Author's Note:

My dear readers,

Would you mind terribly if I do not answer reviews for the previous chapter? I have two months of exams ahead and only two weeks left for prep. Thank you all for your reviews. It never stops to put a smile on my face. :)


Chapter 10

The palace was built behind the great statue of Aulë. It was large, easily recognizable with its vast towers and wings along with the flags flying from their posts. Reaching the city was entirely different matter. The streets were clogged with traffic, and Thranduil only glimpsed some foreigners in a sea of Elves. He eventually managed to reach the palace and asked for his kinsman. A manservant led him to a study, and there Thranduil laid his eyes on Celeborn.

In looks, Celeborn resembled Oropher, with his silver hair, calm expression, pale skin and tall, lean body. But his cheeks were higher, his nose straighter, and his eyebrows close together to give him the impression of a permanent frown. It was something that Thranduil always teased him about. His shoulders were wide and broad, tapering to narrow waist and hips before giving way to long legs, hidden underneath his robes of blue, with silver swirls as a design. The front of his outer robe was fixed in place with an ornate swan brooch. He lounged on a chair facing a table and another chair when the manservant announced Thranduil's arrival; his long legs carelessly sprawled under the table. Celeborn looked up sharply as soon as he heard Thranduil's name.

"Ah, my wayward kin returns at last." Celeborn announced. He hopped down the six steps in sets of two. Once he reached the ground, he spread his arms open and marched up to him. Thranduil smiled. Celeborn put him in a tight, warm hug and thumped him hard twice on his back. Thranduil tried not to wince. Celeborn enjoyed teasing and irking him. Instead, Thranduil squeezed his hands on his biceps as hard as he could. Celeborn flinched, laughed and pulled away.

"You have a strong arm," Celeborn noted. "I had forgotten."

"I can remind you during practice in the fighting rings. Tomorrow, perhaps." Thranduil offered in as bland tone as he could manage. Celeborn was not fooled.

"I like my nose the way it is, but I thank you for your kind offer." He answered, matching his tone. Thranduil grinned. "Come and sit down. Now, if you please. Valar knows that if I leave you standing, you will fly off to save the galaxy." Thranduil stifled a retort with sizable effort. Instead, he turned his attention to the study. It was a rectangular room, large enough to feel spacious and yet small enough to give homely feeling. The walls were painted soft cream, and the tiles beneath his feet were yellow with a touch of reddish hue. Surprisingly, the furniture was not made of functional and practical metal. Instead, most of the furniture in the room was made of polished red wood. He felt the dim pressure of Celeborn's hand on the small of his back as he ascended the steps leading to the chairs and table where Celeborn was sitting. It overlooked a wide window that touched both ceiling and floor, with a waist high fence protecting lower part of it.

Thranduil's attempt of stopping a retort failed.

"A mission always comes first," Thranduil remarked. Celeborn rolled his eyes as he lowered into his chair.

"You have become married to this position of yours." Celeborn muttered.

"Every creed is a marriage contract of some sort," Thranduil joked before easily sliding into a chair. Celeborn snorted, the only indication of his amusement.

"Do not start an intellectual debate." Celeborn implored. "I have that enough from both Elrond and Glorfindel. I told Elrond that he should have been sent to the Jedi Temple as well."

"And what did he say?"

"He told me a celibate life was not for him."

Thranduil leaned back comfortably and laughed languidly. Something about Arda system, particularly in the presence of his kin, always made him relax.

"If that is what he claims, then I am surprised he hasn't married yet."

"He needs someone who can keep up with him." Celeborn explained. "Elrond lives a busy life, and a wife for him has to be special so he makes some time for her."

"I am sure he will find someone." Thranduil conceded.

"Just as your father keeps hoping that you leave the Order." Celeborn retorted. Thranduil winced.

"That is not going to happen." Thranduil said ruefully, a thin smile spreading on his face.

