Hello again! It's been quite a while now, I admit. So many things have entered and left my life, many events have shaken up my world in the past few months, but nothing will prevent me from continuing this story. This one is a bit long and detailed, but one of my personal favourites. I hope you will enjoy it as well!


Chapter 7

Love is... Devoting your lives to each other, knowing the good and the bad sides of one another, yet loving them nonetheless. It is when the darkness rises that true love reveals itself. You either flee or face it. But if you choose the latter, you know you shan't face it alone.

You must understand that the bond is not some matter one takes lightly. It is a form of a higher power on the level of spirit, mind, and body.

Aireiel intuitively remembered her father's words in every painful detail as she timorously turned her gaze towards the Prince. It might have been a long time since she stood in front of a mighty, powerful person but the awe and the cold shivers crawling on the inside and the outside of her body were more than familiar to her. Being born into a noble, aristocratic family with countless of valuable connections she had the privilege to get acquainted with the most respectable and reputable representatives of the society she was a part of. Such experience brought her many benefits, including being compelled to polish her manners which would result in refined social behaviour her parents were most proud of. The gained knowledge and new set of skills in courtesy enabled her to infiltrate into the highest parts of the cream of the crop, casting a creditable light upon her family, and displaying her as the most desirable, graceful, and exquisite elleth of the court in that time. It would be an understatement to assert the other court ladies became green with envy and pale of fear that their time of glory and fame might be over too soon, and it was all because of that godlike creature everyone seemed to love. She was not particularly favoured by her peers of both lower and higher rank to say the least, but her grace and spirit persisted nonetheless. For true beauty is not what hides in the features of one's appearance but what lingers and endures deep within. Aireiel's beauty were not only her locks of fire or the charm of her posture; it was something extremely radiant yet invisible to the plain eyes at the same time. Something only those who seek mercy and divinity in the true beauty of nature herself are able to see and admire for themselves. Such beauty was safely hidden from the ordinary life and remained humbly unobtrusive to a passer-by; though worshipped by those who pursue a far greater goal in this life; people of a great mind and a brave heart – a heart brave enough to let itself love and relish in brief moments of otherworldly pleasure.

Legolas shamelessly belonged to the group of the latter. Her enticing movements, her inviting gaze, the loveliness of her timidity, the fresh rosiness of her cheeks and lips – it all poured into one captivating emotion that was the reaction of having the privilege of standing next to her. The enthralling scent of tall grass covered in morning dew, the fruits of Yavanna, and the sprinkles of the forest spirit captured in her flaming curls occupied his already weakened senses while he barely managed to keep himself under control. With each new thought of her a stronger, fiercer feeling settled in his muscles, making him glued to his position. Nervously clutching his palms and inattentively spitting clumsy words, Legolas found himself in an impossible situation. Unless he found an effective solution to this mess, he won't be able to hold back the instinct inside him for much longer, urging him to caress her bleeding cheek with his pale hands and put his long arms around her shoulders, securing her from any further harm. He was aware it was expected of him to do anything in his power to prevent this instinct from prevailing over the restrained side of him in order to protect both his title and his frail heart. Not only it would be indecent and crude of him to simply succumb to this feeling and give in to his impulse but highly disrespectful of the ones currently present as well.

The dying need, burning inside him with all the passion and ardour his being could ever produce, was getting harder to ignore while he chose to continue with the small talk between Meatherion and himself. All the strength he possessed he focused it to not glance at Aireiel so blatantly; but while he tried to keep his secret gazes at moderate level, the will of his heart commanded him not to care at all. And deep down he knew he didn't, but his mind reminded him of his place and his part in the society, and suddenly the heat in his bright eyes died out, producing a cloud of shame and brutal realisation of the seriousness of his position, darkening his vision. How easy and joyous would it be to surrender to the sweet temptation of cherishing every piece of her with the tenderness of his love, adoring all her marks, freckles, and the vast collection of other details that posed such significance to him. How right it would feel.

After another minute had passed of discussing a clearly exhausted subject, Legolas decided to escort the arrived elves to the higher parts of the palace. Indeed he meant to take them to his father, but he decided to take a longer path to the throne room where the King awaited. His main goal of executing his gesture was to take Aireiel on a quick tour of the underground dwelling. Even if she had not clue of such a plan, but such contemptible details were obviously a waste of Legolas's time. While the group of four casually roamed the high stairways of the palace, Edenir slowed his pace to join his daughter's side.

"What do you think?" he whispered to her, obviously in awe of the marvellous architecture of the dwelling.

Aireiel considered her father's words for a brief moment before offering him a reply for one might quickly receive a response of an entirely different nature which was a completely opposite to the admiration of the intricate staircase Edenir was currently referring to.

"I am certainly impressed, but not in the least surprised," Aireiel replied aloofly, looking beyond her shoulder to avoid her father's confused stare.

"Still bitter?" Edenir turned to her but returned his look ahead of him once he realised Aireiel was ignoring him. "You ought to be thankful for what I've done."

"Thankful?" she scoffed. "For what? Allowing to humiliate and degrade yourself to such level? Being a laughing stock amidst these traitors?" She made sure she emphasized the word traitors as if wishing to remind her father of what sort of people resided in these halls.

"You know we never would've made it out there on our own, especially with such grave wounds we both have endured," Edenir released a sigh. "Sometimes, in order to survive we must forget about past resentments and adjust to what we have been offered. You know I wish only the best for us."

"Well, the best surely isn't this," Aireiel spat, convinced that would silence any additional attempts at convincing her this was the right choice.

But before she even managed to put her arms in front of her chest in a reluctant gesture, they were gripped by a strong force, pushing her off the path.

"Listen very carefully, Aria," Edenir threatened rather than advised as was his original intention, "we are not who we used to be. We do not own the luxury we once used to bathe in. Circumstances in which we have been forced have taught me a great lesson: never give in and always adapt. Make compromises, even if they seem contentious and irrational at the moment. Provide shelter, regardless of the conditions. And by all means, survive. Can't you see? We have no other option but to accept what we have been so generously given. I will not stand on the fragile foundations of my pride in order to later fall even further than before. Not anymore, Aireiel. Not anymore."

