He felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked across the bridge at the elf king's fortress. A giant cave. Sealed off by a giant door. He'd be stuck underground until the elves either decided he was not a threat or got tired of having to feed him. His heart skipped a beat just thinking about it. He hated to be underground. It made him sick, to be put in a cage, cut off from the open air, the trees, the animals. Elrond had said it was something in Ranger blood, something that connected them to nature. He'd also said that after too long, being underground or even stuck inside a stone building might actually be fatal. As if I couldn't figure that out for myself. Hunching his shoulders slightly and trying not to show his growing annoyance, quickly evolving into genuine anger, at the situation, he followed his 'guides' across the bridge and through the great gate.
The door slammed shut with a rather depressing BOOM behind them, and instantly he felt the weight of the stone all around pressing in on him. The dog laying under the door guard's chair scooted out and licked his hand as he passed; he scratched her ears and gave her a small smile. She shimmied back under her master's chair, her thumping tail making her whole body wiggle rather comically.
The rest of the party trailed off in several directions, and Legolas gestured for the Ranger to follow him. They went down a wide corridor and stepped through an equally wide archway, into an even wider chamber. The Throne Room. Joy. He looked across the chamber to see yet another blonde-haired, blue-eyed statue of vanity incarnate, seemingly the normal appearance for elves other than Elrond and his children, who were dark-haired, grey-eyed statues of vanity incarnate. Glancing briefly toward the vaulted dome of the ceiling, he sighed and waited for the 'audience' to begin.
"Approach." Thranduil sounded faintly bored, and as they crossed the room Aragorn saw that he most definitely looked it, as well. Although I suppose sitting in a hard chair all day listening to the senseless creatures that wood-elves so often are say equally senseless things would probably tend to get tiresome. They paced silently across the chamber and stopped at the foot of the dais. Legolas bowed shallowly from the waist; Aragorn, however, still rather annoyed at the whole ridiculous business, merely inclined his head. Thranduil sat a little straighter, looking rather affronted, and said just a fraction louder than was usually considered dignified, "Will you not pay proper respect to the King of the Wood?!"
"Not my king, not my wood," the Ranger replied mildly. "And if you insist on waylaying every traveler that passes through the forest, then perhaps you should put guards at the ends of the road. It would save you a lot of hassle."
Thranduil spluttered indignantly for a moment, then regained his composure and demanded of his son, "Where did you find this one?"
"He helped us at the spider nest my lord," Legolas replied, glancing up nervously at the man next to him. The carefully controlled rage emanating from the Ranger was almost palpable, and the elf decided he should probably try to smooth out the situation. "He's very grateful for your hospitality," he said, giving Aragorn a pointed look.
"Oh, yes, I'm ecstatic that I could be here today." Sighing and shaking his head at the sarcasm dripping from the man's quiet voice, Legolas resigned himself to observing what was no doubt going to be a very interesting audience.
Thranduil narrowed his eyes and stared measuringly at the Ranger. "Why are you in the Greenwood?"
"Passing through."
"Why?"
"It is quicker than going around." Aragorn pretended he hadn't seen Legolas hide a grin behind his hand.
"To where?"
"The Lonely Mountain."
"What business have you there?"
"A message."
"From who?"
"The sender."
Thranduil frowned. "To whom?"
"The receiver."
The elf king was clearly getting exasperated again. "You will answer the questions plainly if you have any hope of delivering this message."
"Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "The general idea behind a secret message is that it is kept secret from everyone else."
Lips tight with suppressed anger, Thranduil pounded a fist on the arm of his throne. "You will tell me who you are and what you are doing here, or you will rot in my dungeons forever!"
"You never asked who I was. My name is Aragorn; I'm a Ranger. I told you, I am passing through on my way to the Lonely Mountain to deliver a message. And things do not rot forever, they eventually rot away." His mild tone was obviously infuriating the elf king, and beneath his own simmering anger he found it rather amusing. Thranduil's face was white with rage, and he looked as though he was about to explode. Then, the words seemed to fully register, and his face took on an expression of complete amazement.
"Aragorn?! Isildur's Heir?!" At Aragorn's patient nod, he continued thoughtfully. "You're Elrond's fosterling, right?" Another slow nod. "Huh. He would be the one you are delivering the message for, would he not?" The Ranger merely looked at him with a carefully schooled expression of neutrality, and waited patiently for Thranduil to digest this new information.
Finally, the elf king seemed to have come to a decision. "You will go with Legolas. He will see you properly arranged as a guest and you will remain here until an escort can be found to see you to the border."
"I can find the border perfectly well on my own," the Ranger muttered, further vexed at the prospect of spending several days underground.
Thranduil glared at him and practically snarled, "This audience is concluded."
Legolas bowed to his father, deciding not to mention his still un-given report, and pulled the Ranger out of the room by the elbow. Shaking his head, he showed the 'guest' to a room and took his leave with promises of dinner and a bath.
Why in Middle Earth would I want to take a bath with that ridiculous scented soap they all use? He'll probably bring some kind of meat, too, and why would I want that? Throwing himself down on the bed, the only piece of furniture in the small room, and, of course, much too short for his lanky frame, he pulled an apple out of a pocket in his cloak and tried to ignore the headache that meant he'd been in this accursed cave for several hours already. Elrond was going to owe him big time for this.