Chapter Text
To have thought that he was the most beautiful thing she had set eyes on only the day before. How ridiculous! She paced angrily around her chambers, hoping to burn a hole in the carpet. How did his subjects respect him or obey him when he was such an arrogant and cruel leader? She hastily threw open the chestnut wardrobe. Velvet and silk gowns of green, black and gray hung about, beautifully woven, and she had to admit that they were far better options than her dirty breeches and tunic.
A simple gown of black velvet caught her eye. It was long and plain, but it was prettier than the others and lightly stitched with gold thread. She changed quickly, and took a look in the vanity. Her hair was still a mess, she knew, so she unbraided the plait and ran her fingers through the loose waves. This would have to do for now. She would have to endure for the time being. But she was strong. She had made it this far. She could go a little longer.
A knock came at the door, and with a sigh, she opened it. Tauriel stood there, arms folded in front, but her face looked pleased at her choice of wardrobe. “That’s much better than before. I’m sure you’re hungry. Come.”
In hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have been so defiant to the king before. He could have very well told her that she would get no food. Despite his coldness, she was grateful that he let her dine. You recognized the same passageways that Tauriel led you down, but then she veered off to the right and went down a hall. You could hear the clatter of plates and utensils, the talking among people and eventually to your delight, the smell of food.
You entered a smaller room than the ones you had seen so far. In the middle sat a long oak table, filled with many types of foods, berries and mulled wines. The voices grew quieter upon your entrance and your cheeks flamed once more. The last thing she wanted was any more attention directed at her. She wrung her hands together and tried to breathe deeply once more, but it did little to calm the nerves dancing in her stomach.
“Come, and sit.” Tauriel told her quietly, guiding her towards an oak chair in the middle of one side of the table. She sat quietly, trying to remain as impenetrable as ever. She felt the king's eyes on her, though, and she desperately wanted to look, to challenge him.
She knew that he knew she was trying to focus on anything but him, and for a moment, out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips twitch imperceptibly. “She’s not bound? And dining with us?” a male elf spoke, disgrace written plainly across his perfect features. She stole a glance at the king, his features unmoved. “Yes. She is our guest, is she not?” The elf scoffed, and glared at her. Guest, did he say? His guest?! What on earth did he mean? Sure, she offered herself up ‘willingly’ but she truly had no other choice!
“She has no right to dine with us, after tarnishing herself with those Dwarven scum!” Her hand found her wine cup, and before she calculated the severity of her actions, tossed the blood red liquid on the elf's face, soiling his clothes. For a moment, everything went quiet, and she wanted to sink down in her chair and cower for the rest of time, knowing that she would surely be punished.
She cast a troubled look at Tauriel, who, much to her surprise, was trying not to smile. The other elf, stoo, the legs of his chair scraping harshly on the floor. Suddenly, though, there was a laugh. The king. He had laughed, actually laughed, and for a moment she thought what a beautiful sound it to be, and how foreign the look of glee was on his face. The wine covered elf looked at his king, insulted. “He na- but a dilthen lach- o a bigger naur.” The king said, but she did not know what the words meant, although he said them with a half smile. The elf huffed, glared at her once more, then stalked off back down the hall. She was ashamed of her actions, but he more than deserved it. “It’s alright. He isn’t very well liked anyway,” Tauriel whispered next to you. You raised your brows, “Can’t imagine why,” you muttered.
The remainder of the meal went along surprisingly well, and you were able to eat fine cooked fish, berries and drink crisp water. You did feel better, actually, not enough to be happy with your predicament, but just enough to give you strength for another day. One day at a time, you had to remind yourself.
The king did not speak to you for the entirety of the meal, but Tauriel would say something every now and then, and it made you think she didn’t want you to feel alone. You were beginning to like her, despite your circumstances. You even were able to smile at some passing jokes she made, almost feeling lighter.
