Chapter 7
The meeting continued well into the night. The topic of CarnimÃrë and its relationship to Sigrid was a fruitful one and wine and bread and cheese was brought to the table as they discussed. It was obvious that what had happened between the ring and Sigrid was something new, something best kept under observation for at least the coming days. They agreed that their party will stay in Rivendell so that the girl can be properly examined. According to both Elrond and Galadriel, they had never seen anything like it. Though Lady Galadriel had her theories and they seemed very fitting considering the circumstances.
"We all know magic rings have an ability to think for themselves and I think it is wise to expect the same with this one." The Lady began, rising from her seat in favour of absentmindedly walking around, probably an old habit.
She circled the table much like a shark but there were no predatory glint in her eyes but only that of contemplation. "I would theorise that the ring must have latched onto Sigrid's soul for a very good reason and it probably doesn't have to be a too complicated one either. We can entertain the idea that this daughter of men, doesn't have a drop of -what would be the old remnants of the Valar and even Eru himself- left in her blood. The song of creation, sung to wake up the race of men, the second borns -may have faded throughout the centuries but it is seldom we see someone that doesn't even have a shred of its grace."
It was as if she was singing the words and as her voice carried itself over the atmosphere, the rest of the nightlife noises seemed to fade away at its wake. Thranduil and Elrond were both judicious enough to listen when the highest and wisest amongst them spoke.
"When dealing with magic rings, we often believed that it would be an advantage to the wielder if he or she had been born closer to the awakening of their respective race, if only to have a drop of divinity from their creator, from such magic. If not that, then it was favoured for them to stem from a particular linage with its roots in magic. This has proven to be mostly true but I am willing to consider the opposite this time. Maybe the ring attached itself to Sigrid because of her very much ordinary nature, maybe that would make her the perfect host to possess. A descendant of the second borns with a whole body and soul, relatively untouched and not bound to the fate of Arda. The ring may just have found lots of empty space to take up and use. As such, Sigrid may be the unique opportunity for the to exercise its power to its full potential. To finally practise its nature." Galadriel's words sunk into the night air, filling up his head with enlightened thoughts, troubled as he connected the dots.
He decided to quickly voice his opinion before Elrond took the space.
"Living beings without an ounce of the creator's magic are rare, so rare that it has been believed to be unnatural. The magic of the Valar, of Eru, has been rooted into everything and everyone on Arda. It has been that way ever since the first song. Even though most of the magic are unattainable and locked away from the lesser creatures, such as men, it is still there. Are you insinuating that nothing, not even a small corn of magic exists in Sigrid?" his tone was respectful enough, hiding his rising bafflement.
"It is not completely unheard of... though it is a true rarity... this may be the reason as to why the ring is showing off new abilities not previously documented or even known of," Elrond filled in, his eyes far away, lost in deep thought as is quite typical of the high elf.
"It is a possibility we shouldn't skip over, we don't have any other explanations as it stands." Galadriel said again, coming to a stop and facing the moon, her back turned to them.
It actually made sense, not only that but this particular possibility opened up new doors. Maybe Sigrid was just the right person he needed to explore the ring further. His more inquisitive and calculating side reared its head. How fitting it would have to be that Sigrid had just landed in his grasp, it was almost suspicious.
"Nevertheless, our enemies know of the ring's potential, as in they seem to know of Sigrid... however they don't seem to know of the... entanglement between her and the ring seeing as they only had intentions of taking the trinket and not the girl," Thranduil mentioned, steering his mind in onto other matters.
"Yes, we should keep her close for her own protection," Elrond answered, giving voice to the elven king's thoughts but in no way was he about to let this valuable price stay in Rivendell.
The night sunk down in deep silence as the three elves concluded their meeting. Now as Thranduil sat in his guest chambers. He figured they would have to stay in Rivendell for at most a week, as long as it was needed for Sigrid to be properly examined. Still the whole topic of the ring brought a new perspective. With Sigrid as its host, the ring had exercised a new set of powers, not previously known. The theory that the ring could perform offensive abilities, such as leaving burn marks if it felt threatened, was a fitting one. In other words, if the ring's host, Sigrid was under ill will, the ring would step in and "protect" its perfect host.
That would explain why it seemingly turned on Sigrid herself when she tried to take off the ring back in Erebor. It would explain why it even burned her own sister when she came near as well as her father, not to speak of the bandits that assaulted her on their journey. One thing stood out though, a detail that didn't quite fit in with the rest. The ring had yet to hurt him. It didn't burn him back in Erebor when it had no problems with burning others. Of course that could be because of the enchantment he had to perform but he truly doubted that. Merely because it once again didn't do anything when he this early morning escorted her to the horses.
