken through. If either of us move, even you light-foot, we BOTH die. Clear?" Damia held her breath as the branch creaked. The elf boy started to nod, and noticed he was moving.

"Clear." He added in a frightened tone.

Meanwhile...

Legolas stood, grieving silently under the tree in which his friend was so carelessly perched, he could almost hear his friends voice again. So faint was the should that he thought he imagined it, followed by the girl's voice.

"DON'T!" It echoed around the trees for a minute. Then "BOTH..." Fëalhach responded inaudibly.

"FËALHACH?" Screamed the prince, positive he was going mad.

In the tree, Fëalhach looked to the girl for the go ahead to call in help. Damia didn't comprehend for a moment that Legolas was calling the second elf. When she realized what was going on, she nodded.

"WE'RE UP HERE, LEGOLAS!" Shouted Fëalhach, no longer 'the second elf'.

"UP WHERE? IN THE HALLS OF MANDOS?" Called back the frantic friend.

"NO, IN THE TREE, STUPID!" That was Damia.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN A TREE?" Legolas asked.

"TRYING NOT TO FALL DOWN!" Shouted Damia.

"Sensible answer." Fëalhach told the still nameless girl. "Now, what am I going to call you?" The girl stayed silent. "How about Celebnur? It means 'Silver Flame', like the lightning that carried us here." He babbled.

"'Silver Flame'...Celebnur... Sounds perfect." Damia, in truth, just wanted to shut up the flow of words that poured out of the elf like a river. Down below, several elves prepared for a long