Daughter Of Lórien || Book 1||

Ch 11 ~ Reunited

Emerging from the bathroom, a soft towel wrapped around my body and a supple bandage swathed around the cut on my left arm, I make my way into my bedroom and pull out a nightgown from the polished wardrobe in the corner of the room. I slip it on, letting the silky, silvery-white material slide over the curves of my body and come to a stop around my ankles. The elegant dip of the neckline covers my breasts just barely, and the dress is held up by two thin straps draped loosely on my shoulders. Twisting my wet hair into a knot at the base of my head, I pin it into place making sure no stray hairs have fallen out. I walk over to my bed and collapse onto it, sinking my head into the soft pillows, letting my eyelids droop.

Just as I fade into sleep, a soft silver gleam at the foot of my bed catches my eye, the glimmer nearly engulfed in the many layers of blankets. I get up and walk to the edge of the bed, only to find my weapons there, polished and shiny, cleaner than I had ever seen them. I grab my bow and sword, resting them by the vanity and then turn back to the bed. A new pair of weapons lay there, almost entirely submerged in the covers but slightly visible, as if placed there as a challenge to me; a challenge of whether I would see them or not.

I smile as I pick up the Prince's daggers. The ones I used earlier today. The ones I bested him with. Twice. They are also cleaned, their scabbards pristine and their hilts gleaming. I chuckle and place them next to my sword and bow, wondering what the Prince thought about giving up his daggers. He probably didn't want them any more, seeing that I had beaten him with his own blades. I smirk and pick one up. Twisting it in my hand, the blade is surprisingly light and very well-balanced, a trait I had not noticed in the heat of the duel.

Oh yes. I could get used to using these.

I swish the pair through the air a few times, satisfied with their agility, and then sheathe them and place them back on the vanity. I sigh, suddenly exhausted.

That's enough swordplay for today.

I drop back onto my bed and begin to drift off once more, the softness of the covers lulling me to sleep. A loud slam of a door jolts me out of my sleep and I sit up to find a maid running into my room, red-faced and out of breath. Her ginger hair is a mess from her run but she makes no move to tidy it. I step out of my bed moving to her side, worried.

"Are you alright?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"My lady!" She gasps. "Your brothers... in the hall..."

She has said enough. I leave her there to catch her breath and run from the room, wearing nothing but my nightdress, but I barely seem to notice.

My brothers.

I fly through the halls, making my way to the front gate.

Elladan.

My bare feet glide down countless stairs, barely touching the ground.

Elrohir.

I reach the main hall. King Thranduil stands there in robes of scarlet, his son still in his armor, a stationary figure at his side. And in the middle of the room...

"Elladan! Elrohir!"

I run to them, ignoring the shock of the King and Prince as I run past them and throw my arms around my brothers.

My brothers.

They are filthy, covered in blood and sweat, their hair still in elegant braids but matted and dull. They sag against me and hug me back, nearly crushing me with their combined weight. I pull back, suddenly furious with them.

"Where have you been?" I shout, punching them both in the arm.

They both wince, and I pause, giving them a look over. Elrohir is sporting a split lip and multiple bruises mark his face, including a black eye. Elladan, although covered with less bruises, has a slight limp in his left leg as he shifts toward me. Something tells me it is broken.

I glare at them, my bright eyes flashing with anger.

"Idiots," I hiss through clenched teeth. "You've gotten yourselves all broken and bruised."

They exchange a look between themselves and give me small smiles.

I arch an eyebrow.

"That's not the usual look I get from the two of you when I start snapping," I say, crossing my arms.

Elrohir laughs and hugs me again.

"We're just glad you're alive and safe," he says.

Elladan comes up behind him and takes in my appearance; the freshly washed hair and the silk nightgown. His eyes catch on the bandage on my left arm but with a dissmissive wave of my hand, the worry fades from his eyes. He smirks.

"Although I think we shouldn't have worried," he adds jokingly.

I grumble.

"Where have you two been for a week? I do not think that Mirkwood is a pleasant forest to just leisurely stroll through."

Elrohir begins to open his mouth to reply but I cut him off.

"Why has it taken you so long to find the palace? And how have the scouts sent out by the King, countless times this week, not been able to find you?"

Elladan replies this time.

"We've been searching the forest looking for you, " he says. "During our flight from the spiders, Elrohir and I managed to stay together but we lost you."

He and Elrohir both have dark circles under their eyes, and I can tell they haven't slept much at all this past week.

"We've spent the entire week looking for you, travelling all over Mirkwood, even going as far south as Dol Guldor." Elrohir looks at me, the worry in his eyes finally fading. As the eldest, he was probably the most worried. "When we finally ran out of resources, we decided to come here, hoping the King might tell us news of you or offer to help us search."

They both look so tired. I can tell that now that they are sure I am safe, all they want is a good nights sleep.

They aren't getting any sleep yet. Not with one sporting a broken leg and both of their faces covered in bruises.

I take them both by the hand, my healers instincts kicking in, and drag them back towards the way I came from.

"Come on," I say sternly but gently, making sure to support Elladan and his injured leg. "I am taking you both to the healers wing."

Elrohir opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off with a stern look.

"No objections."

With one arm from both of my brothers strung across my shoulders for support, I make my way down the hall, headed towards the healing wing, my nightgown flapping around my ankles.

My head held high, I march with my brothers past the King and Prince, both of whom have been silent the entire conversation, not even sparing them a glace.