Chapter 2: Of killers and Elf Climbers.

See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Author's note: Thank you so much for the reviews, follows and favorites! We truly appreciate seeing that people are attracted by the story and reading your opinion. A special thanks to Aralas for showing us how to change an already posted chapter, sorry again for the mistake about the author of "For The Love Of The Lord Of The White tree", it has been corrected (thanks to Aralas for this). We are posting this chapter before our final exam session, so it could take some time before the next update.

"Such a pity still, you tried."

Thranduil Oropherion

King Thranduil of the woodland realm was calmly sitting on his wooden throne, a glass of dorwinion resting in his right hand as he glared at the three advisors that were on their knees, waiting for their king's answer. He then wondered why he even had advisors. After all, their counsel was far from needed in order for him to rule his people properly.

"I have declared this once," began the king, "in the hope that this subject was closed and that you would not bother my ears with such gormlessness again."

The blond haired elf then looked down to his advisors again, only to find them staring at him with some apprehensive looks.

As the consiglieres knew but to well, it was on truth and reason that their ruler had forged his opinion, and even though many decided to open their hearts to the free peoples of Middle-Earth, the king could trust no more. The race of the Nauglir was, as he desired, a distant, unpleasant memory and thus it would remain for his eternal life, even if the end of days should be upon him. He repulsed the dwarves deeply and the simple thought of them drained the only ounce of patience he still possessed, which explained his fury when his own counsellors, who had known about his opinion for decades, kept wasting their time in attempting to change their superior's mind. Although, had they offered the same idea but a few thousand years ago, the open heart of the queen would have softened thus of the ruthless king and their demand would have been considered. Now, the heart of the king, or what was left of it, was cold and hard as the ice upon the murderous misty mountains. The very warmth of his being had faded with the queen, and even if Thranduil was considered as the best ruler that the woodland realm ever had for his hardness in times of war, the peace in his heart could but lessen as thus of his kin grew. The lack of imminent danger that had distracted him for years was now over, and he had begun to remember what emotions felt like once more, which he despised more than anything. The only reason why he was still amongst the living and had not surrendered to grief was that he had shut out his melancholy, his pain, but also his love, happiness and all other feelings that used to define him in better days. In the previous years, he gave himself no choice; his people needed him, there was no time for having feelings of his own. But now, his people were safe and there was no more menace that required quick reactions and nerves of steel, which left him without the motivation that used to keep him together.

Still, his composure was as impressive as before, and none could pierce his icy mask or decrypt his intimidating glare,

except for one.

No matter how hard he tried to push him away, the king of the woodland realm could not keep this wall of pride between his son and himself. Just as his wife did, Legolas could read every carefully hidden emotion that passed through his father's mind, to the king's grand annoyance. But no matter how hard Thranduil tried to push him away, the young prince would always reach and remind him that he was still alive, that his people needed him, that the world was in peril. This made Thranduil think of Legolas' reaction to the refusal he expressed concerning the trading with the dwarves. He would surely have been deeply annoyed, but would have hidden it behind an emotionless expression. But what the elfling had not realized was that the reading of the other was mutual, and the monarch could easily see the exasperation in his son's eyes. In fact, so many times had he seen in the elfling's eyes emotions that the king would never have wished to witness upon any face. The king knew he had pushed his son far, perhaps too far. He had started his training at such a young age that Legolas barely had any childhood. Of course, never was his wife agreeing with this. In fact, in the king's eyes, the young prince at been the one and only source of conflict between him and his wife. Although, when she joined Oropher amongst the jewels of Elbereth, Thranduil realised that Legolas was painfully too much like her. Not only did he have the same features and deep, calming blue eyes but his thoughts, opened and just, were too much like thus of the queen. Only landing eyes on his own son made the king drown in nostalgia and made his heart clench under the emotions that coursed through his body. That was, he supposed, why he had grown so distant from the last and only memory he had of Her.

Actually, he realized, the prince was not here.

Legolas had left a few decades ago to Imladris as a messenger, and had never returned. No word, no sign of life; for all he knew, his son could be dead. Of course, rumor had it that he became "Lord Of Ithilien" and, as the counsellors kept repeating, he was trading with the dwarves of the glittering caves, those stinky, ignorant, idiotic, heartless beings refused by Llúvatar himself.

