runando ~ A Thranduil Story

Outed

She had to leave.

The risk to herself was too great to even risk staying the night. Laineth barely made it to her room that the King had so graciously given her without collapsing and crying out from the pain of having to keep up her disguise for over 12 hours. With the door firmly shut, she felt confident enough to remove her disguise, which felt a bit like peeling dried glue off of your skin, and collapse onto the bed.

No. No, she couldn't fall asleep. She had to get home. Who knows how many people could've seen her mark?

"Stupid," She thought to herself, "How stupid could you be, Laineth? How unsanitary is it to not wear shoes around, especially when you're dealing with patients who're bleeding all over the place? You idiot, now you've probably just outed yourself to the King's entire court!"

Taking in a deep breath, she flung herself off of the four-posted bed and felt around the room for anything to hide her face with. There was no way she could summon up the energy to disguise herself again. She had to find something, anything. For a solid 30 minutes, Laineth dug through the drawers and the large wardrobe, hoping that there would be something hooded that would shadow her.

Eventually, she found a large black cloak, the hood just as large. For someone of seemingly average height for an Elf, the cloak was huge on Laineth, looking as if it would fit the King better than her. She certainly hoped she hadn't taken a cloak of the King's, but she doubted he would have his clothes stored in his guest rooms. Swinging it over her shoulders, she dashed into the bathroom, being extremely careful not to stumble or crash into anything, her arms wide out in front of her. Urgently, she felt along the counters, finally coming across some pins that she could fix her hair with. Her long blonde curls were rough on most days, but thankfully, she didn't struggle too much with pinning it back into some sort of messy bun type thing, although it hung down to the middle of her neck, but oh well, it would work.

"Boots! Shoes! Quick!" She uttered to herself as she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Laineth had never been so panicked before, even considering her past. If anyone had seen her mark, she had to make sure that she covered it up now that she was supposedly a completely different person.

She was sure that she had tripped over something that felt like leather on her way to the bathroom, so Laineth retraced her steps, leading her to the foot of the bed, where she indeed found a pair of worn boots.

"Ah. I'm still in this mess of an outfit," She swore, running her hands down her dress, "Oh well, the dress might hide the boots."

Without another thought, she slipped her bare feet into the boots, cringing at the feeling of leather on her toes. And to think she would have to walk an hour back into the woods in them. Just as she was ready to go, she could see a small light to her left, one of the few things she could see. Her ears pricked up, the tips twitching.

Someone was at her door.

Gulping, she knew she had one thing to do. Gathering her cloak around her, she stumbled across the room until she reached a window. She couldn't hear any voices down below, nor could she hear a river like the one that ran through before the main gate. She would have to rely on her senses to get home.

The person at her door began knocking, throwing Laineth into a bit of a stupor. Leaning further out the window, she bit on her lip. Surely, the King will have her head for this. But she had no choice, she had to at least try to escape. The knocking on the door became more harsh and frantic. Laineth reached her decision.

She hauled herself up onto the windowsill and without another thought, threw herself from the window.

A few seconds later, Arnriel, one of the dressers, burst into the room, "Sorry to barge on in, my lady, but do you need help with your-"