Arien came to with a start, opening her eyes to complete darkness. The last thing she could remember was the thick fog surrounding her, and a dark shape whispering her name, but it had been hours from sundown. There should be light still.
The air in the room was still, the only sound her own shallow breathing. She tried to sit up but realized she could not move. Her limbs were locked in place, and though she could not see where she lay, she knew it could not be the mountain road they'd been traveling on. Icy stone pressed against her back, mocking her as she tried unsuccessfully to pull away from its cold embrace and break whatever spell held her captive.
Right, complete darkness, an immobilizing spell, the possibilities of what could be happening blew through Arien's mind in a flurry. What I really need is light.
She concentrated, cursing the spell that locked her hands in place, and after a moment she successfully summoned a small ball of light that hovered over where she lay.
She was in what appeared to be a strangely familiar, small room. The walls and ceiling were carved out of the same black rock that lined the mountain path- so she hoped that meant she was close to where she lost the others. She wondered if they were searching for her, or if they too were laying on a stone slab in the middle of the mountain.
The stone she laid on was long, and a plethora of shiny coins and jewels and figurines were strewn around her. Her dirty travel clothes were gone and she now wore a thin, white dress. Ornate rings decorated her fingers, and silver chains were woven like snakes about her wrists. But most alarming was the jagged dagger that was laid across her chest. She had seen drawings of similar blades, and they were never used with good intent.
Stories of ancient Barrow-wights had haunted her dreams for a time when she was young. Elladan took great pleasure in scaring her with tales of one fearsome creature or another, but none had stuck more than the Barrow-wights who could put you under their spell, drag you into their barrows, and kill you as a sacrifice to the darkness of Melkor. No one knew what they were, other than they had first been summoned by Melkor in the mountains of Angmar- and Arien knew those were not far away.
Fear stole over Arien as a cold murmur rose from the ground. The sound wrapped itself around where she laid, binding her even tighter to the sacrificial table. She knew in her heart that struggle was futile, that only a spoken spell could break this enchantment, but she could not move her mouth to speak. Still, she tried, reciting the memorized phrase over and over in her mind as the murmur grew. A second, higher strain joined it from somewhere above, intertwining with the cadence of the low rumble. Arien could not make out any words but realized she knew what came next, for the reason this room was familiar was the image that had played in her head many times over the past few months. This was the room where she had seen herself floating in her vision after the first attack from Thuringwethil.
But her thoughts about this revelation were cut short as an eerie green light appeared around the corner, its sickly color painting the walls as the murmur mounted in strength. Arien could do nothing but watch as a dark figure shrouded in robes entered the room. All she could see of their face were two shining eyes that looked through her with an unblinking stare that she knew was the last thing many victims had seen before they met death.
The temperature of the room dropped as it slinked noiselessly over the smooth floor. The light Arien had created disappeared, and all that was left was the faint glow from the figure's lifeless eyes. It came to a stop at the edge of the table, and Arien wanted to scream as a skeletal hand with nearly transparent skin reached toward her. She watched in horror as the hand wrapped around the hilt that lay in her own hands, and in one swift movement, cut her chest.
Pain numbed Arien's mind. The blade had gone deep, and the cut was long- longer than the length of her hand. Blood stained the white dress she wore, dripping quietly onto the stone table as the murmur in the air grew louder, turning into chanted words spoken in a foul voice.
"Boroft be doram agh zemar agh asht, agh boroft be jat lajak."
The room darkened as far away whispers echoed the chant. Arien could not decipher their meaning, but it made her feel faint, and she grasped desperately at consciousness,
From somewhere nearby, she heard a shout, and the unearthly scream of a Barrow-wight followed by several small crashes. Had someone found her?
Blood continued to flow from her chest as a small light appeared around the edges of her wound, drawing her attention. Arien watched and silently begged the Silmaril to stay hidden as another shrouded figure entered the room, and wispy, black wings unfolded from their back, filling most of the room: it was Thuringwethil.