He had been mildly irritated about the fact that she wouldn't tell him what she'd seen in his own kingdom and thus he dug his nails into her back. Her pained squeal had been satisfying to his ears and not once did the ring act to protect its host. She did yield to him later though, showcasing that a little bit of force was necessary. He suspected the reason why it didn't hurt him, it was a sneaking idea of his. Thranduil rose from his chair, determined to test his theory out. There was something that bugged him about the whole ordeal and so he found himself outside her doors.
The locations of the girl's chambers had eluded him at first but he managed to catch a glimpse of something red faintly shining in one of the windows. She hadn't drawn the curtains properly and thus he saw her sleeping facade and pale hand, the ring glowing like a tiny star. Her door was unlocked, thankfully. It creeped open soundlessly and it remained quiet as he closed it as well. He made sure to lock it, just in case she decided to run. Not that she would get very far.
The room was quite big and luxurious enough to be befitting a guest of at least nobility. Now Sigrid did stem from noble birth, her grandfather being the late lord of Dale and soon her father will be the first crowned king of Dale, so the Laketown girl would soon take the title of princess. He only had to take one look at her youthful face to decide that such titles didn't fit her. She was born in Laketown, grown up amongst the poorest of the poor. She didn't have the attitude nor the posture to be anything more than that. That ring on her finger was the only thing which made her worth his time.
The moonlight gave the blue and white decor of the room an almost ghostly glow. The figure in the bed remained motionless, lest for the rise and fall of her chest. She rested on her back, her head slightly tilted away from his eyes. Her skin looked alabaster white in the moonlight. He strolled over to the window and blocked out the moon with the curtains. Strings of light still seeped through though, not leaving them in complete darkness. As he walked over to her sleeping form, he was struck with the fact that the shadows did little to diminish her pallor, the uncovered parts of her still stood out amongst the bedsheets. She seemed to be in deep sleep though.
Thranduil knelt down by her bedside and slowly reached for her hand, the one with the ring on. His fingers lightly grazed the smooth skin and the pointed knuckles before landing on the magical trinket. That red thing was warm to the touch, impossibly warm but it didn't do much to heat up the rest of the girls body. He would have thought her to be a corpse were it not for her moving chest and soft breaths. He was slightly irked by this... she was paler and colder than normal. That was an issue and she should get warmed up by the ring with all the heat it was producing... maybe it just liked to take its time? He doubted it.
Nevertheless, Thranduil decided to first try to pry off the ring, which of course didn't work. It still sat glued to her finger like a second skin... If he were to successfully pull it off, then surely parts of her flesh would come along with it, or maybe the whole finger. He wasn't about to try that. There simply has to be another way to unlink the two but after hearing Lady Galadriel's thoughts on it, he would have to take note of his own doubts. He slowly covered her hand with his and all of sudden, taking him by a surprise, those red marks appeared again. They rose up from her skin, lit up in redness and the ring pulsed like it was something very much alive. Like it was a small, blood-filled heart, slowly heating her cold limps up.
He could feel the ancient magic in the air around them, as it emerged from the ring in small waves, like it had spent centuries locked up and now it was finally roaming free. A thin veil of warm threads, invisible to the naked eye but still very much present, came down upon the two and the very air seemed to shift. He had never experienced something quite like it before. The red marks gleamed like tattoos and climbed their way up over her body like the branches of a tree, like heated veins. He could see strands of her hair rising up and floating as well as the edges of her blanket. The charm was that strong it seemed, it gave off this feeling of an eerie awe, something worthy of reverence.
Thranduil didn't know for how long he sat there, staring at the wonder before him. This reaction of the ring spurred on his own theory and he now wanted it confirmed. If she feels something, he is right and if not... it just wouldn't make sense. He took ahold of her wrist, turning it around and exposing the white skin there, shining with red symbols. His nails closed in around it, viciously digging into her skin until it turned into a bright pink. Sigrid jerked back, waking up from her slumber as a scream fought its way out of her mouth. He reacted quickly and latched his hand over her lips. Her brown eyes were wide like plates, filled up with tears as they zeroed in on him. Unbeknown to him, the girl was already looking for ways to escape.
...
Sigrid had suddenly been wretched from her sleep and thrown into a hurtful experience. She was confused with her newly awaken fuzziness but this much she understood: Her arm stung like mad and it was contained in an iron grip. She immediately sat up and tried to move away, her loud gasp morphing into a scream. She never got to voice her complaint for long though as a hand clamped down on her lips, reducing her voice to a muffled groan. The bed dipped slightly as he sat there on her bedside, holding her jaw shut. The force from his hand pushed her head backwards and into the wall. Everything made her skull throb and Sigrid was once again shocked by the sensation of pain, once again the ring failed her.
