FIRE AND FATE¹ ━ legolas greenleaf

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄, fear is your god

NINE | FEAR IS YOUR GOD

RAELYN HAS SEEN MINES BEFORE, but none like this. 

At Erebor, the walls are encrusted with aqua-hued sapphires, brighter silver-white than the gems forged from elven starlight.  Glittering gold drips down the onyx cavern walls like a river of flame, a pathway to Smaug. That's all mere pennies compared to what the great mines of Mordor must have been like in their prime. Surveying it, she can almost see the dwarves hammering away, the bang of gravel and rock, the trickle of gold being dragged out the walls. If she looks hard enough, her half-elf eyes can pick up on the few forgotten dregs of gold and silver embedded in the walls. 

Legolas moves to stand beside her as they walk, his footsteps barely leaving prints. He must see it too; his eyesight is twice as good as hers, and he's had years to hone it. "Do you see that?" Raelyn asks softly, half afraid that breaking the fragile silence will bring the teetering mines crashing down.

"See what?" she has to strain to hear his words clearly — perhaps he shares the same sentiment about the safety of these mines. They're ancient and untouched —  the dust on the ground is barely marked. "There's nothing but stone and earth here. It's a mine." 

"Look at all that gold," she whispers back, ignoring his tone. She may have left her life as a thief behind, but that doesn't stop the excitement she feels at such treasures. Raelyn's never grown up with many riches, and to see them embedded in the walls with such abundance. . . she's a little envious. How many riches are divided among the royal elves and the dwarves, while the rest of the world starves? Maybe Raelyn is just a naturally bitter person, but she finds it rather unfair, not awe-inspiring. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Legolas scoffs with the air of an elven prince who has been raised by a gaggle of nursemaids and a king for a father.  Thranduil probably force fed him gold ingots and gave him wine from the tender age of three. "You've seen Mirkwood and Rivendell, and you call this beautiful?"

Raelyn rolls her eyes. Her tongue tastes something sour named envy. "You're such a prince." 

His mouth drops open slightly, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean by that?"

Goodness, she didn't mean to offend him. (Well, only slightly.) "I mean — " 

"Behold!" Gandalf interrupts another of Raelyn's scathing comments. Legolas frowns, but drops the subject with little more than a reproachable look. Raelyn thinks it's quite unfair — all she did was call him a prince.  "The Great Dwarf City of Dwarrowdelf!"

Light flares from the top of Gandalf's staff, illuminating the grand dwarven cavern. Before them wide expanse of chiseled walls, stone carved with elaborate patterns and wide arcs reaching up to the ceiling, embellishing the smooth stone of the walls. Raelyn stares upward — it reaches so high she can hardly see the top, only an endless flight of darkness. The walls are black as night, so polished they're almost reflective. 

"Well, there's an eye opener and no mistake!" Sam gasps, striding forward. Raelyn doubts he's ever seen such great architecture before. The elves have a beautiful home,  of course, but it's ancient, imbued with old magic and spells from Ages ago. These dwarven builds reek of a blend between modernism and history. There's something distinctly unique, distinctly special about it. 

Raelyn nudges Legolas. "Beautiful enough for you, my lord?"

She receives no reply. 

They walk through the walls, swiveling to gape at every wall they pass, each one inducing more shock and excitement than the last. Gimli's pace is slowly increasing, parallel to his excitement and Raelyn's stress. There are shadows around every corner for a monster to jump out of. Despite the beauty, she won't be tricked into a false sense of security. Her fingers close around a knife, just as a precaution. There's a foul smell in the air, a stench of death. She can sense it.