- Chapter 25 -

Shyloh was shown to a room, much to her surprise. She expected to be taken to the dungeons like the rest of her company, but once the polished door closed behind her she let out a loud sigh of relief. However, her thoughts soon turned sour when the lock clicked on her door and her stomach dropped.

"So much for not being a prisoner," she muttered to herself.

Thranduil did not trust her despite Thorin's obvious dismissal of her from his party. Maybe Thranduil was right, maybe Thorin didn't need her anymore. She should go back to Rivendell. Boss was waiting for her with Beorn, perhaps she could borrow a horse to get there, or maybe they'd just make her walk, which she would do without complaint if it meant getting the hell out of here.

The room was huge, and a large bed sat inside a delicately carved stone frame. The engravings on the stone were much the same as the columns that stretched from floor to ceiling throughout the entire Realm. The shafts in the ceiling might have allowed daylight to shine through, but the small openings were dark, and she could tell night was finally here. Heavy torches lit the room, and a fireplace flickered in the far corner, casting the room in a bright orange tinted glow.

A soft knock on the door made her turn and the guard opened the door from the outside to let in two maids. They bobbed their dark and sandy brown heads at her but didn't say anything, as one laid clean clothes and towels for her on the bed, and the other a tray of supper on the small table in the corner.

"Thank you," she said in Sindar as the elleths turned to leave. They only glanced at her before exiting and a soft click by the door handle told her she'd been locked in her room.

"Yup, definitely a prisoner."

The smell of the food was intoxicating so before she even bathed, she washed her hands and ate supper before drawing a hot bath. This was what she had been looking forward to the most. When was the last time she even bathed? She ran the water as hot as she dared, and dumped in a whole bottle of soap. As she sank into the tub, the tension lifted from her body and she let herself succumb to the hot relief the water provided to her muscles. The dirt that clung to her skin lifted away as she soaked, and she dunked her head under the surface promptly. She scrubbed her skin until she was raw and washed her hair twice, feeling like no matter how much she washed, she would never be clean enough.

She tried not to feel guilty about the luxuries she'd been provided, knowing fully that the dwarves wouldn't be receiving these kinds of accommodations in the dungeons. But, if she was dismissed from Thorin's company, then it was alright that she enjoyed her hot meal and bath...right? Even if she herself was a prisoner...

She stayed in the tub until the water grew cold and then she stepped out, wrapping the heavy towels around herself as she did.

The gown the Mirkwood elves provided was deep green with silver bell sleeves and trim. While its fashion was like that of Rivendell's, the material was heavier but still beautiful none the less. She eyeballed her dirty clothes in the pile on the floor near the tub but then scrunched her nose. She supposed she could get creative and wash them in the tub, but they'd still be too wet to wear.

"Suck it up buttercup, or go naked!" Sighing in defeat, she took her own advice and slipped the dress on.

It had a scooped neckline that cut a little lower on her than she was used to, and it was a bit too long for her but she wasn't going to complain. Since leaving Rivendell, this was the first clean outfit she had been able to change into; having lost some of their gear in the goblin tunnels. She reminded herself the gown was probably made for a normal sized elf, not someone who was only 5'8".

Touching her hand to the small gems around her neck, she bit back a sob that threatened to escape. Oh, how she longed for a friendly face. Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts from her mind. She wasn't allowed to think about them. It was her number one rule.

Turning back to the mirror, she brushed out her hair with her fingers and it dried quickly, curling around in its usual annoying spirals. It was no where near as slender and sleek as the redheaded guard's was, because it still stuck out in all different directions, and she pressed her lips together in frustration. Why couldn't her hair cooperate just this once?

This was the first time she actually looked at herself in a mirror since leaving Rivendell to head east. Her hair had grown and was slowly stretching its way to her lower back. Now that the dust, dirt, and grime from the road was washed out, it didn't look half bad, but still not very elvish. Her face was pale but that wasn't uncommon for her, and she could definitely tell her body had toned up from all the miles she'd walked.

The yellowish marks from the goblin King's hands peppered her neck but they were fading. It made her look discolored and she grimaced. Gandalf and the dwarves had clearly not been honest with just how bad she looked after they escaped the mountain. Perhaps it was a good thing she didn't have a mirror after all.

