The forest is silent for only a moment, not even my frantic footsteps making a noise on the mossy forest floor. The trees seem to be holding their breath, even as mine puffs into the still air. For a moment, the world moves in slow motion.

Thwack.

A snap of a bowstring. An arrow, grazing my cheek.

The world resumes at normal speed, or maybe even faster. My feet slam loudly against the ground now, thudding fiercely on dirt.

Voices cry out in that entrancing language, distracting me, frightening me. They come from all around, above me in the branches, next to me, behind me.

I run faster, faster, faster, faster until it seems almost like I'm flying of the ground and then I'm—

—falling.

The ground drops, a small ravine cutting through the dark woods. I tumble down the sharp edge, rocks and roots reaching out to bruise me, cut me. I hit the bottom with a splash, the muddy creek providing a softer landing than hard ground. My shoulder screams at me in agony, but I ignore my body's cry for rest. I can't take time to recover. I need to get out of this ravine. There's no way I could ever climb up the walls, not in this dark and not in time to escape, so I set off down the hill, following the path of the river, my breath coming in panicked gulps. Footsteps and voices reach the edge of the gully. I can not stop, can not be taken again.

I will never give up on my freedom. Never.

I run, run, run down the stream, hoping that the voices disappear.

They never do, the footsteps easily matching mine.

And then, the gully opens up; slowly at first, and then all at once, the stream cutting through the middle of a small clearing.

I skid to a stop as tall figures melt into view, slipping out of foliage and shadows into the lightening air. They surround me, a cage of bodies, closing me off from escape, from freedom.

I am trapped.

I barely recognize my own voice, the beastly scream involuntarily ripping itself from my chest as I charge at the nearest person, fists clenched, tears streaming down my face.

"YOU CAN NOT HAVE ME!" I scream, running at the nearest warrior, fists clenched. There is movement behind me as the soldiers draw their weapons, but the warrior moves before they can.

He takes a step toward me, fists flying furiously, hitting every part of my body. I try to defend myself, but I never even land a hit. It takes him a few punches, but he eventually hits my wounded shoulder. I wail as pain courses through my body and attempt a weak swing towards the warrior. He easily dodges and hits my shoulder again, recognizing my weakness. It's too much for my body, and I collapse into a heap. I try to push myself up, but I can't. My arms tremble before giving out and so I simply lie on the ground. The soldier pauses in victory before raising his boot in the air. For a moment it seems as though he means to end my life. A hard kick to the head from him and I doubt I would wake up again. I couldn't take it, not now, not after everything that has happened in these past few hours.

I can't breathe; fear freezes every part of my body.

I don't want to die.

But after a moment of hesitation, the soldier simply places his boot on my chest, only pressing firmly enough to keep me on the ground, although not much pressure is needed in my weakened state. Seeing me subdued, another joins his side, nocks an arrow on his bowstring and aims it at my throat.

"Just try to attack one of us again, duath, and you will not live another breath." He gestures for the rest of the warriors to move in with the authority of a captain, and his men obey without a word. Their hands pull me roughly me off the ground, binding my hands behind my back, searching me for weapons, putting a strip of fabric in my mouth. I stand there silently, staring straight ahead into the trees, embarrassed by the tears that flow down my cheeks. It's only when they try to blindfold me that I struggle, tugging against the strong hands holding me in place.

"Óre, duath..." The captain cautions me, pulling his bow string tight, and although I do not understand his words, the warning in them is clean enough.

"No," I try to say, but it only comes out as a whimper through the gag. My chest heaves, and I shake my head frantically. I don't want to be blindfolded. Don't. Won't. The warrior holding the blindfold pauses and looks back at his leader.

"Do it," the captain nods, and although his bow is still pointed at my face, his eyes don't meet mine, "but be... cautious. He nambala... Aran Thranduil innas penia hae amarth."

The soldier nods, and reaches toward me. I shake my head as fast as I can and lean away from the dark strip of fabric. Someone sighs in exasperation, and then a gloved hand darts out and grabs my chin, holding it firmly in place.

I can't even scream as the darkness slides over my vision. My heart beats violently against my chest and my shoulder throbs. The coarse ropes chafe at my wrists. My legs falter when the soldiers lead me forward. I cannot see. I want to see. But there is only darkness.

The trek through the woods is long and hard. My legs threaten to give out with every step and sometimes my escorts are all but carrying me. Every root seems to find a way to trip me, branch a way to poke me, stone a way to bruise me. The soldiers march in tense silence, my stumbling footsteps incredibly loud in the silence.

I am so exhausted. I take one more step and then fold in on myself, laying in a pile on the ground.

"Oh, you've got to be joking," one elf groans scornfully as the whole party jerks to a halt, "We make halfway across the woods and now, practically on the steps of the palace, now she collapses."

"Achared!" I recognize the captain's scolding voice. "Gwador, saes."

A loud sigh sounds close to my ear as I am hauled up and my arms are draped around someone's neck. "The things I do for him, prisoner, you wouldn't believe."

Prisoner. The word echoes round and round in my head; I am too exhausted to banish it from my thoughts as I am carried up a flight of stairs, through a million twisting hallways, and dumped unceremoniously on a hard floor. Someone unties my hands and as soon as they do I rip off my blindfold and stare as a barred door slams shut in front of my face.

Prisoner. Again.

YAY ITS HERE
I'm so sorry for my slow updates, but you'll have to forgive me. School is an absolute monster right now.

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please don't hesitate to leave feedback!

Happy spring! <3 Spirit

EDIT:

here are the rough translations for those of you wondering:

Duath: shadow/wisp

Ore: careful

He nambala... Aran Thranduil innas penia hae amarth: be careful... Lord Thranduil will deal with her soon.

Gwador, saes: brother, please

sorry for the late addition! I hope to get the next chapter as soon as possible, as AP exams end this week. Thanks again for your patience!