"In Llùvatar's name, there shall be no trading with the dwarves under my reign!" His eyes seemed to turn to steel as he annunciated his next words. "I have given an attempt to this in the past, and I suppose you are all aware of the outcome. These creatures are selfish, greedy and think nothing of the world around them. I will not forsake the goods of my people to their hands and even less accept anything from them."

At these words, one of the advisors mustered all the courage that he could, and spoke.

"Only, Ô great king Thranduil, all the lands of Middle Earth have begun to trade between themselves... We even heard word that the kingdom of Ithilien was in process to begin tradings with the dwarves of the Glittering Caves. After all, the forest of Ithilien is the territory of-"

"Prince Legolas, yes. Do you think I do not know this? And why should we follow the example of other lands? If I ever had, we would have stood back from the fights ravaging our lands for millennia and perished. Besides, other lands are not my concern. Tell me, where were they when Eryn Lasgalen was perishing to the hand of Dol Guldur? "

All the advisors and guards shuddered as they heard the name of their old enemy being spoken.

"Where were they when the blood of our kin was staining the very lands we fought so hard to protect? Tell me that you did not already forget this, counsellors, for it will haunt every decision I am to take concerning other lands."

At the end of his sentence, the king took his glass of wine to his thin lips, then rolled the blood colored liquid in the glass, all the while smelling his fruity aromas. He then sighed deeply in exasperation, rolling his eyes, and let the glass fall on the floor in a shattering noise.

"Poisoned. Again."

"Ai elbereth!" Rang an angry voice that echoed in the throne room.

Thranduil dismissively waved his hand, a look of carelessness, annoyance and lack of surprise decorating his aesthetic features.

"Arrest him..." He casually ordered.

Two guards then dragged the elf away to the donjons, leaving the king alone with his counsellors once more.

"My king, perhaps we should remedy to this issue... It is the third time since last season."

"I believe it is not of pressing matter. All attempts have failed to but weaken my health and there is barely a few of these traitors left..."

The king smirked, recalling all of those who decorated his donjons, and would for an undetermined length of time. Few assassination attempts had happened in the last few years and yet, the king paid them no heed.

"If it is your wish my king... Although, considering the dwarves per-"

"This matter is closed. I thought this to be clear."

"Of course, hir nin." The advisor answered, bowing his head.

"Very well, then", the king commented,"You are dismissed".

The counsellors, disappointed by their failure at changing their ruler's will concerning the dwarves, left with their heads still bowed after their reverence.

Thranduil watched as they exited the throne room before falling into thought once more, his icy glare staring in the timeless void. Something about it was strange...

"Nildë, stop twitching, I need you to be steady, this is really important!", Arthon declared from his perch on Nildë's shoulders, while trying to look through a whole in one of the main windows of Legolas' study. The night had draped its cover over the forest of Ithilien and the voices of the two renegade elves were the only sounds we could hear beside thus of the nature.

"Apologies... Although, I do not think this to be a really good idea." Nildë answered, on the borders of shyness.

"Are you kidding me?!", Arthon declared, "If he won't tell us anything, then I will find out by myself. Besides, it is my sacred duty to assure his well being. Anyways, I like being on your shoulders like this, makes me feel like Cadworon."

"I do not think he is this tall..."

"Valar, Nildë, stop drifting out of duty, Cadworon is far from being our main problem at the moment."

"I thought you said he always was?"

"Right... But now, we have an even bigger problem." Arthon answered, a look of faked suspicion on his face.

"That you wish to solve by looking through a high placed window whilst swinging on my shoulders?"

"Exactly. This is for our Lord, warrior. Desperate times equal desperate measures."

"Desperate times?" Answered Nildë with his soft and innocent voice.

"Yes. Yesterday, when Ithil was at its highest peak, I really subtly climbed to Legolas' window and sneaked into his office. Of course, my excellent furtivety permitted me not to be noticed as I entered. Then I saw... IT!"

Without a doubt, Arthon's credibility was something that highly needed polishing.

"It? Arthon, hem... I am convinced I misinterpreted your words."

"What do you mean? It is as clear as the Mirror's water! Legolas was SLEEPING!"

"Arthon, I believe you should lowe-"

"ON HIS DESK!"

