Chapter 1 – Broken Prisoner
A red sun was rising. All across the ancient land of Middle-Earth, tension was building. Life that was once peaceful turned to turmoil. The Elves fled from their residences to flock to their homeland. Men fought and died to save a lost kingdom, and women and children had been put to the sword too many times to count. These thoughts were far from the young Elf's mind, as he traveled to remote lands questing for the fortunes only attainable through adventure.
Packing up his meager campsite, Legolas caught a displeasing scent on the wind. Pulling his backpack and quiver onto his back, he stood completely still for an instant, figuring out from which direction the odor came. With no outward sign of acknowledgement, he began climbing up a steep rise in the direction the obvious scent of Goblins was wafting from. From the crest of the hill, he should be able see where the goblins were… or had been. The latter was the choice that Legolas preferred, but the least likely. He sunk to the grass before reaching the open crest, not wanting to be seen. Crawling forward, he pulled an arrow from his quiver. He could hear them now, the beasts. They were not easy for even humans to miss. Heavy thuds of metal boots enveloped every step they took.
Yet… these steps were not the single-minded steps of a mass of goblins. Frenzy and chaos would better describe what Legolas could interpret from their patterns on the hard-packed earth. As he scaled the hill, his eyes widened. From the mouth of a large cave, scores of the grimy beasts were fleeing. Smoke billowed out, black plumes encasing everything within ten yards of the cave. A Goblin was seen scrambling from the cave, his body completely engulfed in flame.
Legolas knew he should run… but something was pulling him towards the rock-strewn orifice, rather than away. Always one for following his senses, Legolas stood and started descending, ready with an arrow for any creature that happened to advance toward him.
Picking his way through a bit of charred debris, he paused and watched a goblin eye him, aware of his presence. Always hungry, the Elf thought. Deciding on pre-emptive strike, rather than becoming breakfast for a rather ugly species, he knocked the arrow and let it loose. The missile whirred through the smoke to catch the beast in the temple. The sickening 'thop' of wood and steel against clammy flesh was enough to make men cringe; however, the Elf had traveled across the length and breadth of Middle-Earth and was quite used to it.
The resulting screech was a warning, heard by all. No goblin came within five yards of the Elf as he walked into the mouth of the cave, eyes squinting against the smoke.
If he was asked, Legolas would not have been able to explain why he kept on going further, deeper into the smoldering depths of the cave. Something… just was. A mental tug; physical, even… Pausing, his keen Elven ears picked up a sound. A sound that could not possibly have come from goblin throats. He continued on, searching for the source of the pitiful noise that pulled him relentless towards its creator.
There it was again. A whimper… pleading. Legolas quickened his step, his heart wrenching. Whoever had uttered that cry was nearby, and in pain. Physical or mental, Legolas did not know. Goblins were capable of both, in large quantities. Letting his feet carry him quietly towards the room he was sure the sound was coming from, he was surprised that he had reached the entrance to the hollowed out room so quickly. The source of the smoke was only a few steps away, making it difficult for Legolas to breathe.
He stepped into the room, eyes searching the floor of the room. But… nothing… was… there. He spoke tentatively, daring any foes to show themselves. "Is someone there?" A shuffle in the back corner of the stonewalled room brought Legolas' eyes to a crumpled form. Quickly he ran the distance over to the woman, he realized, and knelt down. Unable to see much of anything in the darkness despite his Elven eyes, he gathered the woman in his arms. The girl gasped at the pain of such minimal movement, which brought the Elf almost to tears. "Amin hiraetha I'm sorry."
Legolas stood and, girl in arms, ran the distance out of the cave, getting as far from the smoke as possible. He quickly found refuge in the same clearing he had spent the previous night. Gently, the Elf set Embyr down upon the forest floor. Upon contact with the ground, she curled up in fetal position. She was wraithlike in form, emaciated to the brink of death. Her clothes were in shreds, her skin bruised and battered. Cursing the creatures that caused her this pain, he decided that he would have to take care of the worst of her injuries before taking her to his home in Mirkwood. Surely the Elves there would be able to heal her correctly.
