This is my first fanfic. Duiniel and Irithwen are mine, everything else is Tolkien’s.

High Hopes-1
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“Irithwen!!”

Duiniel wandered alone through Mirkwood. Her long brown hair was flowing like honey behind her, and her blue eyes gleamed with delight as she searched for her friend. She had forgot, just for a while, about the horrible incidents of the night before. The nightmares, the horror of it all.

“Irithwen!” she called again. “Irithwen, I give up! You win, now come out!”

There was a terrified scream up ahead, and Duiniel ran after it. A foot slipped out of the trees, and Duiniel crashed to the grass.

“Irithwen?” she called. “Is that you?”
A hand pulled her behind a large tree. Duiniel’s blue eyes met some rather mischievous grey ones.

“Legolas!” she snapped. “I have no time for your silly games. I cannot find Irithwen!”

“Duiniel, I need to tell you something.” Legolas stopped her.

“It can wait,” Duiniel replied, and tore off after her friend’s fading voice.

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Please, Duiniel thought. Please, just let her be playing games with me. Let her be alright. She could hear footsteps behind her, as Legolas chased after her.

“Legolas!” she called to him. “Leave me alone! I must get to Irithwen!”
Irithwen’s voice faded. What had started out as a game of hide and seek, was rapidly getting scarier. A scream came from in front of Duiniel, and Irithwen’s crumpled form fell out of a tree. Irithwen whimpered.

“There’s-s-something-o-out th-there!” she said, pressing her bloodstained face into Duiniel’s tunic.

“Did you see ‘it’?” Legolas asked Irithwen, as he put his arm around her.

“N-no,” Irithwen choked, between sobs. “There was someone in a hood, and… white hands, cold, white hands!” She put her head on his shoulder and cried.

“Come, Legolas, Irithwen,” Duiniel said. “We should get inside.”

Legolas picked Irithwen up, for she could not walk. She was shaking as they walked back to Duiniel’s home.

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Irithwen lay, bleeding on Duiniel’s bed.

“Duiniel,” Legolas began, as Duiniel nursed her friend. “Can I have a word?”

“Yes. You can have a word,” Duiniel said. “In fact, you can have three words: Leave. Me. Alone!”

“Fine,” Legolas said, his face now blank and emotionless. “I will see you later. You will talk then?”

“Yes,” Duiniel snapped. “If it means that much to you.”

Legolas left them. Irithwen looked up, through her mess of blonde hair. Most of it was pink with the blood that was pouring out of her skull.

“Would you like my opinion?” Irithwen asked her friend.

“Yes,” Duiniel nodded. “Of course.”

“I think he likes you. Very much.” She smiled at Duiniel.

“I wouldn’t have high hopes, Irithwen,” Duiniel replied, stroking the blonde hair. She got up, and walked out of the room.

Indeed, Duiniel thought. Do not have high hopes. About Legolas, or keeping her life with those injuries.

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A/N: Please be kind and review. I only wrote this because my muse told me to. If you want to flame, flame the muse, people!
Marna x