So it's been about 2 years and I decided what better way to let a reader know you're alive than by updating your story! Sorry I'm the worst updater in history, so I hope this chapter is as long as it seems on Microsoft Word! Sorry for any grammatical errors and the like, I was rushing.
Chapter Seven
The dungeons of Mirkwood were twisting and maze-like, I assumed to keep prisoners in should they somehow escape their cell. After Legolas left me however, that's exactly where I went. I took more than a few wrong turns and ran into several dead ends, cursing. Eventually, I saw a faint light and figured that must be where the guard was. And where there were guards, there were captive dwarves.
Excitement bubbled up inside of me as I neared the light. I turned the final corner to find myself face to face with Calanon.
Living amongst elves, I had picked up some of their tongue, but had not committed myself to learning it completely. I felt my lack of knowledge of their language was somehow my only tie to my adoptive family and I wasn't ready to give that up quite yet despite how much easier it might make my life in Eryn Lasgalen. That being said, I feel obligated to mention that not all of the elves in Mirkwood knew every single language ever to grace Middle Earth either. Many found they were preoccupied and did not take it upon themselves to learn such trivialities until they were well into their second century. Calanon was one of these elves. Whenever we were forced by circumstance to speak to one another it was with broken Elvish on my part and the Westron of a two year old mortal on his. We usually got our points across with a fair amount of miming. However, I only needed one eye-rolling, exasperated look from him this time to understand immediately I was not where I ought to be so late at night. I tried to tell him that I only wanted to speak with them for a minute or two, but him chasing me back to the entrance of the dungeons didn't exactly make it obvious if he understood me or not.
I crept back to my room as quietly as I could manage, thoroughly disappointed with the night's turn of events. After a short process of getting ready for sleep, I curled up on my window seat to feel the warm breeze on my face. Despite my mischief, something felt off, but I couldn't pinpoint what. I felt my mind drifting leisurely onto the paths of dreams, my last thoughts being of dwarves and mazes.
My feet twitched as I ran in my waking dreams. I could not get home fast enough. The smoke filled my lungs as I ran, the stench of burnt flesh heavy in the air, making my stomach churn. The door to my house, the place I grew up in, was off its hinges and across the room of our ground floor. Blood was splattered across one wall and everything was thrown out of place. I ran for the stairs trying hard to block the thought before it crossed my mind.
That is no orc blood.
Up the stairs were three rooms. One was my parents', empty. The second was my brother's. Empty. I hesitated before turning the handle of the door to the room I shared with my sisters. I peered inside for only a moment before slamming it closed again and falling to my knees, my arms wrapped tight about chest as I felt I might vomit. A heavy footstep sounded downstairs and something inside of me knew it was no neighbor. I don't remember running down the stairs or killing the orc. I'd never killed anything that wasn't to be eaten at supper, but my mind kindly stepped out for the moment. I only remember feeling the hot, black blood on my hands and wondering for an instant if orcs had families that might miss them.
A new, deep, rotten smell penetrated my numbed mind and body. I looked up to see a beast I had only heard about in scary stories told around a fire. I thought of fighting but my mind was becoming decidedly less numb as it began processing the massacre of my family. My breaths ran ragged and my insides were filled with a thousand hot knives. I ran.
A fat drop of rain splashed solidly on my forehead, waking me with a start from my nightmare. I dried my face from the rain and the tears I must have shed in my sleep. My heart was still pounding and for the first time since riding through the deep darkness of Mirkwood, I felt I could not breathe. I changed quickly into a pair of pants and loose shirt I wore to practice the sword in and fled my room. The horrible feeling in my stomach eased only slightly once I was out of doors, so I kept running until I couldn't tell if it was the rain running down my face or if I was crying again. I reached the top of a hill I usually saved for reading upon on sunny days and threw myself down unceremoniously onto the ground, angrily wiping my eyes clear. I had not cried in nearly eleven years and here I was bawling like the child I was. Today, eleven years ago, was when it all happened, I could feel it. I'd dreamt about it before, but never so vividly. Never so violently.
The rain continued to fall gently onto my face as I lay on the ground, staring at the clouds, marveling that it took this long for everything to really hit me. I kept myself occupied with friends and swords and books, distracting myself. You cannot escape the sadness forever.
The sky lightened but the sun did not put in an appearance today. The clouds washed by but still poured a constant rain. I noted briefly when a pair of feet made their way into my peripheral as the person they belonged to laid down beside me. Volinde grabbed my hand gently and held on to it with both of her own. I squeezed mine lightly to show her I appreciated it. I stayed on the hill for hours; good and bad memories resurfacing in my mind. I scolded myself for acting so childish so often. Though I was only 33, I felt as though I'd aged a century in all my sadness.
Volinde could not stay with me all day while I wallowed. She still had her work to do and was still planning her wedding to Elindir. I promised myself I'd help her more with her wedding, it was the least I could do. But today was for remembering. The clouds mirrored my mood all day, raining and dark. As what little light there was began to fade once more, I sat up, soaked to the bone and weary as I had never been before. I walked slowly as I made my way back to the palace in the mountains, taking over twice the time it took to run so far. I speculated for a moment as to where my friend, Legolas, might be while I was suffering, and I just as quickly chastised myself for thinking even for a moment that he did not have important things to do. He was a prince after all and there were 13 dwarves to see to.
