43

                                    

                                          
Liruliniel was dreaming of Amon Lanc, back when it sat within a fair and green woodland, bristling with life that meant no harm to others, and did not seek to destroy and kill everything within sight. She remembered the halls, so vast she'd have to sometimes narrow her eyes to see the end of them. The ceilings, so tall she never fully understood how they were constructed; all pillars and arching vaults up there connected in some way or another, the grey stone was light enough to not be oppressive yet it still held the same beauty as most things elves created. It was a fortress, strong and vigilant on its hill, Liruliniel had often mused how they hadn't seen the evil coming. They could've seen it, surely?
                          
Liruliniel basked in the garden spaces and trundled through the empty corridors. She hadn't dreamt of past homes for many a year. She found she used to yearn for those spaces again, so familiar and welcoming but really, the void had been filled steadily over the years, mainly with thanks to Thranduil. Home was where people you cared about were, not the building in which they all reside. He was the only family she had remaining, and by extension that went for Legolas too.
                          
There was always an offsetting feeling in the fortress, Liruliniel had always thought it. Something never felt right. Or, was this just something her mind was conjuring up in her dream? She was struggling to fully remember the large windows which let in floods of light. What was showing now were mere shadowed holes in the walls, the grey brickwork sullied and dirtied by weathering and nature. Patchy ill looking moss clung to the walls and around the doors and windows.
                          
That was when she felt it, the sickening lurch like she was being yanked backwards by a great force. How she remained standing, she did not know. She did however let out a gasp, placing a hand to her stomach she placed her other hand to her head, it was hurting something chronic. Shutting her eyes and turning, she looked at the once great balcony which also converted to a small meeting area to look outwards at the forest. She had loved coming up here when she was young, the forest had looked so tremendous to her young eyes. Now it looked diseased and dying.
                          
"Atigat lat are." The whispering voice seemed to travel all around her, Liruliniel swallowed and lowered her arms and looked around herself. She was alone, but it wouldn't be the first time she had been spoken to. She didn't understand what was said, but she had heard it before in a dream which involved a battlefield. "Izg can hontum lat." The almost mocking voice continued as she turned on her heels, nothing. Liruliniel frowned, this was a dream, not a vision, she had full control over the situation whereas in a vision, she did not. She was not powerless here, inhaling deeply she turned and walked away. "Amal are lat going?" Liruliniel's pace quickened and she soon found herself running down a corridor which was once beautiful but now covered in decay. She skidded around a corner and headed towards any room which was nearby, only she didn't end up in a room but rather a stone foyer with stairs leading to the higher tiers of the fortress. The space was changing around her, and it wasn't by her will. She had never been trapped in a dream, a vision, a waking nightmare yes, not a dream. "Atigat kul asgaja for lat katu." The voice was seemingly right behind her, deep yet flowing calmly, its pitch was always wavering and the words were almost hissed. Liruliniel turned slowly and looked at the empty archway before her, "Atigat lat are." And that was when fire erupted and she woke up with such a start that she subconsciously scooted backwards in bed and kept going, even when her back was against the headboard.
                          
Her breath was heaving and she looked around her darkened bedroom with wide, uncertain and scared eyes. She suddenly felt very small, and very alone. Two things which did not sit with her in the slightest. She had her sheets and covers all tangled around her legs, and it took some effort to kick herself free. She felt raging, not with anger but with heat, she felt like she was burning up and it wasn't until she placed a hand to her forehead did she realise she was sweating profusely.