((A note to offers to "illustrate" my story. I am not interested in paying people for artwork at this time, especially since I am willing to bet that I will never actually see what I paid for. So if you're a scammer trying to con me with promises of artwork for my story, please note that I'm not that stupid, so you may as well forget it, and quit wasting your time with someone whose IQ is high enough to get into MENSA if I wanted to (I don't see the point in MENSA, but I do qualify, so that should tell you something about my intelligence). Go get a real job, and knock it off. Tweetzone86))
For genuine readers-
I do not own any of the characters or The Hobbit (Just the AU storyline and my OC). Those are the work of the esteemed and brilliant John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, and without his genius, this and many other fanfics would not be in existence.
As always, please review, favorite, and follow -it is really encouraging :D
A note- lots of family stuff going on right now. My ADHD is struggling with being able to put the story together due to everything else that's going on, overwhelming the attention center of my brain. I will update as I can focus, so please be patient with me! I really appreciate it! -Tweetzone86
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Legolas stared at his father, wondering how he would take the news that he had just given him. Thranduil was silent for a good moment as he stared at the young prince.
"Thorin Oakenshield…is here?" he asked slowly, as though he hadn't comprehended what his son and High Captain had just told him. "In my dungeons?" Legolas nodded.
"Ayeth," he replied. "Him, along with twelve others of his kin. Tauriel's patrol and I discovered them in the forest when we destroyed that spider's nest." Thranduil's expression grew stern.
"I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed not two moons past." Legolas fought the urge to sigh with frustration. It was!
"The patrols cleared the forest as ordered, Adar," he explained. "But more spiders are coming up from the south. They are crossing the path at a surprising rate, and they should not be able to do so." Thranduil's frown deepened.
"No, they should not," he agreed. That path was hidden from sight within the forest, but it was also an enchanted barrier to protect their kingdom. If the spiders had been able to cross it, that meant that somehow, they had managed to overcome the strong enchantment, and they both knew it.
Few could see past the king's usual stoic expression, but Legolas could tell that this news troubled Thranduil greatly. Spiders were quite deadly even to elves, and Galmar was one of many who had fallen victim to the foul beasts of Morgoth. Too many had fallen. Too many who should have endured have died.
"Increase our patrols at the southern border," the king commanded. "They must not be permitted to keep entering our kingdom. Inform Captain Erestor of this after we are finished." Legolas nodded, and the king walked toward his parlor window, which overlooked the underground river.
"Now, the dwarves," he continued, his hands clasped behind his back. "What state were Thorin Oakenshield and his companions in when your patrol captured them?" Legolas sighed internally.
"Forgive me, Adar," he cautiously corrected, "But it was not my patrol. It was Captain Tauriel's." Thranduil turned around, and his eyes narrowed.
"Yes, it was," he agreed, though Legolas knew more was coming. His father's voice was too controlled, too even, and that usually meant he was angry. "And yet, you felt the need to aid her patrol, instead of seeing to your own duties. All this, when you assured me over and over again that she was ready for the rank of Captain of the Guard, and could perform the demands of her position unaided." His tone told Legolas that he was in deep trouble for this, and he knew it.
"Ayeth," he admitted reluctantly. "She did have a little…difficulty on her first patrol as a Captain of the Guard, and I felt the need to intervene. However, I still stand by my recommendation."
"Even though her incompetence led to the death of one of her patrols?" Thranduil replied tersely. "Even though she abandoned her post?" Legolas swallowed thickly. He knew that, and Erestor knew that, but the king was not supposed to know.
"Adar," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "She is highly skilled with bow and blade, and I scolded her greatly for her error. The reason I joined her patrol was to see if she was truly capable of being a Captain of the Guard for myself. I did not take the lead, until we came upon the dwarves." His father's gaze pierced right through him.
"You should not have taken the lead even then," he chastised him. "She needs to be able to lead her patrol, regardless of who or what enters our borders without leave, including dwarves." His anger was palpable now.
