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Chapter Eight……………….MORNING

            Light filtered in through the windows, shining through her closed lids. She groaned softly, and shifted to one side, tentatively opening an eye. She found that she was still in his room – he must have laid her on the spare cot. She had no recollection of falling asleep, but she felt refreshed and glad of the rest. She settled on her back and stretched her legs, yawning.

                As she stood up, she noticed that he was not in the room. She ambled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, trying to wake up fully. She glanced at the mirror, and her reflection gazed back at her. She felt slightly surprised – she thought something looked different. She looked closer. Her face was the same, but the eyes were over bright, the hair mashed to one side from sleeping on it. She laughed quietly, and ran fingers through the chestnut hair, working out the tangles.

                When she finished, she went back out into the room and found a note on the dresser. It was hastily written, but even when hurried, Legolas’s scrawl was neat and very legible.

Good morning! There’s a meeting about to start in the Gathering Room. I have to go, as it concerns the old matters of the Fellowship. I will strive to get back soon, though I have a feeling that this will be no short meeting. Have a good day.

     -Legolas

She folded the letter carefully, and placed it inside the pocket of her robe. She strode out of the dorm, and peered down the hallway. No one else was out.

                There was no need to return to her own room in the way of secrecy that she had performed last night – no one else seemed to be around. The hallways were silent, lest for the occasional outburst of piping music from a lone songbird. She took her time heading back to her own dorm. What else had she to do? Just wait…

                The sun shone brightly from a cloudless sky, clear and pale blue. Everything seemed so perfect; a flawless, warm morning. She thought it seemed too perfect.

Something felt out of place.

She stole back to her room. A queer feeling had gotten hold of her, and she wondered if she was getting ill. Her head felt light, and her stomach felt hollow, though she was not hungry. She splashed water on her face, but it had no effect. She figured it was a passing virus, nothing more. She curled up on her bed, facing the window, and shut her eyes, hoping to sleep it off.

                She drifted off into some sort of daze; she was neither awake nor asleep. Suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of light, and she gasped. She opened her eyes, and looked around wildly, though she could not see anything. Her eyes stared, but they were blind. Panic seized her. Had she lost her sight?

                Vivid images began spinning before her, though she recognized none of them. She trembled in fear and disbelief as she watched the images piece themselves together. A strange voice whispered in her head,

                “Do not fear your gift, child. You have been one of the Chosen, the few given the rare endowment of what we call foresight. It is a gift, so do not misuse it. The maltreatment of the Sight is a grave mistake.”

She shuddered. Who was it? She knew the voice, yet wondered what – or who - it was.

The visions sped before her eyes, and much to her shame, she began to feel nauseous. Slowly, she began to decipher them, as she could no longer stand to watch them flicker by. The idea of what she saw began to settle.

                …The sun was drifting lower in the azure sky, and a group of people were scuttling across a slight outcrop of rock…

                Failariël’s breath caught as she got a closer glimpse of the men.

                …They were traitors of Men, the Southerlings. They carried spears and quivers of poison-tipped arrows, swords and heavy, spiked wooden clubs. They were on a mission to kill…

The vision changed…

                …Another group, though these were not Men – they were half the size of a man, in fact. They seemed to be in a hurry, led by two of their kind. They passed the outcropping of the rock, and there was a cry as the Southerlings descended upon the smaller creatures. There were shouts…

The vision spattered with blood, and Failariël woke up screaming. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and her hands had clenched so hard that there was an imprint in her palms from where her nails dug in. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she felt cold and sick. Whoever the smaller group of people was, they were in deadly trouble…

There was a knock on her door. She closed her eyes, and tried to get her breathing under control.

“Coming,” she called, but her voice was nothing more than a feeble croak. She passed a mirror as she walked to the door, and jumped at her reflection. She was pale and her eyes gave way to the horror she had witnessed.

“Failariël?” a familiar voice called from outside. “Failariël, are you alright?”

The door swung open, and a concerned-looking Legolas stood in the threshold. He took one look at her, and was suddenly by her side, steadying her as she wobbled towards the wall.

                “What happened?” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”

She could only gaze at him, her eyes wide and scared.

                “I…I saw…terrible things,” she whispered. “Death…”

                “What?” Legolas helped her to her bed, setting her down gently and taking one cold hand in his own. Her body shook as though in some chill wind, and he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

                “What happened?” he asked softly. “Are you sick?”

She nodded. “Yes…And no…”

                “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She took a deep breath.

                “I felt…ill,” she started. “But it wasn’t a sickness-like feeling…I’ve never felt anything like it before. I felt dizzy, so I came to lie down. And then…” she shivered. “It happened.”

                “What?” Legolas rubbed her back, like one would to comfort a frightened child. “What happened?”

                “I…saw,” she gasped. “There were Men…murderers; they were out to kill something. No, no, it was a group they were out to slay.”

Her eyes closed, and when they opened, they were wide with horror.

                “Legolas…” her voice shook. “They’re out to kill the Halflings.”