XXXIV: All Alight

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Thranduil doesn't let me fall behind.  He keeps my hand encased tightly in his, with the other wielding his vast sword which reflects the fire flickering on my own.  I have never seen flames such as these before—flames the colour of ice.

I lose track of the twists and turns, of the corners and corridors and low ceilings of Gundabad, of the snaking paths down which we all run for our lives.  Inevitably, my leg begins to protest, but if I slow down even slightly I immediately find Thranduil's hand slipping from mine and pushing me gently in the back.  Orcs come spilling out of the doors alongside us, causing panicked cries from Eirwen, only to meet their ends on our blades.  I lash out with the burning weapon relentlessly, all the while counting names in my head.

That's for Thranduil.

That's for Gelya.

That's for Tauriel.

That's for Eirwen.

And so on and so on, until my brain can think of nothing but them, the reasons why I need to make it out of this place.  The reasons why I need to keep hold of Thranduil's hand and never let it go, even if all the might of the Valar tries to pull me away. 

The breath of fresh, misty air that meets my lungs is a strengthening force, along with the welcoming sight of daylight opening up around us as we break through the doors and out into the breeze.  I cannot see if any orcs are still on our tail, and I dare not look; I can only battle against the pain in my leg while being almost dragged across the rocky ground.  My legs finally start to give way beneath me, the flames on my sword abruptly extinguishing as I stumble forward.  Thranduil has me in his arms before I know it, and is carrying me exactly like he did on that day that seems a lifetime ago.  The first day I went outside in the Woodland Realm.

Gritting his teeth, Thranduil hoists me up onto my horse.  'Hold on,' he whispers, untying the horse before slapping it on its hindquarters and sending it hurtling away from the fortress with me astride it.  The wind rushing onto my face is cold but not unpleasant, bringing a strange sort of freedom as I put as much distance between myself and Gundabad as I can.

Once I'm far enough away from the orc stronghold that I feel relatively safe, I cast a glance over my shoulder.  Three more horses are galloping right behind me—Legolas, Tauriel, and Elidir with Eirwen—while the elk is thundering up to my left with its rider streaming his platinum hair behind him.  Thranduil takes the lead once again, but since we had no time to tether the animals together this time, I stick close to his side so our steeds are almost neck and neck. 

It soon becomes safe to slow down and settle at a easier pace, perfect for me to watch the mountains shrink into the distance and the mist illuminated by dusky light go soaring past me.  To my surprise, Legolas is the first to speak as he brings his horse level with mine.  Something in his sapphire eyes is almost ringing... guilt.

'Forgive me, Elena,' he says solemnly, 'I was wrong to treat you how I did.  My father deserves someone like you.'

I am almost taken aback at his sudden change of heart.  Nevertheless, I give the Prince a small smile.  'Thank you, my lord.  I understand that you must resent my presence more than anyone.  Just know that in no way am I trying to replace your mother.'

Legolas shakes his head.  'You don't need to say that.  I know what happened to her.  I know she was weak.'

'She was not,' I reply earnestly, 'she may not have been perfect, but no one truly is. She suffered, and I for one know how much of a fight she put up. She was valiant. Honourable. Undeserving of her fate.'

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