The sad spark in his eyes made Aireiel realise her father was being sincere as was his invocation for understanding. As much as she would wish it not to be real, his pleading was dire, desperate for clemency and indulgence. She had never saw such painfully imploring look in his eyes before, and suddenly she came to an enlightening realisation; in order to both keep her father sane and assure their survival, she must do what it is asked of her. She will have to make compromises to avoid any difficulties during their stay in the Realm for an uncertain period of time. Only now it came to her how important it was for them to stay as inconspicuous and piteous for as long as they could before their true identities would be uncovered. Nobody wished an unnecessary scandal, right?

But as quickly as Aireiel began to consider the possible jeopardy of their statuses, a feasible danger related to the mentioned hazard sprout in her mind, or to be exact, a person who was privy to facts that could lead to the actualization of the threat. Her breathing stopped for a short moment and the thought crept even deeper in her mind. While a part of her believed Legolas could never carry out such a treacherous deed after all they had been through, the other, doubtful and suspicious part could never fully trust him either. Their recent encounter did not reveal any other emotion (or Legolas wouldn't let it reveal, but Aireiel decided to denote this option only as an assumption and nothing more) besides the shock which could be connected to many negative things, including opposition to her appearance in the Woodland Realm, feeling threatened due to the escort of the Royal Army or simply disdaining and rejecting the idea of her being at the same location as him. All of these possibilities might be highly unlikely but no less unrealistic to Aireiel who was still continually pestered by them.

Reaching the spiral stairway at the East of the palace, Legolas allowed himself to turn his head over his shoulder to catch a sight of her, long enough to be considered courteous and thoughtful, and quick enough not to be obtrusive and disrespectful. Regardless of the briefness and carelessness of his gaze, he managed to capture the exact moment of Aireiel's eyes sadly following the path under her feet and in the next second abruptly flying upwards to meet his. There is no such thing that lasts forever but in a brisk moment of a shared laugh, an old familiar touch or the glance of true love we can achieve eternity. And that moment is enough. Enough to bring to life the once forgotten affection and compassion that were presumed lost for good, to awake the boiling wrath hidden in the darkest corners of the soul, to inflame the frantic desire that would consume the body with its blazing fire and condemn the being to destruction. Legolas could taste all of these feelings rushing to the surface of his soul, slowly beginning to devour his insides. The moment of the glance might have been brief, yet the burning craving the two exchanged instead of the unspoken words endured and had settled deep within them, even when they directed their gazes elsewhere the next second. The craving for an explanation, a contact, a look that would soothe all the worries that had been harassing them persisted and froze in their glance. Panic and surprise contorted her facial features, but most of all relief. It felt as if an immense weight had suddenly quit gripping her heart and finally enabled her to breathe normally again. The pain still occasionally stung her insides to remind her not all of the danger was eliminated. Despite having to keep a mask guarding the display of her true emotions right beneath the surface of her face, Aireiel knew she was now able to take the deserved respite she'd been wanting to ever since the news of the direction of the journey was brought to her. Everything that was severely bothering her consciousness and suffocating her with each step towards the heart of the palace vanished into the air due to one single sincere glance from Legolas. Everything that she'd been worrying about from the beginning of the visit was now evidently nothing but an unnecessary concern straining her body.

The Prince, both confused and satisfied from the recent experience, joined Edenir's side to affiliate him to the conversation he was having with the Lord Commander before receiving the burning look from the elleth. The trio roughly summarized the more interesting part of the palace's history and the mysterious and concealed appearance being its most fascinating and appealing quality, while Aireiel decided to pick up the pace of her walking to an adequate speed which would allow her to intercept every word exchanged in the conversation. She made sure the curious incline of her head was not being too curious but merely regarded as her wishing to stay as close to the group as possible since she and her father made it clear enough that being in an unknown environment didn't bring good things along. Standing nearly directly behind Legolas and seeing his causal, confident stride with his elaborate silver braids covering half of his back to his shoulder blades evoked a specific memory in her mind. Her thoughts drifted back in time and took her to the very first time she laid eyes on the majestic Prince. The feeling of safety and assurance was exactly the same as the moment she chose to converse with him, breaking the pledge she'd sworn to herself to never establish contacts with creatures without her father's permission or with creatures she already knew her father wouldn't approve of. Choosing to continue their conversation in the woods that night was the best mistake she had ever done, but she suspected meeting him again today was more than just a mistake. It was already written in the stars. The Gods did not create errors and Aireiel was certain they had brought her here for a reason. There is always reason in having faith in the Gods, therefore she was calm knowing there was reason for her encounter with the Prince as well, and that she needn't worry.

After all of the three nonverbally agreed to say no more on the subject they chose to pass the time with in order to avoid the awkward silence that could possibly arise between them, Edenir decided to start a debate on a subject all of them secretly wanted to open as they also understood each word that had been exchanged in the course of the past minutes of walking towards the throne room was only a distraction to cover the growing anxiety that had become obtrusively disturbing during the small talk they had employed.

"Have you noticed any unusual behaviour of the nature in these parts?" Edenir began carefully. "Sightings of animals acting strange, soil becoming futile, ailing trees bending to the merciless wind?"

Meatherion looked at Edenir with incredulity that was caused by the question. As much as it was expected (at least on Meatherion's part), the opening of such perilous matter in front of strangers, let alone the matter itself being open by one of those strangers, sprouted a feeling of trepidation and discomfort depressing his mind. After all, the subject was partially related to the reason Meatherion brought his friend and his daughter along to the palace (even though deep within Meatherion knew the dominating reason for his decision was the threat he had been given as both an escort and admonishment by his King). Before the Lord Commander chose to freely give his honest opinion of the matter he glanced at the Prince, seeking an advice on to what degree is he permitted to express his thoughts in relation to the obstacle they had encountered themselves in the past weeks. He knew confiding in too much information that he might later be informed were supposed to remain classified wouldn't bring much joy the King nor the Council, so gaining the Prince's consent might just be the best option to avoid repercussions that might follow in case he does accidentally spill too much.

