Chapter 23:
Rapunzel brings out the best in me
"Search them," Legolas commands his guards as we stand complacently inside the elf circle. Legolas pats down my sides and legs, looking for weapons. I roll my eyes, for he knows that I do not carry weapons on my person. I am a weapon.
I turn around, hearing an elf's huff, only to see the endless supply of knives found on Fili. I laugh at them, figuring at least one knife will make it into the jail cell. From what I can see, Fili has more knives than you could ever use in battle.
After Legolas finishes checking my body for weapons, he turns to an irritated Gloin (when is he not irritated?), who growls at the elven prince's contact. From a pocket, Legolas pulls out Gloin's family picture. I smile at its cuteness, but Legolas seems to think differently of it.
"Hey! Give it back! That's private!" the dwarf yells, snatching unsuccessfully at the prince's hands. Legolas moves a bit away to look at the picture of the dwarves. In all sincerity, it is kind of creepy how much time he spends looking at it.
"Who is this? Your brother?" the elven prince asks, pointing at the dwarf to Gloin's right in the picture.
"That is my wife!" Gloin shouts, understandably offended. Dwarven males are very protective of their ladies, as females are very rare.
"And what is this horrid creature? A goblin mutant?" Legolas asks, turning to a different picture, that of Gloin's son.
"That's my wee lad, Gimli," the dwarf responds. Legolas looks questionably upon my fellow traveler, as if Gloin would lie about his son. Meanwhile, the elf is still grabbing knives off of Fili's person.
"Gyrth in yngyl bain? {Are the spiders dead?}," Legolas asks the female guard and savior of Kili.
"Ennorner gwanod in yngyl na nyryn. Engain nar. { Yes, but more will come. They're growing bolder}," she responds, working her way through the dwarves. The elf by Fili pulls out another knife from the dwarf's hood and a guard hands Orcrist to Legolas, ignoring my protests.
"Echannen i vegil hen vin Gondolin. Magannen nan Gelydh. {This is an ancient Elvish blade. Forged by my kin}," the prince says in elvish. Honestly, I am getting really tired of not knowing Sindarin, especially in these situations. Thorin winds his fingers through mine as we look upon the tall elf.
"Where did you get this?" Legolas asks Thorin.
"It was given to me," Thorin responds truthfully. Inching the sword upward, Legolas points it towards Thorin, grazing his neck.
"Not just a thief, but a liar as well," Legolas accuses my king. I growl and make a move to hit Legolas, but Thorin pulls me away from the fight. Looking into his eyes, I see his hopelessness regarding our situation. I just grasp his hand tighter, hopefully in comfort.
"Enwenno hain! {Take them!}," Legolas shouts. At this command, the elves round up our dwarven company and lead us into the Mirkwood palace. Thorin and I fall into the middle of the company, the dwarves moving to protect their king. Bofur, just in front of me, leans around to ask us a question while we pass through the viney gate:
"Where's Bilbo?" Looking around, I see no hobbit or sign of his activity. I just shrug my shoulders, figuring that Bilbo can easily fend for himself. He is no longer the gentle and innocent hobbit from months ago.
"Holo in ennyn {Close the gate}," Legolas commands the gatekeeper, his eyes lingering for a few moments as if sensing something. I feel the same pull in my gut as I look about, seeing nothing. I can only hope its Bilbo and Legolas can only hope its nothing.
Walking to the dungeons, we pass through the mighty hallways of Mirkwood. Our small feet trod on sculpted tree roots that bound over streams and chasms. The ceiling reaches high into the heavens, but still bestows the darkness of the forest. No warm light shines upon our faces, as in Rivendell, but dark branches radiate from above.
After our "tour" of the palace, we find ourselves in the infamous dungeons and my previous home. It looks the same as it did thirty years ago, dark and musty with shadows clinging to the prisoners. My body is forced into a cell along with my siblings, as there aren't enough cages for the entire company. Our bodies collide as we are pushed in, growling at our captors. Pulling myself to my feet, I peek out the bars to survey our situation.
"This is not the end of it! You hear me?" Dwalin shouts at his captor elf. For once, the dwarf's anger management issues put a smile on my face.
"Let us out of here!" Gloin yells.
"Get off me!" continues Dori. To my right, Fili's final dagger is pulled from his coat, much to the dwarf's dismay. Further down the corridor, Kili is shoved into a different cage by the female elf, whose name is Tauriel, from what I overheard.
"Aren't you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers," Kili asks her to my own horror and merriment.
"Or nothing," Tauriel rebukes. Her hands slam Kili's cell closed before falling to her sides as she walks away. I can hear her speak in elvish to Legolas up the corridor before the elf sends Kili a look of utter contempt.
All the while, the dwarves around me are banging on the cell door and walls in anger. It isn't till Balin speaks up that they all go quiet:
"Leave it! There's no way out. This is no Orc dungeon; these are the halls of the Woodland Realm. No one leaves here but by the king's consent."
I look around for Thorin, noticing his presence in a cell down the hall. My eyes meet his as we yearn to be together. I send him a saddened smile as two new guards approach our cells. One of them yanks open my cell, pulling me outward before the others have a chance to escape. My body, from the force of the pull, flies into the elf's, who looks far from happy.
