Lynx: I don't know why I'm even continuing this fic… barely anybody is even reviewing.
Legolas: You are continuing for the sake of the story itself and your morale of course.
Lynx: What moral? Only a few people really actually liked this fic.
Haldir: Isn't it those few people that matter? (Is proud of self)
Lynx: (sighs) Whatever. I will continue. Read, enjoy, and review, blah blah blah.
Legolas: (goes to hunt lawyers) You cannot hide from me for long! I know you are in here!
Lynx: Oh! And thank you so much hippie jade! I'm so happy you reviewed. It made me very happy that someone enjoyed my story.
Lynx: Oh by the way. This story is dedicated to my bestest best friend in the entire world, Kayla. (aka FireDivine) You give me the inspiration to write. God bless you, hehe. (Mumbles) Not to mention that you always hark on my ass if I don't write anything in a week… but we shall not mention that, impatient one.
Within a few hours of riding, the ominous clouds had begun to pour their contents onto world below as if to rinse it free of war's grasp. Unfortunately for the civilization in Middle-earth, the Gods that supposedly resided above were not so forgiving as to do so.
Laure blinked the heavy drops of rain that obscured her vision from her long eyelashes. Her dark hair and her clothes clung to her flesh as she peeled her hood away from her head and readjusted it. The chill hung around her just like the water and perspiration clinging to Lhunor's coat of black silk.
Steadily the trees of the unpromising forest of Mirkwood grew larger before their eyes, as did the foreboding in Laure's heart. Lhunor snorted and tossed his dark head slightly as if he sensed his bearing's anxiety. Laure patted his neck fondly and slowed him from a full gallop to a mere canter.
The border of Mirkwood loomed before them, appearing as a definite change from bare plains to thick overgrowth of lengthy vine-covered trees of all sorts. Halting her horse, Laure jumped from his back and studied the forest in front of her heavily. Satisfied, she began her trek to the Elven-king's great halls, leading Lhunor gently by the reigns.
Her footsteps on the moss-covered dirt and roots, as light as they were, seemed to echo eerily throughout the entire area. The harsh blow of the wind and the heavy downpour of rain noticeably lessened from the moment she stepped into the woods, the canopy above shielding her from a large percentage of the weather.
Putting down her hood she continued to walk, her dark orange ears fanning out very slightly to pick up any sounds that might have been missed by the normal human ear. Cautiously looking around, she figured that she wouldn't reach the palace area for another hour or so.
The only comfort Laure received in such a strange and unfamiliar place was the slight click-clacking of Lhunor's hooves behind her. In her mind, Laure knew that from here and on would be the hardest element of her spiritual trial…
An hour into her journey on foot when the sun was nearly finished setting; strange feelings began to escalate radically in Laure's heart and mind. She had the strange sense that she was either being watched or followed. Even Lhunor began to get anxious, tossing his head and snorting irritably.
There was just then an odd zipping sound, and then an arrow struck the ground where Laure was about to take her next step.
She stopped immediately, her eyes going wide with surprise.
"Halt, intruder!" A shout was suddenly heard to her left. Her head snapped to the side, her gaze wandering, searching for the source of the voice.
Suddenly a dozen elves materialized around her from their perches on high branches or behind bushes as if out of thin air. Laure quickly had many arrows pointing at her skull, ready to be released.
One elf, silver-coloured in hair, stepped forward, a stony look set upon his face.
"Never before has a tauren dared to enter our woods voluntarily." He announced in a voice holding much venom. "You must be very brave or very stupid."
Laure didn't even blink at the comment, choosing to not acknowledge it as an insult.
"Who are you and what is your business here?" The elf asked curtly.
Laure did not reply immediately, and that angered him.
"Speak or meet your demise at the end of a dozen arrows." He said harshly, narrowing his grey eyes cantankerously.
"My name is Valandil. I come to negotiate with King Thranduil." Laure ushered so the small collection of elves would all hear her.
"Prince Valandil, correct?" The elf-captain questioned before receiving a nod from the tauren. "What negotiations will you bring to King Thranduil's attention? Is it about the war?"
Laure nodded again, not moving even as Lhunor nuzzled her hand with his nose anxiously.
The elf gave a quick nod to his companions, and then the arrows were lowered much to Laure's relief.
After a short pause, he spoke again. "We will bring you before the King and let you speak."
"Anaro, are you certain?" One of the elves questioned hesitantly.
"We all believe that this war must end one way or another, no?" The elf captain, Anaro, stated. "I am willing to take a chance. If he proves to be unfaithful to his word... he will be killed."
