A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to update, friends! I hope you enjoy this next chapter :) Let me know what you think!

Chapter 2

Several summers came and went. Lake-town steadily regained a secure economy with the free access to the game and other foodstuff that Mirkwood had to offer; the value of currency began to even itself out again as well. The changing of the seasons also brought about many transformations in Bard. The boy grew taller, and at fifteen his face had matured, his features more chiseled and eye-catching. His mother would tell him he was the finest looking boy his age in all of Esgaroth, but nonetheless he thought her words untrue.

Bard continued to do everything that was needed to meet the needs of his small family, going to people each day to see if they needed help with different tasks for a small profit. His mother did what she could, but there was little a woman of sixty could do by way of physical labor that would be satisfactory enough. Every day Bard would wake up at the crack of dawn to search for potential work – he had begun to forget what it was like to have friends or any time for hobbies, though his mother encouraged him to take time away for himself. He thought the notions trivial in light of his family's circumstances.

What was not inconsequential, however, were the memories of what had occurred that fateful day nearly five years ago.

Bard could not put the elves out of his head – could not put their king's eyes from the recesses of his mind. At times he was ashamed of thinking of the beautiful race of people when he should have been concentrating on making a livelihood for his mother, but it was quite impossible to forget such flawless beings. The world around him was still so dim, the buildings still as decrepit as they were when Bard had been ten, and while the people's spirits had been lifted with the influx of food and the value of currency rising, they were still run-down and lacking in the appeal of the elven race.

It was in periods of time when he was alone that Bard would take out the small button that had fallen from the sleeve of King Thranduil's robe and inspect it. By the time he reached fifteen, he had inspected it so frequently that the coating of gold on the small leaf in the center had begun to wear away. Bard kept the object in the back corner of the chest where he stored his clothes, not daring to ever bring it out of the house with him for fear of losing it, that is until it found itself in his pocket one momentous day.

"Bard," his mother said. "You're quite old enough now to accompany the men into the forest. You must learn how to hunt – you cannot expect to be able to find small jobs your whole life."

The thought of leaving Lake-town excited Bard, but he remained composed, answering, "I know nothing about hunting, mother. Would I not slow them down?"

She tsked him. "None of that now. Go seek out Mister Farman – Iordanus Farman. He will make sure you know what to do."

And that was how the elvish button ended up in Bard's pocket as he walked through town towards Farman's residence. He had taken the object in hand at the last minute, decided it might bring him good fortune, and placed it within the pocket of his trousers.

Farman was happy to know that Bard wished to go along with the hunting party and learn their ways and agreed to take the boy under his wing, so to speak. The two left straight away, joining up with the small band of boats that were set to sail across the lake to the Mirkwood forests. Bard looked on in excitement as the shoreline grew nearer and nearer. The towering trees created a darkness that began directly beyond the shore, validating the name of the territory.

Bard had could count on one hand the amount of times he had set foot on a surface other than the wooden walkways that lined the water-bound town, and when his boot made contact with the dry ground, he found it most strange. He took one step after the other, watching the way his feet interacted with the sandy earth and forgetting for a moment the reason he had joined the hunting party. This youthful reverie was cut short when the group of men reached the forest's edge. Bard craned his neck back to look up into the trees above, a dizzy feeling causing his head to spin. He swayed; Mirkwood was much more intimidating up close.

Farman clapped a burly hand on Bard's shoulder, laughing heartily. "Easy there, boy! Don't fall faint on us now!"

Bard shook off the unsteadiness and followed the hunters across the invisible wall into the shadows. His eyes adjusted quickly, as there was minimal lighting provided by gaps in the thick canopy. The trees were seemingly endless, creating an eerie world as far as the eye could see. Who knew what lurked in this dark sanctuary…

The hunters began to split off into groups and Bard stayed by Farman's side, trailing behind two other men who paid him no mind. He felt like a burden, but felt as though he could make up for it if he proved himself competent in good time. All the men carried bows – Bard had clearly missed the memo, although it was not as if it would have changed anything anyway. He had only a small knife with him. One by one, the men took posts around the area; one of them climbed a great distance up one of the trees. Farman led Bard to a rocky outcropping and the pair sank down between two boulders. Then, the waiting began.

