CHAPTER ONE

The world was a teeming, rushing blur as Legolas tore into the tangled labyrinth of the forest. The hooves of the horse below him, smuggled out from the woodland realm, quickly matched the beat of his heart, pounding unceasingly in his ears, and gaining speed the further they ventured. It soon became the only noise he could hear; everything in these woods was swallowed by its hungry depths, leaving only one or two sounds behind. And in the darkness, it was all eerily distorted, a trick the mind (or unseen forces) liked to play.

He had lived in its boughs for one thousand years though and he knew better than to think it could be dominated or bettered. The elves who resided here tried only to co-exist beside it, never to claim ownership or a higher status. They respected the forest with a wary admiration and nothing, not even a falling leaf, would happen without the king knowing of it.

So, as Legolas returned into its arms, he knew exactly where to tread his horse, how to manoeuvre her through the twisting undergrowth, when to avert her path from the course they followed. It was a relationship of harmony that every elf excelled in. To be one with nature was in their blood.

And that was why these filthy orcs would not last for a moment more between these trees. They desecrated and poisoned everything they touched, like the vermin they were and soon they would be lost to the omnipotent power of Mirkwood. It was futile to resist it.

They would wither in their own arrogance at daring to cross the elven borders.

That was if Legolas did not find them first.

However, minutes after entering into the woods, the orc he had been following disappeared into the bleakness. They were not the most subtle of creatures but soon, not even a trace of his trampling warg feet, or the panting of his heavy breath, could be heard. The black void around Legolas swallowed all in its gaping mouth and it was not long before even the ears of his horse, let alone more distant creatures, were difficult to distinguish. This was the whim of the forest, an unpredictable, tempestuous animal in itself.

But he kept moving, kept galloping over the invisible ground in a direction which he let his elven senses dictate. It was not the first time he had to rely on something less tangible than the mortal world about him. He concentrated, even as they raced along, and allowed his thoughts to open up, all encumbering decisions vanishing. Only the will of the natural elements around him (though veiled they may be) guided him through the darkness.

And, soon, he was rewarded by a faint, but gradually growing, change of smells about him. The heady musk of the woodland began to fade and its sweet perfume was replaced by a far more distasteful scent: pungent, rotting flesh and perpetual wounds. It could only mean one thing - he was gaining ground on the lone orc, creeping up on his retreating back.

What he would do with him when he finally reached him he was not entirely sure. His duty to the realm instructed that he should take him back to his father - after all, this one did not appear to be just another foot soldier. But the blood boiling furiously in his veins at the havoc they had wreaked upon his home and Esgaroth was quickly swaying his heart. He did not trust in his own control that he could come before this beast and have the coolness to merely take him prisoner. Not when he could still smell his own blood lingering in the air.

Suddenly, somewhere in the vastness before him, there was a flash of dull white dashing between vegetation. He snapped his head immediately in its direction, trying to determine the distance and speed of it in the fleeting moment he had. Though the labyrinth of vines and leaves obscured most of its movements, he saw plainly that it must have been the orc. No other creature of this forest could be so lumbering and heavy. Despite himself, he smiled. There would be no chance to escape his perception now.

So, driving his heel further into the tight flanks of the horse, he sped faster into the night, heatedly tracking the trampled road. It would not be long until he came face to face with this wretched commander again.

And then he would determine if he was worthy enough to be taken prisoner.

Even though they were sealed in by their thick, cavern walls, Thranduil felt the night as it fell around them. He knew when it was morning, he knew when it was noon, he knew when it was evening; there was not much that passed the woodland king's attention. It was a quality he was both feared and heralded for. No one dared to try and outwit him or his eerie senses for their own safety and dignity.

But, when a guard had come rushing up over the carven paths to his dais hours ago, Thranduil had known something had slipped his eye. He watched him hurry with a momentary clenching in his heart before forcing it down out of sensibility. He merely stared at the elf as he advanced closer, not being able to help noticing the concern and worry in his face. There was only one thing that could mean. Only one thing that this messenger would possibly say.