"Forgive me, Adar," Legolas apologized, "But I took the lead because of which dwarf it was. As soon as I saw Thorin Oakenshield, I took it upon myself to capture him, knowing you would demand it of me, and not wishing for him to escape in the confusion of the spider fight. I stand by my actions, even if I must beg forgiveness for them. But I did not want him of all dwarves to escape." Thranduil sighed, and some of the anger left his expression.
"You are not to interfere with patrol assignments," he ordered sternly. "Though you are very skilled with bow and blade yourself, I do not wish to count you amongst the fallen they have produced." His gaze met his father's, and though his voice was stern, Legolas could see that it was fatherly concern that caused his anger.
"Ayeth, Adar," he conceded. Thranduil nodded to him, then his expression became stoic again.
"Now, the dwarves," he repeated, changing the subject somewhat. "What condition were they in? Were they ill from spider poison?" Legolas nodded.
"Ayeth," he affirmed. "They also appeared to be half-starved, and quite bedraggled. I believe they have been lost in the forest for some time." Thranduil shook his head with a slight smirk.
"Only a dwarf can navigate the strange mazes of dwarf kingdoms," he muttered. "And yet, be so foolish that even their exiled kings find themselves lost amongst mere trees." Legolas smirked a bit, too. He had never entered a dwarf kingdom, but he knew his father had once entered Erebor. He also knew how that particular meeting had gone, and it hadn't gone well at all.
"So you believe Thrain to be dead?" he asked him. Thranduil nodded.
"None have seen, nor heard, from him in some time," he replied. His eyes sparked once again in anger. "And yet, Thorin's presence here in these halls might prove rather…fortuitous for us." Legolas's brow furrowed in confusion.
"How?" he asked cautiously. Thranduil smiled to himself, even as he looked over the kingdom's halls below.
"Because there is only one reason why Thorin Oakenshield would travel so far east," the king replied, and Legolas sensed a touch of excitement in his father's tone. "And, if I am correct, the time for redress of old grievances is near." He turned to Legolas.
"See to it that the dwarves are given food, medicine, and drink in their cells," he commanded him. "I want them to be of sound mind, and all spider poison out of their bodies, when you bring them to me for questioning. Also give them enough soap and water to wash that abominable stench off their skin. I do not need them reeking of spiders and travel." Legolas nodded and turned to leave, when a sudden thought struck him.
"What of the young girl?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. Thranduil looked up in surprise.
"What young girl?" he asked, looking confused.
"Did they not tell you?" Legolas asked, himself surprised. His father was good at finding out about happenings in his kingdom, as evidenced by his awareness of Tauriel's offenses. The fact that he hadn't heard of the adaneth yet startled him. "Naithon and I found a young Mannish maid in the spider's nest." Thranduil seemed just as startled as he was about this.
"Where did she come from?" he asked, looking concerned. "Surely Thorin would not have permitted a young maid to travel with them. Dwarves do not trust outside of their own kin." Legolas shook his head.
"I do not know," he replied. "No one else did, either." Thranduil slowly sat down in his chair, his eyes focused on a spot on the floor.
"What did she say when you found her?" He asked, looking up at the young prince. "Did she say anything about why she was in the woods alone?"
"She was very, very ill with spider poison," Legolas explained. "She didn't say anythi—" He stopped short, remembering the one word she did say.
"She opened her eyes briefly, and looked at me," he amended. "And, Adar…she knew my name." Thranduil's eyes widened.
"Do you know who she is?" he asked. Legolas shook his head.
"No," he answered. "I've thought hard about it, but I do not recall having ever seen her before. Ever." Thranduil's expression grew concerned.
"Did she say anything else?" he asked. Legolas shook his head.
"No," he said. "She was barely awake when she said it, and fell unconscious again right after. As I said, she was very, very ill with spider poison. I left Tauriel's patrol with instructions to bring the prisoners to the dungeons, and I picked her up and took her straightaway to Miriel. She's with her now, trying to extract the spider poison." Thranduil rose to his feet and began to slowly walk around the room.