But despite Meatherion hoping he would find either rejection or approval in the Prince's eyes, Legolas seemed similarly baffled by the unknown elf's inquiry. He had gathered the strange elf and Lord Commander must have met each other previously, in a time before the existence of the Woodland Realm, but even being aware of their acquaintance he thought the question to be audacious and bold. Perhaps he was using the privilege of having connections inside the palace for covert interests that might be of malevolent nature, interests that might pose a direct threat to the Realm which mustn't transpire. Feeling Meatherion's gaze upon his face he felt obliged to show a meagre sign of discontent with Edenir's curiosity. With that gesture he neither vouched for the Commander's actions nor did he encourage him to answer his friend honestly. However, what he did, intentionally or by accident, show was that he took Edenir's intense desire to deepen in this sensitive subject under consideration and definitely marked it as suspicious. Meatherion might give assurance of his friend's innocence and incorruptibility based on his personal opinion about the elf but Legolas's instinct warned him to be wary of this particular individual and his true intentions for until he proved his integrity the elf was not to be trusted.

"We have sensed occasional anomalies and irregularities but nothing that might arouse serious qualms," Meatherion disclosed, confirming Edenir's enquiries in hope that would satisfy him and prevent him from asking any further questions which might bring even more embarrassment upon the blushing Commander. He thought it would be wiser to cover the recent affair since it could provoke a whole set of new unpleasant questions.

Edenir seemed pleased with the answer but not for long.

"What sort of anomalies, if you could be exact?"

Meatherion looked his friend with an unbelievable expression on his face that was mixed of shock and surprised of Edenir's repeated audacity.

"I've never actually been at the scene where the distortions would occur myself, you see, I've merely heard the reports," the Lord Commander discreetly stated. Knowing that wouldn't appease Edenir's what have turned to be a passionate inquisition, he added, "But the Royal Guard at the Southern borders have informed us of strange sightings at the far South."

"Did those sightings, by any chance, include reports of sudden changes of the weather, such as swirling of a mass of air at one particular location, producing a whirlwind centred towards the ground?"

Both Meatherion and Legolas now glanced at the elf in disbelief and consternation. The Prince mentally proclaimed Edenir and his intentions as ambiguous.

"Yes," Meatherion whispered uncertain as to whether or not it was a correct response, "yes, they did." Yet again he searched for a sign in Legolas's eyes which remained coldly focused on the stranger.

The Lord Commander resolved it would be better for all of them to speak no more of this, even though they were all pestered by it in their own way. Edenir was profoundly pleased and slightly terrified to see his presumptions being confirmed by the one person who had the access to the information he needed, Legolas contemplated on how to invent a justifiable argument for the obnoxious elf's execution in the shortest time possible, while Meatherion wondered and pondered in his great head the reason behind his friend's sudden interest in the affairs of the Realm. He trusted he must have had an admissible excuse since being found at an abandoned fortress that was once the source of great evil half dead surrounded by creatures that were deemed extinct could be and would be the likely and expectable explanation for his odd behaviour.

Before anyone could thoroughly confirm their own theories the group found itself at the stairs leading to the throne and to the King himself. Aireiel's amazement of the structure of the dwelling was written all over her face, and when Legolas decided to secretly check up on her, ignoring the risk of getting caught again, he was deeply gratified to see joy gracing her features after pain and insecurity had deformed them for far too long. Sudden cheer and mirth warmed his body as he approached the space in front of the throne as the first in the line.

Aireiel had heard of the divine appearance of King Thranduil's halls as a child, but not even when she was a híril of the Lothlorien courthad she ever seen a sight that could even slightly compare to this one. Although the luminosity she was so attached to (as a result of being surrounded by nature and her gifts most of her life) was vague and faint, especially in the heart of the palace, she could feel something greater than life springing in her. It was respect, admiration, and fascination she had never experienced before. The vast arches that spread as fast as her eye could see, the intricate maze of staircases carved out of bare rocks, the high pillars that appeared more as monuments than foundations, and the quiet streams and waterfalls of crystal clear water at every corner – all of these ethereal masterpieces, coming both from the hand of the skilled master artisans of the Realm as from the spells of the nature herself resembled a place so familiar to her, yet at the same time a place she had never visited. It seemed so enchanting, captivating, and breathtaking it might as well had been heaven as far as Aireiel was concerned. (Híril = Lady)

At both sides of the stairway shaped out of a giant silver rock stood an immensely tall and frightening figure that turned out to be a Silvan guard vigilantly observing their every move. Passing the horrifying soldiers who obviously successfully managed to maintain their roles, Aireiel was now forced to direct her gaze on an even more petrifying person.

With a slightly tilted head, crossed legs clad in dark leggings of brown velvet, and a look in his eyes that indicated both extreme boredom and profound interest in what the soldier, assigned with a specific task had brought to him, the Elvenking made a spectacular first impression on the young elleth. With her lips lightly parted due to her boundless fascination with the Sindarin elf, Aireiel shamelessly stared at the sight boasting in front of her in great awe. Scanning the mighty creature from his precise and sophisticated garment to the tips of his crown that were miniature fruits typical of the current season, she was unaware of the fact that she was being thoroughly examined by the King himself at the exact same moment. She was the main attraction to him, a creature most alluring and absorbing, her each movement a new mystery to the majestic ruler. Despite both Meatherion and Legolas awkwardly waiting for him to focus his attention to the father of this remarkable creature the King happened to be so busy studying, he continued to eagerly follow every direction she chose to aim her gaze at until her eyes met the familiar azure. A satisfied grin graced his lips at the sudden wince of her shoulders and the embarrassment that covered her cheeks after she had looked away. After making sure she'd been appropriately punished for her childish and forgiveable insolence and for what the King interpreted as an acceptable reaction to seeing the great leader for the first time in person, he finally switched his look to the ellon standing next to her, similarly frightened and in awe, yet there was a touch of negativity to his character, a mixture of contempt and bitterness floating above him. Not being particularly impressed by the elf centring his burning gaze at him, Thranduil's attention drifted to Meatherion who patiently waited for the King to address him first.

