The hollowed out stone 'room' echoed around her as Avalian purposely walked towards the raised platform where the Cheiftan of the Elarians sat waiting for her, his wife sitting beautifully and regally beside him, and a statue where his only son used to stand to his left.

Legolas' borrowed circlet was heavy on her head, even though it was nearly weightless by design. Nonetheless she kept her back rigidly straight, shoulders squared and breaths timed to perfection. Her gaze was fixed on a spot above the Cheiftans face, not disrespectful but not submissive. She would be the picture of seren calm, even if her nerves were practically eating her alive inside.

Jah'har kept an even pace next to her instead of slightly behind, as was custom. This was an official audience from two members of their treaties.

An accuser and a witness.

The Cheiftan was Jah'hars uncle, the youngest of three brothers who had struck out on his own with several followers to start his own tribe, while Jah'hars father, the eldest, remained behind.

The tribe would show Jah'har respect and her by association, but having him here would win them no favor.

Both of them came to stand several feet before the start of the platform, and bowed nearly in half at the hip with arms folded purposefully in front of them. A show of respect, submissiveness, and a demonstration that there was no weapons within reach.

Which was not entirely the truth, Ava had several weapons within easy grasp should she need them and was almost certain that Jah'har would as well, even after they had been searched. But the Elarians did not need to know that.

As she expected, the chieftain took his time before calling for them to stand straight. Foregoing formal greetings the Chieftain looked down his long nose at her, "It has been many moons since we have heard anything from King Thranduil and his woods."

And all those times Thranduil had made her say their greeting over and over again for practice, "Our King has been busy trying to replant the seeds of our lives."

The Chieftain laughed openly but not sincerely at her accent and the few pronunciation errors she made, Jah'har shifted next to her. "Is the War King a gardener now?"

"It is my peoples belief that all leaders should be like gardeners, for both aim all else to help nurture, grow and protect. We understand if you feel differently."

Jah'har sniffed a soft laugh next to her, widening his stance and crossing his arms when his Uncle's eyes turned to him, "The scar is not nearly as impressive as some made it out to be, pity."

"Perhaps not, Cheiftan Elruher, but at least my father and I arrived to the battle when our allies needed us and did not watch from afar."

"My son, my only son already died for that cause."

"And my brother, and half of Avaleina's entire people."

"We did not ask nor deserve to be subject to the war the Noldor started."

Avaleina did not mean for her voice to sound quite as it did. At least half of the reason she was the one to come, alone, was because she was better at sounding diplomatic even when she did not feel it. "Neither did we."

So much for serene and calm.

"I am out of patience. Tell me what your King wants from me."

Ava removed the letter Thranduil had written and signed earlier that day and offered it to one of the guards that lurked nearby.

Dutifully he presented it to his master.

His expression darkened as he read it, almost seeming to march his raven hair. Even more so when he realized Thranduil always had perfect grammar, even in other languages. The Chieftain stared into her soul, "And if I do not comply with his demands?"

"Then we will inform the Council of Tribes that you failed to comply with the treaty, twice. Once when you failed to come to our final and most dire aid when we have come to yours multiple times, and now. If you do not release the books you stole from my people so long ago in reparations. Every last one of them. Then, we wait to see what the Council has to say." Avaleina said, practiced to perfection with Thranduil earlier. Calm, punctuated perfectly but void of fear and uncertainty.

The room went a deadly still.

Purposefully Jah'har scratched the scar on his head, "I do not think many will find much in your favor. The rest of us did not cower under rocks."

It had been almost two thousand years since anybody had brought something to the attention of the Council.

He sneered down at them, "What purpose could your people possibly have with them? You forgot the language of the old world long ago."

The circlet on her head seemed to grow heavier as she turned on the spot and began walking away from the Chieftain sitting on his self-made stage and captive audience, "Then my King will see you in front of the rest of the Council."

Her footsteps echoed as she continued on her way out. They would get the books, of that she was certain. She had just hoped they could get them sooner rather than later, and as quietly as possible.

Pity.

Jah'har seemed endlessly pleased by the turn of events; he held just as little favor for his uncle as his uncle did for him.

"Stop."

Avaleina and Jah'har both stopped, and shared a glance. He turned, but she did not. "Yes?"

"I do not have time to deal with council's, and your primitive magic is worthless; you know as well as I that they will not answer you." He scoffed, or perhaps snarled "Wait outside the wall and we will deliver it to you."

She could practically taste the scorn and enraging defeat in his voice. Just as Thranduil had predicted. This time, she did turn. "We will wait right here. I do not need a second demonstration of your empty promises."

0o0o0o

Aragorn did not make a habit of eavesdropping on other people's conversations. His father had raised him better than that, until, of course, he realised that the elves were not aware of how far their voices carried in libraries. And they were talking about Legolas.

Gimli and the hobbits had fallen silent to make it easier for him to listen, since none of them knew the language well enough to do so themselves.

"Tern said that he felt unwell, he was in the clearing with Ferdan when he came home."

A different, deeper voice said, "Would you? After everything? Eru knows I wouldn't."

The first voice sighed, "Do you remember what happened after he had to kill Larnel?"

A third voice joined the fray, distinctly female even to Gimli, "Didn't say a word for two days."

"I'll never forget the scream when the burning tree fell on him." The were general mutters of agreement and dismay. "The scars haven't faded as they should."

"Radagast said it was not a natural fire, they probably never will. Same with the ones on my arms I got from helping lift him out from under it."

"He was apart of the Amarth for centuries. Even after surviving Ferdans training, I hardly even managed ten year rotations."

"Did you survive Ferdans training, though?"