It was no surprise that after the meal had passed, you were carefully escorted back to your chambers, and although you knew it was not of her own volition, Tauriel locked the door behind her, now confining you officially. You could feel a darkness making itself at home in your chest again, and you yearned once more to be with the Company. So you cried again, and you sobbed and wept until your throat pulsated with every beat of your heart. You curled into a ball, tucking your knees to your chest and gripped the sheets of the bed. They’ll come for me. I know it.
***
You had found very few things to keep yourself occupied over the course of the next week. You would be invited to dine, and no more. Otherwise you would be kept to the confines of your room, locked away like every other prisoner. You had mentioned to Tauriel that even one book would be the difference between happiness and throwing yourself over the balcony.
You had told her how you loved to read, ravishing any book you could find. It was dramatized, of course, but having nothing to do other than sit by the vanity, or watch the sunset by the balcony, you were rotting away.
Which is why you were gleefully happy at finding a neatly stacked pile of books on your vanity after dinner one evening. They were even in English and not elven. Another thing to be grateful about.
The thirteenth night from being held there, you dressed in a simple green gown and followed Tauriel down to the dining hall. You relished the time you had outside of your room, it was the only sense of freedom you were blessed with, and you soaked every moment up. The dinner was quiet, King Thranduil sitting at the head of the table, drinking his mulled wine. He hadn’t said much else to her since the first night in which she drenched that elf. She had been caught glancing at the king from the balcony, as he spoke with various guards.
“I wanted to thank you,” you said quietly to Tauriel. Her brow knitted in confusion, “Thank me? For what?” she said. It was time to furrow your brows. “The books,” you mentioned, it seeming obvious. Suddenly you felt eyes on you, but did not have the courage to look that way.
She shook her head, red braids moving from right to left. “I did not give you any books, I’m afraid.” She said. You sat back, face contorted in confusion and swallowed your wine. Tauriel was not the one to give you the books? Who was? Who else would care whether or not she was bored and needed something to occupy her time? Who could have given you the books?
You took another sip of your wine, and looked to your side, but you were met with another stare. His stare. This night, for some reason you were seated right to the left of the king and it unnerved you. His gaze was always so piercing, so powerful and intense.
“Have you found your accommodations suitable?” The question was asked quietly, not meekly, though, but not nearly loud enough for everyone else to hear, as they rest continued with their conversation. You looked at him. He was wearing a gown of gray, silver threaded through and his hair left hanging long on his back. Captor or King or neither, one had to admit that he was striking. Beautifully, powerfully intense.
You found the courage to finally answer him. “Yes,” you said, “I find them very suitable, thank you.” Your answer seemed to please him, as he bowed his head. A moment of silence passed between the two of you, but you spoke again, growing quiet, “I am…” you trailed, and looked at him, actually looked him in the eyes and she felt herself falter.
He was beautiful, but he remained silent, his eyes quietly urging her on. “...I am grateful…for your hospitality. For letting my friends go.” For a moment, she saw the fleeting but present seed of softness pass in his eyes, before being replaced again with the aloofness she had grown so accustomed to over the past few weeks. “You are welcome,” he said so softly, she was sure it was but a whisper in the wind. She could take his gaze no longer and decided it was time to focus intently on the plate of food before her.
The moment she and Tauriel were making their exit from the dining hall, the king made a quiet, passing comment in Elvish to Tauriel. Tauriel stood, a dumbfounded look on her face, but exited with you nonetheless. “What did he say?” you asked, “Nothing important, I promise you.” She returned with a smile.
Like every night before her, Tauriel led her up the winding wood staircase and back to her chambers. She bowed her head goodbye before shutting the door behind her. Like every night, she was expecting to hear the same click that indicated the locking of the door, but it never came. In fact, she stood there frozen for several minutes, never hearing the locking of the door. Had she been hallucinating? Had her hearing gone? Had Tauriel forgotten the key elsewhere. But there she remained, ten, twenty, thirty minutes passing, and no click.