"How fares the child?" Aragorn glanced up at Gandalf with a grim expression.
"His fever is lower but he still sleeps, it will take more than trail medicine to heal him." Straitening as he finished speaking, the Ranger faced the white wizard, "Should Rohan lack the necessary supplies we will need to take him to the elves."
Gandalf's brows rose, "That serious is he?" He nodded and muttered something to himself before turning toward the second of the two patients. They had been cleaned as best they could preserving the woman's modesty and wrapped up in the softest bedclothes to be found in the tower. The young boy lay still and shrunken looking on one bedroll, his skin pale enough that it bordered on translucence was framed by downy hair so fair and fine it reminded the old wizard of seed fluff in the autumn sun.
It had been several days since the two of them were found in Saruman's bleak prison, Aragorn had related the tale, a touch of respect coloring his tone as he spoke of the half dead woman risking her life and threatening his own to protect the child. It was obvious after a brief inspection that this child was not hers by blood.
She was as dark as he was light. Her skin displayed a dusty bronze color, far darker than any member of the fellowship, Aragorn had first thought her a member of the Haradrim people from the south. In his travels he had ventured there several times finding himself intrigued by their strange culture and vivid clothing. This woman lacked the tribal markings that he knew all females of that kingdom bore, marks of ownership, first to their fathers and then their husbands.
Her hair was dark, still covered with filth from the cell it was hard to tell exactly what color it might be, her eyes revealed themselves upon her waking to be a brilliant green. The iris of her eyes faded into a tawny ring around the edges adding to the striking image she presented, Aragorn wasn't sure if she was beautiful or not. Her lack of proper nutrition and inability to bathe while held captive held great sway over her appearance.
Gandalf moved away from the ranger, settling himself on a stool without a word and gazed at the woman for a moment. She met his stare with her own, tension thrummed through her small frame as though she were waiting to be attacked. Her eyes flicked over his staff and she began to panic, sitting up she scooted herself back across the bedding against the wall, shaking uncontrollably. Gandalf saw this and at once lowered his staff to the floor, eliciting a gasp from Legolas and Aragorn.
Legolas watched this interaction play out before him, he was shocked by mithrandir's actions, no wizard in their right mind would surrender his staff, and certainly not at the whim of some lost girl. His blue eyes hardened and he opened his mouth to speak his mind, Aragorn's hand came to rest on his arm gently, glancing over he saw the ranger shake his head minutely. The elf prince stilled and raised a single brow in silent query. Aragorn frowned slightly and flicked his eyes back to Gandalf and the girl.
'Look'
Legolas looked. Back and forth between the two until he saw it, the girl's eyes held a light that had, up to now, been utterly absent. Shrouded no doubt in fear for her life and the life of the boy-child, despite the care they were both afforded; this woman had been ill used indeed to be so very fearful and wary. Legolas doubted her life had been easy even before her removal to Saruman's keep. He held himself in check and watched as the woman finally began to relax, her body language became more open, arms uncrossing, back straightening.
He found himself intrigued by her. She was unlike any member of the race of men he had encountered. She had not spoken a word to any of them since she threatened to kill Aragorn those few days prior, but there was a strangeness that radiated from her like heady perfume. She held a feral air, her face was all large eyes and still features, it reminded him of a wild creature caught by surprise in a glade, ready to bolt at any moment in response to the slightest threat.
Legolas knew any sudden action from him would burst this delicate shell Gandalf had fashioned around the two of them. He had caught her attention and put her at ease with very little trouble and the elf cursed himself a fool to have been focused on the staff. He had missed seeing a master manipulator in action; Gandalf had long been known as a skilled negotiator and mediator for the lords of both men and elves and was more skilled in statecraft than even King Thranduil, his own father.
He stilled his mind and focused on what would now transpire, he had a feeling it was going to be a strange tale.
