A family tradition

Legolas had his fingers intertwined with mine as we rushed through corridors, taking breathless pauses between tree roots and pillars when we heard the quick footsteps of the guards. They seemed to be all over the place, and I had an uneasy feeling that they were coming for us. "Where are we going?", I asked as Legolas turned another corner. "Back to the rooms?"

"No."

"But..."

"I'm taking you to safety."

I narrowed my eyes. "From whom? And what about Gimli?" Not that there was a shortage of potential suitors who wanted to get at my throat...

He answered me only after making sure that the corridor we had turned onto would not lead us into the arms of more guards. "The horns, they are only used when a delegation from another elven realm arrives."

"You mean when elvish aristocracy does the honors?"

"You could put it that way, aye."

It took me a long moment to understand what he was getting at. "Lothlorien?"

"That's right."

"Shit."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I saw the corners of his mouth twitch. "On occasion, you'll have to explain your love of swear words to me."

"We have a very close bond," I countered dryly.

"I can tell."

I left it at that, because at that moment Legolas stopped so suddenly that I almost ran into him. And it wasn't long before I knew why: footsteps were approaching. From the sounds, I estimated that it was at least four people. Probably more. The way we had come would be of no use to us, because it led through a long, straight and, above all, perfectly visible corridor. Even if we made it back around the corner - they would spot us before we reached the other end.

The footsteps were now only a few meters away. Legolas broke free from his freeze and maneuvered us back a few meters. I guessed what he was about to do before he did it. "No," I whispered. "You can't do that. Not against all your father's soldiers and the delegation from Lorien."

His hand clenched around mine as if that was exactly what he hadn't wanted to hear. But then he nodded. "Fair enough." Pause. "Play along."

Before I could say anything back, he'd pushed me in front of him and twisted an arm behind my back. Not in a way that hurt, but in a way that I wouldn't be able to run away if I wanted to. "Come on," he said gently.

The moment we got the first two meters behind us, the footsteps finally got faces: they were guards, as Legolas had suspected, and they were those of the Woodland Realm. They were armed and too numerous for Legolas to have been able to take them all out. Although... it had also worked with the orcs. But I couldn't think about that now, because the guards stopped when they saw us. More than one of them put a hand to their knives.

Legolas signaled me to stop as well and I did as I was told. The guard in front grasped the situation faster than the others. "My prince," he indicated a bow, "I see you have already carried out your father's orders."

The room was filled with silence for a moment, shortly after which I felt Legolas nod behind me. "Let us pass. The king does not wish any delay."

"We will accompany you."

"This is not necessary."

The guard looked uncertain for a heartbeat, then shook his head. "The king's orders were clear."

Legolas sighed as if the guard's refusal was nothing more than an annoying trifle, but I could sense very well how tense he was. "Right, then. Follow us."

The elves let us pass and fell into step behind us. I could almost feel their gazes stuck in my back like spears. There was nothing I could do, they would thwart any attempt to escape from my side and even Legolas wouldn't be able to oppose them unless he wanted to blow our cover. And that was the stupidest idea he could have at this point. As long as he could move freely, as long as the guards and ultimately Thranduil believed he was on their side, there was hope that we would somehow manage to escape the Woodland Realm. Still, I didn't like the alternative. Because it meant that I would get to know the cells of Mirkwood after all.

My heart began to beat faster the further we walked. Thoughts circled through my head, sending me spiraling downward. What if this was going to go wrong one way or another? What if Thranduil had long suspected that his son knew about the Silmaril? What if we were playing into his hand right now?

The cells really seemed to be our destination, at least that's what I concluded from the fact that we were descending further and further into the ground. Would they search me? Or would Legolas stop them? How much could he fend off before it became conspicuous? And what would happen to the stones I had put in one of the expansive pockets of my dress before the Autumn Feast started?

Legolas noticed that I was getting anxious and ran his thumb over my wrist in such a way that the other elves would not notice. A gesture that was supposed to reassure me, but only made me more anxious.

When we had descended the last flight of stairs and stopped in front of the entrance to a cell, Legolas said, "The keys."

One of the guards handed them to him. All of them were still standing behind him as if waiting for him to actually lock me up. Had Thranduil given them any instruction in that regard? Their eyes detected every movement, every breath, every hair that was out of place. No chance we could exchange even a glance that said more than what Legolas was supposed to be here for in their minds.

He opened the cell and I walked in without a word. What else was I supposed to do? We were trapped, and I was about to be imprisoned behind iron bars. What a fucking mess.

