My old friend, Thranduil

Chapter Four

I wake up early, throw on clothes, and braid my hair back.

After I finish my hair I silently slip out into the hallway, cautiously making my way to the kitchens.

The sound of Thranduil's voice makes me jump, and I slide into the shadows.

"Yes yes, alright. Make sure to find her. I want her found and presented to me by dinner." He says to the guard walking beside him as the move right past me.

I sigh and slink into the kitchens, where the cook tosses me a basket and nods at me, while one of the servants hands me a bag, my quiver, and a sword.

"Go quickly my lady, Thranduil is determined, and I am afraid his wrath is great." He says, opening the door for me.

"Thank you, your actions are greatly appreciated." I say, bowing my head to the servant.

He smiles, and then I turn and sprint out of the door.

Remembering the second gift that Legolas gave me, I run towards the main gates, knowing that I will be seen, but I do it anyway.

While the guards shout, I frantically search for the small box, scooping it up in my hand and sprinting towards the woods when I find it.

The guards follow behind me, but the trees cover me, raising their roots above ground, lowering their branches...

"Stop! Halt in the name of the King!" The soldiers cry out, trying to give chase and failing because of my foresty friends.

"Maybelline quick, hop on and I'll give you a lift!" Radagast shouts, pulling up beside me.

I jump, barely making the tail end of the sled.

A searing pain fills me, and I look down to find an arrow in my stomach.

My strength fails me, and the movement if the sled throws me off the tail end of it.

"Maybelline!" Radagast screams in fear, whipping a u turn faster than humanly possible.

"Oh Maybelline.." He says, tears coming out of his eyes as he crouches next to me.

"We have to get you to Rivendell." He says, wrapping his arm around my waist and my arm around his shoulder.

"Radagast..." I ask breathlessly.

"Yes Maybelline?" He asks as he carefully helps me lay back on the sled.

"What colour is the fletching?" I ask him, my eyelids falling.

"Green swan feathers tipped in gold." He says. "Why do you ask?"

I try to respond, but my mind is already gone.