"Adar," Legolas continued, as a worrisome thought entered his mind. "She was clearly starving also. Maybe she was traveling with her kin, and became separated and lost in the forest, and the spiders found her." Thranduil shook his head.
"Dwarves, spiders, and now Men?" he said, clearly frustrated. "Are our borders so poorly patrolled that any who wish may enter unchecked and unchallenged?!" He sat down again and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Were there any other victims in the nest?" he asked. Legolas shook his head.
"No," he replied. "We found the dwarves, and the young adaneth. There was no one else." Thranduil hummed. Another, even more troubling thought entered Legolas's mind.
"Perhaps…" he began, now very worried about the young adaneth. "Perhaps she was lost, and the dwarves found her and captured her? That would explain why she was with them, and not with Men." Thranduil looked at him skeptically.
"And perhaps an eagle picked her up in a field and happened to drop her into our wood," he said sarcastically. "It does no good for us to speculate as to why she was in the spider's nest. However, we do need to find out who she is, and where she is from. Since she seems to know your name, I want you to go to the Healing Halls and question her." Legolas frowned.
"Should I consider a lost child a prisoner?" he asked tersely. Thranduil sighed.
"No, of course not," he clarified. He looked at Legolas, concern in his gaze. "You said she was a young adaneth, and now you say she is a child. Which is it?" Legolas frowned. He was not skilled at guessing the number of winters Men have seen. They aged so fast that it was hard for him to keep up.
"She is old enough to have begun to…well, blossom," he replied awkwardly, unsure of how else to say it without it sounding very rude and uncouth. "But she has not yet reached her full height, and she doesn't appear old enough to have reached her majority." Thranduil nodded.
"A young maid still in her youth then." Legolas nodded.
"As best as I can determine," he confirmed. Thranduil frowned, and tightened his grip on the arm of his chair.
"You say she is half-starved and very ill with spider poison?" Legolas nodded. "And she's with Miriel?"
"Ayeth," he affirmed.
"Did Miriel say if she will survive?" Thranduil now looked very concerned.
"She was not certain," Legolas admitted. "But she is doing everything she can to help her." Thranduil sighed.
"Men are mortal," he said sadly. "I care little for them, for they are but a blink in the life of an elf. There one moment, and gone the next. But I am not heartless." He looked at him.
"Give the child whatever she needs," he commanded. "If Miriel can spare her life, and she regains consciousness, see if you can find out where she is from, and where her family is. If any of her kin are still living, we will make arrangements for her to be returned to them, safe and well." Legolas frowned.
"What if her kin are dead?" he asked. Thranduil sighed.
"Then I will have no choice but to commit her to the care of the Master of the Lake," he said, his distaste for the ruler in question evident in his voice. Legolas tensed up.
"Adar," he said tersely. "I know we must have trade and passage agreements with the Lakemen, but the Master is an utter fool. How can you commit the care of a child to him?" Thranduil didn't look pleased at the prospect either.
"I do not have a choice," he said, frustration in his tone as he rubbed his forehead. "Yes, he is a gluttonous, stupid, and greedy fool. But he is the Master of the Town by right, and according to their laws, he is the only one who can accept an orphaned ward into the town, and the only one who can find a suitable family to take her in. No one else is permitted to do so." Legolas sighed.
"It is a ridiculous law," he muttered. "Can't you tell him that your emissaries shall decide who she goes to? He'll listen to you, because he gets all his gold from trade with you. You can convince him to change his law." Thranduil shook his head.
"No, I cannot," he reiterated. "Yes, I have a trade alliance with him. But I am not the Master of that town. He is. That town is outside of my borders, and while I have a great deal of influence there, I do not have the power to change their laws. You know that, ion." Legolas clenched his fist in frustration.
"What about Gondor?" he asked. "Can't we leave her in the care of Ecthelion instead? He is a good man."
