When Avalain awoke, she found herself looking upon a familiar sight.
She recognized this room… it had been her bedroom when she was younger, and was living with King Thranduíl and Legolas for much of her early adolescence. She knew the feeling of this bed; of the light peering in from the east side of the room.
She breathed deeply and took the necessary moments to compose herself. At last, when she felt like the last of her dizziness had faded, she began to sit up—
"Don't strain yourself. You still need rest."
Avalain didn't need to look over to know who sat at the table to her right. She inhaled once more before turning to look at Legolas, who was rising from the chair he'd been sitting in. When he reached her bedside, he knelt and seized one of her hands, lightly kissing her knuckles.
"How are you feeling?" he implored.
"Better now," she answered, blinking slowly. Her head wasn't pounding anymore, and her side wasn't burning, for which she was grateful. She looked over at the table Legolas had been sitting at and noted that there was an assortment of poultices and herbs upon it.
Looking at him sideways, she queried, "Were you the one…"
Even before she finished her sentence, she knew the answer. It had been Legolas who healed her wounds, who took care of her while she was unconscious.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. There was no way she could fully express her gratitude for what he had done for her. It was likely that had Legolas not been there… she might not be awake.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Legolas said nothing; he only held her close, a hand brushing through her hair.
For a moment or two, all was silent. Avalain closed her eyes again and allowed herself to return to the memories she held from when this had been home: she was glad to hear the familiar chirping of birds outside, and the subtle sound of rivers flowing through the Mirkwood Realm. Warm sunlight still bathed the entire room; for the first time in a long, long while, Avalain felt peaceful.
When she opened her eyes again, however, she was forced to acknowledge that she had no idea of how long she had been asleep. She didn't know what happened to the Dwarves, if her father had been sent word of what happened…
"How long have I been asleep?"
"About two days," replied Legolas, his voice hoarse. His eyes were no longer concerned as he looked upon her: now, he just seemed relieved. "I hope you don't mind—I took the liberty of addressing your minor injuries and ridding you of the spider-webs."
Avalain smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder before taking a deep breath and hauling herself to her feet. She was stronger than she had anticipated, a pleasant surprise; and luckily she was able to walk towards the looking-glass without assistance.
She was surprised by how normal she looked. The scratches on her arms were gone, and there was only a thin white scratch where her collarbone injury had been. She was now dressed in a dark dress of green, but there was a large patch over her side where the spider had pierced her flesh.
Her hair had been clearly washed and brushed, and her hands cleaned from the blood and dirt. With a sigh, she turned back to Legolas and shook her head.
"I am indebted to you, dear one," she sighed, restraining a relieved laugh.
"You are in no debt," replied Legolas, waving a hand. "I am just glad to see you healed. I received the letter that you were visiting just a few days ago, and I must confess that I am shocked you arrived so quickly."
Avalain barked a laugh, but offered him a sheepish smile. "I had good reason to rush here, I believe."
Legolas returned her smile with a raised eyebrow.
"One reason, or two?" he asked innocently enough, but the light in his eyes told Avalain that he was fully aware that she was hiding something.
She returned his look with a sardonic smirk before replying, "Perhaps it was two, perhaps it wasn't."
Legolas laughed now. "It was."
He rose from the bedside and joined Avalain next to the looking-glass, placing a hand atop her shoulder. They were so unalike it was almost comical: he was tall with white-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, she was short with dark hair and amber eyes. The differences between the River-Elves and the Wood-Elves was highlighted between them, but their friendship proved that a race could be split in many ways and still be united.
"The Dwarf, the blond one—Fili, you called him?—has been asking after your condition constantly," resumed Legolas, raising an eyebrow at Avalain's reflection. "Why might that be, my friend?"
Avalain opened her mouth to respond, but just as quickly, closed it again. She had no idea how Legolas would react to the news that the Dwarf had officially asked for a courtship between them.
"It's… complicated," she ended up saying, looking away from the mirror.
"Now that, I believe," laughed her friend. His flippant behavior made Avalain feel a little more at ease—she had to remind herself that Legolas wasn't Lindir.
