I finally bothered to finish this chapter, so here it is. Still looking for other ideas to add...
Thanks to The Dark Flame for reviewing chapter two.
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Chapter 3: Escape
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The sharp, throbbing pain woke her just before dawn. The blood had seeped through the bandages and the ache had doubled at least. The sheets were stained crimson where her hands had rested.
She unwrapped her fingers with care, mindful that Amanda was a light sleeper. She was unable to silence the whimper of pain when she gently pulled the leaves away from the trickling cuts but the others did not waken.
She knew that she would probably pay, both for her absence at dinner and the blood in her bed, but at that moment she did not care. She hastened to the bathroom and attempted to bind her hands with paper towels.
It was in vain. The blood refused to clot and streamed out the same as before. Elizabette bit back a scream of pain and frustration. She threw away the sodden paper and returned to her bedroom on silent feet.
Valerie and Amanda were awake and dressing when Elizabette entered the room. Both were turned toward their mirrors and did not notice her until she opened the door of her closet.
"There you are, Miss Allan." Amanda smiled sweetly, prissily tossing her thin blond hair over her shoulder. She very obviously considered her hair pretty and often compared it to Elizabette's curly tresses, thick and glossy though they were. Both Valerie and Amanda seemed to be of the opinion that sparse, scraggly blond hair was more favorable than soft, thick chestnut hair. Elizabette turned away. She was not in the mood to deal with Amanda.
Amanda was not about to be put off so easily. "I heard that Matron found someone in the forest," she told Elizabette smugly, smiling but with an odd look on her face. Malice, or greed? Elizabette was not certain.
Then she registered Amanda's words. "What?" she asked, her normally silvery voice hoarse with her pain.
"Ah, so she is interested," Valerie stated with a condescending smile.
Amanda repeated her message. "Matron found someone in the forest."
A jolt struck Elizabette's mind. Could it be Legolas? she wondered. "So?" she asked, keeping her voice even. She pulled a clean sweater over her head and reached for her hairbrush.
Amanda snatched it up before Elizabette's injured hand reached it.
"Don't you know someone in the forest?" she asked tauntingly. "Where've you been the past few days?"
"Reading," Elizabette replied untruthfully. "Did Matron find anyone?"
"Isn't that what I just said?" asked Amanda, disdainfully releasing the brush onto the floor. "She drove him away, I expect." She tossed her hair again and left with Valerie.
Annoyed and a little alarmed, Elizabette resumed dressing. She found it painful to hold her hairbrush in her injured hands so she left her hair as it was. Her tangled curls would be just one more thing for the others to tease about.
She tied a handkerchief over her hands as tightly as possible, though nothing stopped the bleeding.
Knowing that she was expected for breakfast, she rushed to the table. She had not eaten the night before but, though the meager portions normally did a little to stay her hunger, she found she could barely eat.
There was an hour before lessons began when the orphans could visit with friends or tidy their rooms. Elizabette slipped off to the old oak.
No one was there, but that could be expected. She had not asked Legolas to meet her and he would avoid the place otherwise, if there was a chance that he would be discovered.
She glanced around for any recent signs of life. Remembering that elves, light of foot, leave few marks, she did not expect to find any evidence.
Just as she had turned to leave, a piece of paper tucked into a crack in the massive oak caught her eye. She leapt neatly over a branch and slid it out.
A smooth, flowing script read:
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Dear Elizabette,
The woman who forced you to work has learned of me. I will avoid your house but I must give back your books. I will return at two o' clock today, hoping that you can be here.
Legolas Thranduilion
of Mirkwood
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Elizabette frowned as she scanned the letter. So Amanda had been truthful. She would have to wait until the afternoon before she could ask the elf to re-bandage her hands.
She found a ball-point pen in her pocket and scrawled on the back of the letter,
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Legolas. I received your letter and will try to be here, although Matron is watching me carefully. Please try to wait for me if I do not come on time, for I need your help.
Elizabette Allan
-
She slipped the letter back into the crack. She knew that Legolas would check to see if she had received it.
She glanced quickly around before leaving. She had caught a strange feeling in the air. The trees seemed uneasy; and the wind blew from the east. Elizabette frowned. The wind usually came from either the north or the west. An east wind warned of a storm.
