Wraiths

Silence was so present that it had nearly turned into deafening nothingness. Cloaked in darkness, the little company created shadows as it slowly progressed in the belly of the mountain. Most paths had been inserted in preexisting fractures, creating stone passages hanging over bottomless abyss. Fortunately for Frances, they left quite some space over their heads to breathe properly. Her claustrophobic feeling seemed to be shared by the hobbits, as well as the elf who moved as silently as a cat. His attachment to living things and sunrays created an unsettled feeling of emptiness in his heart, and Legolas Greenleaf was but a shadow of his cheerful self as he went through the mines.

Chuckling at her own foolishness, the young woman turned to the elf to check up on his ever-glowing form. This property of the elves never ceased to amaze her, and even if Greenleaf was a little less bright than Arwen, there was no mistake so as to the secondary source of pale light within the ten walkers. How this deed had been made possible was a mystery to her, and Frances could not wrap her head around the concept of glowing people, no matter how hard she tried. From what she had learnt from the mythology, elves and men were not the same race, not even sharing the same roots. However, the similarities between men and elves compared to dwarves clearly showed a common evolution link. Apart from this, Frances felt like she was swimming between a fairy tale.

There was so much she was missing; she craved for a scientific explanation to all of this. How much of the mythology could be considered as reliable information? Clearly, there was no way that evolution could have created immortal beings that glowed in the dark while being so similar to their mortal cousins. It was strictly impossible that this had occurred naturally, and she started to wonder whose beings could have influenced this unusual line of humanity. Throughout her time with the unclassified investigations, many weird things had happened, but nothing of this range. There was nothing either that could explain the existence of the blue rock she was using to travel between worlds, except if it had been created by some higher beings owning technologies beyond her imagination. However, the adrenaline of the recent attack by the giant watcher was starting to wear out, and the creepy atmosphere of the mines was getting to her. As her eyes crossed Legolas' blue gaze, she decided to attempt a contact; it would both cheer them up.

The progress of the company was slow but steady, permitting the companions to gather and change configuration as time went by. Most of them tried to keep quiet, but some whispers added to the creepiness of the place when it resonated on the cliff like walls. The elf moved aside to give room for Frances and she smiled at him in the gloom. The elf nodded at her effort, but it wasn't a very hearty expression. The lady also seemed very affected by the ambient downside mood.

Now that they had talked a few times, and fought side by side already twice, the elf was pleased to see that her apparent coldness was slowly melting away. He was by nature very curious, especially since he had seen her fighting and assessed that her skills, if perfectible, were quite acceptable for a lady of her age. The truth was that her technique needed to be perfected, but her bravery and strength of will were more than adequate. Apart from the rangers of the north he was not used to humans, and he had been told that they were much weaker that the Dunedain. Boromir's lust for the ring was proof that the second born could not be trusted completely, yet Frances had made no move towards it. Legolas had debated the question with Estel, carefully polite as usual but nonetheless interested. There were many blinds spots in the lady's origins, and her reason to be here. Unspoken things he wasn't meant to be aware of. Legolas respected it. The first born kept their secrets; privacy was of utmost importance.

Yet he had not missed her unease at the council; her face, that day, had shown a tough struggle to resist the power of the golden jewel. He had not forgotten, either, the moment her eyes had caught his. Free from corruption and evil, her gaze only reflected deep honesty and a great deal of self-assessment. From this look, he had decided to trust Gandalf and Lord Elrond's judgment. And trust the lady.

As she came in step with him, her feet producing the slightest of noises, she spoke softly:

- "It must be very difficult for a wood elf to be trapped underground"

She was beating around the bush, but she dreaded to ask directly how he was coping; it would have sounded insulting.

- "Aye, indeed my lady", he sighed, "but this is for the good of all."

She wanted to ask about his kingdom, for she had not heard much about Greenwood the great in Imladris. One look at the elf and her mouth fell shut, this was too invasive for her taste. As she tip toed on the side of a cliff on the degraded pathway, she wondered what subject could lighten the mood. But Legolas surprised her with a question one of his own.

- "Would you allow me to be bold enough to ask you about your meeting with Strider?"

- "Of course", she answered, not understanding why the subject seemed so touchy.

Maybe she was imagining things, but even the elf lord did not usually put such wards before asking her a question, no matter how many detours he would sometimes take. And despite his politeness, the Prince always went to the point. It was an incredible mix between frankness and respect, one that she had trouble imitating. Maybe that you had to be born elvish to be able to do this. As Legolas still did not speak, probably considering how to ask that very sensitive question he wanted to, she tried to encourage him:

- "What would you like to know?"

His nearly shocked look got her to frown. There you go, too direct again. Fidgeting like an elfling, Legolas could not help but wonder if it was rude or not to ask for explanations. Her frown nearly dissuaded him, but somehow the tale of her fight with the spectra interested him greatly. This dreadful place that was home of the dwarves, with shadows closing on him like wargs on an easy prey, and he imagined that her first meeting with Aragorn might have risen similar feelings.