"Arthon, it is night some are slee-"

"STILL DOING HIS PAPERS!"

"Well...No one is sleeping now.." Nildë murmured to himself.

"WITH HIS EYES CLOSED!"

"Perhaps he is simply tir-"

"HE'S DYING!"

"Artho-"

"ITHILIEN IS LOST!"

"Please, I don't-"

"I feel it in the water..."

"Are you quot-"

"I feel it in the earth..."

"Arthon I think someone is co-"

"I smell it... IN THE AIR!"

An elf maiden silently approached, anger clearly decorating her features.

"What in the Valar's name are you two doing?!" She asked, marking each of her words with annoyance.

Arthon wipped his head around, heavily swaying on Nildë's shoulder.

"WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! Oh, hullo IareEEETH !"

At this exact moment, Nildë turned around to look at Iareth, to have Arthon finish his mid air fall in his arms and making both of them crumble on the ground.

"So much for being subtle..." Nildë murmured, his voice muffled under the weight of his friend. Arthon rolled over and raised himself at Iareth's level, eyeing her with a defying glare.

"I am currently fulfilling my duty as a member of the Lord's elite team, warrior."

Iareth glared at him, obviously trying to keep all of her emotions at bay.

"Which you appear not to be doing," He continued, "After all, your blindness in duty as clearly kept you from noticing that your own Lor-"

Iareth then grabbed him by the front of his tunic, her muscled arm leaving him no escape, bringing his face closer to hers and cutting him in mid-sentence.

"Arthon, if you make one more noise louder than thus of your breathing you will 'feel the earth' on your broken teeth, Am I clear?" She declared, her voice hissing between her teeth.

"Mm, I have never been so close to you before..." He mocked her, winking.

She raised her hand to slap him but at this moment, Nildë raised himself from the ground and put his hand on her firm shoulder.

"Iareth, we truly apologize for the noise... Perhaps, you should release him?"

Iareth dropped her grip on Arthon's tunic and moved her angry gaze towards Nildë.

"I honestly don't know how you manage to cope with him." She declared before turning on her heels and leaving.

"Well I don't know how I coped fighting by your side for centuries..." Arthon murmured, imitating her voice.

"What was that?" The she-elf angrily asked, her whole frame turning around.

"She heard m-" Arthon began in surprise.

"Nothing, Iareth" answered Nildë, "You can go back to what you were doing..."

Iareth glared at them, visibly hesitating between slicing their throats or simply leave and finally decided to walk away, deeming that Legolas clearly did not need them bickering.

"Nildë, did you just... Lie?" Arthon asked after the maiden's departure.

But before the innocent elf could answer, another voice rose from behind them.

"Nildë, Arthon? What are you doing out here?" The blond elf declared his voice still raspy with unintended sleep.

"Legolas..." Arthon false pleasingly answered, " Well, we were, hum... Gardening!" His voice lowered as he muttered to himself "No, of course not! That would be a stupid excuse!" Then he reached a normal tone once more "Well we were... We were... Coming to see if you needed help with your papers! Yes! You know, with all those huge piles of paperwork, we thought two more heads could be useful! As your centuries old elite team, Cadworon, Iareth, Erwath, Helegon, Nildë and I thought you might need support in your immensely demanding task as a Lord, that was appointed to you recently. Unfortunately, Cadworon could not because he was... Taking a walk. Then, Iareth was not available since, well, you know...", he finished mid-sentence with a suspicious laugh before continuing "Erwath! Erwath was... What was he doing, Nildë?"

As he reached the end of his sentence, he signaled his friend, seeking for support.

"We were eavesdropping..." Said Nildë, shamelessly. After a short silence, he acknowledged his mistake and lowered his gaze to the floor, cheeks reddening.

Arthon stared at the traitor, his eyes turning to steel. He then gooffingly smiled and looked towards Legolas, forcing a laugh out of his throat.

"Ha ha... Really funny Nildë..."

Legolas suspiciously looked at him, his eyes slowly clearing of the fog created by sleep.

"And what were you two eavesdropping for?" He softly questioned.

To this question, Nildë stepped forward, a look of determination on his face, his grayish blue eyes shining with naivety and sincerity.

