- Part 1 -
Chapter 1 – Nine
750 years later...
The Elvenking was bored.
Sitting in another one of those unholy meetings which he had to attend to make it look like he ruled the country, but his bloody pen-pushing bureaucratic advisors decided what needed to be done, and effectively usurping his position, was not the way he wanted to spend a sunny afternoon in May.
Bored, bored, bored.
"...And yet if we allow Lake-Town to use the river as a trading path, then we lose one of the best defences this city has to offer."
"But we open up a whole network of diplomatic relations with them!"
Really bored, really bored, really bored.
"Yes, but at what price? If you recall what happened the last time Mirkwood came under siege-"
The room full of advisors fell very suddenly silent. There was an unwritten rule in Mirkwood that nobody was to mention that event. Nobody was to mention the capture of the younger prince, when said prince had barely been out of adolescence. Nobody in Mirkwood save Ithilas and Thranduil knew what exactly had happened in that meeting, but they never forgot it. And neither of them spoke about it. All everybody else knew was that Prince Legolas had been captured and taken away by the Necromancer. Everyone presumed he was dead.
However, not listening did have its benefits. He hadn't exactly registered that the topic of his dead son had come up, and when everyone looked at him, he merely waved his hand as a gesture for the somewhat flustered advisor to carry on. Aniriul, who had recovered from his injuries but still bore the scars from his last fight and had since become an advisor, smirked.
Thranduil watched as his advisors ruled the country, not letting him get a word in edgeways, even if he wanted to. In his head he privately called the way the country was run 'legal treason.'
Unbelievably bored, unbelievably bored, unbelievably bored.
Truth be told, nothing interesting had happened in Mirkwood since the arrival of those dwarves fifty years ago and the whole mess involving the Arkenstone and Smaug's fortune. Oh, what Thranduil would give for something like that to happen again.
Something interrupt this.
"I still think that..." Blah blah blah, something boring involving why the river should be used by Lake-Town's people to race down or something similar.
Please, let something get me out of this.
"But if you remember..." Blah blah blah, something boring involving why the river shouldn't be used by Lake-Town's people to race down or something similar.
Something, anything...
"Aniriul, what do you think?"
Anything at all...
Suddenly, the door opened and in came Ithilas, panting. Thranduil, unable to believe his luck, sat up and listened more attentively than he had this entire meeting.
Pant - Pant - "Sorry," - Pant - "But bad news."- Pant - "The Nine have crossed into our borders."
...Except that.