"Now," Thuringwethil hissed, reaching a white hand toward Arien, her sharp talons glinting in the dim light.
The lock on Arien's voice suddenly lifted, and she cried out as pain ripped through her chest as if on Thuringwethil's command. Slowly, Arien began to rise in the air as the chanted words crescendoed. Her arms hung limp as she struggled to speak the words that would free her from the power of the Barrow-wight through her mounting pain. Tears fell freely down her face as a light began to shine from the cut, as had happened after the battle with Thuringwethil. The pain did not subside completely but was dulled as she watched the tendrils of light begin to heal her in earnest.
Light poured into the room, and the skeletal Barrow-wight screeched, disappearing from the room, but Thuringwethil stayed, watching Arien with hunger.
"Arien!"
Rian's voice seemed far away as Arien's vision began to darken, but a brilliant red light reached toward Arien from around the corner, and Rian followed a moment later, her sword in one hand and the other wrapped around whatever was producing the red light.
"Do you think you can save her?" Thuringwethil asked, not taking her eyes off Arien.
Before Rian could move further into the room, the light in Arien's chest pulsed once before rising out of Arien's chest. Rian swung her sword at Thuringwethil, pinning her to the ground with a hot blast of fire. But Arien could not watch for more than a second as pain erupted in her body. She screamed in agony, feeling as though her life-force had been drained. Why was the Silmaril tied to her in this way?
She forced her eyes open enough to see Rian move toward her and reach up to grab her limp hand. Arien gasped, falling onto the stone table with a crack as the spell that bound her lifted. She could not bring herself to sit up, her body drained of vitality, and another wave of panic set in as she wondered how she and Rian would get out of here.
"Thuringwethil," she whispered to Rian, her voice raspy.
Rian spun around to face the demon, who had moved nearer to the stone altar. Thuringwethil reached a hand out toward the light, and Arien briefly saw the stump at the end of her other arm- where Rian had cut off her hand.
"Take it," a low voice whispered, and Arien knew Rian heard it too because the latter paused, looking around. Arien could not see where it came from, though it sounded like whoever spoke was right by her ear. "Save it."
Arien knew the voice was talking about the Silmaril, and she summoned all of her energy to sit up and beckon to the light with her shaking hands. It floated toward her, vibrating with power, but just before it touched her hands, excruciating pain exploded across her back. She choked, unable to breathe as Thuringwethil screamed in her ear and fell onto the table beside her, cradling her smoking hand against her chest. Arien collapsed next to the demon, blood pooling around her body.
She lost track of what happened next, her vision blurring and focusing at random. Dizziness overcame her as she tried to push herself away from Thuringwethil and slipped in her own blood as sloppy curses fell from her mouth.
Arien could not remember what happened after that, but somehow Rian dragged her out of the mountain and back into daylight. Taelen and Hanna found them shortly after, the fog having dissipated to reveal their location. Arien did not speak as Taelen tried to heal her and barely heard Rian explain how she had followed the Barrow-wights after they'd taken Arien's unconscious form into their dark paths. All Arien could hear was the echo of her own screams in the dark chamber, and the weight of losing a second Silmaril to Thuringwethil was enough to send her drifting into welcome unconsciousness as her body gave out.
"I am glad you are going," Legolas said, handing Arien her bag of books, "but I, of course, am sad to say goodbye."
Arien hung her head a moment. She'd known this would come and had years of practice saying the same thing to Elrohir more times than she could count, but somehow this was harder.
"I want you to know I am flattered by your expression of affection," she blurted out, "but I regret to inform you that I am not able to return your sentiment. I have a duty to fulfill on Middle Earth, and then will be returning to my home in Valinor and-"
"Arien, can I not express that I will miss your company?"
Arien paused, trying to clear her throat as emotion rose to the surface. "I supposed that is alright."
"Will you not miss me as well?"
"Of course I will," she admitted without hesitation. "No one can scour a library as well as you when I ask about a topic from the second age."
