Different Sense

Different Sense: 27

Bilbo was running as fast as his legs could carry him. He over took Lothiriel and Bofur and pretty much everyone else. He had never ran so fast in his life before. Where was Gandalf when they truly needed him?

Shadows flitted on the outskirts of his vision. They moved so fast that if he blinked he'd surely never realize that they were there. He was up for continuing to run until Lothiriel jumped to a halt in front of him. She had placed her hands on his shoulders to stop him. The sudden stop caused them both to falter backwards slightly.

“We cannot go any further.”

“Yes we can!”

“We can't keep running.” She said sadly, she yanked him out of the way and deflected an arrow with her drawn sword. “Run back!” So they started to run in the opposite direction

“I thought you said we couldn't run anymore?!” Bilbo exclaimed, he had to say something idiotic at a time like this.

Lothiriel let out a whine. “You're right!” She slowed to a stop and put her hands on her head. Bilbo stopped beside her. The two had just ran past Bofur, he looked confused but turned and joined their sides.

Lothiriel sunk to the floor on her knees, she looked forwards with a hardened stare. “Stop! Please, stop. We will not run anymore!” She shot the two of them a look, they knelt down too.

“I wish we knew how to disappear like them.” Bofur commented when all in front of them was silence and trees. “Can you do that?” He looked at Lothiriel, she frowned and chose to ignore him for the time being. She shut her eyes and opened them again slowly.

It was at this time that Bilbo remembered what he had found in the cave back in Goblin Town. He slowly reached up and put his hand in his pocket. His fingers encircled what he was looking for and then he was gone.

“Where'd the hobbit go?”

Bilbo watched as Bofur looked around confused. Lothiriel sharply turned and looked right at him, yet she couldn't see him. She was searching for him though, although he was right there with them. His eyes watched as the wolves and riders appeared and cut off all possible escape routes. The looks which were sent down at them were fierce and imposing.

Thorin and the rest of the company were ruthlessly thrown into the middle. Lothiriel looked down while Thorin shot up only to be pushed to his knees in front of her. Lothiriel reached out tentatively and latched onto his hand. Fili and Kili soon joined their sides.

Bilbo could easily see how tight the hold was that Lothiriel had on Thorin's hand, her other hand was clutching tightly onto Kili too. Thorin was holding both his nephews by now, Lothiriel had promptly let him go so he could hold onto them. Her hand though ended up gripping onto his sleeve.

A rider dismounted and made his steady way over to them. His features seemed hardened by the task, and by the group, in front of him. His gaze matched his expression, steely eyes glared down at them.

“Lothiriel, Daughter of Durion, and her company. You are sentenced to death.”

Bilbo's breath hitched, he was in a state of shock. This couldn't happen here or now. He looked around trying to formulate a plan. The problem was; he struggled considering the position they were all in.

“But, we have come to an arrangement with the elves. You may stand.”

Bilbo was confused to say the least. He watched as the others stood hesitantly. Thorin made sure to stand in front of Lothiriel, while still clutching onto Fili and Kili. They all waited for a long time before a very tall, elegant looking and dressed elf glided effortlessly out to stand before them. A small but beautiful leafed crown sat upon his head, he bowed with all the grace imaginable. He also gave them a small smile.

“Thranduil, you will honour our arrangement?” The unknown rider asked. His words broke the spell of calm and tranquillity which the elf had created. His words also caused Thorin's expression to darken upon hearing the name.

“I shall,” Thranduil gave the rider a brief glance. “I promise you.” His tone was one of calm.

The rider waved a hand to Lothiriel, she stepped forward unwillingly. She craned her neck up to look at Thranduil as she neared. Bilbo managed to inch a little closer to listen in.

“Lothiriel,” the rider spoke slowly. “You have my word, that I nor anyone else, will hunt you anymore.” He paused and looked at her. “But, we cannot leave you to your own devices. As you are aware, your uncle shall know if we do. So you are hereby left in the care of King Thranduil.”

“He will keep us hostage. He will never let us go.”

“But he will not kill you, unlike we have been ordered to.”

“No, imprisonment it is instead then, hm?” Lothiriel gave a small smile, a sad smile at that.

“I would rather that than your death, you have a chance at hand to have an unknown escape.” The rider stood back. “Farewell, Lothiriel. Your father would be proud of you.”

Lothiriel stepped back and bowed lowly. “I thank you.” She stood and stepped forward and placed her arms gently around his shoulders. “If I ever get round to uniting our kin, I shall seek you out again.” She put him at arm’s length as his arms moved from around her. “You can rest assure.” Lothiriel paused, “What is your name?”

“Faelon.”

“I will see you again, Faelon.”

“Thorin Oakenshield, how strange to have you in my forest, found on your knees as well, what a shock!” Thranduil's voice was surgically precise.

“Thranduil.” Was the only response Thorin gave.

“Fine, fascinating creatures are Nymphs.” His eyes seemed to leer down at Lothiriel. “But far too trusting.” She sneered and narrowed her eyes back up at him. “Take them to their cells.” He dismissed them simply, Lothiriel's eyes still scanned to try and find Bilbo, but she couldn't see him.

The elves bound their wrists and pushed them this way and that. Eventually they were all thrown into dark, poorly circulated cells. They were made of stone, and they were extremely cold.

Bilbo had followed them down and was about to voice something to Thorin and Lothiriel, who had been shoved into the same cell.