The approach of Angrendir had been spotted by the elves of Ithilien a day before his arrival. The elven soldiers who were stationed at their outposts high above the ground and kept watch at the perimeter of the city, had come to his aid. Angrendir was visibly shaking from exhaustion and collapsed upon the ground as they reached for him. Riding hard, they had traveled swiftly to the safety of the settlement. The elves prided themselves in their beautiful kingdom amongst the trees; it had been rebuilt it to its former splendor, now known as the fairest country in all the westlands.
Once rested, Angrendir gave his ruler, Prince Legolas, a detailed description of the events that had transpired. Legolas had listened very closely; and found his tale difficult to believe. Yet, the slumbering form of Lady Galadriel within their midst was sobering. A sense of foreboding and intense worry filled him as he surveyed her familiar delicate features.
It was astonishing for him to witness the presence of the Lady of Light here in Ithilien when he had physically seen her depart the shore of Lindon towards the Undying Lands. What did this mean?
Galadriel had obviously been placed under a dark spell, one she could not wake from. What did her presence here mean? It left him deeply concerned. He required answers and the only one who would be able to give them was the unidentified elleth who lay injured and unconscious up within a secluded talan on the outskirts of his city.
A soft knock came from the door and legolas was brought out of his thoughts, "Enter."
A tall but slender ellon wearing a faded light gray and green tunic and smelling of dried herbs made his way inside and bowed to Legolas.
"Faervel, how fares our guest?"
"She has regained consciousness, my lord. Her physical wounds are healing well, yet... she is clearly distressed. I do not sense any ill will from her, she seems genuine in her plight."
Legolas arched an eyebrow, "And pray tell me, what that may be?" He leaned against the wall, cupping his elbows, waiting patiently for the answer.
The healer shook his head, confusion visible in his light brown eyes, "She refuses to reveal anything about herself or where she ails from. She's been inquiring about Lady Galadriel's well-being. Her tale is outlandish at most and does not make much sense."
Legolas stared out one of the large crafted window for a long moment and shifted his weight onto his feet.
"Bring me to her, Faervel. We've waited long enough, it is time for answers."
"Yes, my lord."
Legolas took hold of his bow and readied the quiver of arrows on his back as he left with the healer. They swiftly travelled to the outskirts of the city where the foliage grew thick and trees were knitted close together. They climbed up.
The talan was small and rudimentary. It was dark and his eyes took a short moment to adjust. He noticed the elleth sitting on the woven cot, her slender arms hugging her knees, her green almond-shaped eyes piercing the darkness were looking straight at him.
Faervel brought his palm up in greeting, and she nodded slightly. "Isha, may I present you Legolas, ruler of Ithilien. He is our leader and you may show him the utmost respect when speaking to him."
The stranger named Isha kept her eyes trained on him, reminding him of a cornered animal.
Legolas, pressed his hand against Faervel's shoulder. "Thank you, friend. I shall speak with her alone."
"My lord. Good day, Isha," Faervel bowed and left the talan.
Legolas waited until he knew Faervel was out of earshot. He was now alone with the peculiar elleth. He was intent on getting some answers from her. She wore the same strange garments they had found the Lady of Light wearing. While she was unconscious, Legolas had inspected the makeshift of the smooth, stretchy fabric hugging her figure and had come to the conclusion that no one in Arda would be able to replicate such intricate weaving. This added to his growing concern.
Now that she was conscious, he examined her. In this moment, she looked young, vulnerable and lost. She had the fair features of his kin but everything else about her was strange to him.
Sensing no immediate threat from her, Legolas smiled and approached her carefully. He came to sit at the foot of the cot by her feet. Isha watched without a word or moving an inch.
"Greetings, Isha. You have a beautiful name."
The elleth looked away, her fingers tugging at a light strand of hair. She wore it much shorter than was customary for his kin, the front was fringed, it came down to her eyebrows and parted to one side.
"Thank you," she replied in a whisper.
Legolas noticed the strange accent as she spoke the words in sindarin. Where did she ail from, he wondered. He'd have to choose his words wisely.
"The Lady of Light is safe. I would like to thank you personally for lending her your protection."
Legolas didn't let any emotion show on his face. Isha stared at him, he noticed the pulse in her neck quicken, the sharp intake of breath and the dilating of her pupils. He was correct in his assumption from reading her body language, she had aided the Lady of Light and this revelation that gave him some relief.
"Were you able to wake her?"
"No. Whoever put this curse on her, has a power beyond our comprehension. Where do you ail from and why was Lady Galadriel found with you?"
The elleth's shoulders sagged, her head lowered and hid her face into her knees. Locks of straight silver hair spilled over, shielding his view of her face; she was visibly trembling.