- "My lord?"

There she went again with the title.

- "My lady..."

He didn't miss the slight smirk at the corner of her mouth before she schooled her features.

- "It is quite alright to be curious. If I find this inappropriate then I will let you know and will not bear ill will to you"

- "You are most kind my lady", he said while giving her a timid smile

- "Then... out with it !", she whispered cheekily.

Breathing in a bit of this foul air as they evolved along a smaller tunnel, Legolas eventually asked:

- "I was told that when Strider met you, you had attacked the ringwraiths"

This was such a weird sentence, even for him. Attacking the wraights, who would dare do such a thing?

- "This would be exact", she stated, wondering how many times the whole company had already heard the story from said hobbits.

The elf nodded, and, carefully stepping over a hole in the ground, he tried to make sense of it.

- "Not many have survived it. I heard of great anguish and despair. Most of the stories relate that people got paralyzed in fear"

- "I can relate to that", she nodded, shivering at the memory of the dreadful feelings that had assailed her at first

- "Then... you felt it?", he asked, kicking himself for his boldness

- "Oh yes, I definitely did", she said in this humorous tone of hers, making it sound nearly cheerful

Sarcasm was definitely a foreign concept for the elf. Strider and Gimli were slowly getting used to it, but Legolas really had a hard time to come to terms with this misuse of language. So when Frances realized that she had confused him again, she clarified.

- "I had never felt such overwhelming despair in my whole life, and believe me that's a lot to say. When I approached this hill it seemed like the air grew darker, and colder. All my senses were freezing, like if I was seeing the world through a pool of dark water, and falling inches by inches deeper into it... It was frightening, I had never felt so desperate"

As Frances whispered, word after word, her gaze drifted in the shadows. Loosing contact with the world of the living. Her words, so true and so frightening at the same time, described how the presence of the wraith had nearly turned her back from Weathertop. She told him of this deep despair, this sensation that nothing would ever be right again, that the world was doomed, that no matter what she did she would die right there on the spot and that nothing could be done about it. She pictured him how happiness had fled her thoughts, and not returned for days.

Little by little, she was loosing the battle with the darkness. Legolas frowned; how wrong he had been to believe in her cheerful façade ! Naïve as he was, the young prince had believed that maybe she was from another race, and was impervious to the wraiths. Her stricken face and lost gaze told him it wasn't so, and that she bore the same weaknesses of all her kind.

Soon enough, the elf extended his hand to brush against her arm to call her back to reality, and his faint glow seemed to reach for her. The shy movement shook her out of this trance, and Frances stopped walking. Slowly but surely, she crawled back to the surface until she was in full control again, watching the elf's glowing hand firmly grasped over her tunic.

- "And yet...", he stated lowly, "you overcame those dreadful feelings and triumphed"

Frances blinked in the darkness, her eyes meeting his for a moment.

- "Well, I managed to get my wits and attack yes... but as for triumph, I would be real dead if Strider had not shown up"

The fellowship was gaining ground ahead, but Legolas couldn't find the courage to urge her forward. She had plunged back into depths of despair by his fault... the least he could was to give her a few moment to regain her wits.

- "You do not give yourself enough credit," he whispered. "Attacking those spectra was incredibly courageous, and Strider himself had conceded that you probably saved the hobbit's lives"

- "He was the one who did it in the end", said Frances, her posture quite stiff, willing to give the credit back to the man who saved the day

- "And still, had you not been there the wraith could have gotten to Frodo and now everything would be lost."

Frances frowned, and the elf stirred her in the other direction so that they resumed their progress. Both were silent as they caught up with the group.

- "May I... may I ask how you broke the spell?"

Frances nearly laughed at this statement. Had it been as simple as this she would already be on her way home, having saved the world in five minutes and all, and returned safely. No, it was much more complex than this, but was she had been summoned here even if she could not fathom why.

- "How I freed myself from their hold... ? I heard some cries I think, and it seemed like people were being attacked. I realized that if I was afraid myself those people seemed ever more so, and then I decided to push the despair away and do something worthy of myself"

- "You decided to stop despairing?", said the elf in awe, not understanding the concept so clearly.

The young woman, walking ahead of him, seemed deadly serious.

- "Yes. I pushed away the bad thoughts and concentrated on action. There were people in need, and I struggled every instant to shake myself and continue."

As Legolas fell silent, trying to process what he had been revealed, Frances realized that she did not wish him to linger on such thoughts in the darkness. For one, she was rather distressed that the elf would thing about her deeds so much, and secondly she could feel that Khazad-Dum was running on his nerves as much as on her mood, so she tried one of her nice smiles and breathed deeply:

- "Would you enlighten with tales of your kingdom?"

Much to her delight, his features relaxed and his glow seemed to turn a bit brighter. And despite the heavy silence, he managed to count her tales of Greenwood the Great.