Still - and the dwarves had no issue commenting on this - she was much too thin, despite the fact Bombur cooked hearty meals on a daily basis. She never considered herself beautiful, but she wished she were as pretty as the redheaded she-elf. It hadn't gone unnoticed by her that the handsome captain's eyes flicked to the redhead more than they probably should have, and she felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought. She wondered what it would be like to have him look at her like that and she felt her stomach flutter.

"Oh no!" she gasped, and almost slapped her own cheek to help pull herself from those lucrative thoughts. What was she doing thinking those things? She didn't want to impress anyone! But...if she didn't want to impress anyone, specifically a handsome captain of the guard, much less the King's son, why was her stomach fluttering? What happened to her in the woods? That spark of electricity she felt when she looked at him was the strangest sensation she ever felt in her life. Then he touched her hands while removing the ropes, and the tingling sensation that went up her arms was equally confusing.

It just didn't make sense but his face filled her minds eye. She touched her wrists where the rope had been. The once red marks were turning a nice shade of purple and she groaned inwardly.

Here she was in the Woodland Realm, locked in her room while her companions were locked somewhere below in the dungeons, Bilbo was missing, Gandalf was gone, Thorin hated her, she was miles away from home, she was all alone, and her emotions were playing her like an off tune accordion. She couldn't think about boys right now.

What a mess.

What a big, fricken mess.

"Eliion has been appointed keeper of the keys and Tirion wishes to speak to you concerning the latest shipment from Laketown. He claims the Master's aid is causing issues regarding certain deliveries and would like your input."

Thranduil stood facing the glassy pool of water on the ground, his long silvery robes pooling around his legs. He no longer adorned the crown from earlier, but he still looked every bit a King while he listened to his Captain's latest patrol report. Of course, he would expect a written report to follow their discussion, and as Captain of the Guard, Legolas was no stranger to filing or writing reports.

Tirion's issues he knew would need to be resolved sooner rather than later. For months now, the Master of Laketown's aid has been causing issues for reason's Thranduil could not fathom. He absolutely detested the Master and his greasy haired sidekick, and would have preferred it if they never had to do business together again. However, the Lakemen provided the Realm with fish and other items in exchange for either gold or goods of different sorts. The Master grew fat and wealthy while his people were poverty stricken, but Thranduil couldn't have cared less about the greedy man or his people. He had is own problems to worry over at the moment.

Thranduil turned and gave his son a long, thoughtful look, noting the unusually deep frown upon his Captain's forehead. Normally he would receive a full fledged report of the spiders movements and of the guards latest patrol, right down to the smallest detail as was expected. Tonight, for reasons he had yet to discover, Legolas seemed put off and tense and it reflected in his verbal report. It clearly did not go unnoticed by the King, who stood quietly and listened to each word spoken.

Now as he looked at his son, he noted the tense hunch of his shoulders and the hardened expression upon his face. He was staring at the edge of the pool, arms crossed over his chest, and didn't seem to notice the King was watching him.

"Your report of the patrol seems to be lacking this evening. Were you injured perhaps, while clearing the spiders?"

Legolas' eyes snapped up and he found his father standing in front of him, looking at him with his piercing gaze. The King's eyes were questioning and although he detected a hint of concern, Legolas straighten and his face sobered.

"No Adar, I have not been injured," he said steadily.

"You are sure?"

"Yes, we did the usual checks upon our return."

Thranduil nodded once. "Is there something else on your mind perhaps, that has caused you to be so distracted this evening?"

"No, my Lord," Legolas said almost too quickly.

Thranduil was not so easily convinced. The clouded look in his son's eyes told him something was clearly bothering him but that he would not so easily speak of it. The stubborn set of his son's jaw was not unfamiliar to the King. They were similar that way; both unfathomably stubborn and proud, unwilling to allow their emotions to show on the surface.

"You seem troubled. More so than usual. I do not like playing guessing games, Legolas."

Legolas shifted on his feet ever so slightly and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

"I assure you Adar, my health is fine. I am merely concerned with the arrival of the dwarves."