"No," Thranduil said firmly. "She is still mortal. The journey to Gondor is growing increasingly perilous, and, child or no, I will not risk the lives of my warriors when there is a Mannish settlement much closer to us. If she no longer has living kin, she will be sent to Esgaroth and given to the care of the Master of the Lake." Legolas sighed heavily.
"However," Thranduil amended, looking at him. "I will write a letter to the Master, respectfully requesting that he take care of her properly, and that he asks someone to find her a home that can be trusted to make a wise selection. That is all I can do, without overstepping my bounds. I will not jeopardize our trade agreements with the Master under any circumstances. With our forest growing increasingly dark, and game more and more inedible, our people need his cooperation so they don't starve." Legolas accepted his position, albeit reluctantly.
"Ayeth, Adar," he acquiesced, saluting in response.
"Now," Thranduil began, standing up. "You are to see to it that the dwarves are fed, and washed. Once those orders are given, I want you to go to the Healing Halls and wait for our young guest to awaken. If she does, you are to find out who she is and where she dwells, and ensure that she is properly taken care of. Ensure that she's clothed, bathed, healed, and fed properly. Once she's well enough, have her moved to a guest chamber, until she can be either returned to her kin, or sent to Esgaroth." He nodded, and Thranduil continued.
"After the dwarves have eaten," he added, "and had a chance to sleep, you are to bring them to my visitor throne for questioning. Bring me Thorin Oakenshield first, followed by the others." He looked up at him, and there was a glint of excitement in his eye.
"With any luck," he finished, "He will be more reasonable than his fool of a grandfather."
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Cirashala didn't remember much after the spider jumped down on her. All she could recall was being struck hard, and a sharp, excruciating pain in her shoulder. The rest was just a blur, as though she were living in a dream. In the dream, she felt herself bound, and drowning. Air was running out fast, as she sank deeper into the sea. She hit the seafloor with a jolt, seeing nothing but black as nausea enveloped her.
The strangest part of the dream, other than the thought trying to break through the cobwebs in her mind was that they were thousands of miles from the sea, was that she saw Legolas. Behind his head was a blur, but his face was clear. His eyes looked worried, and darkness enveloped her again. She kept hearing his voice whisper that she would be all right, but how could this be? How could he be here? Why wasn't he with the Fellowship? Why did she feel so sick?
Where am I? She thought to herself. Why is he here? He needs to be with the Fellowship. He needs…to protect…
Nausea surged once more, and she felt herself start to vomit. But she couldn't move. It was as though her body was paralyzed. She gagged, even as her head swam in circles. Air…she needed air. Thoughts flooded her mind, addled thoughts as glimpses passed through. A grave. Lightning. Trolls. Wargs. Elves. Lord Elrond. Rivers. Dwarves. Kili…
Kili. Where are you? Kili!
Suddenly, someone lifted her shoulders, and she felt her airway cleared. Voices began to break through the fog, but she didn't understand what they were saying. Words were coming fast, but they didn't sound like Kili. They didn't sound like dwarves. A flurry of sound. The sound of spoons banging against pots. A cool, slender hand pressed against her eyes as strange words were spoken. Breath brushed across the top of her head, even as an arm cradled her back.
The darkness began to fade. The more she retched, the more light she could see peeking through fingers. Slowly the fuzzy sound in her ears began to transition to clarity. The cobwebs of her mind began to clear, and the sound of elvish voices whispering reached her ears. The chanting above her head ceased, and the hand was slowly removed from in front of her eyes. The bright light of the room blinded her, and she groaned, even as the pounding inside her head regressed to just a dull ache.
A familiar masculine voice whispered in what she guessed was Sindarin, the common tongue of the elves of Middle-earth in the Third Age, and an unfamiliar feminine voice sounded above her in reply. The young woman frowned, even as the spots danced in front of her eyes.
I know that voice.