"How about I tell your father that you are here-"

"Do not." Thranduil interrupted. His smile disappeared. He immediately sat forward. "He will never leave me in peace if he finds out." Celeborn's smile grew wider, like a cat that ensnared its prey. Thranduil shot him a warning glance. "Celeborn, I mean it. Do not-"

"Alright, alright," Celeborn stopped him, laughing. "I will behave myself. So tell me, how is my wife?"

"Governing unsteady waters as always," Thranduil grinned. "Galadriel is admirable. She manhandled the Senate let me go."

"That's my wife," Celeborn praised approvingly. Thranduil chuckled. Celeborn and Galadriel were suited in so many ways that Thranduil often teased them to be cut from the same cloth…. Meaning they had no differences at all. They went along splendidly, as if they were composed of the same harmony. Celeborn and Galadriel always glanced at each other and smiled amiably. Thranduil only witnessed a single fight between the couple, which resolved so quickly that Thranduil did not consider it a fight at all… or even a difference in opinion. He wondered if it was a good sign that the pair went along so well. But they were happy and that was all that mattered to them.

"She is good at what she does," Thranduil agreed with a nod, "Although she does not believe it from time to time."

"Self-doubts inflicts on every leader from time to time." Celeborn said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He glanced at Thranduil with a rakish glint in his eye. "You, on the other hand, could deal with some self-doubts. You are far too assured."

Thranduil found it too easy to keep the smile on his face from slipping away. Inwardly, he laughed mockingly. If only he knew!

"You are certainly a poor judge for character of another." Thranduil retorted lightly. Celeborn did not look the least troubled. In fact, he seemed to expect such an answer. The grin remained on Celeborn's face.

"You certainly cannot handle criticism to your character very well."

"There is little to criticise about."

"And you definitely do not need any more self-assurance. Tell me, does your head grow heavy under the weight of your pride, and your clothes smaller when your chest expands with confidence?"

Thranduil laughed heartily.

"A very good insult, but you need to keep working on them," Thranduil answered. A servant knocked and entered the door. He silently poured drinks and served them before disappearing.

"Maybe I was reproaching you."

"Maybe, but I was not sure." Thranduil drawled. He lifted the cold glass to his lips, chilled dew sliding over the outside of the glass and took a sip. Then he grimaced when the sickly sweet liquid trickled down his throat. Cranberry juice. He never liked cranberry juice. He set the glass back on the table.

"How could you not be sure?" Celeborn reached for his glass.

"Hm, how could I? You always keep 'frowning' my way… or any way for that matter."

Celeborn choked and sputtered. He lowered his glass but did not place it on the table. He looked exasperated.

"For the last time, you stubborn, infuriating, half-witted Jedi for a kin, my eyebrows will not be made the centre of this discussion-"

"Well, it certainly commands all attention when one looks at your face."

"He who he makes mockery of others will soon be mocked in the unforeseen future." Celeborn said solemnly.

Thranduil frowned.

"I am not familiar with that saying."

"Do you call me a liar?" Celeborn demanded. Thranduil hastened to sooth him but Celeborn continued, "It started with 'he who'." Thranduil paused. He suddenly became aware of Celeborn's twitching lips and realised he was toying with him.

"I should throw something at you." Thranduil said loftily as he sank back into his chair. Celeborn laughed. "But that would be a terrible waste of energy and the Force on someone so worthless." Celeborn laughed again, more delighted than before.

"I have missed you," Celeborn remarked, chuckling. "Galadriel did tell me it was fun to meet you again. 'Refreshing' was the word she used."

"How splendid; I am compared to a cool drink on a warm day." Thranduil said dryly. He shook his head. Then he looked around. He noticed one thing; Celeborn's daughter had yet to make an entry. She always met with him whenever he came by for a visit.

"Where is your daughter?"

"In Lórien," Celeborn asked. Thranduil raised his eyebrows. He heard she was in Lórien many months ago.

