Queen of the Woodland Realm [Thranduil]

Chapter 5: In the Dungeons

Author's Note: As the title suggests, this chapter is taking us somewhere we have not been...and that is all I shall reveal for now. I do hope you enjoy!

Dedicated to @Bookus, who has been a wonderful supporter of this story :)

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I was so cold.

I sat on the marble floor, trying to keep warm in my excuse for a dress. My hair hung in tangled mess around my shoulders. My mouth felt dry and lips cracked, but none of that was new to me.

I gripped the bars of my cell. How long had I been in here? Mere hours? Or had it been days?

I couldn’t remember. Sighing, I let my eyes close and fell away from my horrid prison. If I didn’t die of boredom, the damp would certainly make quick prey out of me.

I shivered violently, my teeth chattering with such force that it echoed around the chamber. What had I don’t to deserve this?

Oh. Right.

I remembered all too well what I had done, though whether I deserved to be thrown in the dungeon was questionable. I was just trying to help.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming toward my cell. I opened one eye to take in my visitor.

A mere serving elf was outside the bars. She carried a tray of food.

I tried my best not to show my hunger, and instead curled up and turned away from her. I didn’t want her pity.

The cell door made a small squeak as it was opened for a moment. I looked up to see the frightened elf quickly slam the bars in my face and walk away hurriedly, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Scared of me, she-elf? My lips curled into a sinister smile. How quaint.

She had nothing to be afraid of. I was harmless and weak.

I studied the bowl of soup before me. It seemed to carry leftover vegetables and a strange, grainy broth.

The soup was stone cold, but I finished it in one, quick swig. My stomach rumbled and I groaned a little, feeling even hungrier than before the ‘meal’. I picked up the lump of bread gingerly and retreated to the corner of my cell again, gnawing on it like a classic savage.

Was this to be my fate? Would I be executed at the next dawn?

Not knowing the answer to either question, I finished the stale bread and sat curled up, my cheek pressing onto the cold marble.

I had just been trying to help.

 ________________________________

 The village was burning. I ran around frantically, my tiny feet slapping the once shiny wood halls of my home.

“Anona!” I heard my mother’s voice followed by a scream.

“Nana [mother]!” I screamed, the smoke catching in my throat and making me cough.

“Anona!” She called for me again, but the falling roof barricaded the door.

“I’m coming!” I yelled, but I had no chance.

“Anona!” It was my sister this time. She scooped me up and made for the door.

“No! Anya!” I pounded on her shoulder. “Nana needs us!”

There were tears slipping down her face, making tracks in the grime. I could tell that she was sad too. She held onto me tight, and we ran through the village. I couldn’t even see my home anymore.