"The dwarves?" Thranduil asked, raising his eyebrows. Now he was getting somewhere. He did not like his patience to be tested, even by his own son, but he did not like having to pry the troubles out of him either. "What concerns do you have regarding the dwarves?"

"I fear what may come if Thorin Oakenshield agrees to your terms and conditions to return the gems."

Thranduil nodded as he slowly walked the perimeter of the room. Yes, he had the same concerns. Yet, Thorin Oakenshield was not one to easily change his mind, and though he detested having dwarves in his Realm – prisoner or no – he was not so convinced they would be leaving anytime soon.

"The dwarves should be nice and comfortable in their new home," Thranduil said, as he shifted his robe over his arm. "Even if they depart from these lands, I feel their quest will only be in vain. They do not have the skill to slay the dragon, much less reclaim their homelands."

Legolas was silent for a minute, undecided if he should ask his next question, but perhaps it needed to be asked.

"And what of the Princess?"

That peeked the Kings interest and he raised his eyebrows again. "What of her?"

The hesitating pause that lingered might have been a short one, but Thrandul noticed it. Ah, so here we were, finally at the root of the problem.

"If the dwarves leave, will you allow her to go with?"

The King's eyes lingered on his son's back for a moment, before he moved towards a table in the corner.

"She will not be going anywhere. The Princess is a ward of this Realm until I can send her back to Rivendell where she belongs. I would hardly wish to break Lord Elrond's heart if I allowed something to happen to his niece."

"What is to be done with her then?"

Was there a slight edge of concern in the Captain's voice? Perhaps his son's worries were more concentrated around the Princess, and not so much the dwarves...

Thranduil sighed inwardly. "Post a guard at her door and alongside her at all times. She is to have no contact with the dwarves, and she is not allowed one step outside of this Realm until I can be sure it is safe to send her home."

Legolas gave a curt nod, noticing the change in his father's tone. The formality of the King's words were a command, and Legolas did not question his father's orders. Thranduil turned to look once more at his son's reaction, but only found his guard to be composed.

"You are dismissed, Captain."

With another curt nod, Legolas turned on his heel without another word and disappeared up the steps to the higher levels, leaving Thranduil to ponder new thoughts. He had to consider the possibility that his son's sudden distraction wasn't perhaps the dwarves themselves, but with a white haired she-elf instead, and a new worry filled him. It did not escape his attention the way the guards watched her; she was beautiful in her own way and even he could not explain why he felt so protective of her, but perhaps his son was drawn to the Princess in other ways. While Thranduil pondered this new possibility, he quietly awaited the arrival of Tauriel.

When she awoke it was to find she'd been covered with a blanket. She still lay on the couch where she parked her ass earlier, determined to come up with a plan of some sort but the next thing she knew, she was out cold.

Shrugging the blanket off of her, she looked around her room once again. There were no books to read, and the stone walls were blank so she couldn't even occupy her mind with studying the details of the tapestries. Pondering the thought of taking another bath just to help pass the time, her bare feet just touched the cold stone floor when a knock came from her door.

Before she could answer, the door opened and an elleth walked in carrying a tray of food.

"You slept for a long time," the elleth said without looking at her. "Here is your supper."

Confusion nudged her brain. "Not breakfast?"

The elleth looked at her and frowned. "As I said, you slept for a long time. A night and day have passed since your arrival."

Eyes widening in surprise, Shyloh said, "Oh."

The elleth was quiet as she unfolded a bundle of fabric from under her arm, then she pointed to the fresh clothes she laid neatly on the unused bed. "For you to change."

"Thank you," Shyloh said, but the elleth didn't seem to hear because she turned and left the room promptly. Another dress. She missed her leggings, tunic and comfortable boots. When her eyes scanned the floor where she'd left her clothes, it was to find they were gone and her shoulders sank a little. Hopefully she could get them back. Her weapons, too, were still missing but she knew that she definitely wouldn't be getting those back any time soon, if at all.

Biting her lip, she eyeballed the new dress but decided to eat first. Before changing into fresh clothes, she took another hot bath, not feeling the least bit guilty soaking in the water.

