Disclaimer: See Prologue. All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1

Murderer?

Katherine felt something cold against her neck, as she began to come out of her deep sleep. Her eyes slowly opened, and she screamed at what she saw. A pale hand clamped over her mouth to prevent her from crying out again.

A man was holding a blade against her throat, and covering her mouth. His blue eyes were dark with what seemed to be anger. His high cheek-boned face was stoic, his pale lips pursed. Silver-blonde hair fell past his shoulders. He was clothed in black looking pants, of a different style unknown to her, and an olive green tunic under a leather jerkin. To her he looked to be a strange renaissance man...

She struggled against him, not willing to be so submissive. He hissed at her in a language she couldn't recognize, pressing the blade harder against her throat; cutting into the sensitive flesh and drawing blood.

It hurt. And as much as she tried not to, she couldn't help but let her tears fall from her frightened eyes. She was scared beyond belief.

He said the same thing again, the dagger cutting deeper into her soft skin. His eyes scared her, as did his tone of voice.

"...Please..." she pleaded in a muffled tone, her hands trying to pull his away. "'et me go..."

At the sight of her tears, and the blood, he relinquished his hand over her mouth, but kept the blade where it was.

"What do you want with me?" she gasped, her tears glistening on her eyelashes. "I have nothing of value!"

"You are what is valuable," he snapped, trying to suppress his softer feelings, and not let down his guard. 'But she is so helpless... And afraid... How could she have done it?' His conscience chided. 'Looks can be misleading...' the bold warrior instincts reprimanded.

"Why do you want me?" she asked again, afraid to look into his eyes again.

"You are the reason for all my pain..." he said, watching the blood that slowly dripped down her neck.

"I do not even know you! How could I have done anything to you!"

"You carry his mark..." her captor said icily, nodding at her right hand. "You are the one I seek..."

Upon the back of her hand was a scar-like burn in the shape of an eye, with a slit pupil.

"It is a birthmark!" she lied. "Who are you? Why do you want to harm me?" she pleaded, feeling sleepy at the loss of blood. "Please..."

"You're the one who killed my mother..." he spat, resisting the urge to slash her throat.

"I've never killed anyone!" she cried. "Why are you doing this to me...? I never killed anyone..."

"You carry the mark! You are the one who killed her!" he shouted in rage, pushing the knife possibly harder on the already deepening gash.

"I swear to you! I didn't kill anyone!" She felt like she was about to pass out from the pain and fear. She had read stories about people held at knife-point, but she never realized how much fear seeped into your mind. The inability to move, the helplessness...

To her utter surprise, he pulled his dagger away, sheathing it quickly. She let out a startled gasp when she felt something like silk wrap around her wrists. He had bound her hands unnaturally tight with some kind of scarf.

She raised her hands to her neck, and drew them back. They were covered in her own crimson blood. She looked up at him in disbelief and hatred. His face remained a stoic mask as he scrutinized her with his deadly eyes.

This was too much... Her parents were dead... She was a captive of an insane knife wielding man with --- pointy ears? What the...

"W-Why are your ears like that?" she asked, reaching out involuntarily to touch one.

His hands wrapped around hers, almost breaking her wrists. She cried out in agony, feeling her bones on the brink of snapping in half.

"Do not play coy, murderess. You know well that the First Born have pointed ears," he spat, releasing her hands and pushing her back.

"Why do you do this to me!" she yelled at him, cursing herself as she felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes again. "I mean you no harm! I mean no one harm! And yet you hurt me and cut me like I am nothing but an animal!"

The man scoffed, getting off of her bed.

"Please! If you are going to kill me, then kill me now!" The man stopped suddenly at the bluntness of her words, his eyes slowly settling upon her as she continued. "Kill me so that I can die and be with my mother again! I've suffered everything else! So why don't you just finish where you started and end it!" She yelled at him, not caring if he turned and plunged the dagger into her heart. In truth, that was what she wanted... But he only glared at her. "No? Then if there's a way to prove my innocence to you, tell me!"

He approached her slowly, his hands reaching out to either side of her head as she flinched and tried to move away from him to no avail. He closed his eyes, and a look of concentration fell across his fair features. It was then that she felt a burning pain in her head. She whimpered against the sharp ache pounding throughout her skull. It felt as though her brain was being beaten relentlessly...

Memories flashed past her...

Her father beating her...

Him burning the mark onto her hand...

Coming home to find her mother dead...

Suddenly, the assault was over, and she felt herself falling forward off the bed in a fit of exhaustion, but a pair of stronger arms caught her, pushing her back up.

"I'm sorry..." came a soft voice.

She felt his soft hands undoing the bonds upon her hands. Opening her eyes, she saw his look of utter remorse as he pulled a cloth from his belt, and began to dab away at the blood. She hissed in pain, her tears slowly returning.

"Im hiraetha..." he said, in the same strange language.

"What?" she murmured icily, and then cursed at feeling the sting of some kind of cream as he put it on the deep wound.

"I said I was sorry," he said, finishing his work. She scooted far away from him to the opposite side of the bed. He had far too many weapons upon him for her liking. The dagger, a sword, an expensive looking bow, and a quiver filled with arrows.

"What did you do to me?" she asked, massaging her still aching temples.

"I looked into your past for the answers I sought..." She looked at him strangely. "I see that you told me the truth... Save for how you acquired this mark," he said, touching the scar upon her hand.

She jerked it away fiercely. "Not many people would want to say that their father burned a mark onto their hands."

He only nodded slowly, retreating away from her and standing up.

"You still haven't told me your name. Or how you got in here..." she said, wondering if she should call 911 or not... The nearest phone was out in the hallway...

The man with pointed ears gave her a genuine smile before bowing his head in formality, saying, "My name, fair maiden, is Legolas."

Edited: 3/04/06