Something else crossed Avalain's mind then: "Belutha. Is she all right? She is being tended to, yes?"
Legolas nodded. "Your horse has been stabled and fed. I believe she is catching up on some well-earned sleep."
Comforted with this answer, Avalain sighed and rubbed her arms. She then asked the question she most dreaded the answer to: "And the Dwarves?"
"Being treated as guests, for the moment. My father wishes to discover their purpose in these woods, and as you made it clear that they are friends of yours, he did not wish to pass any judgment on them without your presence. Besides… he missed you as well, and wishes to say hello before getting on with business."
Avalain raised an eyebrow with this last part. King Thranduíl was very seldom any sort of sentimental—but the sincerity with which Legolas spoke forced her to recognize that this must be the truth.
"Then I suppose we should go see him," she declared, offering her friend another smile.
That gesture was returned, but then he asked, "Can you walk?"
She thought for a moment and stretched her leg. Everything felt fine… and she knew that if she got to feeling lightheaded, Legolas would be there to help her. And so she responded, "Yes, I believe I can. If I need your help, I will let you know."
Thus, the two Elves began to walk towards the throne room. Legolas was instrumental in assisting Avalain up the steps—and while the She-Elf was excited to be reunited from a childhood father figure, she also grew more nervous.
She knew that these were the Elves that had betrayed Thorin Oakenshield and his people on that fateful day, sixty years ago. It was likely that King Thranduíl would recognize him, and vice versa.
The conversation that would take place between the two peoples would be restrained at best, and hostile at worst. Either way, it would be nerve-wracking.
As the two Elves walked through Mirkwood's palace, Avalain found herself smiling as she looked across all the things she remembered. The waterfalls within the palace, the interconnected bridges, the way the ceiling allowed for people to see the stars above. It was all beautiful; and all familiar.
At last, Legolas and Avalain reached the throne room. Legolas helped her up the last few steps: and there upon the throne was King Thranduíl, sitting rather laxly. His piercing ice-blue eyes were upon her face, but the look within them was unreadable. Avalain would have quailed underneath his stare if she hadn't known him before that day.
When they stopped at the throne's base, Avalain curtsied as best as she was able. She avoided his eyes—her heart was pounding, she could feel every beat of it though her whole body. It had indeed been many long years…
"Avalain Nightshade," spoke the Elven King, his voice low and soft. "How time has passed."
The She-Elf rose from her curtsy and placed her hands in the pockets of her dress—she felt the familiar feeling of parchment and, with a start, recalled that her father had wished her to deliver a letter.
"I have something for you, King Thranduíl," she stated, withdrawing the letter from her gown and holding it out to him. "A missive from my father."
For a brief moment, Thranduíl stared at her, his eyes betraying no hint of emotion. But then he laughed and rose from his throne, arms extended in Avalain's direction. She had no time to react before she was enveloped in King Thranduíl's arms.
"My dear girl, you look terrified. You do not have to be afraid of me or of anything here. You have been dearly missed."
Avalain exhaled sharply, suddenly realizing how intensely dizzy she had gotten. A large grin overcame her face, and she wrapped her arms around her all-but-blood father in relief.
"I was worried you would not see me as a daughter anymore," replied Avalain, her voice betraying her fear.
Thranduíl barked a laugh and shook his head. "Nonsense. You are as much of a Wood-Elf as you have ever been."
He brushed a hand through her dark hair, an uncommon smile still present on his lips, and took the letter from her hands. He paid it no heed as he placed it in his own pocket—his gaze then travelled past Avalain and towards something else on the pavilion.
Avalain turned around to see the pavilion was no longer empty: the Dwarves were being escorted by a few Elven guards. Her eyes immediately located Fili, and she was relieved to see that he looked much better than last she had seen him. His face was no longer pale, and his face was no longer gaunt—as she looked across the rest of her friends, she noticed that the same changes had also taken place over them. There was no doubt that Legolas and King Thranduíl had been treating them well.
