Weeks she remained in her cell, wondering where Thorin and the others were. The elf prince would visit her often, though they hardly said a word to each other. As understanding as he was she frightened him; she was wild, untamed, dangerous. She had proven as much when she'd almost killed Tauriel. But even when she was at her angriest, which he learned was when she was most sad, he knew she would not harm him. It made no sense, not if what his father and Tauriel said about her was true – but he could not see the evil creature they did. All he could see was the unbearably sad woman who hid behind a dragon's facade.

It was to that why he continued to visit her, doing no more than standing or sitting in front of her cell and watching her as she looked back. She would sit in the light of the flame and stare just as curiously at him as he did at her, but no questions were asked and no answers were given. All the understanding in the world would not allow him to forget the screams of his kin as she burned them, the terror he had felt when he thought she would kill him. He did not know if he had forgiven her, if he ever could, but he did not hate her for it.

"What is your name?" he asked after three weeks, one of the only times either of them had spoken.

"Did Thorin not tell you?" she asked, her tone bitter but her heart sad – it confused him to hear and see all the non caring in her eyes and body, but such overwhelming hopelessness and grief rolled from her in waves.

"He would not speak of you," Legolas answered honestly, seeing that had surprised her.

And it had. She had not thought Thorin would keep his knowledge of her silent, would not tell Thranduil what he knew of the dragon woman if only to spite her.

Legolas sat waiting for her to say something, anything really; something cold, crude. But she said nothing. "You will not tell me?" he asked, finding himself desperately wanting to know.

"I do not know yours," she retorted. It was an intimate thing to know a person's name, as strange as that seemed. She kept herself in secret, not trusting harm would not befall her if the wrong person knew who she was.

Legolas stared at her, just sat blatantly staring at her pretty face. Her skin was not as golden, it was paling; she should be outside, he thought, flying in the open sky. "I am Legolas," he told her simply.

She looked over at him surprised he had so willingly gave her his name. He should not trust me, was what she was thinking, there is no good in me.

"You will not tell me your name?" he asked when she turned away from him. He sighed as he stood, feeling hurt that she would tell him something so simple as who she was. And so he left.

He did not return for four days, she was surprised by how much she felt his absence. It resonated in her heart and never before had she felt so alone than she did sitting in her dark cage. She was ashamed at the hope that bloomed in her when she heard his footsteps, having come to know the sound of his movements on the cave floors as he came to her.

She knew the moment she saw him that he was leaving. His bow and quiver were on his back, his clothes ones for battle. He said nothing as he stood before the door of her prison, instead he simply looked at her. She moved to stand directly in front of him, the only thing separating them being the wooden bars. "You will not let me go," she said rather than questioned, knowing it to be true. He was leaving and she would remain.

"It is not my decision," was his only form of defense.

"And if it were?" she asked looking up at him, wanting so much for him to say he would. It broke something in her that he answered nothing.

He felt it. The moment despair took her and she made to back away, realizing if he were to let her go he would never see her again – a thought he almost could not imagine for there was still so much he did not know. "Please," he said softly, wrapping a hand around one of the bars as he stepped even closer. He was utterly surprised at the feeling of her fingers on his, of the warmth he could feel in her skin.

"Erytheia," she said so softly he almost did not hear it.

He nearly smiled, would have smiled. But another voice took him from her. "We are leaving."

Legolas watched as Erytheia released his hand and melted into the shadows of her cell. And then he followed Tauriel out of the caves where Erytheia was yet again left behind.

…

She was going mad with silence, with no company; without his company. The same elf gave her food everyday, spending no more than ten seconds near her before he left. She did not know how long she sat there alone in the dark: days, weeks, months, years, an eternity.

It had really only been more than a week, but trapped in an unending cycle of lonely darkness it seemed dying would be the only peace she would find. But it was not her time to die. Instead she was left in a shocked stupor when the elf unlocked her cell and bid her follow.

The sun was blinding after such a time without light, and she had to cover her eyes for several long moments before she could see anything at all. And she was shocked even more when she saw who had ordered her released. "Beorn?"