It seemed like a millennia until the patience paid off, for lo and behold, a large deer came softly stepped into the hunters' sights. Bard had only ever seen the creatures after they had been killed or from a great distance and he was astonished at the animal's grace. Its feet tread daintily through the leaf litter, ears twitching this way and that and eyes doing the same. For a moment, Bard's attention was focused so on the deer that it was akin to his first sighting of the elves. Off to his left, Farman nocked an arrow swiftly and soundlessly, taking aim.

Suddenly, the deer's head turned towards the pair and it responded with a panicked snort; its legs propelled it away quickly. All around Bard and Farman, the forest came to life with frightened animals – deer of every size charged past the hunters' hiding places. The bowmen all stood, their covers blown, and took their chances with shooting down one of the deer while Bard climbed atop one of the rocks to observe the action. In the end, their efforts yielded only a single kill, not nearly enough to return with. And so it was that the hunting party moved elsewhere.

The rest of the day was grossly unsuccessful, one of the "worst days they had seen in a long time," according to Farman. Several of the men jested that it was Bard's fault – that he brought them bad fortune, but Farman dissuaded the jokes, informing them that Bard had been nothing but perfect as far as behavior went. The boy was encouraged by these words, though he wished he could do something to help.

At the end of the hunt, they still had only one deer to speak of, in addition to an assortment of small animals and various medicinal plants one of the men had collected. On the way back towards the shore, Bard hung back, studying his surroundings. He stuck his hands in his pockets and found the elvish button, reminding him that these were, in fact, the king's woods. Curious how such refined beings could inhabit such a wild territory.

The group of hunters were far ahead of him now, caught up in their own conversation, an action which Bard was relieved they indulged in, for he was very conscious of his own irritation to them. He kept them in sight, but allowed himself to become immersed in the trees, listening to all the sounds and observing every detail he could.

Suddenly, a small bird came scuttling across Bard's path. Its body was large and its wings were far too small to carry it into flight. It stopped, looked at him, and continued on its merry way, but Bard had an idea. The bird was something he could successfully catch – he knew it. He glanced ahead to where the men were, and there, in the distance, was the shore, light and welcoming. It would be easy to find his way back, all he had to do was keep track of the direction he was headed. And how hard could the little bird be to immobilize?

He started after his quarry, walking slowly at first, but when the bird realized it was being followed, it took off. Bard gave chase, nearly losing it in the dense foliage, but he never took his eyes off of the prize. Eventually, the flightless bird took a sharp turn and disappeared, leaving Bard by himself to catch his breath. He looked around him; he could no longer see the edge of the tree line behind him. Impossible! He had not gone awfully far, or at least he assumed he had not. Everything had grown much darker in a matter of moments, the world around the boy taking on an unnerving glow. Bard's heart began to race, and he quickly turned around and ran back the way he had come, but something was wrong. Nothing looked the same.

It was with this realization that his foot caught on an uneven patch of ground and he fell, tumbling down a shallow incline. He landed in an ungraceful heap at the bottom, thankful that he had sheathed his knife prior. When he stood to his feet, he brushed himself off and looked up…only to be met with the sight of an elf standing not ten feet away.

Bard did not move as the elf watched him in haunting stillness. It was male, and the long, brown hair cascading over the earthy-toned garb made him appear one with the forest around him.

"What business have you across the established borders?" came a voice from behind the boy. Bard swore his heart skipped a beat at the unexpected question.

He turned slowly to find another elf standing closer to him than the first. The hair of this creature was fair, and Bard immediately recognized him as one of the elves who had accompanied the king to Esgaroth back when the agreement was reached. His face bore no aggression, but displayed a hurried curiousness nonetheless.

"I did not know I had strayed, sir elf. I was pursuing some game and I must have…must have gotten lost." The elf's brow furrowed at the explanation, and Bard added, "It is my first excursion into these woods. I did not know where I was going."

The light-haired elf studied him, no doubt looking for any ill intent, and then said, "I believe you to be telling the truth." Bard exhaled in relief, but that relief was crushed when he continued, "However, our treaty with your people still stands, and you have ventured too deep into our lands. For that, you must come with us."

Bard opened his mouth to protest, but no sound escaped. He could feel the panic welling up inside of him, stifling his words as a cold fear spread over his entire body. Finally, "But I must return to my mother – she…she will worry!"