Unsettled, she hurried back to her room. She would try to avoid Matron's, but she knew that she had to speak with Legolas.
Her hands still bled profusely and nothing that she could do would stop the flow of blood. Everyone had already heard that Matron had whipped her. Elizabette kept eluded them as much as possible.
---
The bell for break clanged brassily. Elizabette slipped back to her room and rewrapped her hands in her last clean handkerchiefs.
She walked quickly on silent feet to the outside door. She pushed it open warily, listening carefully. She heard no one and slipped out of the door.
She was almost to the forest's edge when an iron hand descended on her shoulder. She was turned roughly and stared into the angry red face of Matron.
"And where may you be going?" she asked with smile that was meant to be deceptively kind. Elizabette heard a malicious tint to the woman's voice, and did not reply.
"Answer me!" Matron shouted, her hand flying to her belt.
Elizabette fully expected her to pull out the whip, but instead, from a black leather sheath, Matron drew a knife with a curved red blade.
Elizabette could not hold back a squeak. This was too much. This was not happening.
"Speak!" demanded Matron, waving the blade in front of Elizabette's face. With her other hand she roughly tore the handkerchiefs off of Elizabette's hands.
"I- I was going into the woods!" she said desperately.
Matron set the blade to her throat. "Why?" she demanded.
This could not be true. This occurred only in books- in fiction. She was hallucinating. It was not happening.
But it was.
She refused to speak. What could she say?
"Speak!" Matron demanded, pressing the blade against Elizabette's throat. The cold red blade gleamed as its edge sank slightly into her skin.
The pain was excruciating. There was no mercy in Matron's eyes. She would kill Elizabette and have no regrets, no guilt.
Elizabette closed her eyes. She was going to die. It was impossible. But it was true.
"Speak!" Matron shouted. And just as Elizabette closed her eyes, preparing to die, Matron's knife jerked from her throat.
With a slight whistling sound, a gold- feathered arrow had flown through the air like a dart and struck Matron's hand. She sprang back with a cry, the knife slipping unheeded to the ground.
Elizabette took her chance and ran to the forest. Legolas stood just at the edge of the trees, standing alert with his bow in his hand. He lowered it as Elizabette approached.
"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
"No..." whispered Elizabette, sinking to her knees and leaning against a tree. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Though she was proud and did not wish to cry in front of Legolas, she could not force herself to stop. The shock overwhelmed her.
Legolas dropped to his knees beside her. "Elizabette," he said softly. "We must go further in so that I can look at your cuts. That woman might return and we can be spied from the house."
He offered her a hand to help her up but she did not take it. "Look at my hands," she whispered.
Legolas took one of her hands and cradled it on his own, examining it carefully. His eyes widened as he saw the gashes.
"Come, Elizabette," pleaded Legolas. "We must go further in."
Elizabette yielded and carefully got to her feet, wincing as the cut in her neck stung with the movement and the trickle of a salt tear. Legolas helped her to the old oak. He took out his herbs and bandages, setting them carefully on his leather pack to keep them clean.
The elf examined first the wound on her neck. It was not deep, nor was it very serious. He gently rubbed some salve into it.
Then he turned to her hands. These slashes were serious and he wondered how she could have gotten them.
As if she had read his mind, Elizabette explained softly, "Matron whipped me last evening for not being on time. I knew she would. Even if I had been there at three o' clock, as ordered, she would have just thought of something else to hold against me." She paused for a moment, her shoulders slumping. "But she would have killed me. If you had not come I would be dead right now." The tears started again, each one crystalline clear and holding a world of sorrow and pain. "I never thought that anyone could be like that," she whispered, finishing her thought.
Then Legolas understood. She had never been in battle, she had never before met anyone who would take her life without mercy or regret. He had been in many battles and was more used to people like that. But the shock of this was new to Elizabette.
Legolas took one of her hands and laid it in his strong palm, setting the olva envinya leaves on the cuts and binding the hand with white cloth. He did the same to the other. Then he whispered softly,
"Nai i Valar envinyalyë."
"Thank you, Legolas," said Elizabette gratefully. "You saved my life."
"It is nothing." The elf packed away his herbs.
"What did you just say?" asked Elizabette curiously.
"In Elvish? 'May the Valar heal you.' "
Elizabette smiled slightly. "What did you say yesterday? 'Ni áva hanya..."
