"There were only two, Thranduil. Where is the third?"
A gravelly voice broke the stillness as its owner, a shadowy figure cloaked in black from head to toe, stepped out of the darkness near the doorway. Thranduil spun to face the noiseless intruder in the pavilion.
"It is you, Avergaar." Thranduil said, relaxing some, "You have found the rebels then."
"Yes, they were being held by your guards, but there were only two. There is another."
The figure shook off the hood of the cloak revealing the small, angular face of a female elf, though not quite an elf. When looked at closely the face was harder than a normal elf and the teeth a little too sharp. A thin, white scar traced its way over the top of her cheek, past the corner of her eye and off into her hairline, marring what would normally have been considered a pretty face. A finely made silver chain attached from her ear to her nose on one side, completing the unconventional look.
She gave the king of the Mirkwood elves a rather insolent glare.
"You let the other escape through your lands. I am required to answer for three to Elrond. You were to be holding three."
The female elf shifted her weight forward. There was subtle menace in the movement. Thranduil straightened and gave an imperious look.
"I have nothing to do with you bringing them to Elrond," he suddenly softened, "I do admit the on escaped our scouts. That was not our intention, therefore I do feel some responsibility on that account."
Thranduil sighed, "I cannot send my archers with you, that is impossible, but I do have someone in mind to accompany you. You shall not refuse this Avergaar, this fugitive has proved to be crafty and have allies. You may need help…"
Suddenly they were interrupted by the rapid entrance of another elf. In that instant the she-elf flung back her cloak, spun and pointed a wicked looking blade at the throat of the intruder. She gave a grimacing, slightly amused smile as she realized the new addition also had a knife drawn and pointed at her throat in the same manner.
"Father?" the new elf gasped out.
"Release him Avergaar and stand back," Thranduil commanded, "it is my oldest son that you threaten, and he demands your respect."
"Does he?" the female said in a low voice. She raised an eyebrow, but backed away and resheathed her knife.
"I heard you, Father, and I thought you may need my help."
The new elf glanced from father to the female elf.
"No, she meant me no harm, but it is good you came. Avergaar, this is who I can spare to go with you…my oldest son, Legolas."
"You cannot send him with me… he is far too young," the female gave a look of disdain, "I will be fine alone."
"No, he goes at my insistence, and that is final" Thranduil said firmly, " I will explain all of this to you later my son."
With that the king of Mirkwood turned and left.
In this moment prince and hunter stood sizing each other up. The she- elf had pulled back her cloak, revealing an old leather breastplate with a guard down the one shoulder. Under this was chain mail, and various straps crossed and recrossed her ensemble down to her dull leather pants. The most startling aspect of her attire was her weaponry though. She wore a broadsword on one hip and a short sword on the other. A bow and quiver showed itself from the back of the cloak along with the double elfish white knives of the warrior class. Added to these were other small knives sheathed in the various straps around her torso, and heavy leather wrist gauntlets that seemed to be plated with small steel spikes. She posed and altogether intimidation image, even though she had little in the way of actual size or height. Her dark brown hair twisted into a mass at the back of her neck, carelessly done yet attractive nonetheless. With flashing blue- gray eyes and a delicate face, the female looked a complete contradiction.
The prince on the other hand looked his role. Tall, well-built, with a delicate yet masculine face and long blond hair that verged on being white, it could fairly be argued that he was almost peerless in appearance. Dressed well and richly in the woodland colors, there was still a softness to his features that betrayed a hint of a sensitive nature, yet a hardness to his eyes that showed him to be no coward.
A strange pair they made, slowly taking in the other's appearance and judging accordingly.
The she-elf made a noise suspiciously like a growl. She glared at the elvin prince and her gaze was returned by one that conceivably held nothing but curiosity. Then with one quick motion she was gone, vanished back into the shadows from which she had appeared. Legolas watched the spot she had disappeared from for a moment, as if debating what to think about what he had just seen. Finally he turned and left to find his father.
