I El Edhellen

Chapter 4

She awoke once more with gentle light glowing down upon her, and she was in a bed, with fresh, clean sheets. She was more alert now and aware of her surroundings than she had been before, and she felt refreshed, as if emerging from a deep sleep.

She was dressed in a simple white nightgown, and her long blonde hair lay loose upon the plump pillow. She looked tentatively down at her chest and gasped. There was no scar; not a single mark to show where the knife had gone in.

What had happened? Was she still Jess? Or had she been reborn with a new life, but still with the memories of her old self?

Panicking slightly, she ran her hands over her face, checking to see if it had been altered. It felt the same as she remembered. Eyes, nose were the same, mouth, ears…were pointed!

She screamed and dropped her hands, lying on the bed, trembling.

What had happened to her? What was she?

After a short while, she gathered the courage to feel her ears again. There was no mistaking it. They were pointed.

Repulsed, she looked up to see that a young woman with long, fair hair had entered the room, carrying a tray.

"You are awake," she said, "How do you feel, my Lady?"

Ignoring the question, Jess sat up in the bed and, fingering her ears, asked, "What…what are they? What am I?"

The woman put down the tray on a table and came closer to the bed, looking fairly taken aback.

"You don't remember…"

Jess looked closely at the woman, and saw that the tips of her ear, too, were pointed like her own. She lay back against the soft pillows, astounded and bewildered.

What on Earth happened? Is this a dream?

"Who are you? Where…where am I?" she asked the woman.

"I am Adusìriel," the woman replied, "and I am here to look after you, and aid you in your recovery. You are in the Forest of Mirkwood, in the Halls of Thranduil the Elvenking."

"Elvenking…?"

She stared at Adusìriel in shock, dumbfounded.

"Elvens…have pointy ears…?"

The woman looked concerned, studying her intently.

"You have forgotten everything…"

She surfaced up out of her thoughts, and got the tray, placing it on Jess's lap.

"You must be hungry," she said. "Replenish yourself. You will find suitable garments to wear in the closet, and I will come to escort you in a while. King Thranduil wishes to speak with you."

Adusìriel smiled, and left Jess alone. She looked down at the tray, which was laden with fruits, bread and cheese, and a glass of water, and she began to eat ravenously. Now that she thought about it, she was famished; the kind of hunger that leaves an ache in one's belly. She wondered how long had been since her last meal.

The food was basic, but fresh and delicious, satisfying her completely. Feeling invigorated, she climbed out of bed, relieved to find that her body no longer ached. In the corner of the room, she found a bowl of water, and splashed her face gratefully, the cool liquid making her skin tingle.

Inside the finely-crafted wooden closet, she found what she guessed to be the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It was dusky blue in colour, made of a fine silk, and had a delicate, silver edging around the arms and neck. She marvelled at it, and put it on excitedly, muddling with the laces down the sides. The neck was scooped low, and the sleeves were so long and wide that they reached down to her knees. Behind her, the lengthy skirt trailed elegantly on the ground, the hem translucent, like water. She felt magnificent, like a princess, and wished she had a mirror.

But I'm sure to stand on it and rip it. And what if I spill something down it?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking on the door, which opened, and Adusìriel entered.

"You look lovely," she said warmly to Jess, who looked down at her feet, self-concious.

"Shoes," she said, "Do I need shoes?"

Adusìriel handed her a pair of slender, satin slippers, the sma ecolour as the gown, which she put on.

"Are you ready now, my Lady?" asked Adusìriel.

"Yes, I think so."

Adusìriel lad her along a labyrinth of wide, elegant passages, lit by strange crystals, which glowed with a warm light. Jess guessed that they were underground, though not far, as the air was still fresh and wholesome. Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest, and she was beginning to tremble with nerves.

"Why does the King want to see me? What is he going to do with me?"

"You will find out soon enough," was the only answer that her Elf-guide would give.

They soon came to a pair of grand oak doors, with beautiful carved designs on them, guarded by two silent Elves, who nodded and let the pair pass through.

They entered at one end of a long, spacious hall, and in front of them sat about ten of what she assumed to be Elves.

Adusìriel said, "Here is the girl, Your Highness," inclined her head out of respect, and then left the hall.

Jess stood awkwardly in front of the Elvens, frozen with fear. Not knowing where to look, her eyes darted nervously about her surroundings, with its high stone walls, and the grand fireplace opposite her, flames licking the air.

"What is your name, child?" said the Elf in the centre, jerking her out of her thoughts. He was hair of face, as were all those about him, but there was something in his eyes that made him seem older, wiser perhaps, and she guessed that he was the king from the crown of leaves about his head.

"Jess, sir…your highness," she said, voice shaking, Jessica Robertson."

The Elf-King smiled slightly to himself.

"And where are you from, Jessica?"

What could she say? Would he have heard of Devon, England?

I don't think so. Because I've never heard of Mirkwood. Or Elves.