Blinking rapidly, suddenly the room became clear. A very confused Cirashala found herself staring at several very concerned female elves at the end of an ornately carven bed. One spoke to someone behind her, and she looked to her right to see a tall elf woman. The woman had long, black hair, with bright blue eyes and a fair complexion. The eyes spoke of someone far older than her youthful, ageless face appeared, and the young woman instinctively knew that this elf woman was very, very old indeed.
"Ah," the woman said in Westron. "The spider poison has mostly left you." Cirashala looked around in confusion, before her gaze landed on the elf sitting on her left. Blue eyes met familiar ones, and she gasped as her eyes widened.
Legolas looked quite puzzled at her reaction, and the dark haired elf woman behind her quickly laid her hand on Cirashala's shoulder.
"Do not be afraid, young one," she said reassuringly. "You are no longer in danger. Our people rescued you in the forest." Cirashala breathed heavily as she looked uncertainly around the room again, trying to get her bearings. Her mind was still a little foggy.
The room she was in had walls carven out of stone, but it both did, and didn't, look like a cave. There was so much light coming in from windows to the right, behind the dark-haired elf woman. The sound of water rushing over stone came through, along with wholesome air and sunlight coming from holes carven high out of the stone ceiling, and she could hear birds calling from the top of stone pillars carved to look like trees. If it weren't for the walls and stone, and if she squinted, she might almost believe she was in a beautiful forest!
"Perhaps she does not speak Westron?" One of the elf women at the end of her bed said. The other elbowed her and said something in Sindarin, causing the first one to blush and look sheepish.
"It is all right," Legolas said, his voice gentle. She turned back to him, and he held up his hands. "None of us are armed. No one will hurt you, daughter of Men." She could see a dresser next to the wall behind him, with a clay bowl and pitcher resting atop it, and on the nightstand next to the bed, there was a bowl that smelled quite foul, and a churn in her stomach told her that they had used it when she vomited. There was another one that looked like tea, and smelled like medicine.
"It's a healing room," she mumbled, her tongue still feeling fuzzy in her mouth. He nodded.
"Aye," he replied. "We found you in the forest, very sick with spider poison. I brought you to our Healing Halls." He gestured to the dark-haired woman.
"This is Miriel," he continued. "She is our most skilled Healer, and the Lady of the Healing Halls. She drew the poison out and healed you." Cirashala turned and looked at Miriel, who nodded to her.
"You were very ill, indeed," she said, and by her tone, Cirashala could tell she had been worried. "We did not think you would survive, being so starved as you were, and so young, but you responded far better to the medicine than we thought you would." At the mention of the spiders, the young woman grew very worried for her friends.
"The dwarves?" she asked, looking at Legolas. "Where are they?" His expression grew sympathetic, and he laid his hand on hers.
"You needn't worry about them anymore," he said quietly. "You are safe now, young adaneth. They cannot hurt you now." Her eyes widened in fear as her eyes filled with tears. Bilbo had failed. He had to have failed. Why else would he say that. Realization hit her…hard.
No…not Kili…not my friends! NO!
"They're dead," she gasped, feeling like her heart stopped in her chest. She pounded his chest with her fists. "No. No! You killed them! You killed—" She kept struggling as tears fell uncontrollably.
"No!" he said, clearly startled at her reaction as he grabbed her arms. She heard a blade unsheathe behind her.
"Daro!" He commanded over her shoulder, before looking back at her. "No, we did not kill them! Why would you think they were dead?" She continued to struggle against him, trying to break free of his arms, but her own were still quite weak from the poison, and he hugged her and held her fast so she couldn't hit him.
"The spiders!" she cried, panic overtaking her. "The spiders! They'll kill them! You have to help them!" He tensed, and pushed her away from him, though he kept a firm but gentle grip on her forearms so she couldn't attack him again.
"Why do you want me to help them?" he asked, clearly confused. "Didn't they take you prisoner?" Cirashala's eyes widened in astonishment.
"What?! No!" she replied, aghast at his insinuation. She looked around the room in astonishment, before back at him.
"They're my friends!"
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Thanks to all who review, favorite, and follow! You guys are amazing! : D : D : D