Her new dress was dark green with light green bell sleeves. Again, it was a bit too long and she had to lift it up as she walked but she couldn't complain; at least they were clean. She had no visitors aside from the maids that silently waited on her, and she stopped trying to converse with them only because they didn't seem to want anything to do with her. They brought her meals and fresh clothes but that was all.

A rapid knock sounded on her door and it opened before she could even get to it. A fully armed guard met her and she shrunk back a little, stepping on the train of her dress.

"My Lady, you've been summoned by the King," the guard said, stepping aside and gesturing for her to come out into the hall. He had long brown hair and a narrow jawline that was set with a serious expression. His dark brown eyes studied her closely as she stepped out of her room and he led the way down the hall. She was followed by the guard at her door as if she were coming straight from the dungeons themselves.

Doing her best to keep her composure, she walked silently, keeping her eyes focused on the back of the guard in front of her. She brushed a wisp of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear and then firmly clasped her hands in front of her to keep from fidgeting.

Why would the King want to see her? Was it about the dwarves? Could Gandalf finally be here to sort this all out? Did Thorin finally agree to the King's demands and offer him the gems so they could be on their way? So many questions, so many different possibilities of what could happen ran through her head, only increasing the tension she felt building up. None of the things she thought of had good outcomes and she briefly saw herself being thrown into a cell in the deepest, darkest corner of the realm, never to see the light again.

"My Lord," the guard's voice in front of her snapped her out of her awful thoughts and she looked up for the first time. They were standing in a large room, much unlike the throne room. It was oval, with floor to ceiling pillars that were carved just as delicately as the ones she saw earlier. The pool off to the right was like an underground lake and water bubbled up from the rock wall and trickled down, sending ripples over the glassy surface. The sound of a waterfall echoed off in the distance.

Along the wall to her left was a comfortable looking bench. Stairways branched off from the left of the room, heading up or down and spiraling out of sight to unknown destinations. She knew without a doubt that it would be easy for her to get lost in the endless tunnels. The space was beautiful and the babbling water broke the silence making it feel like the perfect place for yoga or meditation. The thought was pushed from her head though, when the guard spoke and her eyes flickered to the King. He stood across the space, facing away from them, dressed so elegantly he easily ousted her. He stood with the Prince and two others she assumed were members of his counsel, based on the circlets of silver they wore upon their brows. The King's silver hair wasn't adorned by the crown of branches though, and instead wore a simpler silver circlet.

His council members regarded Shyloh with judgmental gazes, as if they weren't quite sure what to make of her. They were tall and regal looking, with dark brown or red hair. The stern looks on their faces stayed put as the King dismissed them with a flick of his hand. Her guard left then also, but when Legolas made to leave the King called him back. The Prince looked clearly perplexed by his King's sudden demand but did not question it as he looked between his father and Shyloh.

She bowed when the King finally turned towards her but she dared not look at the Prince. For what ever reason, his presence made her feel even more uneasy.

"I trust you are well rested? I can only imagine your journey has been exhausting to say the least, what with traveling with dwarves and all."

"I'm feeling much better now, thank you," she said slowly. He nodded in approval but she was worried he would question her about her trip with the dwarves. Much to her surprise, he changed the subject.

"Tell me, daughter of Atanalcar, have you attended Mereth Nuin Giliath in Rivendell?"

She hesitated and was a very surprised by the question. It was certainly one she wasn't prepared for, and the Prince's head jerked up at the mention of the feast. The Feast of Starlight wasn't unknown to her, and they did celebrate it in Rivendell, although she'd always found it hard to participate in some of the more special occasions. She'd never been much of a party girl, and drinking was never something she did often, nor did she have much of a tolerance for it. But he didn't care about that, he was waiting for her answer so she nodded.

"Yes my Lord," she said politely. "We celebrate Mereth Nuin Giliath back home."

"I would like to extend the invitation to you to join us tomorrow, Princess," he said, surprising her completely. Legolas shifted suddenly as if he might object, but he locked his jaw and said nothing. The King noticed out of the corner of his eye, silently noting his son's reaction.

She tried to decipher if there was a slightly different tone that he used, or if there was a hint of...something...that would tell her this was a trick but she came up empty. His words were wholesome and his tone as gentle as it had been while he was questioning her in the throne room. He was very much unlike the King she'd heard so much about from the dwarves.

