A Tale of Time

Chapter 12: The Hair of Elves

Chapter 12: The Hair of Elves

Before she can even draw her own weapons, the same type of arrow is pointed at her face.

"Who are you?" The Elf behind the bow demands. His light brown hair neatly braided back then loosely hanging down his back Gailien's eyes are as wide as a deer spotting its predator. Should she act helpless and beg for help? Should she reveal her Elven heritage? There are so many variables that she doesn't even begin to sort through them.

"My name is Gailien," she answers in Sindarin in a scratchy voice. The Elf's eyes narrow, his bow dropping slightly and his companion saunters forward, armed with a sword rather than a bow. "I was travelling with my family when I got lost."

"You speak our tongue?" the companion – a darker haired man questions.

"I am an Elf," she answers, figuring that her nature will do more good than harm. She notes their sceptical eyes and begins to raise her hands. The Elf with the bow tenses, raising it once again. Gailien opens her empty palms to them, showing herself as unarmed. Slowly, she brings them to her hair, brushing it back over her ears. "Mirkwood was once my home."

"You said you were travelling with your family," the darker haired one says. "That wouldn't happen to be the pack of Dwarves that we found, would it?" His tone is almost taunting. Gailien's mouth drops open slightly. So, they have been caught? Would it be better for her to join them in captivity or create a lie that will possibly let her accompany the Elves back to Mirkwood as a guest rather than a prisoner. Apparently, her silence is the answer they are looking for.

The dark-haired one sheathes his sword and saunters forward. He takes her twin blades from their holster and begins patting her down. He does a rough job, barely running his hand over her – she must not look like much of a threat. Fili's knife stays safely hidden in the inside of her boot. The lighter haired one puts the arrow back in his quiver.

"We should return before more spiders come out."

"And get in trouble for not clearing them?"

"Are you going to babysit the girl while fighting off those horrid things?"

The darker haired one rolls his eyes, pulling his sword back out. His spare hand rises to the back of her neck, his fingers wrapping around it and he pushes her forward. The Dwarves – she's going to see them again.

The pair is silent as they guide her through the forest. How they have any idea where they are going, she does not know. Gailien never knew the forest that well.

"You said you are from Mirkwood," the lighter haired one starts, "how on Middle Earth did you end up with a bunch those hideous, greedy creatures?"

They are not ugly – she wants to hiss back at him. Nor are they greedy (for the most part.) "I told you, they are my family. Blood or not."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I am not the person you should be asking then."

The Elf is silent for a few more moments but it seems he is not as fond of the silence as his companion is. "We saved them from the spiders if you're wondering. They're all alive."

"Should I be thanking you for taking them prisoner?" she hisses, no longer bothering with formality or niceties. "I may offer you a small thanks when you watch me leave with them."

"You think the King will just let you go?" he asks with a small taunting smirk.

"No. But we will leave either way."