"How are you feeling my dear?" Gandalf spoke slowly in common, clearly enunciating each word but not falling into the terrible habit of raising the volume of his voice. She was not stupid or deaf, merely unfamiliar with the language. He had begun by speaking to her in every language he knew how to. He began with the languages of men, Rohirric, Dalish and Haradrim alike had no effect; she did not understand what he was saying. He deliberately refrained from moving at all or giving her any non verbal cues.
Gandalf tried Khuzdul, the language of the dwarves and Gimli sat up straighter but held his own counsel. Sindarin and Quenya followed in quick succession, still no marked response from the girl, she continued to listen raptly as if knowing what he was doing but not having yet understood the words.
Returning to common tongue he had decided to put her at ease with a few inquires about her health and offer her a bath.
"How do you feel my dear?"
"I feel...pain." She hesitated as if looking for the right word and seemed frustrated with her limited vocabulary. "There is much pain." she repeated, "Here." The woman turned where she was sitting on the bedroll to face the wall and pulled her tattered tunic over her head until it was in front of her covering her arms and breasts.
Gandalf made a small noise in the back of his throat and without turning, said to Aragorn, "Please gather more healing herbs, it looks as though we have need of them." The ranger took one look and moved off to do so. Legolas' eyes widened and he heard Gimli inhale sharply. Across her back were four horribly infected lacerations, they looked to be several weeks old and the edges were starting to turn.
Merry and Pippin went running toward the scullery to boil water as they had been doing for the young boy the past few days. Gimli moved off to get the bindings they would need to hold the poultice in place. Legolas found himself sitting alone with Gandalf and he asked him softly in Sindarin.
"Where do you think she is from?" the old wizard looked sidelong at him and replied in kind,
"I do not know, she is an intriguing puzzle is she not?" He watched the woodland prince regard her silently for a moment before nodding. The woman was leaning forward with her forehead against the wall she gathered herself and straightened before turning, carefully using the tunic to preserve her modesty.
"My dear, medicine is being prepared for you and we shall tend your wounds soon." Gandalf again spoke clearly to ensure her understanding and had added gestures to help bridge the gap between the words she did not know.
"Please tell me what is your name?" a look of confusion crossed her face and she shook her head indicating that she did not understand.
"Gandalf," he said touching his fingertips to his own chest.
"Legolas" she turned wide eyes to the elf who in turn gestured to her. Understanding flashed in her eyes and she smiled, transforming her face into a dazzling new amalgamation of features. So stark was the change that Gimli who had returned from his errand exclaimed,
"Och, she's such a pretty lass, we might never have known under all that dirt." The dwarf chuckled and set about folding up the bandages he had retrieved.
"Gandalf," she repeated slowly, "Legolas" her face turned toward him and they locked eyes, curious blue with lively green.
"Gimli!" The dwarfs' booming interjection startled them all and the woman began to laugh, the corners of her eyes folding as she looked at Gimli. She closed her mouth for a moment pursing her lips slightly; her hand came up and lay flat upon her chest.
"Keira" Her eyes danced merrily as she looked at each of them in turn, not demurely as other females might have but boldly meeting their eyes. She reminded Legolas suddenly of Eowyn, fierce warrior maidens seemed to be popping up all over he mused. Having been raised alternately in Mirkwood and spending some years as Elrond's forsterling, Legolas knew Arwen to be just a fierce but the she-elf held a soft quietness about her and only revealed her iron spine in the face of crisis.
This mortal before him was different.
All mortal women were different from she-elves truthfully enough, they were not stronger or more brash, rather, they showed these traits much more readily than the females he had been raised with. As a child, Legolas had learned of the race of men as he supposed most elflings did, his parents and tutors required that he know much of their history and there were many parts of elven history that was intertwined with that of men.
He had been warned that men were impulsive, easily swayed and emotionally closed off, their society only allowing them to revel in anger, revenge and battle lust. He remembered being horrified as a child and asking his tutor how men survived without song and celebration. His tutor had smiled at him and explained that men had much song and celebration but it was for celebrating a victorious battle or the death of an enemy and great amounts of alcohol were involved with any celebration of men.