One of the guards stepped forward. "Are you sure, my prince?"

Legolas turned away from me, reluctantly. "She is best kept here."

"In the same cell as the dwarf?" The elf's tone sounded doubtful.

Like the dwarf? My heart gave a small, hopeful leap, but I dared not look around. My fear of giving myself away, and ultimately Legolas, was too strong. My face petrified so as not to let any emotion show.

"Are you questioning my decision?" Legolas replied dangerously low and with an authority in his voice that I had only noticed in him once before - when we had been attacked by the spiders in the forest and he had taken command of the elven party.

"No, my prince," the guard hastily said, and Legolas nodded. Then the door slammed shut and I had to swallow. The guards turned around and Legolas followed their movement. He hesitated just a moment, then left the wing of cells, up the stairs and out of sight without looking back once.

My shoulders dropped and I tried to suppress the fear that wound itself up my back and to my neck like a snake, threatening to suffocate me. Before I could lose myself to it, though, someone put a hand on my forearm. "He'll be back, lass."

"Gimli." I exhaled. "I am so glad to see you."

"I can but return that, though I had hoped we would skip this chapter. But as I suspected, the family tradition must continue."

Involuntarily I had to smile, although I didn't feel like it at all. "What did they lock you up for?"

"You still ask that?" he replied grimly.

I took a few steps back, into the darkness of the cell. Only now did I notice that it was a lot deeper than I had thought. "What do we do now?"

"Wait and see, lass. There's nothing else we can do anyway."

"But... if they lock you up for no reason, do you really think Legolas..."

The dwarf put a finger to his lips and I understood. "I would not trust the walls of Mirkwood even if I had cut them out of the stone myself," he said, and I heard the warning in his voice. "It will all come to pass, in good time."

I wasn't so sure about that, but the dwarf was right about one thing: apart from waiting for things to happen, there was nothing else for us to do. So I sat down on the bunk carved out of the stone and drew up my legs. Gimli leaned against the wall and unearthed an edge of bread from his pocket, which he must have taken from the banquet table. "At least I brought this with me. Do you want a slice?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I...I don't feel like it."

He shrugged, then slowly slid down the wall to the floor, keeping his eyes on the entrance at all times. "Tell me," he began, after chewing on the edge of the bread for a while, "is the cherry beer the only oddity from your homeland, or are there others?" He had asked the question so innocently that I had to grin. "There are plenty of other oddities, Master Dwarf."

"I thought so."

"Would you like to learn about some of them?"

Now he returned my grin. "Certainly."

Pondering, I put a finger to my chin and thought about which of the many food secrets of my world I should let Gimli in on. At that, I was more than a little grateful to the dwarf for distracting me from the fact that I was in a prison. In a world that was not my own and whose rules were nowhere near as humane as those I knew about my country's penal system. Finally, I got stuck on something I'd been missing for years: "Noodles," I said. "I haven't discovered a single pasta dish anywhere since I arrived."

The dwarf lowered the loaf of bread. "I've never heard that word before."

"Well... that's because we don't have that dish here," I replied, thinking back to my last tagliatelle. Actually, pasta was very easy to make, but salt and oil were valuable goods in Middle Earth that I couldn't afford. "Pasta is the generic term," I tried to explain, "We call many dishes that, usually based on a flour dough. The best known are probably spaghetti - long thin strands of dough that are either dried or cooked in water right after they're made."

"Dough threads?" The dwarf sounded unconvinced. "What are they eaten with?"

"The classic would be a sauce made with tomatoes and ground beef," I said. "But there are many other variations. Probably as many as there are noodles."

"Weird, indeed." Gimli shook his head. "Cherry beer and dough threads, I'm not sure I can condone that."

I laughed. "Wait until I tell you about pizza."

"A new aberration?"

"I think," I countered, "that this dish might actually appeal to you. Essentially, it's a round yeast dough on which tomato sauce is spread and topped with many kinds of things - sausage, meat, or vegetables, for example. Most importantly, though, is the cheese, which comes at the end. All of this is baked until the dough is no longer raw et voilà." It struck me too late that Gimli couldn't understand the meaning of the last words, but that didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He seemed to have achieved his goal: To distract my thoughts from the dark cell and the things that were waiting for us. And even though it was difficult to tell under his expansive beard, I saw that he was smiling. I lowered my gaze... "Thank you," I mumbled.

"Not for this, lass, not for this." He took another bite off the edge of the bread before saying, "You were right."

"About what?"

"If we ever get out of this bloody woods, you'll have to make us pizza."

That was a demand I could live with all too well.