In the midst of her awakening, the blanket had fallen down to reveal her red-marked skin. She realised that the only clothing she had on was her sheer underwear and strapless bra. But she couldn't find herself embarrassed by that since there were much more pressing matters to attend to. Like how she was struggling to breathe from Thranduil's hold. As she stared up at him with tear-filled eyes, she kept on twisting and turning, in a vain hope for release.
Her fear for the elvenking came -piece by piece- rushing back and nearly knocked the air out of her. He was unpredictable, he wasn't at all like the kind elves she'd met here. He was something cruel, something deranged and the terrible scar on his face only emphasised that. She moaned and cried beneath his crushing hand, kicking her legs around and arching her back. He let go of her wrist and her right hand could finally join her other as they tried to pry his fingers from her mouth. Of course it didn't work. In the end, Sigrid had to force her body to calm down and become still and quiet for it was probably what he wanted from her. She could tell that from his impatient face, causing more trouble right now was not in her favour. Her hands fell away to grip the sheets and everything went still except for her erratic breathing. The marks on her skin flared wildly before disappearing once more. They held eye contact for what felt like hours, his one blue eye digging under her skin like a shovel. Finally he slowly let his hand fall from her face and Sigrid greedily took in large gulps of air. She felt like crying from the stressful situation.
"W-why...?" she stammered out between shaking gasps.
Thranduil sat quiet for a moment before finally uttering something, carefully, like he was choosing his words.
"I needed to test out a theory. The ring doesn't seem to do much to numb the pain when i'm the one hurting you, nor does it burn me like the others."
She felt like banging her head against a wall but instead she remained baffled and then, seething with anger.
"That much is obvious. Now that you have felt the need to disturb me like this, i hope you can just leave me alone."
She didn't mean for her words to come out like sharp needles but they did and it very much matched her inner feelings. He couldn't just barge in like that, not only was it improper and rude but he had pretty much assaulted her as well. Sigrid glared at him with both fear and anger. She wasn't going to change her perfectly reasonable attitude. Indeed, she roused the elven king's ill will but what did that matter, she was pretty sure she already had it in waves.
"Watch your tongue girl, you are absolutely not in a position to make demands and to think that i would listen to you is laughable," his voice hissed out like a snake and Sigrid became aware of how he seemed to creep closer by the second. Or at least, it felt like it, for all she knows her vision could be skewed. Trembling, she fumbled around to cover herself, drawing the blanket up to her collarbone. Then, it was like he snapped...
"Who are you to even speak to me without permission. You should be grateful for all the trouble i've gone through, all because you couldn't keep your fingers to yourself. You insolent, wretched, foolish little girl!" His voice rose with every word and she began to deeply regret her show of defiance. Her tears spilled forth once more as he ripped the blanket off her and she curled up into a ball, pressing herself up against the wall. "You should kneel down and kiss my feet in gratitude because without me, you would have been butchered back in Dale. Mark my words, if the ring didn't have such a special bond with you, i would have chopped off your fingers a long time ago. Regretfully, it seems to prosper with you as its host, feeding on you like a leech. How fitting it is that the ring won't do much to protect you from me, maybe it recognises its true master. That means I can at the very least cut out your tongue and finally be rid of your ill-informed and daft opinions. Truly, Sigrid Bardsdottir that ring is the only thing keeping you alive for i would have left you to die otherwise." His words pitched down into a whispered tune, low but curt, cutting into her bones with each syllable.
Her knees pressed up against her chest and she tried in vain to disappear inside the wall. His scar seemed to stretch and strain as his jaw moved, like it was alive and she could see the tearstained image of herself in his white, pupil-less eye. All throughout his speech, he'd leaned closer in, to her. His anger and hate seemed to vibrate from him and she could feel her ring now pulsing in sync with her heart. It was obvious that the anger he now showed, had been piling up in him for quite some time, like a seedling, growing and developing. Sigrid believed his every word and she had never been more afraid. That white light that enclosed him spun around like sharp edges, it was something lethal, something best kept at bay. More tears ran down her cheeks and she feared that the white edges would cut open her skin if they dared to stray any closer.
"I-I'm sorry, please... you... you shouldn't hurt me..." she stammered out, hoarse and meek.