Upon the first few journeys into the world, the Prince of Mirkwood found himself among the men of the west, and it was here in the camps that he learned of prejudice and that assumptions about an entire race were almost certain to be wrong. After being called a knife eared woman several times he had asked the battalion commander why the men called him this, the commander informed him that it was because the elves taught their men to dance and sing and write stories instead of fight and protect their women. The anger that flew into his head was indignant and Legolas found himself spoiling for a fight for the first time in his life.
The fact that he had called for a match to prove his worth and won without hesitation had earned him a place, albeit a grudging one in the ranks of the men themselves. He remembered thinking at that time that women from this race must be weak and easily overcome and how terrible it would be to have your entire life governed by men such as these.
Legolas allowed himself a small private smile as he remembered meeting Eowyn for the first time and again encountering the feeling of being ill prepared by his tutors. The pale woman's fiery defense of her Uncle and keening lament for her cousin's death had illustrated and new facet of women, and men for that matter. They were beings capable of deep feeling and extraordinary loyalty and honor.
Aragorn strode back into the room, herbs and ingredients for poultice making in hand; Pippin and Merry were making their way through the corridor, kettle suspended between them along with bowls and tools for mixing. Gandalf leaned toward Keira and smiled gently at her, her face took on an uncertain expression as though waiting for the old man to pounce.
"I would like to make this easier for you my dear." he said kindly, "Would you allow me to put you to sleep while your wounds are tended?" Her eyes grew wary and darted to his staff which still lay upon the stone floor. "I will not use my staff, there is no need; I wish only to ease your pain while you heal."
Mithrandir locked eyes with the small woman on the bedroll and waited, she stared back at him with a mixture of trust and fear; he had been kind to her. Since she had awakened no one had raised their voice or hand to her in anger, it had been so very long since she had experienced any sort of kindness she felt to her shame tears prick her eyes. Frowning a little she blinked them away rapidly before nodding her head in assent, Gandalf reached forward, hands palm up and waited for her to take them.
Keira inhaled bracingly and reached forward. Her fingertips hesitantly slid into his large weathered hands and she heard the old man muttering something before a soft buzzing filled her ears and she knew no more.
Legolas watched Mithrandir accept the slight weight of the wounded woman as she succumbed to sleep and lower her gently onto the bedding face down. Turning to Aragorn he spoke. "Make sure you check her completely, any other wounds she has must be treated." The ranger nodded and returned to his mixing bowls.
Gandalf stood and once again lifted his staff from the stones; Legolas was aware of being the focus of the white wizards' attention and looked up with interest.
"Come Legolas, I wish you to accompany me and assist in a mystery of sorts."
The elven prince lifted his brows and glanced aver at Aragorn who had begun cleaning the woman's wounds with brusque efficiency, the ranger was wholly absorbed in his task, no doubt calling upon the teaching of Lord Elrond with whom he had lived for a time.
Legolas turned and followed Gandalf as he ascended the stair and returned to the chamber he had sealed earlier. Once the door was opened Legolas stared around him in wonder and confusion, there were weapons and armor stacked on every available surface, sheaves of paper littered everything in sight and he looked over at Gandalf a soundless question on his face. Mithrandir glanced at him and nodded.
"We are dealing with something here that is beyond my knowledge." Legolas gazed around the room in silence.
"What exactly do you wish my help with?" he asked quietly.
"I need a fresh pair of eyes that have seen much and had ages to learn." Gandalf replied with a kind smile. The elven prince nodded and moved off to the wall that held weapons that seemed somewhat familiar. There were swords and shields as well as chain mail and armor that seemed very similar to those he saw daily. The design of them was certainly foreign but nothing that held the same distinct strangeness the woman carried.
The two of them settled in with barely a word to each other, hours passed filled with the sounds of paper rustling like autumn leaves and the occasional clank of metal on metal as items were grouped in like sets. Gandalf stood and stretched, gazing around the room with tired eyes. Legolas followed suit, careful to place the sheaves of paper he was working on in a certain place so he could pick up where he left off later.