"Oh, yes, my one true purpose." Legolas laughed, and Arien could not help but smile. She would miss him for many additional reasons, but none that she wanted to admit out loud.
"Arien?"
Arien stirred, clinging to the last moments of her last memory of Legolas. She shifted in the soft bed with a sigh as she pondered whether or not to ignore Rian out of annoyance that she did not know what she would dream of Legolas again.
Soft bed? Rian?
She opened her eyes with a gasp and sat up with difficulty. Not only was she wrapped in an unusual amount of blankets that weighed her down, but she was sore all over, like the morning after a strenuous sparring match. A slew of thoughts hit her all at once, and she tried several times to speak through the panic.
"Arien, you are alright, take a deep breath."
Rian was sitting in a chair next to her bed, and Arien realized she was in the tâlan she'd stayed in before their journey north.
"How.." she started to ask before reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table.
"Taelen said you would need lots of water when you woke up," Rian said, "and I fetched you out of the mountain. We brought you here as fast as we could."
Arien blinked several times. "You- you saved me?" The memory of Rian in the Barrow-wight's chamber was blurred.
"Why does that surprise you?" Rian crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.
"Sorry," she took a deep breath, "I am surprised to be alive. How did you get me out of the mountain? How did you make it past Thuringwethil?"
Rian fidgeted in her chair, unfolding and folding her arms a few times. "Thuringwethil did not try to stop me."
"What?" The word slipped out, little more than a whisper.
"I got there just before she attacked you- and I could not get to her before she had -but after her initial attack she just looked at me and left."
Arien winced- both in pain and at the memory of Thuringwethil's triumph. "She took another Silmaril."
Rian shook her head, "No, I did."
"Oh, Rian, you are amazing!" Arien nearly fell out of her bed. She let out a joyous laugh, reaching for Rian's hands with excitement.
"I cannot believe you saved it! I feared-"
"Why did she let me take it?"
Rian had leaned all the way forward in her chair, and she was looking at Arien so intensely Arien wondered if the curtains behind her would catch fire. But Arien did not want to answer as she suddenly realized what had happened. But Rian wouldn't betray them, would she? After the night she pulled Rian out of the water, and Rian was so adamant that she was not Melkor's kin, Arien had tried to put all thought of showing Rian Tárisse's book aside, and hoped the reveal could wait a week or two, hoped that Rian was true to the character she'd shown.
"Are you sure she knew you had it?" she asked.
Rian nodded and pulled on a thin black chain around her neck. At the end of it was a red jewel pendant, and shining in the middle of the jewel were two bright lights, swirling around each other in one, fluid motion.
"The Silmaril's light flew into this. I think it was the only vessel in the room, and there was no way Thuringwethil would have missed it."
Arien gazed at the light in the necklace- why were there two? She looked down at her chest, and peaking over the neckline of her nightgown was an angry red scar in the place where the Barrow-wight had cut open her chest.
"Taelen fixed you up as best he could," Rian said quickly, "but he said something about the cut being cursed or enchanted, not unlike the wounds from Thuringwethil."
Arien untied the top of the gown, allowing her to see further down. Reaching down toward her stomach, were five gashes, nearly healed, but just as red as the scar from the Barrow-wight. She swallowed hard, quickly tying the gown once more. Thuringwethil's talons had gone through her back to pierce her front. Taelen must have done some incredible healing. She should have died.
"Does Taelen still have a scar on his arm?" she asked quietly.
Rian nodded. "He said it has faded over time. But he managed to get all of the poison out when we reached Lothlorien. That is why we had to get you here so quickly."
"I was poisoned?"
"Yes. From your wounds, as well as something else he could not identify. How… how are you feeling?"
It worried Arien to think Taelen had reached a limit in healing, but she was grateful for what he'd done, and it felt nice to have Rian care.
"I feel alright," she lied. "I will think of your bravery in saving me every time I get dressed now,"
Rian blushed, though Arien was not sure why- Rian never took compliments seriously.