"Still?" He pressed. Celeborn hesitated.

"Yes." He nodded. Celeborn inhaled and gestured wordlessly at Thranduil to take a seat. He frowned a little before complying. He sat on a chair beside Celeborn, placed his arms on the table and waited for his kin to continue. Celeborn tapped his fingertips in a mesmerising rhythm as if he wondered where to start.

"I do not trust Annatar." He said at last. Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

"I suspect many do not." Thranduil answered neutrally. But Celeborn stopped him with an adamant shake of his head.

"He is…" Celeborn searched for the right words. "I cannot describe it. It is a strange feeling. Like-like-"

"The darkness, seeping through the weaves of a cloth," Thranduil finished, his eyes lowered to study the inlay of amber lacing the table. He did not know if Celeborn agreed but he sensed he did. "She left because of Annatar?"

"Partially," Celeborn explained. Thranduil frowned and opened his mouth, intending to tell him that explained nothing. Then he closed his mouth. Celeborn never spoke his mind until he wished to. "She does not… get along well with Celebrimbor." Thranduil inclined his head wordlessly.

"And what does Gil-Galad think of this? I hear he likes Annatar."

"'Like' is perhaps too generous a term." Celeborn conceded. "He is… intrigued. And I do not blame him. Annatar's skills are exemplary. He is also kind, generous and very charming. And yet something about him, I simply do not trust. Intrigued is not the same as liking someone and trusting them. And there is a great deal of unrest in the Elven Realm… which you would have known had you taken more part in our daily affairs."

The rebuke stung. The calm atmosphere of the room now crackled with hostile energy. Thranduil's face darkened and he leaned forward slightly over the table and scowled at Celeborn with narrowed eyes and taut lips.

"If you must know what I was doing, then let me tell you I did not lock myself behind temple doors and spent my time meditating," Thranduil said in deadly quiet. "I spent my waking hours chasing down every lead to bring our girls home, and my slumber dreaming of all consequences where I find them in good health and otherwise." A hard lump rose in his throat. It was difficult to swallow past it. No matter how many good times passed by him, the thought of those captured girls ghosted his mind always. "You know nothing of what I do, Celeborn."

The Elf fell silent. Celeborn's face pinched. It was pale, with thin lips and a frown on his forehead. Thranduil's good mood evaporated like thin steam. He pushed his chair back and stood up. "I need some time to myself." He muttered. He walked out, leaving deathly silence in his wake.

Night brought Thranduil little comfort. He did not meet Celeborn for dinner, and Celeborn did not summon him. Thranduil found the four walls of his room stifling. He spent far too long in somewhat modesty of the temple to appreciate his luxurious surroundings. While the Jedi Order provided them with comforts, they did not believe in extravagance. And that was precisely what his surroundings were. The tables were decorated with elaborate gold inlays. The walls were made of white marble. The floor was pristine. A painting of a young girl dancing on the surface of lake hung opposite to the window. A decoration of a glass forest with small glass animal figurines sat on the table in front of the fireplace. The mattress was too firm, and the sheets too soft.

Thranduil sighed and laughed ruefully under his breath. There was a time when he was young when he invited such comforts. But it was not so anymore. The Order changed him.

He was not sure if the change was for the better. Some may say that the Order was the height of etiquette and morality. Others would say it was a blessing to have a set of rules that dictated one's entire life. But Thranduil was not so sure. How much of himself did he lose while he disciplined himself in the ways of the Jedi? Why was he so awkward around his own kind? He felt as if he stood on top of a large tower, balancing with difficulty. He belonged neither amongst the Jedi nor the Elves. Where, then, did he belong?

The communications panel fitted in his room beeped. Thranduil tore his eyes away from the soothing scenery out of his window and glanced at the blinking screen. The origin of the call was the Jedi Temple from Coruscant. He knew who it was. He opened the line.