They all laughed amongst themselves, "Does anyone survive Ferdans training, though?"

"I tried to find Ava to ask about him, but I haven't seen her anywhere since Legolas came home."

One of them snorted, "How is that different than how she's been for months? I don't think I've seen her longer than an hour since the war ended."

"So?"

"So, shouldn't she be staying home, now that he's here? Especially if he is unwell? Yet the other night my patrol crossed paths with her leaving our borders."

The other muttered too many things at once for Aragorn to tell what they said, but eventually they settled down again.

"All I'm saying is the King isn't yelling at her for it anymore. He's been insisting she stay home and rest, I've heard him yelling at her on several occasions when she didn't listen. She wasn't even supposed to be anywhere near that spiders nest, yet she went, and he was livid with her. But now, he's silent. Interesting, isn't it? The timing of it. "

Harsh footsteps seemed to appear out of thin air, and Aragorn knew it was Galion descending upon the gossiping warriors.

There were few people in the world that Aragorn knew of that could go from being absolutely invisible to so large it felt as though they could suck the air out of the room with one breath.

And Galion was the only one in Greenwood.

The steps stopped, and even from several isles over Aragorn could feel the heat from Galions stare, and the ice in his voice when he said, "Disperse."

He couldn't hear the footsteps, but Aragorn knew the elves had fled for their very lives. He hastily gestured for the others to resume some sort of activity other than staring at his face for clues as to what was being said.

Thanks to Merrys diligence, Pippin's book was at least right side up when Galion continued down the hallway, and stopped when he reached them.

"Legolas was looking for you all, so you know."

Unsurprisingly, his arms were heavy with two books and some loose parchment. What was surprising, however, was the cover that was wrapped around both books.

Aragorn had seen them before in his father's study, and seen only. As far as he was aware, nobody was allowed to touch it save for his father.

Not even Glorfindel.

For wrapped within would be books created since before the first age. Both book and cover were leaden with many charms and other magic that had long since been forgotten to both preserve and protect the secrets inside.

Even so, few remained. Or, perhaps few had been created in the first place. His father had only found one even after years of dedicated searching.

Noticing his gaze, Galion swept away with his treasures, calling, "I think he went to the kitchens," Over his shoulder.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Thunder rolled outside, and they all knew the storm had gotten worse even if they could not see the lightning or hear the howling winds.

The storm had appeared seemingly out of nowhere a few hours after they had returned home. Had Avaleina gone to visit almost any other tribe Legolas was fairly certain she would have spent the night rather than go out into it.

Forests were not always the safest place with winds howling like this.

But Greenwood had never been particularly close with the Erlariens, who favored structure, routine, and respect above all else. Much more than he and his Woodleves ever did, and so their relationship had been fraught with misunderstandings and unintended offenses - almost exclusively with the Elarians becoming offended.

It was decided long ago that the less amount of time one could spend with them, the better.

Gimli patted his hand in comfort after all but making Pippin's chess move for him. "I've seen the way the trees shield you in bad weather, I'm sure she'll be fine."

"Yes, I'm sure she will. But I seem to recall you still asking me if I was alright during all those storms you claim the trees favored during."

Gimli laughed and took his hand away to resume helping Pippin, "You looked like you might blow away with one more strong gust of wind."

Ice rain splattered across his face regardless of which direction he turned it, and after so many hours in it even his Elven body was becoming susceptible. Next to him on the relatively thin ledge Avaleina began to shiver, the wind violently whipping a few strands of hair that had come loose from her braid, "I can't feel my fingers."

Below, the orcs continued around their camp unaware. And they needed to remain so. There were too many orcs, and only two of them, and so to risk discovery was to risk the mission. To risk all their lives.

To risk their eternities into the wrong hands.

They had yet to get a good view of his poor elves that had been captured. But they could hear them.

They could hear everything.

The only thing that kept him crouched there for so long, enduring it, the sound of their pain. The breaking of bones and slashing of flesh. The strikes.

The laughs.

The only thing that kept his anger from taking over him was the knowledge that failure was not an option. They had one shot.

Eternity could be a very long time in the wrong hands.

His friends would be dead before they went home. They had to be.

Aragorn coughed and he tried not to jump, flexing his fingers out of reflex to ensure they still had warmth in them, and weren't nearly frozen numb.

""I'm sturdier than I appear." He managed to say before anybody seemed to notice his inattention, "Besides, Avalina arrived home perhaps ten minutes ago. I'm assuming she's yelling about the Cheiftan to Ada."

The cold seemed determined to haunt his fingertips, a frozen reminder of all of his Kin he had slain. Of all the children he had taken away from parents who had already lost far too much. Dragging back to the surface every beautiful face that deserved so much more than an arrow to the head from their own people.

Their own prince.

He could remember the look on the face of every mother when he came back without their child. They always knew when he was the one who had to do it. He didn't know how, but they always did.

They knew who to blame.

The cold traveled from his hands up his arms and called to life the same ice that had coiled in his heart and coaxed it into awakening.

It was getting hard to breath.

He searched his heart and his head for the voice of the trees but couldn't hear it over the storm both inside his body and outside the walls. All that he heard was the cry of the gulls, and distant waves.

Nothing felt right anymore. Everything felt wrong.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It was supposed to be better.

His heart wasn't supposed to hurt as much, it wasn't supposed to still be drowning in every horrible act he commited.

He had to go.

Now.

It seemed even the air in the room didn't find him deserving enough to enter his lungs. Without a word or a glance or even a thought, Legolas abruptly stood from his chair and fled up the nearest set of stairs.

He wasn't aware of Gimli's earnest attempt to follow him out and up, but even if he had been, his flight would not have been any lest hasty.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

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