" 'Ni áva hanya maens ná anwa'? 'I cannot understand how it is possible.' "
Elizabette glanced over at the books, which lay by the tree. "Did you read the books?"
"I did. They are surprisingly accurate."
"What about the appendices? Is the Elvish pronunciation correct?"
"Mostly. It is close enough."
"Legolas... Tolkien says that the Wood- elves speak Sindarin. Is that true? The Elvish you have been speaking sounds more like Quenya to me."
Legolas was impressed. "You are correct," he confirmed. "I have been speaking Quenya. We Wood- elves spoke Sindarin during the second and third ages but we have been speaking Quenya during this age- it has recurred among the few of us who are left."
Satisfied, Elizabette glanced down at her bandaged hands. Legolas caught the glance and asked,
"Did that woman take the bandages that I gave you yesterday?"
"She tore them off and threw them onto the floor."
The elf frowned in sympathy. "With what did she make these slashes?"
"A riding whip." Elizabette shuddered.
"I pity any horse that goes near her," Legolas muttered.
"What's a horse like?" Elizabette asked curiously. "I have never been near one."
Legolas repeated incredulously, "You have never been near a horse?"
Elizabette was a little hurt. "How could I? I have lived here almost all of my life."
Legolas' look softened. "I apologise. I was surprised. My horse's name is Silrocca, which in my language means 'swift silvery horse'." He sighed heavily. "She is beyond my contact here." The last words were spoken so quietly that Elizabette barely caught them.
Casting about for another subject, Elizabette inquired, "Do you want to read more of the books?"
The elf shook his head. "No, I am finished. As a matter of fact, Elizabette..." He paused and she glanced up.
"Is something wrong?"
"Not at all. I have discovered in my memory a way to Middle- Earth."
"That is good," Elizabette replied flatly. Her real thoughts were not betrayed by her simple words. Now what will I do? she thought to herself. Now Matron hates me with even more fervor, and she will think of any excuse to harm me... I have no friends...
Legolas' keen blue glance caught her gray eyes. She felt that he knew or guessed what had run through her mind.
"Elizabette..." he said softly. "I want to ask you to come with me. I have witnessed the horrors the people here wreak on you, and I believe you have no reason to stay. What will you do? This woman that you call Matron will now take every chance to kill you. You cannot stay here safely."
Elizabette's eyes went wide and she did not speak. At first Legolas was afraid that he had hurt her, but his senses told him that she was merely surprised.
"But, Legolas..." she said after a moment. "This is my home. I don't belong in Middle- Earth. I would not fit in."
Legolas considered for a minute then asked, "Why were you crying the first day that I saw you?"
Elizabette looked down. She did not want to say it but when she looked up again Legolas was waiting.
"It doesn't matter," she muttered.
"But it does. Elizabette." He waited for her to look up.
She glanced at his blue eyes. He continued softly, "You can trust me."
Unwillingly, she told him, "The counselor shouted at me. It was unimportant- he didn't threaten me that time."
Legolas frowned. "Yes?"
"I ran into the woods and no one missed me." Sitting up and staring at him defiantly, she continued in a hard voice, "No one cares about me and I care about no one."
Watching her, Legolas silently marveled. She was fighting something. He wasn't sure what, but he knew that it was very strong.
Softly he whispered, "I care about you."
Elizabette's strong defiance vanished and she dissolved into tears. Legolas tried to comfort her but he knew not the reason for her tears.
When the tears subsided, he asked her what was wrong.
Elizabette looked up slowly. "D'you really want to know or are you just being polite?"
"I wish to know."
"All right," said Elizabette hesitantly. She began to speak of her childhood, what she could remember. She told him a little of the disease and described how her uncle had been the last.
"I was the only one to live," she said dully. "More than once I've wished I did not."
Cold anger of past hurts burned in her gray eyes. "I have long considered Matron a threat. She whipped me the day my uncle died, for crying." The anger faded, leaving only sadness. "I never forgot the pain..."
Legolas waited silently, saying nothing. After a moment she continued,
"And my trunk... My uncle sent it to me before he died. Matron locked it. I know not what it holds."