He surveyed their handiwork for a few moments. Stacks of similar items lay grouped together; there was a pile of steel breastplates and helms all of which bore the same shield of a chalice upon a field of crosses. Next to this were several other piles of armor and weapons that seemed to resemble each other, a pile of finely carved and sculpted breastplates lay with a series of straight double edged blades but the set that interested him the most was the pile of what looked to be scale armor, woven together with strips of fine fabric and accompanied by fearsome masks attached to the helms.
He couldn't understand the inexplicable familiar feeling to the curiosities collected here. Everything around then was undeniably foreign and strange but there was an impression that even the things he had never seen before were just a logical progression of...something. It was this vague feeling that he found irritated him more than anything else, just as he noted the feeling of alien familiarity in the woman from the cell he realized. He had the feeling her presence was somehow tied to this room and after hours of examining he and Gandalf were no closer to understanding the reason.
The two of them made their way quietly back to the common room near the kitchens, Gimli was reclining with Aragorn sharing a smoke while the two hobbits amused themselves by taking bets on when Keira would wake. Legolas hung back watching as Gandalf knelt down to inspect the woman's bindings, after a few moments and some quiet words, the wizard stood and waited. There was a gentle stirring upon the bedroll before she sat up sleepily blinking at the room around her. A movement caught Aragorn's eye and he glanced over to see Pippin pass Merry a handful of money.
When her eyes settled on Gandalf a flash of unease flickered across them before being suppressed, she looked up at him quietly for a moment and smiled a timid smile.
"You kept your promise." Her words were so soft Legolas almost missed them.
'She has been badly used.' he thought with a mixture of both anger and pity.
"Of course I did my dear." replied Gandalf, "How do you feel?" There was a pause as though she were mentally assessing each bone and joint in her small frame,
"I feel much better Gandalf." Her voice was clear and almost musical though it remained soft and timid as she sat looking up at mithrandir with an open expression. Gandalf smiled and nodded to her.
"I imagine you would like to clean yourself up a bit," he said "There is a river nearby should you like a bath." The widening of her eyes was almost comical.
"Oh can I?" The relief and near joyous wonder in her voice added another notch in her favor with the elven prince, he detested the hygienic habits of men in general. While they were cleaner than orcs and goblins and even the dwarves in some respects, it had been Legolas' experience that men cared little for bathing while they traveled.
Keira made to stand and got herself almost upright before staggering slightly and bumping into Gandalf, she jerked back to regain her balance and overcompensated. Before he realized what he was doing Legolas darted forward and caught her before she fell, firmly gripping her upper arms before setting her on her feet again. She looked up at him with startled wide eyes and he found himself entranced, falling into the depths of her verdant gaze that was at once the color of spring leaves and forest moss.
He found himself experiencing a sudden feeling of weightlessness and the inexplicable desire to draw the small woman toward him and soothe all her fears and hurts. He knew nothing of this woman save her name yet for a flashing instant she filled his existence, his entire being, body and soul focused on her and her alone.
"You may, I trust Legolas shall serve as a fine escort."
Legolas blinked, the moment was over. He frowned slightly in confusion and looked at Gandalf who merely nodded to him with a small wink and left the room. She squirmed in his grasp and he at once released her; what was wrong with him? He hadn't even realized he still held her arms until she moved. The elf shook his head, gathering himself and offered the woman his arm, she took it hesitantly not sure what was going on in the elf's head, he seemed irritated but she was not sure why.
'I hope it's not something I did.' she thought. Bending down she gathered the spare clothes the hobbits had been able to find for her, they were far too tall but cut for a thin man so she deemed them salvageable, she saw a needle and some coarse thread lying on top of the bundle, presumably from Aragorn's supplies, he seemed to be the only member of the party who would carry such a thing with him. Most of the healing and tending came to him so it would only make sense he have the tools to close a nasty gash.