He watched him bow, grovelling apologetically, when he reached the floor before his throne. Even as he started to speak, he did not raise his eyes, did not venture to look upon the king with these tidings. "My Lord," he uttered breathlessly. "I regret to be the one that gives you this information, I wish it was not so, but -"

"Legolas has left, has he not?"

Thranduil's words made the guard raise his head in surprise. His brow furrowed in an image of sympathy and he nodded. Thranduil sighed, anger rising as quickly as a flooded river within him. It had only been a short time since he had expressly forbidden anyone to leave the realm. These orders were established for a reason; they were not merely spouted because of superficial whims, no matter how much Legolas and Tauriel made them appear or how much they -

Tauriel.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes as the realisation quickly came over him. Legolas must have been swayed by her, convinced to follow in her rebellious stead. In the days that had preceded their escape, she had taken an unnatural interest in the dwarves; her feelings of intrigue and treacherous sympathy had hardly been veiled. It was obvious that she looked on them with a kindred heart. And now that the orcs had followed them into Esgaroth...

The king leant forward to the guard as another wave of fury crashed down upon him, unpredictable, volatile. He flinched a little, tilting his head back out of range. "And I suppose Captain Tauriel has also taken her leave of us?" Thranduil hissed to him. "I suppose she has also neglected her duties to the realm?"

The elf again nodded. "Yes, my Lord. She left not long before the Prince."

Thranduil sat back, breathing out harshly in what sounded eerily like a sardonic chuckle. He curled his hand about one of the spikes of his throne, squeezing it in his palm. "I guessed correctly," he said, averting his gaze to the strong, carven pillars surrounding the chamber. Stretching as far as the eye could see, they were symbols of the kingdom's fortitude and endurance. Many centuries had passed with Thranduil as its ruler and he had done everything in his power to protect it and keep its people safe, as his father had striven to do. But now these dwarves, and these orcs trailing them, had abused his beautiful lands and Legolas and Tauriel were testing every nerve of his patience. In nigh on a thousand years, hardly anyone had strayed from this realm yet in one day, they had lost far too many.

"My Lord," the guard's voice suddenly broke into his reveries. He looked away from the pillars and stone and down into questioning, concerned eyes. This elf was young, Tauriel's age or even more youthful; he did not truly understand the ways of the world yet. There was so much more to learn. "Shall I assemble a party to look for the prince and the captain, sire? Their journey was directed towards Esgaroth. They cannot be far away."

Thranduil paused a moment before shaking his head. He ignored the guard's barely concealed frown as he said, "nay, do not. You said it yourself - they cannot be far away. And they will be armed - no harm will come to them. Soon both will realise the folly of their ways and return."

But that had been hours ago and still Thranduil sat upon his throne, staring down the curving pathways towards the main gate. The day descended into night around the palace yet not a sign of Legolas or Tauriel came to him. He paced, he strutted, he roamed his dais like some wild animal trapped in a cage and no one except from his personal wardens came near him. All knew that when the prince and the captain returned, his wrath would be unfathomable. It was not something any desired to awaken prematurely.

But, when the king had finally finished his impatient walking, and he ascended again to his antlered seat, the stillness he exuded was almost as terrible. He became as frozen as an ever-watchful sentinel, only the occasional flickering of his icy eyes a sign of life within. In silence, he waited, a tense, unpleasant, fuming silence, and not a sound escaped him; not a sound but one statement, whispered forlornly some time in the heavy evening to the oaken pillars about the chamber:

"It is troublesome enough to be father to an entire kingdom. But far more troublesome to be father to an unruly, wayward child."

(tbc)

Hey there! I'm so sorry this took so long to update. Thank you all so much for the reviews and follows and faves - it means a lot! I try and respond to you all but unfortunately, I can't respond to the guests. I wish I could as you left some lovely comments as well :)) So I'm just going to thank you all, I love you xxx

I will try and update a bit quicker next time. I struggled with writing this one - especially the Thranduil part - and I hope it reads alright but next chapter and beyond, it gets a bit more interesting :)

(Btw this is 'chapter one' as technically the first chapter I put on here was a prologue!)

feedback is always, always appreciated! x