The Last Light of the Star

4 - The Corridor of Corpses

Arryin was quickly escorted through the winding woodland halls and into a spacious room with the door harshly slammed shut behind her.

For the first time since her arrival, she was left alone with the silence of her thoughts—and it was a relief.

Arryin had always been on her own, ever since the massacre of her people. Therefore, being around others was different and difficult—especially when they watched one's every move; which, of course, was particularly common among elves with their prying questions and peculiar stares. Hence why she preferred solitude. She always had. The Ranger spent most of her time secluded in the elements, earning coin by collecting bounties or stealing. But truthfully so, little did she care for the worries and concerns of others. She had her own to bare.

That thought of which brought up a rather sizable concern.

She felt like utter horse shit.

The Mirkwood healers had done quite a good job of patching her up—better than her own skills of self-stitching. However, as any, their expertise was no immediate cure. The potions and mixtures they provided to lessen the pain were wearing off and their properties running thin. Not a good sign.

Arryin released a heavy sigh as her thoughts drifted from her injuries to her surroundings.

Cold, grey stone stretched beneath her feet. It was met on all four sides by dark wooden walls that rose up to touch a dome shapped ceiling. Yet the complex swirl of the furnished timber was interrupted, for a vast archway lead into another room. This alcove consisted of a toilet, sink, and an oval shaped hole pressed into the ground. Although, it wasn't dirty or gross—it was large and coated in beautiful blue tiles that shimmered from the torch light. Quite a fancy washroom, if you asked Arryin. A vast window was also set into the walls. It looked out over the sickly Mirkwood forest. Her gaze locked onto it for a moment, entranced by her thoughts, as the glass whispered for the Ranger to leap out into the freedom of the wilderness—indeed she felt quite caged within these elven walls.

Arryin shook her head and twisted away from the thoughts of escape and back to her inspection.

Centered upon one wall rested an elaborate bed. It had thick, wooden posts that were engraved with floral petals and swirling designs. The four pillars connected in an intricate manner overhead and a deep red canopy hung down upon each wooden pole. The mattress was rather high off the ground as it was level with Arryin's stomach, but then again she was abnormally small for an elf.

The dark haired woman walked towards the extravagant sleeping space and reached out to touch the soft, velvet fabric that covered the mattress. The cloth easily slipped between her fingers. "High quality and expensive," she muttered to herself.

Arryin let her hand trail down the bed to the fur blanket draped over the bottom half. It had been ages since she came in contact with such fancy materials. She was used to sleeping on rough soil with only her ebony-colored cloak, for all the money she earned was spent on weapons and food rather than frivolous things.

As she came out of her short contemplation, her gaze landed on an enormous mirror leaning against the wall perpendicular to the bed. It was delicately framed by the same swirling wooden pattern of the bed-frame and the reflective glass inside stared into her soul. She could barely recognize the woman that gazed back at her for she was clean and dressed for the elvish court. It was entirely different from—

A brisk knock sounded, interrupting her self-examination.

Arryin spun around, startled by the noise, for she was a warrior and such sounds normally indicated danger.