"Master Yoda," Thranduil said in a way of greeting. "If you wish for a report, then I am afraid I have nothing to offer you. I have only just arrived."

"Not for a report," Yoda's voice was clear through the link. The communication only carried audio, but he felt some humour in the Grandmaster's voice. "Needed to discuss, I did." Thranduil's ears pricked.

"What is it?" He asked warily.

"Found something, Master Windu did. A link to where the captured girls might be. Thought it may interest you, he did." Thranduil leaned forward, bracing himself against the panel. Excitement sprang inside him. This information was so much more important. It was his mission from the start. What was more, slavers moved quickly. If he lost the lead now, he will not find one again for a long time.

"Then I request to send me everything. I will leave as soon as I am able-"

"No," Yoda's voice was firm. "Stay, you shall. Wait, it can."

"Master Yoda," Thranduil fought to remain calm. "I must object-"

"Noted," Yoda's voice, if possible, grew hard. Thranduil fell silent. This was not a fight he could win. "Go, you shall after this mission. Accompany you, Windu will."

Thranduil gaped for a long time.

"No," Thranduil said suddenly. "No. No. Master Yoda, I can investigate and dispose of this case myself-"

"No doubt, I have in your skills. But two Jedi are better, yes?"

"This keeps getting better and better." Thranduil muttered under his breath. A cold wind blew from the window, and Thranduil shivered.

"Thranduil?"

"I am here." Thranduil replied immediately in normal voice.

"Good. Worried, I was, that you did not hear me."

"Unfortunately, Master Yoda, the communications are in excellent working order." Thranduil answered. He heard a soft sound by which Thranduil guessed with some suspicion that Yoda was entertained. There were times when Thranduil wondered how the Grandmaster tolerated his insubordination. Most people tired of Thranduil quickly because of his sharp tongue and lack of respect. But Yoda did not mind. In fact, he enjoyed them.

"Accept you will, then, my proposition?"

"I do not think you are giving me a choice, Master Yoda." Thranduil remarked wearily.

"I am not." Yoda assured him.

"Splendid," Thranduil mumbled. Mace on top of his other worries… what could go wrong? "Then I accept."

"Good. Return to Coruscant, you shall after your mission. Much to discuss, there is." Thranduil sighed.

"Yes, Master Yoda."

After the customary farewell between Jedi, Thranduil retired for the night.

Morning brought Thranduil into the unpleasant reality of facing Celeborn. Breakfast was mostly conducted in grave, uncomfortable silence. Only Celeborn and Thranduil were present at the table. Thranduil did not bother to soften the silence or offer peace in any form. Instead, he let Celeborn stew.

Finally, the Lord placed his knife and fork carefully on his plate and looked at him squarely.

"I am sorry," Celeborn said at last. "Last night, I spoke out of bitterness and empty speculation. I should not have said what I said." Thranduil paused, his bite on his fork still hovering in air.

"You are forgiven," Thranduil answered. He took his bite and set down his fork. His morsel felt abominably large and dry in his mouth. He reached for his glass and washed it down. "I understand… mostly. But you must look at this situation from my perspective. My oath is to safeguard the people of this galaxy. However, the results do not show immediately, and sometimes are not what we expect."

There was a glimmer of old humour in Celeborn's eyes, but his lips smiled in genuine understanding.

"Spoken like a true Jedi," Celeborn said dryly, "cryptic yet understanding." Thranduil smiled and said nothing more. He dug into his breakfast again, each bite easier to swallow than the last now that the air between them lightened considerably. Silence stretched between them, but it was not as oppressive as before.

It was short-lived. They were halfway through when the doors slammed open and three Elves burst into the room. One of them was undoubtedly an officer and the other two sentinels. Celeborn dropped his fork and turned his full attention to them.

"What is it, Halon?" Celeborn asked.

"Orcs, my lord!" Halon said. Celeborn uncrossed his ankles and was off his chair in a blur of movement.