Shooting him a grateful glance she allowed herself to be lead out from the tower by the suddenly prickly blonde man, content with the knowledge that she would soon be able to scrub the filth and memories from her battered skin.
Legolas kept his own counsel throughout their walk to the river, he watched her silently as her eyes roved over the orc remains they had not cleared away. Her nose wrinkled at the stench and he didn't blame her, he had been surreptitiously breathing through his mouth since they had exited the tower. Much of the floodwaters had drained away over the past few days and the resulting mire was a fragrant one to say the least. The elven prince felt a bit out of sorts, escort duty, even for a lady's bath was not something he was unfamiliar with, being an elf meant that his racial reputation for remaining steadfast and unmoved by lust deigned he be the guardian of choice in mixed company for females alone.
'And there's nothing different about this one.' he thought to himself, ignoring the small movements of her delicate fingers in the folds of his sleeve. They came to the walls of Isengard and as they stepped out through one of the gates Keira halted abruptly and gasped. Thinking her injured Legolas swung round to see what was wrong with her.
She stood open mouthed staring out across the river and toward the trees, he followed her gaze swiftly, hands readying to draw his daggers mentally cursing himself for not bringing his bow. His sharp gaze penetrated the wood and searched; deep in the darkness of the forest he saw...nothing. He frowned and turned back to her confused, she was now looking at him with an expression of awe.
"What is it?" he asked, nerves thrumming.
"It has been a very long time since I saw trees." her reply was so soft he almost missed it and he was again confused. She was of the race of men and couldn't have been in the keeps dungeon for more than a month or two yet here she stood reacting more like an elf to the presence of trees. Legolas was drawn particularly by this wood, he could feel the anger of the trees; smell their hate. He still planned on returning here to explore the wakened wood and perhaps talk with the ents, he was curious about what would cause such heavy feeling in the trees that were so gnarled and old. Older even than those of his home in Mirkwood.
"Am I truly able to bathe in the river?" she asked him then, her voice not quite so soft but still full of wonder. Surprised by her question he looked down at her, puzzled.
"Of course you may," he replied, "You need not fear, I will watch over and protect you milady." As he spoke he took her hand and unwound it from his arm; taking the bundle from her hands he nodded toward the water and then resolutely turned his back, keeping his keen ears open for any possible threat.
Keira looked at him for a long moment noticing the stiff line of his spine and the set of his shoulders; he seemed suddenly carved of marble, muscles coiled ready to leap at the slightest need. She felt oddly comforted that this stranger was willing to protect her, it was a sentiment she had no cause to expect.
Slowly she peeled the ratty tunic from her body and shivered immediately as the early spring breeze gusted over the water, the river was clear and fast moving murmuring quietly to itself as it flowed by. She looked closely at the water itself and the surrounding sand and mud, searching for any indication of poisoning or taint.
Legolas knew from the sounds behind him she still had not entered the water and he was again confused by her behavior. She seemed so eager to bathe but now that she stood on the banks silently shifting her weight as though agonizing over some decision.
"Are you well?" he asked, keeping his back turned. He heard her start and presumably turn to look at him before replying.
"Yes….is the water safe?"
"You need not be able to swim, the current is far from shore." he replied. She let out a short huff of air.
"I can swim."
A pause.
"The water is not tainted?" she asked him, a shiver creeping into her voice, as chilled as she was she could not bring herself to don the remnants of the tunic she had so recently discarded. She saw him cock his head to one side, again without turning.
"No milady, the water is pure." The confusion evident in his body language coupled with the matter of fact way he replied convinced Keira and put her at ease. It was something new for her to have clean water available for drinking much less enough to bathe in. Shrugging off her misgivings she stepped into the frigid flow and set about washing herself as quickly as she could.
Legolas relaxed slightly as he heard her commence scrubbing. 'Such a strange woman.'He thought wondering why she would be wary of water and amazed by trees. He held his tongue, content to wait for her to share the reasons behind these things.