Her distress was palpable and genuine, he felt pity towards her.
Inching closer, his gentle heart reaching out to hers, he touched her forearm, "Isha, I need to know. Please, explain to me what happened."
Isha inched away from his touch, her eyes puffy and red. She remained silent, weighing his words. Finally she spoke in a low whisper, "No."
Legolas grabbed her small hands in his and held them tightly, his eyes trained on her. "Isha, you must. Lady Galadriel's life is on the line. We deserve answers."
Isha shook her head slowly, "I have nothing to say," she pulled her hands from his.
Legolas examined her for a long moment. She obviously had her mind set on not divulging any information to him. She was obviously frightened. His mind went to his father, who would have none of that insolence and disobedience. His father, The King of Eryn Lesgalen would forget about her and let her rot in a cell. But Legolas wasn't so cold-hearted, she needed some time with her own thoughts and he would do just that.
"You shall be confined here until you tell us what we need to know," He said calmly.
Her jaw set, she looked at him with defiance without saying a word. Her green eyes told bounds.
Legolas understood he had overstayed his welcome. "Alert me when you have a change of heart. In the meantime, Faervel will be keeping close watch over you. If you need anything, you can ask him."
With that, Legolas turned around and left the talan, disappointment weighing heavy on his heart.
Days trailed into weeks. As the harsh, poisoned winds of her withering world, Isha felt brittle while an all-encompassing emptiness ate her inside. Her physical wounds were rapidly mending but she felt as if all life had been sucked from her body.
She leaned against the wall of the wooden shelter which had been built high up among, large sturdy tree branches. Strands of gold and silver danced around her in the cool wind. She liked the feel of the smoothness of the wood under her fingers. Never in all her 400 years of existence would she thought she'd be witnessing so much vegetation. This was a paradise. Yet, it stirred no emotions. Only a never-ending numbness.
She let out a small sigh, barely holding her balance teetering at the edge, hundreds of feet above ground. Isha could bear the numbness no longer. She'd end her own suffering - a fall from this high up would kill her instantly. This time there would be no technology to save her.
Besides being their prisoner, the people here had been nothing but kind to her, if not a bit suspicious. Everytime she noticed the healer Faervel climb up the, 'talan' as he called it, to check on her - her breath caught in her throat. His bright eyes, light hair, fair skin and gently caring nature reminded her painfully of her own people. It hurt to see Faervel take care of her so selflessly, she, an outlander. She didn't deserve his kindness. She didn't belong here and of that she was certain now.
Her own reality was no more. Her world destroyed by something out of the depths of nightmares.
With Galadriel safely amongst her own, Isha could finally disappear.
She closed her eyes. It would be all over soon.
Faervel had sensed something was amiss the minute he awoke from his reverie. The gentle wind, made him shiver and the souls of the tall trees around him were tense. He had a troubling vision, one he had to heed.
With purpose, the elf, quickly made his way to the large elegant talan designated to his lord and leader. As if sensing his arrival, a tall elf dressed of browns and greens armed with his two knives and of his bow came out of the residence and met with him. A grave look was upon him.
"My lord-"
"There is no time. Let's make haste," Legolas replied with a stern look.
Faervel nodded and followed his leader, closely. They were headed to through the outskirts of Ithilien, where the trees grew as tall as castle towers and tightly knit together. Faervel, feeling the exertion in his limbs, struggled to keep the pace.
Thankfully, they had finally reached their destination. Peering up, Faervel's sharp eyes could make out the lonely talan through the thick foliage. To his alarm, he recognized the feminine form teetering upon the edge with arms extended by her side from high above. He understood why he had been called here.
Legolas had already leaped up, and was effortlessly climbing the nearest tree. Faervel followed him, but his eyes were trained on Isha. He prayed to the Valar for her protection. During the past week, he had noticed her further escape inward, the light and luster in her eyes disappeared. She refused any form of nourishment and he had known that she was slowly fading but he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself.
Faervel felt a terrible sadness encompass him. As a healer, life was most precious. He recognized Isha as his kin, and treated her as he would his own. He had failed her. His breath caught in his lungs as he saw the slender form slip from the talan and plummet to her death.
In a blur of movement, Legolas collided with her and was now hanging from a tree branch with an arm slung around the elleth's waist - the strain visible on his face. He scrambled onto the top of the branch and pulled the elleth onto him, clearly shaken.
With relief came renewed strength and energy. Faervel lent his aid and both he and Legolas were now standing safely on the ground with Isha, who was dazed and half-conscious.
Faervel knelt and took her face into his palms.
"Child, we have you. You are safe, now."
"None can ever be safe from him," she whispered, her eyes were unfocused and closing.
"Who, child? Who?"
"Morgoth."
Both wood-elves gasped in horror.