"Where?" Celeborn demanded.

"East, my lord, near the ruins of the last city."

"And how many?"

"We are not sure, my lord." Halon said after a pause. Celeborn's face darkened with fury.

"You are not sure," incredulity gave Celeborn's voice a sharp edge. The Lord pushed his chair back and impatiently slapped the cloth on his lap on the table. "By Elbereth, Halon, I expected more from you." Thranduil immediately stood up as Celeborn raised himself from his chair. Celeborn did not wait for Halon to answer. "Assemble a team. Now!"

Halon and his comrades gave an assent and disappeared quickly. Celeborn turned to Thranduil. Sunlight streamed on Celeborn's face, casting shadow beneath his cheekbones and eyes. He seemed haggard.

"I apologize," Celeborn said grimly. "Orcs have been a nuisance for some time recently."

"They were always a nuisance," Thranduil answered, watching his kin closely. Celeborn took the threat seriously. It was, but Thranduil also knew that Orcs were unorganized and powerless because of it.

"I am leaving to deal with them. It is up to you whether you wish to join-"

"I am ready." Thranduil assured. He offered a reassuring smile but Celeborn seemed too preoccupied. He only answered with a single nod and left. Thranduil abandoned his breakfast and made his way directly to the entrance, where he knew he would meet Celeborn again.

Orcs. They were beings twisted for a service fell and dark. They followed no creed, possessed no morals. The very mention of them raised Thranduil's distaste. And it was with good reason. Orcs were once Elves, until they followed a fallen Vala, by the name of Morgoth and were tortured and mutilated into Orcs. Their offspring remained the same, generation after generation. Or so the legend goes.

But everyone within Arda system knew these were not legends.

Thranduil severed the line of thought as if he took a sharp axe to a thick rope. Some secrets were dangerous, even if they were thought of, rather than spoken.

He joined the group of soldiers waiting by the entrance. He did not need to wait long. Nearly ten minutes later, Celeborn reappeared. His clothes of finery were gone. Instead he wore fitted black armour, his hair braided out of his way. He was armed to the teeth.

"How did these Orcs come so close to the fortress?" Celeborn demanded.

"We are not sure, my lord." Halon answered.

"Well, then find out!" Celeborn snapped, his voice cracking like the whip. "This is the third time this month that these Orcs have come so close without us detecting them. I will not have them within an arm's breadth of this city!"

"I never thought Orcs would be so dangerous," Thranduil remarked, noting Celeborn's concern as well as his armour and weapons.

"They are different now," Celeborn answered with slanted glance. He began to walk, and Thranduil quickly followed. The rest of their team were close behind. "They attack in small groups, and do not mind the sunlight or moonlight. They have different weapons, and their attacks are either as ambush on traders in space or small skirmishes on land. We clear them out and more camps form faster than the ones we uproot."

"And why have I not heard of this?" Thranduil asked, frowning. If Orcs were such a major concern, then he should have been informed of it. But none of the planets said anything.

"Most of us are still in denial." Celeborn replied. He threw a troubled glance at Thranduil. "They are evolving, Thranduil. It is clear as a cloudless day. And their weapons… I think someone is supplying them." Thranduil's frown deepened.

Celeborn led them to a platform and gestured at Thranduil. "Stay here," he said. "The barracks are close by. And the craft should come in any second. I need to meet with a tactician." Thranduil hid his bitterness inside him and nodded wordlessly. Before he was a Jedi, Celeborn did not hesitate to include him in such matters. But his alliance with the Jedi Order forced Elves to be wary of him. Celeborn apparently did not notice his misgivings and turned on his heel, his comrades following close behind. Thranduil was promptly left alone on the platform.