Keira shivered hard, the water was frigid and the breeze kept gusting against her flesh. She scooped up sand from the river bottom and scoured her skin until she thought she would begin to bleed. Once finished with her body, she focused on her hair. When she had been taken by the orcs it was long and flowing if she took it out of the ties, not that it was something she did often she had just found that being able to tie her hair back kept it out of her way.
Looking at it now in the daylight she realized it was utterly ruined. Matted and tangled beyond any attempts at unsnarling she realized she would have to cut it off.
"Legolas-" He almost turned to reply but remembered her modesty at the last moment.
"Yes?"
"May I use one of your knives?" Her voice sounded fragile and hesitant.
"Why do you want it?" he asked bluntly, his deeply ingrained protection of his weapons holding sway over his actions.
"I..." she paused, "I need to cut the clothes so I don't trip." It seemed to him like she was not being entirely truthful in her reply but he saw no reason for her to turn on him and even if she did he was certain she would not overcome him. Without turning to look he withdrew one of his long knives and threw it into the sand on the riverbank not far from where she stood shivering in the water, the bundle of clothing followed with a soft thump.
Keira busied herself immediately, working her fingers from the crown of her head downward until her fingertips touched the start of the matting, reaching back with the blade she made short work of the remains of her hair and felt a odd twinge as she watched the current tear it from her and carry it down stream. Giving herself a mental chiding for being so childish about her hair, she leaned down to dunk her head in the water, scrubbed as fast as she could and sloshed out of the freezing river.
Once on shore, her shivers turned to shudders and she fumbled with the leggings, drawing them up around her slim hips and treading the rough cord through holes at the waistline to keep them there. She waddled like a scuba diver in flippers over to a large stone and sat upon it, Legolas' knife still in hand. Cutting quickly and efficiently, she trimmed the pant legs to a suitable length and after tearing the extra scraps into strips and securing them as chest bindings, moved on to the tunic.
Legolas listened to her movements behind him and his keen hearing told him she had stopped shivering quite so violently and was dressing herself. She paused several times as she shook out the different garments and he could almost see her in his head holding up the item and trying to figure out how exactly to wear it. He smirked.
"Legolas, what is this place called?"
"Fangorn Forest milady." he replied, "It surrounds the tower of Isengard."
"Fangorn." she repeated slowly, "Isengard" He noticed the spread of her vowels was different than any accent he'd encountered thus far in his long life. She repeated the names again, softer this time as though tasting them.
"I do not know of these places." she said to him at last. "Oh, I'm done." He turned to look at her and his jaw dropped in shock.
She stood there in borrowed clothes, still shivering and looking at him with a perplexed expression. He was staring at her as though strange horns had just burst from her brow and it made her uncomfortable to say the least. His eyes were so intense. She felt like a specimen on some scientist's slide waiting to be dissected, it was a feeling that did not sit well with her.
"What?" she asked, shifting her weight and fiddling with the hem of her tunic. He shut his mouth with a snap and blinked at her. Keira was beginning to think he was a bit odd, she could have sworn he was friendly in the tower but since they came outside he acted as though she did something wrong. All stony silences and stiff backed waiting.
Legolas was at a loss for words, he was not a particularly talkative elf but he prided himself on never hesitating to speak when the time was right. Well, the time was definitely right now and he could not form a single coherent thought much less a lucid sentence. She was so starkly different from any member of the race of men he'd ever seen he was not sure what to make of her.
Her skin was the color of a russet forest deer, rich and warm, eyes the color of spring leaves gazed up at him, open and sincere, wide set over a generous mouth and full lips. Her cheekbones were prominent and emphasized the delicate shape of her chin, but it was her hair that caught his attention most fully. Inky black and shining from her scrubbing it reminded him water on a moonless night so deep was it's hue but it's most disconcerting feature was its length. It lay sleek and smooth over the crown of her head and flowed down, coming to a stop at her...chin.
"What?" she repeated a trifle sharply. He shook himself and looked at her.