Almost as soon as the words left her, she wanted to bite her own tongue off. It seemed her fear steered her every move. Apparently, she was all talk and no real action, no real backbone. All bark and no bite. The utter shame of it weighted her down deeply. He sat in silence and she watched as his eyes seemed to drop down and inspect her nakedness. A small sneer creeped up over his lips and she wanted to crawl out of her skin.
"I suppose you have been underfed your entire life."
She sat still, not really knowing where he was going with this. She doubted he had looked at her like that for the sole reason of commenting on her food intake. She really wasn't that skinny, sure she was slender but she still had some curves. Curves she tried to hide at this moment.
"Your father probably doesn't love you as much as you like to think if he fails to even provide for you."
She wanted to slap him to Erebor and back but managed to stifle the impulse, she didn't dare to do that. Instead, she merely glared at him, biting her lip as an attempt to stop herself from blurting out something stupid. It didn't work.
"My father is an honourable man and he would move mountains for his children if he could. Life in Laketown is not as luxurious as it may be in your palace. People didn't always get their fill and we actually had to adapt in order to survive," Sigrid bit out, trying to remain calm.
"Survive? You speak as if you know a great deal about it. You're too young to even articulate yourself properly, let alone grasp the real meaning behind such a word." His words cut close to the bone, he was looking down on her, berating her to no end.
She briefly wondered what she did to deserve such distaste from the elf before her. Thranduil's face stood out in the dark like a pale, pale skull. His one eye laid shadowed to the point where it didn't seem so blue anymore, it reminded her more of a deep, dark sea. The cold and rocky bottom of the ocean where even light must die. Sigrid knew she was treading on thin ice but if he tried anything, she could always scream for help.
"I survived a war." She found her voice again and raised her head high, meeting his gaze.
He only laughed at her. A deep rumbling sound, vibrating from his chest. Like storm clouds and his teeth shone white, like flashes of lightning. Even though he was horrendous, he was still beautiful, even with the scar. She flinched when his hand came up to grip her jaw, his fingers digging into her skin like they were made of steel. They were rough and calloused and not as warm as she thought elvish flesh would be. Galadriel's hands had been warm and healthy and soft, it was not the same with the elvenking. He reminded her of a hard and jagged stone, neither cold nor warm. Thranduil leaned down and for one panicky second she thought he would kiss her but his facial expression indicated none of that. This was only an intimidation tactic, nothing more. It had to be like that.
"I saved you from that war, you were hardly on the frontlines, Bardsdottir," he told her, barely a whisper.
Her bottom lip became numb once more as her teeth clamped down on it. A nervous habit, she would have to quit it, lest she wanted to walk around with torn lips all day. She thought she could see his eye following the motion, spying on it like a hawk. Then he let her go and rose from the bed. Sigrid let out a breath but didn't dare to do anything other than to stare at him. He seemed to be thinking of something, his thick brows furrowed up in a calculating way and his lips curled and thinned.
He cast his gaze down to her hand, the shining ring and as he stared at it, he said: "Stop biting your lip."
The words came out like a monotonous command. Her already pulsing ring spiked suddenly in a heat wave, causing her freeze up. Her jaw relaxed as her teeth removed themselves from the red flesh. Sigrid didn't know what to think of the ordeal, why was the ring acting up again? She gasped lowly and looked down at the red thing. The urge to keep biting on her lip was still there but... she couldn't act on it. Unbeknown to her, the elven king was nothing short of elated. The idea that if the ring truly recognised him as its true master, then maybe it would follow his orders as well - laid still fresh in his mind. After all, if the ring had truly bonded with Sigrid in such a manner, then she may as well be treated as an extension of the ring itself.
Commanding her seemed to have worked when he concentrated on the ring. The red flash that had radiated from it in that moment could hardly have been a coincidence. Thranduil began to test his discovery. Though, he had to think of something she would normally never do. But... did he have to focus on her ring all the time or could he just be loosely thinking of it? A leer spread over his lips as he realised this night would be an experimental one, full of new insights.
"Hold your breath." He said to her.
Looking down at her ring, he'd decided to proceed with the same tactic he'd used before. Mainly having his full attention on the trinket as if he was speaking to it rather than her, not that there was any major difference between the two now that he thought about it. The ring sparkled red again and he knew it had been a success. She was quiet for a few milliseconds before she realised she couldn't breathe. Not a sound escaped her but her eyes were the most wide he had ever seen. She looked terrified, her mouth stayed closed, sealed off and he could see how her chest weren't moving. She stood up rapidly, brown doe eyes flickering around as her hands cupped her mouth. A small whine could be heard in the back of her throat as she struggled for air. It must have blocked off her nose as well.
"Don't try to pry your lips open now," he said as he saw her fingers going over her closed mouth.