It gave him time to manage his emotions. Yoda always stressed that a Jedi needed to harness his feelings before stepping into difficult situations. Some Jedi showed admirable control but many struggled with it. Thranduil turned his gaze at the wide, impressive expanse of the city below him and used the scenery to calm him. He timed his breaths carefully, focusing his attention on the fluttering flags as he emptied his mind of all thoughts. Then he touched the Force briefly, allowing the power to soothe him.

He dimly heard the sound of a craft before one appeared before him. It was a standard military carrier, armoured, with a single pilot behind bulletproof glass. It was built for terrain, and could not fly higher than the lower atmosphere. It flew few feet above him. Celeborn's face appeared and peered down at him.

"Stay right there!" He called the dull, rhythmic noise of the craft. "We are lowering the craft."

"No chance," Thranduil muttered. He went backward a step and braced himself at the knees. He unleashed the Force, focusing it within his legs and leaped. Thranduil landed on the smooth floor of the craft. He glanced at Celeborn who only made a face at him.

"Show off," Celeborn muttered. Thranduil grinned and gave a deep bow. Celeborn jeered at him before turning his attention to the pilot. "Do not bother. He is on board." A face appeared behind Celeborn with a wide grin.

"I told you," Celebrimbor said to Celeborn. The latter ignored him with a cool mask in place. Thranduil noted the tension between the two Elves that both of them tried to ignore in their own fashion. Celebrimbor addressed Thranduil, "It is good to see you again. Did you sleep well?"

Thranduil's lips twitched involuntarily at Celebrimbor's amiable tone. They might as well be inquiring after the weather.

"As well as possible," Thranduil answered just as lightly. Celebrimbor's grin grew wider. It was clear he knew Thranduil's thoughts, especially when he winked at Thranduil conspiratorially. Thranduil chuckled. The ride on the craft was smooth and silent, until the craft drew near to their destination.

"What are these ruins?" Thranduil asked curiously.

"They are ancient." Celeborn replied. "The city was forged by the first Noldor that fled after the battle of First Age-"

"Enough," Thranduil said sharply. "You know some things are not to be spoken of." Celeborn looked at him, surprised and confused.

"We are all Elves here," Celeborn said with a quizzical frown. The wind tugged free Celeborn's silver hair from his tight braids. Some of the strands flickered in his eyes. Celeborn pushed his hair out of the way with an impatient hand. Thranduil paused. He spent so long in company of people that did not belong to Arda that he forgot himself.

"The Elves built the city, but soon it proved insufficient as the population grew and the markets flourished." Celeborn continued. Thranduil noticed how Celeborn kept his eyes out at the passing landscape. Thranduil grimaced. Celeborn pretended not to notice his slip. "So they made a new city, and the people shifted there. The old one fell into disuse." Celeborn raised his voice and gave short succinct commands to all of them.

They reached the city and dropped three Elves at what used to be an entrance. As soon as they landed, the Elves cloaked themselves.

"Cloaking will not work." Thranduil said as they dropped two Elves north of the city. "The Orcs have strong sense of smell."

"Yes," Celeborn conceded. "But it will buy us some precious minutes. You and Celebrimbor take the city from the south." After Celeborn departed, Thranduil and Celebrimbor landed at the ruined wall of the city. Thranduil activated his lightsaber, enjoying its familiar hiss. He looked at the crumbling wall and heard a loud animalistic snarl. An Orc appeared around the corner, sniffing and growling. It raised its jagged weapon high and ran up to them.

"That one is mine." Celebrimbor said before Thranduil raised his lightsaber. He answered with a surprise nod. That was when he saw that Celebrimbor held a heavy hammer in his hand for a weapon. Electricity crackled through the hammer, like silver lightning. Celebrimbor raised it high above his head and brought it down on his poor victim. The Orc fell with a loud squeal, abruptly cut off when energy charged through it, sending its body into convulsions.

"You could have given yourself a shock," Thranduil told him. He ignored the Orc's gurgling. The smith held up a hand, palm outward. He wore gloves.

"Insulated and protected," Celebrimbor said with a grin. "And so are my shoes." At last the Orc's body went limp.