A gravelly voice broke the stillness as its owner, a shadowy figure cloaked in black from head to toe, stepped out of the darkness near the doorway. Thranduil spun to face the noiseless intruder in the pavilion.
"It is you, Avergaar." Thranduil said, relaxing some, "You have found the rebels then."
"Yes, they were being held by your guards, but there were only two. There is another."
The figure shook off the hood of the cloak revealing the small, angular face of a female elf, though not quite an elf. When looked at closely the face was harder than a normal elf and the teeth a little too sharp. A thin, white scar traced its way over the top of her cheek, past the corner of her eye and off into her hairline, marring what would normally have been considered a pretty face. A finely made silver chain attached from her ear to her nose on one side, completing the unconventional look.
She gave the king of the Mirkwood elves a rather insolent glare.
"You let the other escape through your lands. I am required to answer for three to Elrond. You were to be holding three."
The female elf shifted her weight forward. There was subtle menace in the movement. Thranduil straightened and gave an imperious look.
"I have nothing to do with you bringing them to Elrond," he suddenly softened, "I do admit the on escaped our scouts. That was not our intention, therefore I do feel some responsibility on that account."
Thranduil sighed, "I cannot send my archers with you, that is impossible, but I do have someone in mind to accompany you. You shall not refuse this Avergaar, this fugitive has proved to be crafty and have allies. You may need help…"
Suddenly they were interrupted by the rapid entrance of another elf. In that instant the she-elf flung back her cloak, spun and pointed a wicked looking blade at the throat of the intruder. She gave a grimacing, slightly amused smile as she realized the new addition also had a knife drawn and pointed at her throat in the same manner.
"Father?" the new elf gasped out.
"Release him Avergaar and stand back," Thranduil commanded, "it is my oldest son that you threaten, and he demands your respect."
"Does he?" the female said in a low voice. She raised an eyebrow, but backed away and resheathed her knife.
"I heard you, Father, and I thought you may need my help."
The new elf glanced from father to the female elf.
"No, she meant me no harm, but it is good you came. Avergaar, this is who I can spare to go with you…my oldest son, Legolas."
"You cannot send him with me… he is far too young," the female gave a look of disdain, "I will be fine alone."
"No, he goes at my insistence, and that is final" Thranduil said firmly, " I will explain all of this to you later my son."
With that the king of Mirkwood turned and left.
In this moment prince and hunter stood sizing each other up. The she- elf had pulled back her cloak, revealing an old leather breastplate with a guard down the one shoulder. Under this was chain mail, and various straps crossed and recrossed her ensemble down to her dull leather pants. The most startling aspect of her attire was her weaponry though. She wore a broadsword on one hip and a short sword on the other. A bow and quiver showed itself from the back of the cloak along with the double elfish white knives of the warrior class. Added to these were other small knives sheathed in the various straps around her torso, and heavy leather wrist gauntlets that seemed to be plated with small steel spikes. She posed and altogether intimidation image, even though she had little in the way of actual size or height. Her dark brown hair twisted into a mass at the back of her neck, carelessly done yet attractive nonetheless. With flashing blue- gray eyes and a delicate face, the female looked a complete contradiction.
The prince on the other hand looked his role. Tall, well-built, with a delicate yet masculine face and long blond hair that verged on being white, it could fairly be argued that he was almost peerless in appearance. Dressed well and richly in the woodland colors, there was still a softness to his features that betrayed a hint of a sensitive nature, yet a hardness to his eyes that showed him to be no coward.
A strange pair they made, slowly taking in the other's appearance and judging accordingly.
The she-elf made a noise suspiciously like a growl. She glared at the elvin prince and her gaze was returned by one that conceivably held nothing but curiosity. Then with one quick motion she was gone, vanished back into the shadows from which she had appeared. Legolas watched the spot she had disappeared from for a moment, as if debating what to think about what he had just seen. Finally he turned and left to find his father.