"Man siniath ceria tegia, hîr gon?" (What tidings do you bring, Lord Commander?)

"We have stumbled upon many complications during our journey," Meatherion began, "but I haven't disappointed you, my King. I have not returned empty handed."

After uttering these words, Thranduil's icy gaze flew back to the strangers standing a few meters behind the Lord Commander. This time he took deeper care in observing the pair with profound caution and engrossment. In the years of his reign he had faced an endless amount of various vagrants begging for an accommodation after spending weeks trapped in the enchanted forest, trained assassins in disguise that used their last breaths before receiving their retribution for plotting a treason against the Realm to hiss their hatred towards the King, merchants coming from all corners of the world to greet the eminent King and offer him some of their products while they had the chance; all of this was well-known to the King as was the treatment he usually employed to dissuade their intrusive pleas for his mercy and to dismiss them for good. This special occasion, however, was something else entirely. Once he'd completed the visual examination he sensed disturbing, dark vibrations poisoning their seeming innocent aura, but what spurred his curiosity even more was that they seemed totally oblivious to it, not by slightest worried or tense about it. They were either marvellously good at preserving their masks or they did, in fact, have absolutely no clue of what woe they brought with their arrival.

Thranduil's buoyant mood from moments ago switched to suspicious chagrin he used to continue the quiet inspection. But just as Thranduil became suddenly aware of the Lord Commander's words, Edenir as well realised their meaning. Appalled and shaken by his statement, the yet unidentified elf used all his restraint and compulsion he could force on his body to prevent his neck from abruptly turning to Meatherion's side. Instead, he chose to enunciate his acute ire through a mild, yet noticeable cough that attracted the Commander's attention. Meatherion merely tilted his head to his left where Edenir was standing to assure him his irritation did not go unnoticed.

"In what circumstances did you find them?" the King inquired with an annoyingly haughty voice along with the arrogantly raised lush eyebrow.

"Towards the dusk on the third day of our expedition we have arrived to our planned destination where we experienced a rather rare occurrence," the Commander explained. He then paused to find an articulate way of conveying what sort of occurrence he spoke about, but the King's rigid grimace coerced him into starting to elucidate the incident before Thranduil decided to toss the pair into the dark, humid dungeons and keep them there until he found a compromise on to whether he should dispose of their bodies in the middle of the forest and let the nature do its business or he should simply throw them through the portcullis in the cellars into the underground stream that flowed out from the hillside into the Forest River.

"When we reached the stronghold of Dol Guldur many men were suspicious of the safety of our journey. Many believe those lands to be cursed and condemned, that nothing but ruin would await us there. We approached the fortress nonetheless, where we encountered the three mearas guarding the two elves lying side by side, crippled and exhausted from the immense exertion coming from the hand of the shadow."

It was not an easy information to take in nor to hear reports of the alleged return of the shadow. The edges of Thranduil's dense eyebrows pressed towards each other, producing a large wrinkle at the centre of his forehead. It was never a good sign when the King used such an expression for reacting to certain news but before making any assumptions and hopelessly surrendering to the inevitable fate, the group was compelled to wait for the King's ultimate and official response.

"While I understand you felt obliged to bring them both to my court for healing which I solidarily welcome, I also gather you must have thought they could carry helpful information that might be of great use to the Council," the King implied.

The response made Meatherion blush for a brief moment at the sides of his neck as the reminder of the furtive intentions he had hoped to fulfil by under the guise of hospitality escorting Edenir and his daughter to the palace. Thranduil must have suspected Meatherion concealed a few facts from them, that is why he took particular pleasure in observing how the Lord Commander shall proceed with his report.

"I believe they witnessed an abnormal manifestation of something beyond our understanding. While offering them aid and the appropriate conditions for fast recuperation from the shock of what they have seen, I trust their story shall help us comprehend the previous incidents that have occurred in our lands. There was no other agenda behind their detention."

Thranduil was both pleased and staggered by the Lord Commander's evasive choice of words which he plaited into a beautiful wordplay. Remaining equable in his comfortable position, Thranduil realised a decision had to be made, and he knew nobody was going to make it in his stead (not that he would've let that happen in the first place). He roughly recalled the important parts of the report by winding the conversation backwards and then forward again. Remembering the strangers' body language and gawky walk he concluded they shouldn't pose specific threat but knowing if they should, the responsibility shall be on his behalf. While he marked the young elleth as entrancing and most definitely promising, he did not feel very confident writing off her father just yet. He wished to see how the pair would function without the presence of one another. Making a full, settled decision in his mind, he called three more guards to accompany them to the healing rooms.

"And Legolas," the King asked for his son who immediately turned to his father's call, "be so kind to fetch Tauriel on your way. You shall go with the elleth while she escorts the father."

A bit baffled, the Prince simply stated, "Understood," and ran down the stars to catch the distancing group leaving for the healing chambers.

Again they chose the East corridors, this time guided by the proficient Woodland soldiers. Judging by the fresh sunlight beams that escaped through the holes in the ceilings of the cave, Aireiel presumed the day to be drawing to noon. The slow and hypnotic humming of the cascades pouring into perfectly transparent streams underneath the stone bridges drove her into a blissful daydream, fantasizing of a magical, intriguing place; instead she needn't imagine it for she was walking through it this very moment. Both glad and confused for being brought here without her consent or knowledge, she decided to relish these monumental treasures of nature for the period of time she was to spend in here did not depend on her, therefore not enjoying every moment offered to her would be a terrible shame and a waste of their time.