"You cut your hair." he blurted, a touch of horror lacing his tone. Her hands immediately came up to fiddle with the shorn ends of her hair and frowned.
"So?" He was taken aback by her belligerent reply. Her eyes were now stormy and fierce as if daring him to say more.
"Why did you cut it?" He used a gentler tone this time still utterly perplexed, his people valued luxurious hair and a beautiful voice above most things in this world and to see her uneven chop job pained him greatly. He had never seen a female with tresses shorter than her waist, without realizing what he was doing he closed the gap between then and took a lock of her hair between his nimble fingers.
"It's so beautiful." he murmured. He met her eyes "Was this what you wanted my blade for?" The sadness in his face shocked her, she felt as though she could not move, as though she had broken some unwritten law of this place. She looked away, discomfited by the pain held in this man's eyes; any other time or place she would have tossed her head and scoffed at him for being old fashioned but here...with him that type of reaction did not seem right.
"It's only hair." she mumbled, "It will grow again." Legolas became aware that his closeness was making her uncomfortable, reluctantly he released her and stepped back.
"Why did you cut it?" he asked again.
"It was ruined."
He looked at her for a moment in silence, a mask drawn over his features covering his sadness over the loss of her hair. Without a word he bent to retrieve his knife and once sheathed, extended his hand to her a ghost of a smile on his face.
"The halflings will make quite a fuss over your hair you know." She turned over the unfamiliar word in her mind trying to guess it's meaning through context. He must have realized her confusion for he continued, "They may seem like children but they are fully grown." She looked sidelong at him.
"It will grow back." she said again taking his offered hand and following him back to the grounds of Isengard. As they entered the gate she finally took a moment to look up at the place which had held her for those grueling weeks of captivity, it was a grim and imposing structure that held no warmth or cheer. She did not know what had happened to the white haired old man who had probed her mind so painfully but she assumed he was either dead or gone from this place with his minions.
She was darkly glad that her tormentors lay broken around her, such cruelty she had seen during her time in their care, she would have gladly killed them herself had she been afforded the opportunity. Turning from these macabre thoughts, Keira looked up at Legolas' profile taking in his braided hair and subtle clothing; he held himself proudly, almost regally as they made their way back across the grounds. Noticing his ears for the first time she made a small sound of surprise and he looked down at her, one brow raised in silent query.
"Your ear." she said, "It's pointed." He smiled broadly and chuckled
"Have you never met one of my people milady?" he said. She looked at him blankly.
"Your people?" she repeated.
"Aye, my people are the Quendi, but Men call us Elves." She goggled at him for a moment.
"Elves?" She paused. Though she was unfamiliar again with the word he used she suddenly realized what he meant, her eyes roved over his long hair, fine features and pointed ears. "Unbelievable, is he an elf? He fits the bill that's for sure, tall, slim, graceful, gorgeous. He can't be serious though, get a grip Keira elves aren't even real."
'Neither are those monsters that dragged you through a glowing portal either.' commented her mind snarkily. Legolas listened to the stream of unfamiliar words that fell from her lips, she spoke in an undertone that made him think she wasn't aware she was speaking aloud, he contented himself to listen to her speech. The language she spoke was a mixture of hard sibilant sounds and lilting syllables accompanied by wide vowels, it was a combination that was terribly intriguing for the knowledge hungry prince.
"What language are you speaking?" he asked her. Keira looked up startled and blushed. Hesitating she replied to him in common.
"It is the language of my home. We call it English."
"English..." he repeated, rolling the sounds around and tasting them as she had earlier. "And what land does this English come from?"
"Well...England." Legolas looked at her as they came to the stair leading into the tower thinking that she might be of use to Gandalf in his quest to understand the puzzling items in the room on the upper levels. He held his own counsel and simply led her back into the warmth of the tower.
As soon as they entered the room Keira was accosted by the hobbits. Pippin and Merry peppered her with questions in common so fast she couldn't keep up but their youthful exuberance was infectious and she smiled broadly.