"Ah, good," hummed King Thranduíl, placing a hand upon Avalain's shoulder. He raised his chin ever so slightly as he waved, dismissing the guards and leaving only the Mirkwood's royalty, Avalain, and the twelve Dwarves.
"As you can see, our dear Avalain is well and recuperated," remarked King Thranduíl, his hand lightly squeezing her shoulder. "And now that she is well, we must address what has obviously been on all of our minds since your… arrival."
Thorin Oakenshield stepped forward, his blue eyes as icy as Thranduíl's own. "What is there to discuss?"
A flare of irritation passed across the Elf's face; but it was gone as swiftly as it arrived. "The purpose of you and your people passing through my lands, of course. What are you doing in the Mirkwood, disturbing my people?"
"We were passing through to get to the Iron Hills," declared Thorin.
The Elven King frowned, a look unbecoming of him. "I do not believe that is the entirety of your story. I sense there is much you are not telling me—and I would consider it most unkind of you to lie to me, particularly after I have healed and fed your companions."
At this, Thorin Oakenshield was silent—though his expression said a lot.
Thranduíl turned to Avalain and sighed, "My dear, if I must be honest, the reason I have not imprisoned these Dwarves outright is because Legolas has told me of your friendship with them, and for that, they have received our hospitality. But now I ask you—what are these Dwarves doing here?"
Avalain took a deep breath and cast a sideways glance over the Dwarves. They were all staring at her, as if wondering whether she would betray them for the favor of her adopted father.
"As far as I know, they were attempting to take the Elven Road through the Mirkwood," she replied. "The woods have been growing darker, as I am sure you have noticed. It may be the only safe manner of travel remaining in this forest."
The King nodded once—but a small smirk took over his face. "You answered my question, but you did not answer my question. Do not attempt that trick with me, Avalain. I was the one who taught it to you."
The She-Elf couldn't help but laugh, if only because King Thranduíl was very correct.
As it was, the Elf sighed and put a hand to his forehead. With an exasperated sigh, he declared, "Very well. As much as I would like to say that the knowledge does not matter, I have a dark feeling in my heart. Thus, I cannot allow you to leave… not until someone sets my mind at ease or tells me what your goal truly is."
Avalain swallowed and turned her gaze back to King Thranduíl, her eyes wide. Before she could say anything, he quietly murmured, "I would not do this if I did not have a sinister feeling about their purpose, Avalain. Trust me when I say—I have lived long enough to trust my feelings."
The She-Elf gaped, but somehow managed to blurt out, "You don't mean they'll be imprisoned?!"
The King stood silent.
"My lord, hear me," she insisted, turning away from the Dwarves to face King Thranduíl directly, "they harbor no ill will to you or your people. I will vouch for them—they remained in Imladris for a time, and I have gotten to know them well. Let them pass. Please."
Thranduíl looked to Legolas, who had been standing quietly throughout the entire interaction. The two Elves shared a nod—and then Avalain's greatest friend shot her an apologetic look.
"My father's word is law," he replied, placing a hand upon her arm. "I can only hope that you convince these Dwarves to explain themselves to my father sooner rather than later."
Without leaving her a chance to protest, Legolas waved an arm, and the Elven guards reappeared. They began to surround the Dwarves, whose gazes were icy—
"Legolas, escort all the Dwarves except Thorin Oakenshield to the dungeons for now. There is a matter I must discuss with him further."
Avalain could only stand and watch as Legolas and the Mirkwood guards gestured the Dwarves forward, leading them away from the pavilion and in the direction of the jails. She could hardly believe what was happening—only a few minutes ago, she was certain that Thranduíl and Legolas would take care of her friends the way they had been before…
Somehow, she forced her feet forward, walking after Legolas and the Dwarves. Although she knew that Thranduíl was a wise Elf and King, the fact of the matter was that the Dwarves were running out of time to travel to their homeland… not to mention that she did not want to see Fili imprisoned in her former home.
She knew a lot about the Mirkwood palace; she and Legolas had explored all the hidden corridors and crevices, all entrances and exits. And although Mirkwood did have a hard prison to break out of, she might have the knowledge required to win the Dwarves their freedom.