She looked away from Legolas, away from the orphanage, away from the world that she had known for ten years. Even as a child she had sensed the danger of that world, the coldness, the anger and hate. These merciless people would do anything for power, and the power that they got would to anything for them. Power stolen will break you. The phrase seemed to ring in her mind. The power had mastered them- making them more terrible then ever before.
Legolas watched her for a moment, then his gaze slipped inward. His mind unconsciously processed the information that he had gained. He had learned more than Elizabette had told him, his Elvish senses picking up the things that she implied or left open.
Suddenly he sat up. "The woman. Does she know what is in your trunk?"
"No. I am positive." Elizabette turned back to the elf, away from the clear world, new and unexplored. She faced the orphanage, ready and alert for any sign.
Legolas' gaze skimmed the trees. "There is one more thing that I desire to know. Have you been completely honest with me?"
"No."
He had thought not.
She continued after a moment. "I've told you no untruths, though I have left some things unsaid. No doubt you guessed some of these. But some of my memories I don't wish to speak of and some I can't. The pain is too great. Things that have lain hidden in my mind for years will not spring out for you when you desire it. Though I owe you my life and I think that I can trust you with it, some things are more important than my life, more beautiful and terrible at once, and I trust no one enough to speak of them." She half expected Legolas to be angry after that speech but she more expected that he would demand to hear the memories. She was surprised to see him smile, though the smile was tinged with sadness.
"Power lies within you, Elizabette," observed Legolas softly. "I will not press you to tell me if you wish not to. Yet I hope that someday you may trust someone enough to speak of these things."
Suddenly, the sun cut through the clouds in the overcast sky, sending shafts of sunlight down to the dark forest floor and dappling the leaves and moss with green shadows.
Sun shines through the darkest cloud... Her uncle's words. Indeed he had been correct.
"What did you say?" asked Legolas.
Elizabette realized that she must have mouthed the words. "Sun shines through the darkest cloud," she replied softly. "Those were my uncle's words. And he is right. I will come to Middle- Earth. But first you must tell me how we would get there."
"At my birth," Legolas told her, "a nítir, a seer- woman, was present. She was a mortal but she spoke Elvish fluently. She spoke in Quenya, which was strange to us at the time. I have set her words into my memory and I will never forget them. Translated into Common Speech, she said, 'Prince, you will render a great service for the land of Mirkwood and your people. You will help to save the land from a great evil that presses it down.' " Legolas paused for a moment. "Then, she spoke a rhyme. 'Use this when you are in great need', she told me, 'but you will use it only once.' The rhyme was:
"'The sun will shine bright, the winds will blow chill
Remember in need, when things go amiss
To carry you home, on the wings of the wind
And the shafts of sunlight will bear you gently.' "
The elf paused. "She then spoke the words that would bring me home. No one present was able to remember them, and never before have I remembered them. But now I know them, so I know that now is the time to use them." He spoke for a moment in his language, remembering, then finished, "'Valar hortanin már'." Sensing Elizabette's unasked question, he translated, "Roughly, it means 'I am in need. I have strayed afar; and I must not stay. I have remembered, I will remember, now I remember. Valar, send me home'."
Elizabette was silent for a time. "Are you certain that you can bring me with you? Did she say that?"
"No, but I am certain that it will work." When she still looked skeptical, he added, "Trust me, Elizabette. I am certain."
She shrugged and turned away. "When do you wish to leave?" she asked hesitantly a minute later.
"When you are ready," he replied.
"Soon, then. Matron will notice my absence and attack if she locates me. She will be after me as soon as break is over," she pointed out.
"Break?"
"This time right now- it is break... We're allowed to do whatever we want."
Legolas smiled teasingly. "And does that include fighting with the Mistress?"
Elizabette's silvery laugh rang out. "No, I think not," she answered, smiling also. Her smile vanished as a thought came to her. "Legolas, I must bring my trunk. I can't leave it."
Legolas thought a moment. "I agree. You are quite right. I feel that it is important. We must find a way to get it."
"Can't I sneak out later with it? We could leave at night."
Legolas considered. "Yes. That will do well. For now, avoid her. If she attacks you-" he broke off and opened his pack, riffling through it until he found what he was looking for. "-Take this." He held up a long white knife in a brown leather sheath. Its straight blade gleamed in the light.
"I can't hurt her," whispered Elizabette, entranced and horrified at the sight of the weapon.
