Chapter 5 (Kili)

Being locked up in cells under Thranduil's command could be a lot worse, despite the fact it's cold and dark down here and it's kind of a big inconvenience to our journey, what with having a deadline only a few days away. That's more than a big inconvenience.

I have a cell right next door to Morgan.

Our cells are separated only by iron bars, and I watch warily from my position on the floor as she paces around the room, humming to herself. She's nervous. Something tells me she doesn't like being trapped. Well, I don't either, but at least I can sit here staring at her without feeling guilty about it because there is literally nothing else to look at.

She hums to herself as she paces, too soft for anyone to hear but me, although I do not recognize the tune. I never much had time for music. She sits down after a few more laps of the tiny cell, and hugs her knees to her chest. I look at how fair her legs are, flawless and pale in the darkness that's only made light by the slimmest streak of moonlight. She has stopped humming now, and rocks gently back and forth, arms still wrapped around her legs.

She's cold. I can see her shiver; almost feel the vibration in the air from it. She has no coat. I wonder if I can give her mine, but the gaps between the bars are too thin to fit my thick coat through. I sigh in exasperation, and she glances over at me in amusement. The way her lip quirks up at the side, curling just slightly, makes my insides squirm somewhat, although I manage a sly smile back at her. She opens her mouth to say something, and I can see two rows of tiny white teeth. But she never gets the chance, because the door of her cell opens, making both of us jump.

It's Legolas. And here I thought the bastard might finally leave us alone.

"I thought you might need something warmer."

His voice is serious and still possessive of that cold disdain that makes me scrunch my nose up in dislike. He appears so uninterested and aloof, but the kindness in his gesture is audible and I hate him for it. He hands her a coat – not his own, at least – and stares at her.

Oh please. I already called permission on staring at her. That's my job.

She's staring back, and her expression is unreadable. Her hand is on the coat, but she doesn't take it, and I can feel the unspoken question hover in the air of the cell. Why is he being so charitable to her? Surely it is not usual procedure for a prisoner to be given warmer clothes so they don't suffer. I doubt Thranduil would be particularly thrilled about Legolas handing out comforts to his prisoners.

Or just one of his prisoners. One who happens to be an extremely pretty and indescribably unusual girl. Ulterior motives? I wouldn't doubt it for a second.

Finally it registers on his face that she is asking him something, even though either of us have yet to hear her say a word. He's slow, isn't he? I can read her face quicker than she could actually talk, I'm sure of it.

"You're…not used to this world, and aren't dressed as we would be, so it is…natural…that prisoner or not, you should be given something more appropriate and comfortable for you."

I can't help the snide remark that comes out under my breath. "I didn't know comfort was a primary concern of you elves, especially regarding us lowly prisoners."

Legolas looks at me for a minute, a few blinks the only betrayal of thought on his face. Though she is now staring at the floor, I can see Morgan fighting a smirk off her face. Then he turns his gaze back to her in dismissal of me. "She is not from this world, nor has she committed any crime, yet she is locked up here for mere association with you. If you're questioning my actions, maybe you should question why you involved her in this mess in the first place." And then he drapes the coat around her shoulders without her response, and I know he has won.

Defeated, I just turn my head towards the ceiling with a sigh and scowl at all the little chips in the stone surface. Morgan is still watching Legolas curiously, I can see from the corner of my eye.

She cocks her head to one side, and the movement is so quick and unusual it somehow conjures the image of a bird examining a worm. I smile to myself. The minute her little pink mouth opens, I know Legolas is in for it.

"If you're so sure I don't belong in these cells with the rest of these…wrong-doers…then why don't you release me, or let me stay here in more desirable conditions?" Her voice has only the slightest edge to it, an edge from humour or contempt or anger, I can't quite tell. Her eyes are piercingly bright as she stares up at Legolas.

His brow furrows, clearly not expecting her to be so forward. She is not demanding as such…but she is by no means subtle. "My father would not allow it," he says, and this time his voice is less formal, and we can actually hear the emotion there.

"Perhaps if you asked very nicely," she said with a smirk that could be mistaken for flirtatious, but the look she shoots me just quickly if full with amusement. She likes making Legolas squirm in all awkwardness.

"If only it were that simple," he replies, and turns to leave, although his blue eyes still linger on Morgan.

"Maybe you're making it more complicated than you have to." Surely she does not mean to tease him so, but I can't help keep the laughter from my eyes at the way their exchange is turning out.

When he glances back, having reached the door of the cell, there is annoyance on his face, mingled with reluctant admiration. Funny, how someone as cold and boring as him can actually summon some decent emotion when he wants to. This amuses me too. "Maybe, but you cannot pretend you are making the situation any easier for me," he says, and his tone is final.

"Easy is boring," she mutters, under her breath, but both Legolas and I can clearly still hear, and she must know this.

Legolas has turned his back now, having shut the cell door behind him after a last exasperated shake of his head, to which Morgan flashes a cheeky grin. Her teeth are sharp and blinding, and the mock predatory feel of her expression is bewildering.

"Thanks for the coat!" she calls after him in a sing-song voice. I have to admire her then. I can't imagine any other female creature that could get under Legolas's skin so easily, and she does it almost half-heartedly. When she throws a gaze back at me, fierce and beautiful and half-laughing, I can't decide if I love her or hate her.