Being escorted to one of the lowest parts of the cave (which Aireiel found it extremely inconvenient and tiresome considering those parts were supposed to be the ones where they carried those in urgent need of every second of help they could get) was just as enchanting and captivating as the first time she was being introduced to this mighty dwelling. Since these parts were moderately deprived of the natural light, the narrow corridors and passages were in need of additional illumination which the inhabitants successfully quenched by decorating the pillars at the sides of the path with floating lanterns of most strange forms. Their shape implied the material the lamps were made of to be a kind of stone with a rough, obscure surface that was even more noticeable when the flame of the candle seemed to burn the brightest. Her fascination with the details of the palace continued, and the strange lanterns were quickly replaced by the drawings, ornamentations, and markings carved out of rocks that served as protective walls leading their way deeper into the ground. Since she did not want to fall behind the group, be left to herself to orientate in the palace she barely got to know, and probably also get lost in the maze of staircases and hallways, Aireiel was allowed only a fleeting moment to inspect the mysterious carvings which, undoubtedly, held special and great value to the folk of the Woodland Realm. Because her keen interest in the dwelling did not show any signs of beginning to cease any time soon, she thought she could investigate other corners of the path she was walking on, for instance the ceiling. Not even this point of view did seem to disappoint her adoration as the corners of her mouth slightly curled into a pleasant smile that was the consequence of finding yet another prove this to be the most glorious, majestic, and grandiose dwelling she'd ever set foot to.

By the time the group managed to reach the entrance of the healing chambers, Aireiel was filled with warmth and avidity that were the result of being surrounded by so many natural beauties in the course of one single evening, and to think she probably hadn't seen even the third of what this palace had to offer flooded her with another wave of ingenuous excitement and anticipation. Even though the light provided by the lanterns cast a longer and darker shadow on the walls with each step they took to resort lower beneath the ground, one of the guards hastily announced they'd reached the training fields and then, using the same impetuosity, he proclaimed, especially to those foreign to these parts, this floor was considered the beginning of the lower parts of the palace, and Aireiel felt gnawing, unsolicited irritation springing inside of her as an encouragement to enhance the impatience by mentally yelling at those responsible for the construction of the palace for the strain she was currently undergoing, caused by their flawed execution of the design as the design itself. The dwelling did have a certain charm to it, but she had to admit it to herself it did possess a few flaws; one that particularly managed to caught her eye was this very staircase she was descending and cursing at the same time.

Her tired legs were at the verge of betraying her by releasing the tension in the muscles and joints any second now, when the lead guard suddenly announced a brief stop. Regardless of its temporariness, Aireiel was immensely grateful for the quick respite her limbs craved throughout the entire entourage, a respite she previously seemed to had overlooked. Soon after her profound appreciation was over, she began to wonder about the purpose of the halt but her confusion about it was dismissed even sooner by the approach of a graceful and nimble elleth holding an enviously beautiful bow in her left hand. The thing that seemed to stand out the most about the elleth that also happened to be the same thing Aireiel noticed first, were the sumptuous flaming locks floating majestically across her shaped back that had most likely (assuming by the section the group was currently at) earned its estimable form with hours of devoted practice at the training field and, presumably, exploiting her archery skills in the wilderness as well. A hard leather case of prepared arrows rested strapped firmly around her body, donned in a middle-length robe of fine green velvet with a pleat in the front. The bodice enclosing her slim waist was adorned with lace-ups that traced to the middle of her cleavage which was covered with another layer of garment of the same colour as the outer robe. Just below the bodice the narrowness of her waist was even more emphasized with a light brown, leather belt in which she found as another advantage to attach her sharp dual daggers. Additional accessories that helped to improve and fulfil her military appearance were the protective guards covering her shinbone and arm guards tightened around her forearms. Despite concluding this to be a very detailed and specific outfit, Aireiel didn't believe it to be the same one she'd use in a serious combat or even warfare. What even she was capable of detecting was that it simply lacked the firmness (which would also explain the choice of material of this particular garment) and the compactness a true armour offered.

Introducing herself as Tauriel, the young elleth (that Aireiel approximately estimated to be around her age) allowed her gaze to linger a bit longer on Aireiel's figure before joining Legolas's side with a satisfied grin on her face which Aireiel did not approve in the least; both the grin and the fact that she brazenly swung her lithe body in the Prince's direction. But as soon as she began to feel something similar to jealousy and resentment tarnishing her mind, she realised the truth she both repentantly accepted and regretted; that she, in fact, did nowhere nearly possessed a position that would grant her the right of feeling what she thought she'd felt and then quickly dismissed. Before her moral and demure conscience had the chance to fully deliver a sharp reprimand for her disgraceful behaviour, Aireiel had already began to sense a darker side of her awaking. A side only a seriously strong emotion could provoke, and seeing a completely blameless elleth starting a conversation with the Prince with such effortlessness and facility which Aireiel so passionately envied, and not being able to do anything about it but feel bitter and sulky was definitely the reason for such reprehensible feeling to sow its seeds in her mind. Now in full assembly, the group was able to continue with its rout to the under-underground level of the palace.

"Where did you managed pick up these two?" Tauriel half-teased, half-mocked the strangers she had previously curiously eyed.

Legolas offered her a single, pitiable look before giving the path his whole attention. "First off, it was not me who 'picked them up' as you articulated, I have merely just met them," he partially lied, "and secondly, the only reason I am here is to see their wounds receive proper care and prevent them from causing any troubles, if such occasion should even arise."

"Not your favourite captives, I see," the elleth continued with the teasing, despite obviously noticing his peculiar chagrin.

It was indeed very peculiar, since not long ago he was put in an unusually good by one of the captives themselves. But ever since his father ordered him specifically to take care of the young elleth and by doing so at the same time made her his responsibility, worry had clouded his mind. He knew a time alone with her in the privacy of the healing chambers was inevitable and while in there with her without anyone else who he might seek help and escape in, a polite conversation was in order. Only there was a tiny, minuscule little problem about that. He did not know how to begin to bring such conversation to life. Well, he did know how to combine words into a reasonable sentences, however with her in his presence, and not to mention alone, he worried even such basic, fundamental, self-evident ability would completely fail, leaving him to work only with his pleasant and comforting yet awkward and eventually annoying smiles. Even a mere thought of the situation brought him on the edge of his stability while a plan how exactly he should avoid the feared circumstances required him fully present and able of finding an effective solution to this pathetic plight.

"They're not captives," he admonished. "The main reason for their visit is the interrogation. Offering them aid and nourishment while they're here is a mere gesture of hospitality."

"And you do not find that even slightly suspicious?" Tauriel prompted.