"I don't know," she replied feebly, her gaze breaking from his blue eyes, and falling to the floor.

"And what were you doing, wandering in the forest, alone?"

"I don't know," she whispered, shaking her head miserably.

"The forest is dangerous, especially for a young lady like yourself. And yet Adusìriel tells me you remember nothing about it.

A tear slid down her cheek, and fell to the floor intact, a pearl of sadness, before shattering, like glass, into nothing.

"Father…" said another Elf, warningly.

The Elf King continued nonetheless:

"Your name is not one I have ever heard before. It is certainly not Elvish in origin. Where is it from?"

There as no answer she could give that would make sense to him. She longed to turn and run from the hall, but she dared not.

"Can you explain yourself?"

"No."

She couldn't stand any more of this torture and fled through the doors, weeping with misery. She ran through the corridors, blindly turning this way and that, lost and confused. She had to get out. She felt trapped and suffocated in the place; needed fresh air.

But she could not find her way out, and eventually she grew tired and collapsed on the floor in a corner, shaking with grief.

A hand was offered. She took it in hers and pulled herself to her feet, her tears subsiding. The hand belonged to another Elf, and she stared at him through eyes blurry with grief, his face familiar.

"You rescue me!" she said, recognising him as the stranger in the forest. "Thank you."

He smiled and nodded slightly.

"You are most welcome, my Lady."

He looked around himself uncomfortably, his keen blue eyes flashing in the glow from the lamps.

"These halls can become somewhat suffocating to those who prefer the fresh air," he said, "Shall we take a walk outside?"

Jess nodded in agreement, and the Elf quickly led her out of the halls, and after passing through a grand entrance hall, they were outside. A tall wooden fence was before them, guarded by two Elves, who let them pass through a gate into the forest.

"I am sorry about my father," he said apologetically. "He is wise, and means well, but I am afraid he is very suspicious of strangers."

Jess gaped at him, open-mouthed.

"That was your father? The King!"

The Elf smiled, slightly abashed.

"Yes, he is my father. I have not introduced myself. I am Legolas, and I am at your service, my Lady."

And so saying, he knelt down on one knee, his right fist on his chest, and he lowered his head as a sign of respect. Jess flushed red with delight and embarrassment, fiddling with her hair nervously.

"So, you are a prince, then?" she asked him.

"I am, though I dare say there are those who desire to hold that title more than I do."

She looked at him quizzically, wanting to know more, but being too shy to ask.

"I care nothing for wealth and kingdoms. I desire only the forests that I love, and music, and the stars."

The Elf stared wistfully into the depths of the forest around them, still and silent as stone, and yet alert and aware of everything. It was then that Lizzie realised how handsome he looked, now that she was calmer. His skin was smooth and as pale as ivory, and his long flaxen hair was silken. He was clad in a long robe of fawn-grey, in which he looked strong, yet graceful.

He returned from his trance-like state, and turned, holding her with his sapphire gaze.

"And what was a maiden such as yourself doing out in the forest, alone?"

She looked to the ground, floundering for an explanation.

"I just…I don't know."

His eyes did not release her, and he was clearly not satisfied with this answer, yet his face was warm and kind, and not cold and deriding like his father's had been.

"You are a mystery to me," he said, "You are an Elf, and yet you seem to know nothing of my father, or of any Elves. Which part of Middle-Earth are you from?"

She sighed despairingly.

"I'm not an Elf," she confessed.

He looked shocked and confused, but said nothing.

"Yeah, I know, I've got the ears. But they weren't there a week ago. I don't know how they became pointy like this."

"But you must be an Elf," he said.

"No. I'm a human, but I don't suppose you've ever heard of them."

To her surprise, the Elf laughed tunefully.

"A human" That cannot be so! No human has ever had pointy ears. They are slow and unwise for the most part, and do not care for the world as we do."

"I am a human," she insisted.

"Then where are you from? Rohan? Gondor?"

"I've never heard of those places. I'm not from "Middle-Earth", wherever that might be."

The Elf became grave once more, and looked at her curiously.

"Then where, my Lady?"

"I don't know. I don't know where I am, and I don't know how I got here. I want to go home, but I don't know how. This is all wrong!"

Legolas touched her arm sympathetically, but she shrugged him off angrily, tears stinging her eyes.

"I don't know who you are, and I'm sick of everyone asking me questions, so just leave me alone!"

With tears falling down her cheeks, she ran off blindly into the forest, not caring where she went. Legolas called out to her from behind, but she ignored him, stumbling deeper into the dark wood. Soon she grew weary, and threw herself down on the ground, lost and afraid, weeping miserably.

I want to go home. I just want to go home.

She buried her face in her hands, and not caring what strange creatures might find her there, cried herself to sleep as night enveloped the forest.

A/N: Oh, poor Jess! Will she ever find out what has happened to her? And will she ever get home? Keep reading! Thanks.