Just then, there was a sharp knock on the door and Rian rushed to answer it. She opened the door to reveal Legolas, who smiled when he saw Arien sitting up.
"I am so glad you are awake," he said. Arien returned his smile, her heart racing. She did not think she would ever see him again after they said farewell when she left Lothlorien in pursuit of her companions.
"Please come in," she said, trying to keep her voice level.
He walked past Rian, whose eyes had narrowed the moment she saw him. "Have you not spent enough time here over the past two days?" she asked, her voice more brusk than usual.
"You watched me while I was sleeping?" Arien said awkwardly.
Legolas had the decency to look embarrassed, and he came to stand at the foot of Arien's bed. "Most of my time was spent reading. It was quiet here, and even asleep, you managed to be good company."
"That is not…" Rian rolled her eyes, her voice trailing off with a sigh. "I am going to go tell Taelen and Hanna you are awake."
She left without another word, and Arien let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"How are you feeling?" Legolas asked, sitting on the edge of Arien's bed and drawing her out of her thoughts.
Arien made a face. "If I am being honest, my chest hurts like hell, but do not tell Rian I admitted that. I told her I am alright."
Legolas laughed, grinning as he looked at Arien. "I am just glad you made it out of there alive, but it is wonderful to know you are in good spirits."
"Do not underestimate my acting abilities." Arien shook her head, leaning back against the headboard. "I am distraught. I do not know what we can do from here. ."
Legolas nodded understandingly, reaching out to take Arien's hand. She thought about pulling away as he touched her, but could not bring herself to do so. It felt nice that he cared about her, though her guilt did not make that easy.
"You should not be so kind to me, I do not deserve it," she said.
"I do not know what you mean."
"When we last spoke," she explained painfully, "I told you I cannot give you more than friendship. I must fulfill my duty on Middle Earth and nothing more."
"Ah, yes, you did." Legolas pulled his hand away. "Forgive me, I shall be more restrained. I do not want to make you uncomfortable."
Arien wanted to take his hand back, an urge that surprised her, and yet didn't. She had thought of him often since leaving Lothlorien, and while she could not manage to say it out loud, it was all she could do to stop herself from jumping out of bed and running to hug him when Rian had opened the door.
"I am surprised Taelen and Hanna have not come running in yet," Legolas said. "They have been waiting nearly as anxiously as I have for you to wake up. Perhaps Rian got distracted."
But the door swung open before Arien could reply, and Taelen and Hanna rushed inside, looking like they had just seen a ghost.
"Arien, there is someone with Rian-" Hanna said.
"He is not an Elf." Taelen finished.
"What?" Arien pulled her covers off, stepping out of bed and immediately looking around for clothes or shoes as she tried to gain her balance by holding onto the edge of the bedside table. Legolas handed her a pair of boots that she started putting on, ignoring her lack of socks.
"She is just past the border of the city, we were there with Rumil, and she left, saying she would be back in a bit," Taelen looked like he was going to be sick, "but we followed her and saw him appear. She said a while ago her father visited her, but Arien, I read that book in your bag-"
Arien nearly dropped the tunic she was holding but did not interrupt Taelen.
"I think Rian is going to be in trouble."
"Where is the Silmaril you retrieved, Taelen?" Arien asked, pulling her tunic over her nightgown.
"I have it," Hanna said. "A few days ago, Rian said she should carry it, but after Taelen told me about the book, I took it back and replaced it with a regular stone."
Arien nodded, trying to take this information in stride as she wrapped her belt that held her sword sheaths around her hips.
"Legolas," she said, glancing at him. His face was pale, but he was listening intently, "take Hanna and Taelen to where we found the hollow trees just past the city's border. Then go to your companions and have them help protect the inner city if they are willing. Melkor should not care much about anything but the Silmarils, but I would rather not take the chance."
She turned to Hanna and Taelen after that, wincing as her ribs protested against all of her sudden movement.
"I need to help Rian, you need to protect the last Silmaril."