Lost Tales from Middle-earth

Healing and Kidnapping

During their fight, the Shieldswoman of Rohan had discreetly exited the caves, holding a shield for only protection. She had not meant to hit the elf so hard. Both of the fighters were unconscious, so she brought them inside to be healed. The elf might be an enemy, but Aragorn seemed to know him, and she wished not for the Man that she very much liked to feel the pain of losing a friend, as she had lost her friend and cousin Theodred not so long ago.

When she went in though, no one wished to heal the elf, so she decided to do it herself. She had brought with her her herbs, just in case. They would prove useful now. Thinking about how dangerous he had to be for beating the best swordsman she knew, she brought him to a remote place where no one was. She bound him to the walls of the cave with chains that must have been meant for prisoners. First she got a wet towel and started to clean his face. The edge of the shield had hit him hard and he was bleeding. She prepared a poultice and started to apply it on his wound. She then realized that the wound that she had inflicted him was not the only one, for he had a cut on his torso. It must have been Aragorn. She took his shirt off and cleaned that wound as well. After a while, when he entirely was cleaned and all his cuts covered with healing herbs, she gazed at him with new eyes. Now that the filth was removed, she could see how beautiful he was. He had soft features, long eyelashes, and his golden hair looked soft, even if it was shorter than how men and elves usually kept their hair. She could see that he had cut it himself, and done a rather poor job at it. Her eyes descended to his perfectly sculpted chest, and she found herself blushing. He might be Evil, but he still was an elf of noble blood, and left quite an impression on the niece of Theoden of Rohan, him also being the first of the immortal race she ever had laid eyes upon. At once his eyes snapped open, and after looking around a bit, she found herself staring into eyes colder than ice.

               

When Baralinion awoke, he did not know where he was. He vaguely remembered having been hit in the head with something sharp, and blacking out. He noticed that he was chained to the wall, and that these chains were solid. He noticed that there was a woman in front of him. Her golden hair rippled around her noble face and seeing the towel in her hand, he could guess that she was the one who had healed him, for all of his wounds were recovering. At her waist he saw the keys to his bounds. He would have to play nice to get out of here. He turned his gaze to her eyes. They were grey, though did not shine as Alcariniel's, and they widened. He saw her cheeks becoming a shade of red darker. He then realized that she found him attractive. 

Alright. He knew how he had to play this. His first words he softly spoke.

"My lady, do you know how long I have been unconscious?"

"Yes, elf, I know. It has been ten minutes only. My guess for such rapid healing is that elves are more resistant than Humans. Am I wrong?"

"You are not. Tell me, fair Lady, what is your name?"

"I am called Eowyn. And what is your name, prisoner?"

"I was first called Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Woodland Realm, but my name I forsook and now am called Baralinion."

"A Prince? Then you must have seen so many countries and Lands..."

"I actually have only seen much when traveling with the Fellowship. My Adar was quite protective."

"Wait a second. You traveled with the Fellowship?"

"Aye. I was a member. I was sent to Imladris by my father to bring to Elrond Halfelven news of our prisoner's escape, and was selected as one of the two Elves of the Fellowship."

"You are the son of Thranduil? The legendary Thranduil who dwells in Mirkwood with Alcariniel of Lórien?"

He had to fight the urge to growl.