'Comforting…' Laure thought to herself in dread, swallowing thickly and as quietly as possible.
The rest of the elves took Anaro's answer without further question, though many still looked doubtful.
"You will follow me," Anaro spoke to Laure once again, "Do not take our lenience lightly, Tauren, or you will find your end." With that, he whirled around and began a quick pace down Laure's original path, his silver cloak billowing out behind him.
Laure wiped some of the raindrops from her forehead, secretly glad that her masquerade had worked so far. She tugged Lhunor's reigns gently before following Anaro, holding her head high to show them that she was not intimidated.
The rest of the patrol walked around her, many with their bows in their hands, the arrows ready to be fired. Laure tried her best to ignore the disapproving and unfriendly looks she received during their uncomfortably silent stroll.
Fifteen minutes later, the trees gradually began to dissipate and the mighty palace came into view. Great walls of solid rock surrounded the palace and its grounds, the only way in and out taking the form of grand gates with vines of black iron sleek with the moisture of the rainfall. The trees encircled the area heavily, the tall ones having branches that crossed into the grounds beyond the stone walls.
When they reached the majestic gates, Anaro put up his hand, signaling for his company to stop. He then alone came up to the gates, meeting a dark haired elf that stood on the other side. They conversed quietly for a few seconds, Anaro explaining something to him. They both periodically looked over at Laure, their eyes holding a look of caution and disapproval. After a moment of talking, the other elf looked over to the side of the gate and nodded to someone out of Laure's view. Anaro moved back to his group as the gates began to swing inward, allowing them passage through.
Laure and the other eleven elves followed Anaro inside the grounds of the palace. Laure looked around, her breath stolen away by the beauty of the area. The palace stood off the slight left, somewhat obscured from view by a small bundle of fruit-bearing trees. The ground was not moss-covered, but tended and pampered with lush green grass and small dirt paths criss-crossing and leading to important locations. Surrounding the palace were separate little clusters of structures, fine looking homes for common-folk made out of a luxurious wood. The palace itself was magnificent, made entirely of marble and rich minerals. There were a few steps leading up to the large wooden doors that served as the entrance of the building, surrounded by limestone pillars that supported the upper floors, towers, and balconies.
A slight tug on her right hand brought her back from her awe-struck state of mind.
"Feanol will take your horse to the stables." Anaro told her sternly.
Laure nodded and let Feanol take the reigns from her hands. The elves were not a bad race, so she trusted them with her horse if with anything.
Lhunor snorted but allowed himself to be led away on one of the narrow dirt paths.
The rest of the patrol, save for two elves, dispersed, eager to return to their homes and families. Anaro then led Laure onto one of the paths that winded through the fruit trees and to the palace. The two elves that remained followed them like guards, ready to attack if the need should arise.
Once upon the stone steps of the palace, Anaro turned to face Laure. "I cannot let you into the palace while you are armed."
Laure frowned slightly but took her brother's sword from her belt and handed it to the elf standing to her left. "That is the only weapon I carry."
Anaro looked her up and down, before approval. Laure then followed him up the steps and into the palace. Once inside, Laure again had her breath taken from her very lungs. The halls and corridors were lit by flaming torches and large openings in the walls, allowing in the diminishing sunlight and showing a wonderful view of the luscious gardens and villages. Painted on the walls were murals of ancient and mythical creatures alike, balrogs, dragons, and nymphs. Painted on the walls were legends of renowned elves and men that held a place in the history of their race. There were tapestries hung that had ancient and flowing elvish script and beautifully illustrated maps of Mirkwood and the rest of Middle-earth. The rest of the walls that stood uncovered were sculpted out and carved into statues of the past Kings and Queens of the wood elves.
She walked along behind Anaro, her boots making soft clacks against the polished marble floors that were so clean they mirrored the very images dancing above them. She had heard of the beauty of the elven craft, but never before did she dream that it looked anything like what her eyes showed her. Anaro stopped in front of a large set of doors at the end of the corridor in which they had walked.
"We are about to come before King Thranduil." He informed her briefly, his voice holding a breezy tone, "I suggest you do not speak unless spoken to." After that statement, he pushed open the oak doors, which themselves even held beautifully carved designs.
Laure walked in after him, tailed closely by the two elves that served as guards.