"All right young hobbits ease off! You'll send her round the bend if you're not careful." came a gruff exclamation from Gimli around his pipe. Legolas looked to Gandalf and said in Sindarin
"She may know something about the things in that room." Mithrandir looked sharply at him and then at the girl who was trying to keep up with the hobbit's chatter.
"Where are you from? Your skin is so dark, look Pippin, her eyes are almost the same color as yours! You're shivering, was the river cold?" The two halflings kept up a steady bombardment of commentary as they handed her a blanket to wrap herself in and some salted pork and a heel of warm bread.
Keira didn't even try to reply, just gnawed hungrily on the bread and listened.
Aragorn moved over to speak with Legolas, "What happened to her hair?" he asked quietly. The Ranger was acutely aware of the elves' love of beautiful hair and voices, he was also aware that the woman's hair had been longer when she left to bathe.
"She cut it off." the prince replied in terse sindarin, "She says it was ruined." Aragorn admitted that it likely was, after the filth and treatment she had endured but he understood his friend's pain. Her hair was even shorter than the ranger's own.
"Keira." All chatter ceased at the sound of Gandalf's deep voice and the woman looked up at him. "Would you come with me my dear? I have some questions I think you might be able to help me answer." a look of apprehension crossed her face and she look over at Legolas. He was struck by the fear in her eyes that she was attempting to hide and responded to it.
"You need not fear him Keira." he said to her, "He is not like Saruman and will do you no harm." She swallowed convulsively and looked again at mithrandir. Stepping forward she nodded followed the wizard up the stairway to an arched doorway. Gandalf muttered a few words and the doors opened to reveal the room he and Legolas had been working in.
Legolas had shadowed them and now stepping into the room, drew Keira with him, he was just as curious as Gandalf to find out the purpose for the things here and for some reason he thought she would know at least a little. The two of them turned to look at her.
She stood stock still in the doorway, eyes roving over the contents of the chamber. She walked in and slid her fingers over the shining breastplates and armor. She was talking to herself in an undertone again making her way around the room touching some of the items almost reverently. She came to the items Gandalf had been organizing and moved a few things from one pile to another before coming to a stop at by far the strangest grouping of items.
Keria stopped and turned to look at Gandalf.
"Where did you get all of this and why are my things here?"
"I beg your pardon?" he replied.
"These are my things that were taken from me!" she said sharply pointing to the pile. "Why do you have them?" Her tone was harsh and demanding but Legolas could hear the fear that tore at her.
"Keira." he said. Her eyes met his. "This was gathered by Saruman, the one who held you captive and we are trying to understand why." The fire in her eyes diminished. "Do you know what they are?"
She nodded.
"They are weapons and armor from my home; some are very old and have not been used for a very long time."
"What is this for?" chirruped Pippin. Keira swung round and gasped. She crossed the room in a moment, blanket slipping from her shoulders as she lunged at Pippin who was staring down the barrel of a revolver. No one had noticed the hobbit slip in the room and as she grabbed the weapon from his hands she shouted at him.
"This is not a toy!"
Pippin was as startled as the rest of them and they all stood in silence as she manipulated two small levers on the weapon and breathed a sigh of relief. She proceeded to depress a button and shake some bits of metal from the contraption. Keira put the revolver down and looked at Pippin, the hobbit was looking at her as though she had slapped him and she immediately felt sorry for shouting.
"I'm sorry Pippin." she said, "That could have killed you." He looked wide eyed from her to the hunk of metal in her hand.
"You know what these things are then?" said Aragorn
"Yes, they all belonged to warriors and soldiers once. Some are still used but most are old and kept only for memory." The small woman hugged herself round the middle in a sudden display of insecurity and shivered though not, Legolas thought from a chill in the air.
Gandalf watched her silently. Mithrandir was no fool, this woman was connected to all of this somehow, he needed to find out why she was pulled from wherever she hailed from to end up in the dungeons of Saruman the White. He frowned.
It was time to get some answers.