"I have strong reasons to believe they are not here to raid our pantries and fare on our expense, no," was his humble response that stayed in Tauriel's mind for a long time after the conversation.

Judging on the swift change of light in the stairway they were descending, Edenir assumed they must have reached the first healing chambers. A quaint, salient scent of herbs, balm, and oils engulfed his smelling senses, and a faint clatter and distant chatter occupied his hearing. The air in these parts was thick due to all the essences, incenses, and aromas merging, blending in each other, creating an exceptional dim atmosphere. The newly acknowledged sensation consisted of all sorts of healing herbs and spices that grew only in specific parts of the Rhovanion region. For some Edenir was positive existed exclusively within the borders of the Realm, making them even more of a rare, valuable commodity, but a few he did manage to recognize from the memories of his faraway home. There was a fine drop of honey with a hint of wild roses, a distinctive share of young rosemary, an admirable amount of aeons thúl, and the prevailing portion of Yavanna's tears. Edenir was faintly familiar with their efficiency and even possessed a slight knowledge of the usage of healing methods since life after the banishment did not come along with healers to do it in his stead. (Aeons thúl = Angel's breath)

Eventually Edenir's predictions turned out to be correct. The group found itself in an underground corridor with a healing chamber at the each side. The low ceiling of hard stone poured into a massive pillar at the corner of each healing room, serving more as a partition. A flickering movement of blazing torches inside the chambers illuminated the path and the ceiling of the corridor in a gentle, soothing manner, relaxing the suffering patients to its best ability to distract them from their endless agony. As the group progressed further to where the corridor ended with another stairway leading below the path, Aireiel stole a squint at the chambers since there was no partition in front of them preventing her from craning her neck a little bit further behind the pillars. Although being reminded of the privacy that should be respected and warned of the silence that ought to be preserved, Aireiel's curiosity seemed to pay no mind to even consider heeding those advices. Her feet roamed their own way, distancing from the group for a few short steps, when her eyes wandered to one of the sufferers swathed in half-unfolded, stained fabric that was meant to stop the injury on the patient's abdomen from releasing so much blood. It laid uncovered just enough for her to find the severe wound that was the cause of the massive blood loss and the patient's bony, pale face. Before she could secretly sneak into the room that was currently devoid of a healer assigned for the sufferer's recovery and nursing, two unanticipated things happened at once that dragged Aireiel back to reality; the pair of eyes on the sallow face she deemed was either dead or in deep sleep flashed open directly into her face which startled her to such level she couldn't immediately register the hard grip on her arm, forcing her into the other direction, away from the mysterious victim. When she finally managed to point her gaze into the direction she was being pulled to, her nerves sent a cold, intense shiver down her spine and arms.

"You are not supposed to linger in this area," Legolas repeated the guard's warning.

In the instant she could pull herself back together and become aware of the person dragging her away from the previous subject of her attention, she knew his words were intentionally cold and forced. He did not let his eyes stop on her even once, despite Aireiel creating a foolish assumption in her head that he might wished to. She ordered her mind and body to remain as calm as steel and not to overreact at the needless force he used to escort her back to the tail of the group where they remained until they occupied one of the chambers themselves. When they reached the end of the group, just behind Edenir and Meatherion, she was being placed directly at Legolas's side, his profile exposed to her shocking gaze. Not even properly aware of the insolent stare she had just employed to observe the stoic Prince next to her, she became too engrossed in exploring his sharp, polished features gracing his face to even care. After being left to her miserable hope that perhaps their paths may cross again one day and the derisory chance of it actually happening, this truly was an outrageous situation. His determined, emotionless stare of the path ahead revealed nothing except the fact that she will never know what exactly did go through his mind when he first saw her. His blatant stubbornness, smarting disdain of the situation he got himself into, and that painful tension she could not place combined into a mysterious expression that was settled on his pale face.

The fact that he remained in the position in which the two reached the group did strike Aireiel as a bit odd and incongruous with the demeanour he delivered earlier, but she chose to dwell on the matter no more. Although her infuriatingly inquisitive subconscious burned with the desire to ascertain the reason for Legolas's changing behaviour and contradicting actions, she decided it was best to repress the need and wait for the right opportunity for the Prince to explain himself as for her to ask the questions she'd been meaning to ever since her father reintroduced her to him. But regardless of the inner moral voice whispering the need to constrain herself from being uncouth, she knew they would have to speak sooner or later, and in that situation she will not ignore the other inner need to bring up the questions that had only been piling up from the moment they were dismissed by the King.


The minute Thranduil was certain the group had left the ground floor for the healing chambers, he agitatedly rose from his throne, absently scanned the surroundings as if in deep contemplation, and rushed to his private accommodations. The recent encounter caused his mind to boil with questions demanding urgent explanation that were about to flare if not attended to in short time. He was amply pleased to had seen Meatherion prove himself and his loyalty once again by fulfilling his King's orders, but he had to admit he was a bit confused about what exactly did he bring to him. It was certainly unexpected on Thranduil's part, although it was still a more pleasant sight than hearing heaps of empty excuses and contrived elaborations as to why the mission had not been successful in all ways imaginable except confessing they had failed to follow simple rules. Meatherion was never the one to displease, disappoint or fail in any regard, otherwise he wouldn't have revelled in the position allocated by the King himself. But the niggling truth persisted nonetheless, and Thranduil was aware of it the second he was informed of the tragic murder. It would be a challenging task, even if under the command of such experienced warrior as Meatherion. Even though the last thing the Lord Commander heard his King say was a ruthless, threatening order that would plant fear in the bones of even the most accomplished commanders, Thranduil couldn't ignore the fact there was a hint of bluff in the confident voice he used to articulate his command. He had lived through enough to be conscious of the threats of evil the Middle Earth faced daily and had been ruling long enough to even had battled against it alongside his father. Sending even an inconsequential amount of soldiers to the location where evil was allegedly regaining its strengths was a peril great enough to spur war that was now definitely on the rise. As confused as he might had been about the purpose of the mysterious pair found at the ruins of Dol Guldur, Thranduil retained his faith into the Gods and their mightiness. For wherever they were leading him, there was undoubtedly a reason for it.