"They lied…" The soft voice caused Legolas to start in surprise; it was the first time the woman had spoken. He watched as a single tear ran down her pale, bruised cheek. Her eyes were open now, deep pools of sapphire that showed the hurt he knew she had been through. She swallowed and turned her head, looking off into the distance as though ignoring what was in front of her would cause her pain to leave, and her spirit to find solace in the freedom of the sky.
"Who lied, lirimaer lovely one?" Legolas asked as he began pulling her outer layer off. The woman looked about 18 or 19, but he was not an expert at judging the age of humans. That the girl was probably a quarter of the way through her miserably short life saddened Legolas. Humans had to grow up so very quickly with the life that just longed to leave the bodies once it had the chance.
Embyr stirred as he pulled her right sleeve over her wrist, but did not utter a word.
Legolas knew the girl would not answer his question, judging by the way she looked right past him and into the heavens. Even as he removed her shredded gown, her eyes closed. Which, after examining her closer, he decided was a good thing. A gash on her right forearm hadn't even closed yet, and her left ankle was severely bruised. Probably broken, the Elf thought.
A rustle in a clump of bushes nearby immediately reminded Legolas that he had not checked the clearing before setting the girl down. The Elf covered Embyr with his cloak before he stood, arrow ready, and advanced toward the underbrush.
"Vedui', Legolas! I noticed the smoke and thought there might be trouble," an Elf stood from the brush, speaking uncharacteristically jovially. Legolas, recognizing the Elf as one who had been sent to Mirkwood as a messenger from Lothlórien, gave a cry of relief. The woman stirred, and Legolas quickly signaled Haldir to be silent as he returned to her side.
"It appears I was right," Haldir whispered, "there has been trouble."
Legolas nodded, wondering why Haldir would say something so obvious. He decided that he was just angry with much of the world, at the moment, and thought it better not to comment on the stupidity of his statement. Legolas knelt down beside Embyr, removed his pack, and searched through it frantically for some sort of bandage. "What do you have with you that I can use to help bandage her with?" Legolas eyed the other Elf's slightly bulging pack.
"No more than you, I suspect. My pack is full of extra cloaks. Spotting the smoke, I thought there may be need for them, if people fled in a hurry."
Legolas held out his hand. "Could you hand me one, Haldir? They may prove useful, after all." Haldir handed Legolas a cloak, and Legolas promptly tore a strip off the bottom. Gently taking the girl's wounded arm, he tightly bound her forearm with the torn strip of cloth. Legolas had the bandage secure before he noticed the girl was watching him.
"Hello, little one. Am I hurting you?" Legolas' eyes trailed to her face. She had features unusually similar to his kind's, for a human. Unfortunately, this probably alienated her from her people. Humans, Legolas had heard, were not so kind to those that appeared different, even if "different" meant over-fair. As he waited for her to speak, he began stripping a fallen branch of its errant twigs and leaves.
In response to Legolas' question, the girl shook her head. "No more than what I've already been through."
Legolas frowned, his eyes straying to her broken ankle. "Would you care to tell me how you ended up in a goblin cave? It has been rumored that Elves are good listeners…" Legolas grimaced as he ended his words. He only made bad puns when he was incredibly uncomfortable. Forcing a smile, he awaited her response.
When nothing was said for a few moments, it was Haldir that broke the silence. "Let me begin with introductions, as it seems you two are not moving forward with conversation. I am Haldir, an Elf of Lothlórien."
The girl smiled, an expression mirrored by Legolas. "I am called Embyr. Before my people fled from the goblins, I lived near the Fangorn Forest in a village called Nasrahel." Embyr watched Legolas with an amused look upon her face, despite the uncomfortable situation. He was clever; while she had been talking, he had placed her broken ankle in a splint of cloth and stripped branches. "And you, my clever Elf, are…?"
"Legolas," the Elf finished her sentence, "Prince of Mirkwood."