He had said so while only thinking briefly of the ring, only imagining that he had control over her. It wasn't much of an imaginary thing anymore. The ring repeated its sparks and her hands fell down, almost limp at her sides. He heard a muffled scream from somewhere behind her pinkish lips. She came over to him, or at least tried to before her legs failed her and she was left shaking on the floor. Her hands laid pressed up to her chest and neck and her pale face had turned red. He figured that was enough. He knelt down over Sigrid's writhing form, his fingers briefly touching her warm forehead. She would lose consciousness soon.
She was such a small thing, truly fragile like porcelain. Seeing this young mortal in such a pained distress made him think of death itself. Death was a given for the lesser races, a constant shadow and an unavoidable endgame. For immortals, it meant one thing and for mortals, something entirely different.
"You can breathe now," Thranduil said to the trembling Sigrid and she immediately gasped and choked as she greedily took in large gulps of air.
Sigrid laid there, exhausted, breathing heavily, probably trying to gather her thoughts. It was now when she laid arched and panting that her nakedness became all the more apparent, not that it wasn't before. He barely took any note of how his gaze would creep downwards and stop at her curves and when he did, he couldn't help but be noticeable vexed by that innate impulse. She wasn't ugly or anything near undeveloped and that fact didn't do him any wonders. It was a minor distraction but she was still a child, maybe not by human standards but certainly by elvish standards. He wasn't about to allow himself to have any such thoughts about a mortal child, at least not if he could help it.
He decided she looked pretty plain anyway... if one only saw her from the mere corner of their eye. Either way, considering the circumstances... he may have to get used to her. This new enlightenment of how the ring only answers to him, is not so easily forsaken. He could use this to his advantage and if there was anything Thranduil enjoyed, it was being in control. Maybe he even enjoyed it too much. Nevertheless, he disliked the thought of having to regulate any minor ticks or behaviours of himself, mainly because he already did it so much already. Self-discipline was something he had learned when he was quite young and over the years, he had grown quite good at it. Although, he would have to admit that it was easier to control others than himself...
He once again found himself eying her slim waist before determinedly dragging his gaze up to her face, subsequently landing on her lips. Oh well, it hardly mattered where he looked ...as long as he thought nothing of it. Not that he could do much about his unconscious thoughts anyway, he was a master at lying to himself.
"H-how?" Her weak little voice rang out, eyes brown and bloodshot.
He smiled at her and took ahold of her arms.
"It would seem that the ring knows to whom it belongs. It recognises my bloodline."
Dragging her up from the floor, he lead her over to the bed again, promptly pushing her down on it. Sigrid was still in shock, she felt utterly tense and well beyond frozen, confused above all else. As soon as she came in contact with the bed she quickly slipped down under the sheets, maybe for warmth, maybe for a false sense of security.
"I don't understand... how could it-it control me like that?" she whispered out, curling up into a ball under the blankets.
Sigrid felt like crying, she could still feel how that accursed thing had taken ahold of her... her muscles, her limbs. A melting heat had rushed through her veins and it kept her in place, like shackles as something else steered her every move, invisible strings. Looking up at the elf standing before her, she knew that something terrible had just occurred but she dared not to say it out loud, as if that would make it all real. Was she nothing but a slave now? Did the blasted ring posses her just as much as Thranduil apparently possessed the ring? What if the bond between her and ring couldn't be separated? What then? She knew If she kept circling around in this thought process, she would start hyperventilating and that was the last thing she wanted with him around. She needed to tell Lady Galadriel about all of this... she needed to tell someone.
"Sigrid," a voice broke out through her rapid thoughts and she blinked up at the elven king. "You cannot do so much as utter a single word about our little meeting here, not to anyone or anything. It won't work now that I hold this sway."
His hand reached down and caressed her cheek, his knuckles felt like hard stones against her skin. She felt those shackles return as they skimmed over her mouth, invading her insides. Her tongue was tied in a hard knot and she wide-eyed stared at him. She knew it, she didn't stand a chance against this... this power. This strange, strange will the ring seemed to possess. Sigrid breathed heavily, peering up at his looming posture. The scar on his face almost seemed to change shape, morphing into a cruel grin. Now she cried.
"Not a single word Sigrid."
"Yes," she whispered out hoarsely, tears running down her cheeks like they were fleeing her body.
Thranduil gave her a smirk and before letting her go, he leaned down to her frightful face and whispered: "Good girl".
Then he left, gracefully and silent in the blink of an eye. Sigrid did not sleep that night and as soon as his footsteps had dissolved completely into silence, she let out a breath and immediately started sobbing.