I laid low for days, I was not myself and did not want to impose my mood on others. At the same time I also did not want to be around their cheerfulness. It wasn't often I allowed myself to flounder in self-pity but when I did, I did it thoroughly. I started to spend a great deal of time in the stables. The stable master wasn't one to turn down an extra pair of hands. I spent my mornings helping muck out stalls or groom the horses and then my afternoon I usually spent in the library or with Volinde helping organize her wedding. She was trying to choose a convenient and safe time for her family in Rivendell to travel for the ceremony and as Elindir was busy most of the day with training the young elflings with the sword, she did most of this alone, going over details with her beloved over dinners. All of these were wonderful distractions from the practice fields. Though running through my steps with the sword or twin blades was exhilarating and cathartic, I could not bring myself to practice yet. I was still angry with myself for being so vulnerable, and the fields were no place for weakness.
I meandered up to the library after a long morning of exercising the mares when I noticed that the halls were eerily quiet. A house of elves was never as hustling and bustling as my town of humans but there were always passing greetings and friends sharing stories as they went about their daily routines. My curiosity finally got the better of me for the first time in a week as I internally placated the mature part of my mind that I was doing no wrong, I was simply looking for someone who might know something.
It wasn't until I reached the long hallway that lead to the throne room that anything out of the ordinary (besides the quiet) happened. King Thranduil yelled angrily in Sindarin at his son who was standing in the doorway. Before I reached him, Legolas ran in the opposite direction, breathing Elvish curses all the way. He'd left the door ajar so I took it upon myself to peek inside. Elves in armor were all over the room poring over a table with maps, sharpening blades, counting arrows into quivers. Even the King Thranduil himself was being outfitted this moment into his armor. His angry eyes raked the hall, assuring that everyone was doing something useful. I jerked my head back into the corridor before those angry orbs could rest upon me and I hurried back towards the library. I stayed there the rest of the afternoon, browsing the literature and coming up with my own amusing stories as to what could make the King so mad. I was in the middle of what I thought to be a particularly hilarious tale of Legolas marrying a bear, when a pair of doors across the room from me burst open. I darted to the door to see what more could happen today only to find myself facing the Queen! Apart from my first meeting her, I rarely saw Queen Elowen. She was at the larger feasts and I would pass her occasionally in hallways but she mostly kept to herself and I to mine.
"My lady," I said, bowing quickly. "What's going on? What's wrong?"
Queen Elowen took a moment to compose herself but failed entirely and burst out, "You might ask my thick-skulled husband, though I doubt he'd answer, the fit that he's in!" This exclamation from the Queen, known for unending kindness and patience, was so entirely surprising, I couldn't help but suppress a giggle. The Queen cracked a smile as well. "You know you do not need to bow to me, child, especially not in the library of all places," she said kindly. "I apologize for my outburst, that man does get the better of me sometimes, though, and I'm sure he knows it." She sat down in one of the group of chairs near the fireplace. I followed her lead, sitting next to her. "Those dwarves escaped and he insists on going after them," she continued. "I do not know what they might accomplish being off our land now, but by the Valar he still must pursue them!" She shook her head in frustration. I could not help but see the worry in her eyes that the anger almost masked. It reminded me of when my mother would yell at me for being reckless and doing something to endanger my life or that of my siblings. I laughed at the thought, and in doing so brought myself to the Queen's attention again.
"I'm sorry, my lady, I was not laughing at you. I was only laughing at how you remind me of my mother when she would yell at me for doing something stupid because she cared so much she didn't know how else to show it. When I broke my arm she hugged me so tight, scolding me the whole time," I explained. Queen Elowen smiled and put her hand over mine.
"I must admit to do fear for him. I used to lecture Legolas as such when he got into as much mischief as a child. I've no doubt I'd do it now if he'd let me and gave me enough reason," she laughed. She stayed for a little while longer and shared a few stories of Legolas's childhood and I divulged a few of my own.
"Thank you, child," she said warmly. "But I must go and try to knock some sense into my husband once more." She gave me a short hug and headed out of the library, leaving me wondering if all mothers hugged the same way. After her departure I headed to the kitchens for a snack. I'd barely stepped through the door, however, when I found Legolas already there, sitting sullenly at the table, apple in hand.
"What could possibly be so terrible that you have to look so very sad?" I teased, sitting opposite him and grabbing an apple from the bowl between us. He did not smirk back or relay some witty comeback, though.
"Are you through avoiding me then?" He said coldly.
"I was only trying to cheer you up. I don't have to keep you company if you are going to act like a rotten elfling," I replied. Legolas glared back in a beautiful impression of said rotten elfling. "As you wish," I said before taking my apple and heading back out the way I came, deciding that I hadn't been to the gardens in too long. I took up a brisk pace knowing Legolas would follow in a few moments. Just as I reached the door to the gardens and just as I wondered if he really was going to follow this time, Legolas ran to catch up with me.
"Alasse, wait! I did not mean to be so angry, at least not towards you," he said as I started to wend my way through the flowers and decorative trees. "Wait!" he called reaching for my hand to turn me around. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't in the mood to be teased," he said sincerely. I feigned confusion.
"I'm sorry, I don't think I know you, I make a point not to befriend brats," I teased. He simply glared once more. "Peace, Legolas, I'm only joking. You don't need to be so serious all of the time, but I suppose that comes along with reaching age one thousand… or is it two thousand?" I grinned. He smiled despite himself.
"I do not see how you can mock me for being a child and being ancient in the same breath but you certainly manage it well, don't you?"
I shrugged and continued my walk, Legolas beside me. "I got to spend time with your mother this afternoon, and it seems you are not the only elf displeased with King Thranduil today. Are you angry he's going after those dwarves, as well?"
His features turned to frustration again. "Not really angry so much as frustrated that he will hear no other opinion on the matter. My father can be irrational at times, and a warning to anyone who might make him see reason," he answered grimly.
"I don't understand what is so important about the dwarves. Yes, they escaped but there is a first time for everything isn't there? What tale could they possible tell of interest?" I queried.