"Such a terrible way to die," Thranduil muttered. He would have continued, but another wave of Orcs assaulted them. Some of the Orcs were nimble; they climbed up the ruined walls and balanced themselves on top. They had the advantage of higher ground. Thranduil hated when he was at an advantage. Thranduil gathered the Force in his legs and leaped in the air. He landed precariously on the very edge, his heels still in the air. A single Orc stood in front of him. His lightsaber sliced through the neck of his enemy. He did not wait for the body to topple and he used the Force to push away another Orc that had stood just before the first one. The first body landed on the ground with a sickening sound of broken bones. The second crashed into a wall before crumbling on the floor.

"Nice," Celebrimbor praised him. "You are very good."

"Yes, killing is one of my many talents." Thranduil answered wryly. Celebrimbor answered quickly before he even finished.

"Thranduil, look sharp!"

He turned just in time to see an Orc with his bow trained on him. Only his instincts from the Force saved him from instant death. The bolt stuck inches deep in the ruined stone wall where his head was seconds ago, quivering slightly.

"Celeborn!" He called after his kin, knowing he was somewhere nearby. "I admit it! I greatly underestimated them."

Celeborn would have gloated, if he were not busy. The Orc was reloading with quick hands, but Thranduil covered the distance between them in a single leap and sank his lightsaber in his throat. And again, Thranduil forgot about his blind side.

An Orc stood behind him, raising his bow just as Thranduil pulled his lightsaber free. There was no time to attack, so Thranduil began to roll sideways to evade him.

He did not move in time. The arrow embedded straight into his right shoulder. Thranduil's body lurched backwards, white pain lancing through him. Thranduil fell back against the wall and sagged slightly. The Orc raised his bow, his arrow fitted into a bowstring. Thranduil raised his left arm and Force-pushed him away. The Orc shrieked as he flew backwards and crashed into a wall. The body slumped to the ground listlessly. Thranduil caught Celeborn out of the corner of his eye. The Lord sprinted to him.

"Thranduil!"

"This will ruin my day," Thranduil hissed through gritted teeth. Celeborn pulled him into the refuge of a wall and studied his shoulder. Thranduil tried to wriggle from him.

"Stay still," Celeborn snapped. "The arrowhead is embedded into your shoulder blade. I cannot remove it." Celeborn's free hand placed on his ear and spoke over the comm. "Halon, ready a ship. Thranduil is wounded and is in need of immediate treatment."

"Do not be ridiculous," Thranduil snapped. He leaned his head against the wall behind him. His temples were beginning to ache and heavy. The sounds of a fight continued. "I will be fine as soon as I catch my breath." Celeborn laughed scornfully. Thranduil stole a glance at him. Celeborn's face was pale and pinched with worry.

"The poison is potent. They will try to stabilise you in the ship until you go into surgery back in the city." Thranduil's body sagged against him. "Do not close your eyes!" Celeborn snapped at him. He jerked him harshly. "I have lost soldiers to this poison but I will not lose you as well!"

"Well, father will at least have this to blame." Thranduil tried to joke. It came out in a gasp of pain.

"This is no time to joke, damn you!"

"Please. He always wanted to know why I avoid meeting him." Thranduil's voice began to slur.

"Stay awake!" Celeborn ordered with a solid shake of his shoulders. Air picked up fast and turbulent around them. Thranduil would have been troubled of how heavy his head felt if he were not so sleepy. "The ship is here. Thranduil! You said you worried for the girls that were kidnapped. Tell me their names."

Thranduil shook his head and tried to think. Names emerged like objects pulled out of quicksand, slow and slurred. But before the first name left his tongue, darkness claimed him.


Author's Note:

All hail Thranduil's sass.

I am sorry for the late update of this one. Life obligations plus the time it takes to research for this story rarely meet eye to eye in their marriage together.

Do leave a review!