The throne room was very vast, the ceiling standing at least twenty elves tall and hosting a large glass chandelier that reflected the coming moonlight from the high, door sized windows and many silk draperies that showed the royal emblem of Mirkwood. The width of the room itself was the size of a ballroom and made voices echo loudly. There were columns standing in front of the granite walls, sprouting from glossy floor to the high ceiling. Statues of Thranduil's ancestors stood tall between the columns displaying elvish script telling about the person whom the statue resembled. On the opposite side of the room where Laure now stood, sat King Thranduil upon his throne of marble. His seat was decorated with green silk embroidered with silver lining and the royal emblem.
Anaro walked along the stretch of narrow green carpet that led from the doorway to Thranduil's throne. Laure followed him, the feeling of anxiety returning to her. When Anaro stopped before his King and bowed, Laure noticed that there was an empty seat on either side of Thranduil, one slightly larger then the other. She knew that the Queen of Mirkwood had long been deceased, but she wondered to whom the other seat belonged. Did Thranduil have an heir? Thranduil ceased talking to a dark haired elf who Laure assumed was his chief advisor.
"Your majesty…" Anaro began then continued at Thranduil's nod. "Prince Valandil of Rhûn has come far to negotiate."
"My apologies, Prince of War." Thranduil said while standing and straightening his deep green cloak. "Matters of war must wait until the morrow. I have important matters to tend to, they cannot be delayed."
"I understand." Laure replied with a bow of her head.
"Anaro, please take our guest to a room for the night." Then he added to Laure, "We shall speak tomorrow evening. Let us go, Lolindir, this cannot wait any longer." He began to leave, followed by his chief advisor.
Anaro bowed once more then turned to Laure. The moment he made eye contact with her he spoke, "I will take you to the guest wing. Come."
Laure only nodded before following him once again.
Anaro showed her to her room for the night and then left, probably to return to his family. Laure became slightly irritated when a guard was assigned outside her door, but she did not say anything. They had given her back her weapon, on the circumstances that she did not wear it.
Her room was large and comfortable, dressed in Mirkwood's signature colours of green and silver. The floor was of marble with a green rug placed before the door, the balcony, and underneath her king-sized four poster bed. There were two dressers of hard oak and a vanity with a large mirror that held not a single speck of dust. There was also a coat rack and fireplace with two green lounging chairs in front of it. Much to Laure's delight there was a bookcase and on the balcony outside there was a small table with two chairs.
Impressed, Laure put the pack she had retrieved from Lhunor's saddle onto her bed, which had a green comforter and fluffy white silken pillows. She was also very pleased with herself; her disguise had fooled even King Thranduil, as perceptive and suspicious a being he was.
Sighing heavily as the journey's exhaustion caught up with her and taking off her silken cloak, she undid the leather latch that held Valandil's armour onto her torso. Removing the armour and circlet and placing them in one of the dresser drawers, she sat down on the bed and began untying the laces of her boots. She was glad to get them off because they were slightly larger than her feet and it caused some painful problems to her toes when she walked. When she finished taking her boots off she unfastened her armlets and placed them on the small table beside her bed. She stretched then climbed into the bed, leaving on her brother's shirt and leggings to serve as night clothing. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, supporting her aching muscles to perfection. Rolling onto her side she began to watch the moon rise through the glass of the balcony.
Tomorrow would be an interesting and challenging day where Laure would have her wits put to the test. She would have to speak privately to King Thranduil and hope that he doesn't see right through her mask… that which could very well be what happens…
Laure awoke abruptly the next morning when someone knocked on her closed door. She looked over at the balcony, seeing that the sun was now high into the clear blue sky. It was noon already; she had slept through the morning.
Cursing in her mind, she sprang out of bed and grabbed Valandil's armour from the dresser.
"Who is it?" Laure asked frantically when she heard another knock at the door.
"It's Anaro." A voice announced. "The King requests your presence in the dining hall for luncheon."
"I will be there." Laure replied, pulling on her armour and tightening it before placing the circlet once more onto her head.
"I must wait and escort you, you might get lost and nobody yet trusts you completely to wander on your own." Anaro informed her with a smug tone to his voice.
"Alright then." Laure responded with a frown as she pulled on the boots she had discarded beside the bed.
After tugging on her armlets, she smoothed her hair and fastened her black cloak around her shoulders and neck. She would not walk around without the armour; it was too risky to her disguise because it made her look bulkier then she was.
She opened the door to find Anaro standing there with his arms crossed comfortably. He was wearing a simple tunic, leggings, and knee high boots: the casual-wear of elves in the royal house.
"You need not wear your armour." He smirked slightly as he looked at her, "No one is going to suddenly jump out and attack you… unless of course you give reason to."
"I feel more comfortable with it, thank you." Laure replied icily. She did not much like this elf; he was arrogant and was certainly not a good host.
