When the prisoner came to, she realised that she was in a clearing. All around her were the elven soldiers of Mirkwood. Looking at her hands and legs, she was surprised to see that she had not been bound. She heard voices and perked her ears. "There is no need to bind her. She is very weak. I suspect she has been injured. We have taken her prisoner, we will question her. She is an elf."
"I do not agree, Commander. She was with the Orcs. She could very well be a spy. We ought to kill her," this time the prisoner looked carefully and realised that it was the female soldier. The prince was agreeing with her. "At least, remove her veil." It was the Prince's demand. The prisoner sighed. Well, at least the elves would kill in one fell blow. The pain would be less.
"There is another matter that needs to be discussed, Commander. Are we leaving the dwarves to die? Will we not go to their aid?" It was the female soldier again. "This evil will spread and will come back to attack us. Are we such cowards?"
"That is enough from you, Tauriel," the commander appeared to have reached the end of his patience. "Our King has his reasons and he will not be questioned. We know what we are doing."
So, her name was Tauriel, the prisoner surmised.
"Then, I am going. I will not disown the dwarves," it was Tauriel again. She was already leaving.
The Commander did not bother calling her. He turned to Legolas, who hesitated for a moment before moving to follow Tauriel. "Don't you want to know what happened?" the Commander was talking to the air. The pair had already left. This time, the prisoner saw the frustration and the hurt in the Commander's eyes. He had not been bothered by Tauriel's actions but apparently, the prince's rebellion hurt.
As the prisoner watched the pair leaving, she sensed a third pair of eyes watching them or watching the Prince, precisely. The King Thranduil was watching in anguish as his Prince left. Seeing his King's face, the Commander moved to call the Prince only to be stopped by his King. "We have a land to defend. We had best see to it." The King's words were soft and his eyes did not meet his Commander's.
The King turned around, looking at nothing in particular but the prisoner was quick to look down so as not to attract his attention. "She must be cold. Her clothes look thin. She looks like a skeleton herself. Whoever she is, we gain no pleasure in her suffering. Do you have a cloak for her?"
The prisoner heard the Commander sigh as he answered his King, "I was bringing it to her when Prin …. Will we remove her veil?" The King appeared to give it thought. "We ought to but not now. Let us return to the safety of our land first. For now, I believe she is too weak to do any harm."
The Commander must have agreed for he changed the subject. "Have you eaten, my lord?" The prisoner kept still as she felt the Commander wrap the cloak over her.
"I am not hungry, Aradan. Is she still unconscious?"
"She has not stirred yet but I think not, my lord. She must have come to by now." The prisoner heard the warning in the Commander's words to her and to his King. They would be careful around her anyway, regardless of whether she was conscious or not. The Commander came near her and she made no attempt to hide the fact that she was conscious. Thankful for the cloak, she pulled it closer around her. The Commander handed her a bowl. This time, she was surprised though she ought not to have been. The Elven King had never been known to be cruel. The bowl contained warm soup and she was given a slice of bread to go with it. Just touching the bowl, the warmth of the food, seemed to add to her strength.
Turning away from them, she eagerly ate the food. Long had it been since she had relished such a delicacy.
The King and the Commander had moved away from her, leaving two guards near her. She ought to tell them that she could hear them but she was too tired now. They were wondering why she had helped them and how she had handled the King's sword with ease, concluding that she must be a skilled warrior whoever she was. That bit was true, she thought mirthlessly to herself. But her skill had not been enough to protect her. Nay, the truth was she had not been that skilled before entering Dol Guldur. It was in the loneliness of that hell that she had honed her skills in the one hope that she would one day use it to destroy he who had destroyed her. Aye, she was vengeful and her thirst would only be satiated when Dol Guldur fell.
As the prisoner finished her food, she drank the water that had been placed near her. Sighing in satisfaction, she turned her eyes towards the stars. Gazing upon them, she said a blessing for the kindness that had been bestowed on a mere stranger, a possible enemy. Tucking the cloak around her, she leaned her head against the smoothness of the rocks and closed her eyes. Near her, a butterfly hovered. It would inform her if any danger arose.
It was not dawn when she stirred. Her head and body were throbbing in pain and she felt as if needles were piercing her womb and abdomen. She was used to such pain but how was she going to walk without showing her pain. Somehow she had to manage. Feeling wet, she looked down and saw the blood flow from her thighs. She ought to have known. The wildmen had been merciless and Azog had been particularly cruel. Her body had endured the pain whilst desperate to escape. Now, that she had let her guard down, her body too was demanding respite.
She tried to stand up noiselessly, ignoring the excruciating spasms of pain that shot through her body. Trying to hold on to any last possible thread of self-respect that she could, she staggered towards the stream. Entering it, she quickly removed her bloodied tunic, keeping her veil in place and lay still against the rocks. The cold did not bother her and the gentle flow of water provided soothing ailment for her battered body. She saw the blood wash away, ignoring the stinging pain upon her skin. Awhile later, she stood up unwillingly. She could not afford to stay longer. It would dawn soon and besides, the soldiers could be looking for her. Quickly, she sought to dress and go back to the camp, when she realised that her clothes were no longer there. Instead, a clean tunic was laid out on the grass.
Her heart stilled as she realised that she had been watched. She had let her guard down. Looking up, she saw the commander leaning against a rock, his back facing her. He had probably taken her clothes, not without reason. He would go through it and with every observation of her, he would roughly piece together her story. Soon.