Book One: Little River | Thorin Oakenshield

Chapter Eighteen

CONTENT WARNING: Description of Wounds

~ | The Prince of Mirkwood | ~

Narelle looked up at her savior as the figure paused just outside the cave's entrance, gently setting her back on her feet. "Legolas!" she exclaimed, relief flooding her features, her eyes shining with gratitude as she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "What are you doing here?"

Legolas helped her over to a nearby rock, his hands steady and reassuring, and began to untie her corset with practiced ease. "Gandalf sent me," he replied, his voice calm yet laced with concern. "He had a feeling you'd need help. Seems he was right."

Narelle nodded, her fingers trembling slightly as she pulled off her corset and shirt, wincing at the way the bloodied fabric clung to her wounds. She turned her back to Legolas, exposing the injuries that marred her skin. His expression tightened with concern, the sorrow in his eyes deepening as he took in the extent of her injuries. "By the stars, what have they done to you?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine distress.

As Legolas gently cleaned the blood from her back with a damp cloth, Narelle flinched at the stinging sensation. "What about the others? Are they safe?" she managed to ask, each word punctuated by a wince as he tended to her wounds.

Legolas handed her a set of fresh clothes, his gaze unwavering. "Gandalf is leading them out of another exit. You'll need to find them on your own. Put these on; your old ones are beyond saving."

Narelle took the clothes, her heart swelling with gratitude as she recognized the familiar green packet. "Is that lembas?" she asked, a smile breaking through her pain.

Legolas smiled back, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "Yes, and there are some herbs from Tauriel to help speed up your healing."

"Of course," Narelle chuckled as she pulled out a small bottle of herbs, examining it with a fond smile. "She really does know me too well."

Legolas let out a soft laugh as she carefully placed the bottle back into her bag. "Well, she is your sister, Nari," he said warmly. "It's only natural she'd think ahead for you."

Narelle smiled, shaking her head. "I still can't believe how she's always one step ahead of me."

Legolas took Narelle's hand, his expression softening as he looked up at her. "Nari, I heard you from the shadows. Why are you risking your life for..." He hesitated, struggling to find the right words before finally snapping, "...their kind?"

Narelle sighed at his evident disdain for the dwarves. "You act as if they've wronged you in the worst possible ways, Legolas. They're simply kind people trying to reclaim their home.""They're not kind, Nari. They're rude, impulsive, boisterous—"

Narelle interrupted him, her voice firm yet understanding. "Grumpy, immature, and stubborn. I won't deny that. But you only see their flaws and ignore the good in them."

"They have no good in them, Narelle. You ended up in that cave because of them and this foolish quest. You need to come home," Legolas insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. Narelle shook her head defiantly. "I was in that cave because I chose to help the dwarves. I'm on this quest because Gandalf asked me to assist them. You would do the same if you had lost our home. I stepped in front of the Goblin King because—"

She faltered, unable to finish her thought. Legolas, sensing her struggle, gently urged her on with a nod.

"Because you love him, Narelle. You can't deny those feelings."

"I'm not denying those feelings, Legolas. He knows how I feel, and he feels the same way," Narelle replied earnestly.

Legolas sighed, giving her a knowing look. "But does he truly understand who you are, Narelle? Where you come from? Who your parents are? Who I am? Who your family are?"