"If you wish it then…" He took a step back and inclined his head to the left. "I will take you to the dining hall now."
Laure nodded and followed him down the sunlit corridor, once again admiring the elvish craft.
"I apologize in advance for the hostility of our kind." Anaro spoke without even looking over his shoulder. "You must understand that the elves do not take this war lightly. You are seen as a threat to the peace of this palace and will be guarded everywhere you go."
"It would have been the same had one of the elves been seen in Rhûn." Laure assured him, "You don't have to apologize."
Anaro grinned slightly but ceased once they reached a large set of doors not so unlike the doors to the throne room. "I suggest you keep a low profile."
He then pushed the doors open and walked inside. Laure strode in after him but stopped the moment she got inside. The soft chatter and music in the background ceased as every elf in the room turned their heads and stared at her intently. She swallowed hard, unnerved by the silence that fell over the large room. Low profile, indeed...
There were long and narrow tables set around the room overflowing with rich and delicious looking elvish cuisine. There was a small, elevated stage-like area where minstrels stood or sat with their instruments to play light and airy music for the background of the scene. In the very centre of the room was another long and narrow table slightly larger then the ones that surrounded it. At the very head of it sat King Thranduil; he stood and signaled her over.
"You may sit in the empty seat next to me." He replied, his deep voice echoing through the silent room. He then added to the hundreds of elves in the room to continue eating and talking. The chatter once again rose in the room and the soft music continued to play. Underneath the merry talking was heavily veiled whispers accompanied by odd stares in Laure's direction. She drew in a deep breath and walked down the cleared isle, ignoring the glares and comments about 'intruders' she overheard. She reached the seat to the right of Thranduil and sat down cautiously.
"Excuse the behaviour of my people." Thranduil said as he returned to his meal. "They have never heard of a tauren coming to Mirkwood before."
Laure gave him a small smile at the comment and looked around, noting that among some of the elves of higher class were many of the common-folk that came to enjoy a nice meal with the rest of their kind. Thranduil might be a better King then she had first imagined.
"Has your stay so far been enjoyable?" Thranduil asked with a slight muse to his voice.
"Your residence is far more beautiful than in the tales I have heard." Laure said looking back at Thranduil. For the first time she noticed the elf sitting across from her to Thranduil's immediate left. He must have been the King's heir, for he looked a lot like Thranduil himself. He had the same basic facial structure and the same broad aura. There were some variations, such as where Thranduil had striking, blond hair the colour of the moon and sharp, silver-grey eyes, this elf across from her had sunlit, golden hair that spilled halfway down his back and intense, cobalt eyes the colour of the sky. His features were quite a bit softer than the King's, yet there was a great amount of strength and independence visible.
The moment this elf looked up and made eye contact with her, she hastily dropped her gaze to the empty porcelain plate before her.
As if he could read minds, Thranduil suddenly spoke again, a healthy dosage of pride in his voice. "I don't believe that you've met my son."
"I haven't." Laure replied hesitantly, looking up again to see that the said elf was looking at her.
"This is Prince Legolas, heir to my throne." Thranduil introduced his son with delight.
"Pleased to meet you, Prince Valandil." Legolas inclined his head in respect.
Laure gave a weak smile of acknowledgement and looked down at her plate once more. The elf she recognized as Lolindir sitting to Legolas' left gave a quick smirk and returned to his food. This prince must have been their country's pride and joy...
"What matters of war have you brought to us to negotiate?" Legolas suddenly inquired with a hint of interest in his soft-spoken voice.
Before Laure could open her mouth to reply, Thranduil spoke instead. "Let us not speak of war during such a merry hour, my son. After luncheon, Valandil, we will go to my study and negotiate."
"I agree." Laure concurred quietly, nodding her head slowly.
"Help yourself to the food then, it's not poisoned." Thranduil gave a warm smile, gesturing to the many platters with his eating utensil.
Laure smiled in return before bringing small amounts of different assortments to her plate. She decided that maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad or challenging. So far everything had worked well to her wishes and she hoped that it would stay that way until she left.
Maybe the war will end and Amros' life will be spared…
Lynx: I think that will be the end of this chapter.
Legolas: Finally I am in the story! (Is happy) And the way you described me… I sound like a knockout.
Lynx: Why Legolas, you are a knockout. Hehe.
Legolas: Hehe.
Haldir: Review please, before someone inflates his head even more.
Laure: I concur.
Legolas: (glares) Spoil my fun, will you?
Lynx: Rawr you killed our thunder!
