Storm Of Arrows ➝ The Lord of the Rings ✓

Part Eight

PART EIGHT ~

Taryn was sat slumped on the cold, stone floor of the cell. Cold seeped into her bones from the damp, enclosed space and goosebumps prickled her skin like thousands of tiny needles. An icy chill streamed into the dungeon from tiny cracks and crevices buried deep in the tiles, and she was soon shivering uncontrollably, her face deathly pale. The woman drew her knees up to her face and wrapped her slender arms around them, burying her ashen face into her lap.

When Legolas' handsome face finally appeared between the bars, she was crying, her whole body wracking with silent sobs. The prince clearly saw she was cold and drew his cloak off his body.

"Here," he whispered, gently shoving the garment through the thin silver bars. It landed on the floor in front of Taryn, sending clouds of dust dancing around the thin heap. The woman lifted her red-rimmed eyes and sent a weary glance in the direction of the cloak, but she didn't move. She refused to meet Legolas' soft gaze. Instead she buried her head deeper into her lap, cuddling her knees, and let out more heart-wrenching sobs, this time letting them echo around the hollow prison.

Legolas waited for the prisoner to steady her whimpering before introducing himself in a couteous manner.

"I am Legolas. Son of Thranduil, Prince of the-"

"I know who you are," she cut him off abruptly, though not unkindly. "You are the one who saved me. But then brought me to my death." She raised her head and shifted in the cell slightly. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot and her scraggly hair fell over her intelligent gaze, now looking dull and weary in the dim cell. But Legolas could still see the true beauty of the woman behind the dirt and grime that caked her face.

"Can you tell me your name?" The prince asked with the touch of a slight smile. She stared blankly at him, before whispering in a light voice.

"Taryn."

Legolas nodded, muttering the name under his breath several times. He nodded again.

"Taryn. How is your wound?" He asked sincerely, his gaze flickering to her bandaged shoulder. She glanced at him profoundly and nodded.

"Fine. Your father healed it before leaving me here to rot." Her heavy emphasis on the word 'father' made the Prince cringe; the woman clearly hated Thranduil. Why? The reason was obvious; he was going to kill her.

Legolas studied the woman's pallid face once more before asking the dreaded question.

"Why did you murder an elf?" Legolas asked quietly, and Taryn met his gaze for the first time.

She stared at him for some time, before lowering her eyes and shrugging indifferently.

"Why does it matter? You'll kill me anyway."

"I want to hear the full story. What happened?" He demanded more seriously now.

Taryn sighed wearily, letting herself fall back to lean against the forbidding stone tiles. She closed her eyes and cringed suddenly, as if reliving a distant memory.

"He... he killed my brother," Taryn said after a pause, her voice no lighter than a soft whisper. Legolas' eyes enlarged in shock, but he didn't utter a sound; he wanted the whole story before he left the prison. She halted once more, as if hesitating about what to say next, and quickly glanced at Legolas after receiving no apparent reaction. His face was blank and he gestured for her to continue; he hid his emotions well. After a few moments, she began again.

"A few weeks ago," she started, fiddling with the loose strands of hair that dangled over her eyes. She was still shivering, and her glance flickered briefly to the cloak, still bundled in a soft heap before her. But she ignored the temptation and continued with her haunting tale. "My village was raided and attacked by a band of ruthless orcs. They destroyed the whole settlement, sickly expressions painted on their faces as they struck down any innocent beggar. Buildings were on fire, people were lying dead on the street." She could still picture it in her mind, the horrific scene; flames licking the rooftops, dancing and curling and gliding like it was a living being; limp, lifeless bodies littering the streets, children and women bearing grotesque wounds from the orcs' formidable blades; houses destroyed, no more than crumbling mounds of rubble on the dusty, blood-caked ground.

Taryn paused once more, choking back a sob. Legolas' expression turned to one of pity and he wanted nothing more than to kill the wretched beasts that executed this treacherous act. She was shivering violently now, her face turning paler as a keen wind seeped into the cell.

"Please, Taryn," Legolas urged desperately, gesturing towards the cloak. She broke out of her trance and eyed him briefly, before shuffling to the garment and wrapping it around her trembling body. She nodded, gratefully, then scuffled back to the wall, where she felt more secure.

"My brother, Aris, and I escaped. The rest of my family wasn't so lucky." Torrents of tears began rolling down her cheek, glinting like diamonds in the narrow streaks of sunlight that creeped into the niche of the chamber. "We ran and ran, day and night, trying to get as far away from the ruined village as we possibly could, passing into the gloomy forest of Mirkwood at some point in our desperate escape. It wasn't long when eventually, starving and tired, we found ourselves to be lost," she explained, her voice growing louder with confidence. "We wondered for what felt like days, exhausted, until we were discovered." She trained her eyes on the elf again, trying to see past the perplexed blankness of his face and discover some emotion he kept hidden behind the solemnity.

Legolas merely stared back, his eyes glowing indifferently with the usual strikingly blue flare. She pulled the cloak tighter round her body and rested her chin upon her clasped hands.

"We had found a small stream, much to our gratification, and began drinking deeply from it, unaware that the waters were running with the blood of your ancestors, water that only brought death and misfortune upon those who drink from it," She hissed, making Legolas grimace slightly, but he quickly recovered his blank guise. "Oblivious to the elf behind us, his bow trained on us two wanderers, we continued to quench our thirst from the cursed stream. It seemed all the elf could see at the time was two short figures, clad in dirty, bloody rags with skin caked in grime. Next thing I knew... Aris was lying on his stomach... an arrow protruding from his back. The stream soon grew red with his blood. He was dead in an instant."

~

A/N: This part is pretty long. For once. I did say I'd try and make them bigger, and I suppose I have.
Okay. So. Taryn's story. What do you think? It hasn't finished yet, obviously, but I was, like, really sad when writing it. So. Yeah. I'll continue it in the next part.

I have a feeling this is going to be a pretty short fanfic.
But you don't mind, right?! I mean, all my Fanfics are pretty small, but I can't really write really long ones 'cause I never know how to continue the story.

If you have any suggestions, please message me. I'd greatly appreciate it!

I had a really weird dream last night. It involved Éomer. That's all I'm saying. It was pretty weird.

Anyway. Thanks again for reading! I'll update when I can! Probably tomorrow or the day after.

Please COMMENT and VOTE!!
~ _imagine_fantasy_