"She would hurt you." The elf sighed. "Do as you must. But keep the knife hidden and do not let her get it. It was gifted to me by my father."
Elizabette was honored that he trusted her to borrow it. She slid it into the deep pocket of her jeans, where it lay hidden. She smiled at Legolas. "Thank you for lending it to me."
"You are welcome. Now you must hurry. Be careful, and bring anything that you need or want. I am not certain where in Middle- Earth we will end up, so we may need to travel."
"Yes. I'll bring what I can."
She hurried off, golden brown curls bouncing on her shoulders. Legolas packed away his things and slipped the books into his bag. They could be useful, and his father would be interested. Slinging his pack and bow onto his back, he glanced around before leaping nimbly into the branches of the old oak. He hung the pack on a sturdy branch and readied his bow. He had a premonition that he might need it.
---
Matron was not at dinner that evening and Elizabette was relieved. Nevertheless, she was on her guard and kept Legolas' knife in her pocket.
She ate quickly and hurried to her room to gather her things before Valerie and Amanda returned. She was fortunate. She was able to pack a few things into her backpack before they returned. She pretended to be studying her mathematics book as they prepared for bed.
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The sky slowly darkened. Legolas crouched tirelessly in the tree, his slender form blending with the tree in the dim light.
Elizabette should return soon, he thought. I only hope that she can escape without notice... He ran over the spell in his mind, then allowed himself to drift into a remembrance of his home.
---
It was dark. Valerie's even breathing filled the room and Amanda's snores cut through the quiet. Elizabette silently slipped out of bed and pulled her backpack onto her shoulder.
She carefully took hold of the handles of the trunk, and, glancing at the other two girls, crept out of the room and down the dark hallways. She tried not to make the slightest noise. Her whole body was tense and alert.
She made it to the doors without awakening anyone. She slipped down to the trees and ran light- footed to the old oak. It seems almost too easy.
A suspicion entered her head as she saw no one. Couldn't this be a huge lie? she wondered. But then Legolas whispered from above,
"Elizabette?"
"Yes, it's me."
"Do you have everything that you need?"
"Yes, I think-" Her eyes went wide as an image of the envelope and necklace sprang into her mind. "No! I have to go and get it!" She took off in the direction of the orphanage.
Legolas jumped down from the tree. "Elizabette, what?" he asked, but she was already gone.
---
Elizabette rushed back up the dark halls. When she reached her bedroom, to her relief, Valerie and Amanda were still fast asleep. She slowed her hurried pace and crept past their beds to her own. She stepped quickly over to where her trunk had stood and reached down for the envelope. She knew exactly where it was. Or should be.
It was gone.
---
Legolas pulled Elizabette's pack and the trunk up into the tree with his own. He was surprised at the weight of the trunk. As he settled back against the tree, hidden in the leafy branches, he again readied his bow. Things were not going well and he had a bad feeling that when Elizabette returned, the woman Matron would be at her heels. He touched the rough bark of the tree gently, feeling safe and at home. He could understand why Elizabette had fled to this tree. Its ancient knowledge calmed him as it often calmed her.
His thoughts drifted to his homeland. He could still remember Mirkwood when it had been fair and clean, but dark creatures had come and there was danger everywhere. They kept away from the palace, most of the time, but sometimes they came even up to the gates.
The dark sometimes depressed him. The trees were thinner around the palace, and there was much more light, but out in the forest everything was dim and gloomy. Whenever he left Mirkwood, he was amazed at the amount of light and warmth that did not exist in the forest. Even the trees seemed dull and depressed. They could no longer feel the wind and the thick underbrush choked their trunks and lower branches.
He glanced around the oak forest. The trees here were nice, but he hated the air that was laden with fumes and pollution.
He had liked Fangorn Forest, and had wondered more than once why no elves lived in it. The trees seemed happier and the Ents walked. Legolas enjoyed speaking to the Ents; they made him feel young again, for they were far older than he.
---
Elizabette glanced around frantically, panicked thoughts rushing through her mind. Matron has not been here, has she? She can not have been. The whole orphanage would be in chaos if they knew that I was gone. Suddenly, slicing through her frenzied thoughts, came a clear image of the envelope lying under her pillow.
Elizabette lifted her pillow. Of course, there it was. Now she remembered putting it there several days before.