Still by Legolas's side, exposed to his firm, clenching jaw, Aireiel was suddenly becoming slowly affected by the consequences of the event at Dol Guldur. Her already weary eyes submerged to a dark golden shade with hints of toxic green, indicating they would soon close from excessive exhaustion that had only now begun to kick in, earlier concealed by the thrilling excitement. The previous tenacious, incessant incline of her head loosened which caused her neck to almost invisibly swing towards the floor. An abrupt dizziness and progressing nausea enfeebled her body, implacably reducing her strengths and abating her ability to concentrate about what was happening to her. Her waned body would soon fall to the ground and attract the shaken looks as from the group as from inside of the chambers if it weren't for a fast, strong grip clasping her waist, securing her just in time before dramatically plunging to the hard floor. If her mind had remained intact and capable of processing the following events, she would've been pleasantly surprised at who saved her from the fall, but the exact opposite of it thwarted her to even react to the grip except not collapse to the ground but remaining safe in the embrace of her savour.

The next moment she was able to fully comprehend and properly respond to was finding herself laid onto the firm, yet comfortable bed facing the immensely thick pillars on the each side and a vast entrance in front. It was not exactly an entrance as it was simply a wide arch capable of welcoming even five people at a time. When she finished observing her surroundings and decided to focus on how she got here, her head fiercely spun first to her right, and when she found an empty seat next to her bed she tried her left whereupon her heart almost ceased beating. The Prince himself rested on one of the seats near the bed, flagrantly observing her with a bleak look. At first glance Aireiel thought she'd sensed appraisal behind the darkness of his stare, perhaps even a scold. But once the look deepened she realised just how wrong she was for it was far from a simple cold, apathetic reproach. It hid more emotion (which Aireiel was unable to discern due to the impressive shield Legolas employed to protect himself from succumbing to the overwhelming desire to confess everything that pestered him), heat, and concern that she had ever received from the Prince before.

The azure churning in his eyes like a wild, dangerous sea continued to burn inside her, accidentally revealing more than his words ever could and certainly more than he had intended to. The depth of his light cerulean eyes betrayed pure, instinctive concern that appeared all but arranged. Only a fool would see past the shade of fear in his eyes of possibly spilling too much emotion, giving her false hope, and spurring all sorts of theories Legolas most definitely wanted to avoid, discourage, and quell at the first sign of life. But as much as he was aware of the risk and danger he was getting himself into by being so exposed to her and his bleeding heart almost right in her sight, he could not and by the love of the Gods would not turn his eyes from her. He hated to admit it to himself that the anguish of seeing her so weak and the worry for her future well-being got the best of him, gradually crushing down the walls of what little discipline and restraint he had left to defend himself with against the strident force of sentiment.

In almost exact same moment their lips parted to express each of their own thoughts on the current awkward scene, but as soon as they realised it they both vanished into their embarrassment and centred their gazes as far away from each other as allowable. After they had overcome the first wave of shame, Legolas decided to look back at her, feeling obliged to explain her current state.

"The wounds you have received both physically and mentally have left a grave damage on your body. The healers have tended to it and assured me you are not facing any dangers unless you defy the prescript of resting until it is time to replace the compress," his voice declared.

Aireiel shivered at the rough clarity of his voice because for the first time in (after all that had transpired in the last few weeks) what seemed an entire century his words were intended solely for her, and just the thought of him compiling together words that were directed only to her set another wave of unnerving warmth through her body. She might have been overreacting at the way his polite words sounded like a poem of heaven when leaving his lips or how light she felt when under the inspection of his drilling gaze, but either way what she knew for a certainty was that this imprudent thinking of hers had to stop this instant. Not only that she couldn't dare to allow any trace of her thoughts come to surface of her face but also she knew that sort of thinking will bring only more distraction and confusion to further interactions with the Prince (which would definitely come to pass since she had a feeling the King required some information from her and her father, and until he got what he desired they were to be detained in this palace). Adding yet another disgraceful appearance in front of him and possibly the King to the string of her embarrassing appearances in front of royalty wouldn't exactly enable her to gain more confidence and poise when it was expected of her.

She let out an anxious sigh before replying, as if it would eliminate it from expanding in her mind. "I am deeply thankful for what you have done for me and my father, my Prince. We do not know how to appropriately express our gratitude."

Keeping the line of formality between them seemed only appropriate in these unfortunate conditions and by being the first to encourage it awoke a feeling of respect and graciousness she failed to deliver earlier. But as soon as she uttered her appreciation the skin around Legolas's eyes narrowed for a short moment and then relaxed once again before he decided to speak his mind.

"What were you doing on that hill, Aireiel?"

Apparently he was oblivious (or ignorant) of Aireiel's eager endeavour to recover her lost deference and self-respect for he surely startled her with his sudden approach, demanding serious elaboration of her past. Once she'd realised she did not know how to answer that question with exact honesty, his look stiffened, and only then she became aware of how much of an inconvenience getting on the wrong side of the Prince would present.

"I don't exactly have an answer to this question," she replied, deliberately leaving out the formal address despite her conscience brutally commanding her otherwise.

"As I understood from the Lord Commander's report you were found half-conscious on the top of the stronghold alongside with your father, also unresponsive, surrounded by mythical creatures. Now, my reason, which I hope still serves its duty, tells me that you were either dragged there by force or climbed the hill yourself, followed by your father," he pointed out. "I have given you more than sufficient options to pick from. Which one shall you choose?"

The first reaction that ignited within her was the surprise at the harsh, scathing tone of his exacting words that implied her answer to his first question to be false (which, in fact, was both false and correct, due to Aireiel's incomprehension of the events). As soon as she began to decide between the two given explanations she came across a contradiction with herself. How could she choose between those answers when she did not know their credibility and validity? How could she answer his question under the constraint and under the pressure to simply satisfy the inquisitive Prince without actually knowing it to be the truth she could defend with real facts (if she, indeed, had the privilege to possess them)? She knew there was no way she could allow herself to either lie to him or give him no answer at all for the same pressure and burden would undoubtedly fall onto her father's shoulders in case she would be unable to provide the Prince with a serious response. She figured the only way to survive this without being tarnished for inappropriate behaviour or accused of obstruction of justice was to simply tell the truth as she knew it.