"Well my lo-, Legolas." He began, "As we informed you a few days ago, we are... Worried about your well-being. Your thoughts practically always seem elsewhere and-"

"YOU FELL ASLEEP ON YOUR PAPERS FOR VALAR'S SAKE WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Arthon interrupted in distress, his slender arms waving around.

Legolas slightly winced at the high tone suddenly taken by his companion, to wince again as a feminine voice rose behind him.

"DID I NOT WARN YOU?! THAT IS IT! NO MORE CHANCES FOR YOU FOOLS! EGO MIBO OR- Oh, hullo Legolas." She interrupted herself, pushing her dark hair behind her back innocently.

The blond elf lord turned to glance at Iareth in misunderstanding. The she-elf, deducing his confusion, continued.

"Are you telling me you did not hear them earlier, right by your window?"

"I TOLD YOU SOMETHING WAS WRONG! HE IS DYING!" Arthon exclaimed.

At this moment, another elf, taller than most of his own race, joined the four others.

"Apologies for the sound, Cadworon. Arthon seems to be slightly panicked." justified Legolas, discouraged by his warrior's behavior.

The tall, reddish-brown haired elf kept his usual calm state as he asked:

"Is something wrong? Some of you seem anxious."

"Of course, something is wrong! Legolas fell asleep! ASLEEP!"

"Ai, Elbereth! Arthon lower your tone!" Legolas ordered with a hushed voice.

Suddenly, Arthon's head was brutally pushed forward by some unknown force, that was revealed in the following second. Helegon, his rageous face slightly hidden by his blood red hair, stared at the yelling elf with the apparent envy of tightening his fingers around the disturber's throat. He stood forward, his gaze steadily holding his lord's, and started moving his hands to communicate in a way that only Arthon could not understand, which he shamelessly showed.

"Right, okay... What was that, Helegon?"

The addressed elf's face reddened in burning rage as many wondered if Arthon has spoken his last words. Legolas slowly breathed in before informing his confused friend.

"He only asked what was going on, Arthon. Well, Helegon, I believe it to be quite hard to explain."

Helegon, even if still curious, gestured once more.

"And what was that?" Demanded the only elf that could not decrypt the meaning behind his companion's moving hands.

"He is asking you, and I quote cheerly, to "shut up". Harshly answered Iareth.

Arthon then murmured to himself. "Or what, you'll cut my tongue?"

It was hard to separate Arthon and Helegon's ever coming fists.

Arthon knew about his friend's suffering, he knew that he woke every night thinking he was choking in his blood because, obviously, Helegon was not born voiceless.

"Alright! I'm sorry!" Yelled the victim of the mute elf's hits.

Helegon ceased. The group fell silent, except for the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Is something wrong? What are you all here for?" Asked as soft voice, from which came the wisdom only the elves could access.

"That is a good question indeed, Erwath." replied Legolas, still discouraged, "Would you give us the honor to explain the situation, Arthon?"

"Well," began Iareth, not wanting to hear Arthon blabbering again, "I was peacefully resting under the silent moon when I suddenly heard cries worthy of a dying moose. Obviously, I immediately recognized Arthon's voice."

The concerned elf twitched in annoyance.

"And so, I followed the sound of this atrocious melody to find Arthon yelling from the top of Nildë's shoulders, under Legolas' window."

"I am quite aware of this part of the tale," Began Legolas,"Although, I believe Arthon was the one I chose to explain his and Nildë's queer behavior."

Iareth rolled her green eyes in annoyance but kept quite, honoring the demand of her lord. In fact, no one had ever dared to question his orders.

"Well," Declared Cadworon in his deep voice, "I suggest we all forget about this and go back to our whereabouts."

Helegon signaled his agreement with a nod of his head.

As Cadworon and Helegon left, a messenger entered the scene bearing a letter in his delicate white hands.

"My Lord Legolas, we have received a letter for you. It seems to be urgent..."

"Whom is it from?" Asked the blue eyed elf.

"Minas Tirith, my lord."

Elvish and meaning of names=

Hir nin: My lord

Ego mibo orch: Go kiss an orc

Cadworon: Shapely male

Arthon: Exalted male

Iareth: Blood female

Helegon: Ice male

Erwarth: Lone betrayer

Nildë: Friend

Legolas: Greenleaf

Ithil: The Moon