Too late, she'd been stunned into silence for too long and he turned away from her towards a table off to her right, where various bottles and glasses were set.

"I know what you're thinking," he said steadily, his tone changing just the slightest. "However you need not fear ramifications nor judgment for traveling with the dwarves; noble as your intentions were. Mithrandir has a habit of turning situations into much more than they need be, yet I do not see him here before me encouraging the release of your dwarvish friends. I say 'friends' lightly, as it would seem Thorin Oakenshield has dismissed you from his company."

She swallowed hard. The sting she felt from Thorin's accusations were still fresh in her memory and she pressed her eyes closed tightly, doing her best to clear her head of the Thorin's hurtful echoing words.

"I have no doubt they have spoken ill of me before you," he turned his head towards her once again and peered at her curiously. "And while I am not tolerant of dwarves, you yourself have nothing to fear."

"As proved by the lock on my door and the guard at my heels," she said quietly, not meeting his gaze right away. "Am I not also a prisoner of sorts?"

"I assure you the accommodations you have received are far better than those currently residing in the dungeons," he reminded her easily, "and as for the lock on the door, it is merely for your protection."

"Am I in danger?" she asked, her eyes snapping to him.

"Not by myself nor any of those that dwell in the Woodland Realm," he said. "However, I fear your dwarvish company has unknowingly roused cause for concern. I feel something is near and can not risk you doing something foolish to injure yourself or my people for the sake of the dwarves."

She stiffened and her face paled.

The orcs.

He noticed her change in expression immediately. "You are aware of something?" His eyes bore into her and she felt herself shrink under his gaze. Legolas stared at her, dreading the countless answers she might give.

"We had some issues with orcs and goblins on the road prior to arriving here, but upon entering the Wood we only encountered the spiders." It wasn't exactly a lie. She had no idea if the orcs had followed them into the Wood or not, especially if Beorn was still patrolling the outer edges. She had no idea if the orcs would take on a creature like the skin-changer, but if they did, she worried what kind of chance Beorn would stand against them.

He eyed her curiously but said no more. She was such a small thing for an elf, and seemed very young, too young, yet there was something about her that puzzled him. He could feel it in his chest that there was more to her than meets the eye. It was hard not to like her even though he had only spent a few minutes in her company.

She was quite beautiful, but she did not carry herself as if she were aware of such knowledge, and he had no doubt she was blind to that fact. Her strikingly white hair was the same shade as the full moon that hung above them in the sky tonight.

"How are the dwarves?" she asked hesitantly, breaking the length of silence as he pondered his own thoughts while she stood there quietly. "Are they alright?"

He turned back to look at her, not surprised that she was asking such a thing. He wondered why it had taken so long for her to inquire about their well being. The concern written on her face was obvious that she was worried for the dwarves, and once again he was struck with how odd that was. Elves and dwarves were much too different from each other and it wasn't natural. Yet here she was, standing before him, an elf, inquiring about the welfare of a bunch of unsavory dwarves for reasons he could not fathom. What Elrond had been thinking to allow his niece to travel with them he could not understand. Then again, the half-elf's foresight could have possibly told him something that had yet to reveal itself, and the Lord of Rivendell was not usually wrong...

"They fare well," he said simply. "They should be nice and comfortable. I believe they like living in holes in the ground, so they should feel right at home."

She shivered again at his velvety voice. His disdain for the dwarves was obvious in his tone and it made her press her lips together. She just couldn't understand why elves and dwarves were supposed to hate each other so much. Thorin had told her about Thranduil's lack of aid when Smaug claimed Erebor for his own and she could understand why the dwarves would be so hostile. But, she could also see why Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of a fire breathing dragon. If the dwarves had been unsuccessful in defending their own home against Smaug, and the city of Dale had gone up in flames like a toothpick, surely the Woodland Realm could have easily been destroyed as well...

She sighed inwardly. Men.

I know Thranduil is known for being a prick, but he also loves his people and is super protective of them. I wanted to kind of show both sides of his personality. I always liked Thranduil's character though, so I apologize in advance if he isn't always a tool bag :D.

-S