"Your fault," I murmur to him. His grasp on my arm tightens as we move up the stairs towards the throne room. Behind me, another elf drags an angry, but pliable Thorin. As it turns out, the King Under the Mountain is a better prisoner than I am.
Entering into Thranduil's presence, my eyes trace the extravagant architecture of the room. It shines an earthy hue, light stemming from the trees and not so much the sky. On his throne, the elven king sits with bad posture. Nevertheless, he looks fabulous (as always) with his branchy crown, thick eyebrows, and long blonde hair. As we approach, his face reflects recognition at both me and Thorin. I smirk at him, eagerly awaiting to annoy the elf.
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your long hair!" I shout up to his throne. His eyes reflect anger, but his face holds a calm facade. To my right, Thorin laughs at my insult.
"Welcome, Queen Erudian! It seems as though you've wandered into my wonderful presence again. What's the excuse this time?" he asks me. I pretend to be bored, shifting my feet around in an attempt to annoy him.
"I apologize," I say, "but I can't hear you over the caterpillars on your face."
"Who do you think you are?!" Thranduil yells, rising off of his throne, though not moving his feet. I remember how I asked Thorin the same question on the first night of our journey. Times have changed, as Thorin now laughs at the elven king.
"The most beautiful Phoenix in all the land," I reply haughtily.
"You're the only Phoenix in all the land..." Thranduil responds warily, one eyebrow (caterpillar) raised in question.
"That may or may not be true."
"Oh! So you found your kin then," Thranduil asks, though more like states.
"And I see you haven't found your wife," I reply, looking about as if in search for the famous woman. I know that my comment is a low blow, but Thranduil deserves it for his previous mistakes. His face flashes murderous.
"Maybe I shall have my guards pay your kin a visit," the elven king threatens.
"Suit yourself."
"What?"
"I mean, go ahead and try to torture them. You seem to forget that we are weapons of mass destruction," I respond, threatening him as well. He grumbles at my words, so I smirk in victory.
"Then maybe I should send them to your dwarf king," Thranduil replies, looking at Thorin who stands a little too close to my side. Inside, his threat sends my heart into a frenzy, but I hold the calm composure on my face.
"Whatever floats your coat...or dress, seeing as that is the only wardrobe elves wear. I give you props, I really do." He growls at my words, so I continue, "And as for the dwarf king, feel free to hurt him. Though I warn you, if you lay one finger on him, I will have no mercy on your people. Understand?"
Thranduil actually looks scared at my words, but wipes it away as he addresses Thorin. I guess he figures that he will never win against me.
"Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive: attempted burglary, or something of that ilk," Thranduil addresses Thorin, squinting his eyes to analyze the dirtied dwarf king. "You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule: the King's Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help."
"I am listening," Thorin replies, though I doubt he means it.
"I will let you go, even her, if you but return what is mine," he says, gesturing to me. Thorin turns from my side and begins to pace, as if in thought.
"A favor for a favor," he mumbles.
"You have my word. One king to another," Thranduil promises. At those words, I know this conversation will become heated, for the last time the elven king promised something, he fell through.
"I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!" Thorin shouts at him, referring to the desolation of Smaug. My dwarf points to the elf king, "You lack all honor! I've seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us! Imrid amrad ursul! {Die a death of flames!}"
Finally, Thranduil rushes off of his throne. In quick strides, the elven king's face lies inches in front of Thorin's.
"Do not talk to me of dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin. I have faced the great serpents of the north," Thranduil yells. His face seemingly melts away to reveal his dragon scar. The left side of his face hollows and scars as seconds pass, his eyes turning a milky blue in blindness. Thranduil is evidence of the power of illusion.
I roll my eyes at the elf king, feeling little pity because he does this "party trick" with every prominent visitor to his dungeons.
"I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen," Thranduil reminds the King Under the Mountain, returning to his throne to slouch: "You are just like him."
Thorin and I are grabbed roughly from behind, our feet failing as the elves force us towards the dungeons.
"Stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait," Thranduil yells to us before we are pulled from visibility. We backtrack to the dungeons where I am forced, this time, into a cage with Thorin.
"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin sincerely asks.
"He did. I told him he could go 'Ish kakhfê ai'd dur rugnu!' {I spit upon your grave!} - him and all his kin!" Thorin repeats. I roll my eyes at the dramatics of Thorin. Balin sighs in frustration, his age showing through his usually calm demeanor.
"Well...that's it, then. A deal was our only hope," Balin says hopelessly.
"Not our only hope," Thorin replies, referring to Bilbo. He then turns to me, pulling me into his arms as if to guarantee that I am safe from harm.
"Why are you so sassy all of a sudden?" he asks me, nuzzling his face into my hair.
"I've always been sassy. I don't think this relationship will work if you're that ignorant," I respond to him smirking. He growls into my neck, prompting me to continue, "I guess that the elven king brings out the best in me."
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This is seriously my favorite chapter, EVER. Thranduil is just so fabulous, Thorin is overly stubborn, and Erudian is oh-so sassy, so they are bound to butt-heads. Let me know what you think!
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xo
Patagonian