"I cannot give you a valid answer if I do not possess the memory of the incident, therefore I cannot defend my actions that happened under my will or otherwise," was her final, equally harsh response.

"You do realise it must have something to do with where you come from, right?" the Prince alluded but without success because the next thing that crossed Aireiel's mind was that she completely forgot about Legolas being privy to such knowledge.

"I haven't thought about that," Aireiel confessed silently, her voice trailing away after reasoning with herself that Legolas wouldn't expose her status without a good cause (an extortion barely sounded anything like him to be even close to fit a good cause) as she agreed to believe the first time she stepped through the entrance gates.

But once she gathered the courage to look the Prince in the eyes, she saw the previously stern stare was replaced with a soft, comforting regard that radiated compassion, believing her words to be sincere. She mentally sighed with relief as this was the proof he finally decided to believe every word she said from now on of how she had absolutely no idea of what happened on that hill and for what purpose. He extended his long legs as his hands visibly relaxed from the stiff position they had been in for at least the entire time of the conversation if not longer. Aireiel was not exactly determined about the reason for the sudden loosening of his limbs for it could be both agreeing there was nothing of value he could get from her because of her memory loss or it could present a great disappointment he felt towards her. Aireiel prayed for the truth not to be the latter.

Before anything else could be said on the subject, Aireiel felt a stinging, unpleasant soreness on the left side of her torso which she only now saw was covered in thick fabric. She was unable to react fast enough to hide the discomfort exposing on her face; as a result she released a quick but audible squeak that appeared more as a whine than a sound of a person courageously enduring the pain that had afflicted them. Legolas instantly jumped to her side, intuitively put his long fingers on the wound, and pressed gently on it to confirm the source of the pain to be the place of the injury in the process of healing. Aireiel's eyes flashed to his side, obviously indicating her shock at the sudden change of proximity. He returned the gaze but as he quickly looked at the wound again it was evident that his main concern did not appear to be their unanticipated closeness but rather the state of her injury.

"Does this hurt?" he softly asked, his fingers covering the bloodstain that had seemed to expand and leak through the fabric with high speed.

Aireiel bashfully nodded in reply, unable to remove her impudent stare off the Prince's worried face.

"Your wound is not as fatal as it may appear. The healers have met far more dangerous challenges and precarious states, so any doubt that might prevent you from trusting the healing methods used to cure your wound is needless. You are in very good hands, I can assure you," he professed while stroking the irritated spot without his awareness.

Indeed, his soothing voice successfully unburdened her of the fear the wound might fester or wouldn't make any significant progress in healing which would chain her to bed for several weeks to come. Not that she didn't enjoy this place, it was simply the feeling of helplessness and subjection that she hated. She loathed to think she would present a burden to him or to the court for that matter.

Aireiel was glad to see the previously uncertain and frail stage of their exceptional relation progressed to a more comfortable, congenial one. She realised he was not as bitter and conceited as he was confused about the situation himself when he tried to conceal the sheer surprise that overcame him earlier today. Aireiel had an undying, abiding faith in people she had the opportunity to meet; a rare type of faith that beckoned her to retain the trust and reliance regardless of the emotional turbulence those people might put her through. This persistent part of her commanded her not to give up on people for she would surely not like to receive the same neglect and abandonment in return (even when a part of her knew she owed absolutely nothing to those people). The coexistence with the raw nature and its wavering whims, unsettled environment, and perpetual unexpected twist of fate embedded an infallible, omniscient instinct in her deep tissue and bones so she carried it with her at all times. Being the owner of such exceptional gift (as Aireiel liked to name it) did not always awake only good and encouraging feelings that would be responsible for her future confidence and assurance when it would come to interactions with people; there was also a negative side to each seeming benefit. What Aireiel inadvertently came across in the early discoveries and explorations of the mentioned gift was that sometimes the instinct would subconsciously warn her of possible perils in certain situations. Obeying the inner warning, Aireiel would fortunately always successfully avoid unsolicited predicaments that would lead to an abundance of unpleasant complications.

This was the very reason why the young elleth's mind and spirit seemed so off track, so disoriented and adrift in the past few weeks. Her inner compass had apparently broken, and left her poor soul to orientate and guide itself to its best ability out of the mess it had found itself in. Constantly she would receive mixed, ambiguous signals, her mind exhausted from continuous strain of ascertaining which information was correct and which was trying to mislead her. She found out that ever since she stepped through the palace gates she'd been pestered by the uncertainty of her own mind, the turmoil of her soul, and the exasperating agitation debilitating her whole body. She figured it must have been because of that gnawing worry she'd allowed to crawl inside her mind without the slightest concern of the possible detrimental corollary it would bring. But yet another protruding fact burned her eye, a fact that was impossible to ignore even if she tried (an action in which she somehow did not see sense); that the same worry that had appeared at the beginning of the journey to the Elvenking's Halls, that increased throughout her father's traditional chronicles of the folk of the Woodland Realm, and achieved its peak when escorted through the gates, had begun to lessen its grip on her consciousness with each breath she took from the moment of the beginning of the conversation she had with Legolas. Reluctantly, she was beginning to understand that he was slowly becoming some sort of remedy of hers; a soft lilt soothing her restless thoughts in the darkness of the night, an invisible, gentle touch caressing her shivering body, casting away and consuming the poison with a mere, pure fondle of his bare hands. Not even she was capable of comprehending the meaning behind this sudden change nor was she sure such deed would bring much comfort or relief regarding the mysteriousness of their relationship, but there was one thing she was absolutely certain of. Whatever was beginning to grow inside her and whatever (or whoever) was the cause of it, it was something she had never experienced before, and for the first time in centuries she was at the very edge of tasting the sweet rush and sinful temptation of something unknown unfolding before her – sneaking at the reach of her hand, teasing the tip of her tongue. And she should be damned by the merciless hands of the Gods if she would even dare to blink away the inevitable adventure that was obviously displaying before her.