She checked that the necklace was inside and slipped the envelope into her pocket. She gripped the handle of Legolas' knife and hurried back down the dim chill hallways.
The dreary stone halls seemed endless. Her light feet made no sound on the dusty floors and she made it to the doors without incident. Then, disaster struck.
---
Legolas' keen ears caught the soft sound of the orphanage door opening and closing. Then he heard a gasp. He assumed that Matron had been lying in wait for Elizabette by the heavy oak doors. He dropped lightly to the ground, running on silent feet to the forest's edge. Leaping into the sturdy branches of a tree, he crouched, bow ready, an arrow in his hand, listening for any sounds.
---
Matron stepped out from the shadows. She held her curved red blade ready in her hand. Elizabette could not help but gasp as she clumsily drew Legolas' white knife.
"I shall kill you now, my girl, and there is nothing that you can do about it," Matron whispered vengefully. "I do not know where that arrow came from but now you will pay for it and more."
More? What have I done to you? thought Elizabette. She glanced down at the sharp edge of the knife. Now she would have to fight.
If this woman had any sense, she thought irrelevantly, She would torture information out of me instead of killing me. But Matron was crazy and cared only to spill her blood.
Matron was about to slash Elizabette's throat when she brought up the white knife. Elizabette blocked the blow and pulled the knife away, feinting for Matron's head but then changing her angle and going for her arm. Matron did not expect this from an orphan and she reacted slowly. The white blade pierced her hand and she gave a great shout.
Matron again lifted her knife, but Elizabette brought up Legolas' knife and slashed the white blade against the red. The red knife was strong but no match for Legolas' white elf- blade. The white knife cut cleanly through the red blade and Matron's hand fell to her side, still holding the severed blade.
"But you are just a child... How could you have beaten me?"
Elizabette did not reply. In her roil of emotion, she could feel the power rising within her and she mentally seized it, twisting it into a knot so that it could not slip away.
"Go," she whispered fiercely, "or I will hurt you."
Matron did not move. Elizabette allowed the knot of power to loosen slightly, and the blade blazed with white fire. "Go," she repeated, "or I will hurt you." She brought the knife up and the blade gleamed, shining like a beacon in the darkness. Matron suddenly let out a yelp and took off toward the doors. Relieved, Elizabette allowed her power to escape and the knife stopped blazing. She ran to the forest, leaping over the branches that lay in her path. Legolas jumped down from the tree behind her, following the path to the old oak.
"Legolas!" she called softly. She stiffened with fury when there was no answer. Then, softly from behind her, he whispered, "I am here." He climbed into the tree, then jumped down with the trunk and the packs.
"Are you all right?" The white knife glowed in the moonlight.
"Yes," she replied. "But we must go. Matron will come after me soon."
"What happened?"
"I'll tell you when we're away from here. When we are safe."
Legolas shrugged and handed Elizabette her pack. She sheathed the knife and held it out.
"No, you hold it. I will need to concentrate," the elf told her. He shouldered his pack. "I will need to touch everything that I wish to bring with me... Otherwise it will not come. I also need to think of everything in my mind..." He spoke half to himself. He glanced around at Elizabette. "What did you go back for?"
"A letter from my uncle... And a necklace."
"Make sure that you have them."
Elizabette slipped her hand into her pocket. "I have them."
The elf held out his hand. "Take my hand. If we are not touching, you will get left behind."
Elizabette hesitated, glancing at her bandaged hands. They did not hurt much, but they were not healed.
"Be careful," she told him, taking his hand. She picked up her trunk with her other.
The elf took a deep breath and stood still. He thought carefully of the words, then summoned to mind pictures of everything that he wished to bring with him. Holding all of the images in his mind, he spoke the words, ending with,
"Valar, hortanin már!"
For a moment nothing happened. Then, with a horrifying jolt, Elizabette's hand was yanked from Legolas' grasp and they fell into endless blackness.
Legolas tried to catch Elizabette's hand, tried to call out, tried to listen for a call from her but he could not make his body move and the rushing in his ears drowned out all other noises. The wind howled, and the impenetrable blackness closed in on all sides.
-
First cliffie, hmm? What do you think? There was a lot of switching back and forth in this chapter... I don't know about that. Review, please!