The elf's eyes grew more frigid. "My King's word is law, you would do best to obey and pose no struggle."

And so it was that Bard, a boy of merely fifteen years, was escorted by a group of elves that seemingly materialized out of the trees through Mirkwood to face the king.

…

…

…

Just like the elves, the king's palace made itself scarce, hidden and doubtlessly impossible to find without a guide who knew of its location. The walk from where Bard had been confronted to the gargantuan structure was long, difficult, and dark. Bard struggled to keep his footing next to the lithe elves, the uneven ground causing him to stumble more than once. Even though he could theoretically be viewed as a prisoner, the beings around him were not unkind – though they were ascetic – and did not lay hands on him.

Bard could not help but feel very nervous about the prospect of having to face the unearthly king again. The regal elf had plagued many a thought over the years and Bard had never truly considered the idea of having to meet him again. What would come about? Would he be thrown into the dungeons for an age for breaking the agreement? Would they kill him? Bard blanched at the last mental inquiry, shaking his head swiftly in an attempt to shake the prospect from his mind. Of course they would not end his life – they had no reason to and he had done no wrong. Surely the king would understand!

When the journey was through and the gargantuan doors rose to the heavens ahead of the traveling party, Bard sank into an anxious state, despairing that he had not even an inkling of what was to come. The fair elf directed the doors to be opened, and the guards bade them entrance into a place that could only be described as a work of art. For just an instant, Bard was so amazed at the interior that the gravity of the situation slipped his mind, and he lost himself in gazing at the intricate architecture above, below, and all around him. In his admiration he did not take notice of the empty throne they were approaching straight away.

They stopped before it, and the white-haired elf summoned what appeared to be a servant, saying, "We found this trespasser beyond the borders – go inform King Thranduil of this." The servant quickly went off to obey, once again making Bard wonder what authority he who had given the order possessed, though he dared not ask. He kept his mouth prudently shut.

The minutes crept by at an agonizingly slow pace as Bard tried to breathe, feeling faint. The elves around him stood as still as statues of marble, the only indication of their livelihood being the slight movement of their hair in the drafts of air that flowed throughout the large space.

"What is this…?" a cold voice drifted to Bard's ears and he flinched, startled. His head turned swiftly and his eyes took in the sight before him.

There stood the being that he had remembered so vividly, adorned in robes no less ornate than before and as perfectly-featured as any piece of artwork could convey. He bore a skeptical expression, one eyebrow raised while his gaze flicked back and forth between the fair-haired elf and Bard.

"You failed to mention that the individual you apprehended was a child," Thranduil condescended.

"I am sorry, Father."

And in those four, little words, Bard finally understood the two elves looked so similar – a king and his son. It all made sense. The prince lowered his head, a submissive gesture.

Thranduil then addressed Bard, "What have you to say? Surely your people have informed you of the treaty and all of its stipulations?"

Bard slowly nodded, wishing that his face had not changed so much, wishing that the Elvenking could recognize him. "I knew the agreed borderlines, I swear it. My crossing them was but an accident and I promise I – "

The king raised a hand and effectively silenced him. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, and said, "I do not take kindly to intruders in my lands, child. Intruders are equated with potential harm, and I have no reason to take you for an honest boy. And am I not to be wary of spies in my Kingdom?" Bard's face showed his growing desperation. "Yes…" the king continued. "I do believe I will keep you here for a while lest you pose any threat in the future."

Thranduil began to turn away, giving some offhanded command to the surrounding guards to take Bard to the dungeons, but the boy was panicking. He had to think of something! There had to be some way to…

Then he remembered that he still had the Elvish button in his pocket.

"Wait!" he cried to the king, who looked over his shoulder with a scowl. "I can prove my honestly, sir – just…just let me show you something."

Thranduil focused his attention on Bard once more as the young man removed the tiny button from within the pocket of his trousers. He approached the king, despite the protest of the other elves, and displayed the object in his palm. "Years ago," said Bard, "when you came to Lake-town, you lost this and I tried to give it back to you. You did not take it."

Bard watched as the face of the Elvenking went from frigid, to surprised, and finally it melted into some amalgamation of understanding and disbelief. He studied Bard's face, the memories seemingly clicking into place, and he nodded in response.

"I…do remember," he said.