How I Leave You

Pick Your Poison

 The keys are easy to steal.

It might have something to do with the fact that the scent of my blood seems to have seeped down into the basement as well, leaving the guards terribly fascinated to investigate the party upstairs. It might also have something to do with the ring currently on my finger. Regardless of what it is, I'm by the cells in no time, revealing myself before I turn the corner.

"Ilwien?"

Bilbo is the first to notice me.

"Stop saying her name, lad," Dwalin says.

"No, I--" Bilbo tries, pointing at me as I come towards them.

"Shh," I say, a finger over my lips.

Suddenly, there is not a dwarf that isn't piled up by the bars of his cells, their noses poking through as they watch me try to find the right key.

One by one, I get the doors opened.

"We don't have much time," I whisper. "I don't know how long it'll be before my effects wear off, so just follow me."

"Effects?" Thorin asks.

I ignore the question.

Silently, I make my way through the corridors, but when the company begins trailing me, I almost stop. Dwarves may be many things, but they were never quiet. Like a thunderstorm, their boots clatter against the floor. I can only pray the noise of the party upstairs will drown it out.

We enter the storage room.

"Now what?" Thorin asks, clearly not at his happiest. "There is no door."

"Do you trust me?" I ask him.

There's ice in his eyes as they meet mine. He doesn't say a word. But he doesn't object, either.

"Good. Then get in one of those barrels."

"What?"

"You heard me. Get in a barrel. And make it quick."

With hesitating movements, they find an empty barrel each, getting in it after placing it on the floor according to my directions.

"The prisoners," someone yells far away.

"Search the grounds!"

Aulë be damned.

"When your barrel starts moving, hold your breaths!" I instruct.

Then I pull the lever.

One after the other, they go rolling into the river. But just as the last has left, someone enters the room.

A guard.

"Here!" he yells, aiming his bow right at me.

I jump into the water as he unleashes the arrow.

The rest of the company is already far down the river when the transformation starts. It always takes so long to drown, to give myself over to the water as entirely as it needs me to. They do not hear me scream. The blood is washed away in the rashness of the current.

Finally, I can breathe again. I've become one with the river around me. I let it carry me onwards, let it take me away from the confines of Thranduil's kingdom.

I forgot how good it feels to be free. I was never made to be contained. It's not in my blood, let alone in my nature.

But when I breach the surface again, something is wrong. Further down, the yells that reach me aren't joyous, but instead full of warnings and commands. What is upon us?