Seven Feet Under (A LOTR novel)

Chapter 8: Family Visitors?

I am now back to being alone in the Mirkwood prison. I wonder why King Thranduil doesn't just execute me; it would be much more clean cut. He has not sent for me since the first time, and sometimes I find myself wondering if he even remembers I am in here. I suppose he must though, because I am given a steady supply of food and water daily.

I feel so isolated from everything else; somehow I never even see the elves that come to bring me food.  They must come in the short span of time that I drift off to sleep, which is spaced sporadically throughout the day and night.  I just wish something good could happen, or at least something different from this constant state of warring boredom and fear.

Several Months Later:

Today something very out of the ordinary occured, and it all began very early in the morning.  There were still stars out in the sky when I was awoken by voices.

Before I'm even aware of what is happening, my cell door has been opened and I am being escorted down the hall in cuffs.  I vaguely remember the redheaded elf leading me down the hall from the first and only other time this had happened.

I only hope the king has not decided to execute me.  I am not naive enough to believe he is letting me go.

When the throne room becomes visible to me, I almost stumble to a stop.  There, standing next to the elf king, are people like me.  Even our wings match, all of theirs midnight in color.

 Coming to a stop a few feet from them, the king wastes no time with small talk. 

"Do you know these people?" he asks, his eyes narrowed.

I look them over, taking in their dark wings and strangely colored hair.  Every single one of them is staring at me, trying to convey a silent message; they want me to play along.  Well who am I to turn my nose up at a chance of freedom?

"Of course." I state flippantly, almost deciding to roll my eyes. 

The eldest of them steps forward, appearing to be their leader, perhaps.  She has a kind face and greyed eyes that speak of long years stretched behind her.  "As I've told you many times, this is my niece, and if you don't mind I'd like to take her back home now."

"Ah, not so fast." Thranduil holds up a hand, his tone deadly calm. "This is my prisoner."  

The iciness in his words makes me want to back up a few steps farther from him, but I hold my ground.  My chin juts out defiantly as I continue staring straight forward.

"Under what sentence?" the elder asks, sounding like a mother chastising a child for lying.

"Trespassing," he states, and I roll my eyes, "as well as lying to a King." His cold gaze meets mine with those words, narrowing in search of my reaction.  My face remains infuriatingly blank though, giving him no leverage in proving his point.

The elder of my newfound relatives "Ahems," and begins speaking again. "And what proof do you have of this?" she asks, not unkindly.

"She was found in Mirkwood territory, of course." 

"No, I mean what proof do you have that she lied." she states patiently, emphasizing the last word and making the King look rather foolish.  

I resist the urge to smirk at that, schooling my face into remaining neutral. 

"If you're not going to let me go then, can I please go back to my cell?" I ask dryly.

The king nods sharply to the guard, and I am led away, but not before mock-bowing in front of him. "Your grace." 

As I am being led back to my cell though, I pass right by all of the strange, winged "relatives" of mine, making it simple for one to lean in and whisper, "Help us and you'll see the last one's head on a spike."

 I nod, shocked.  It's no secret that I've been hunting down the people who killed my family all these years, but how could they know there is only one left?  I suppose I will just have to trust them, at least until they can get me out of here.  I have no doubt there will be a favor they ask of me; no one does anything for free.