Fireflies and stars joined Thranduil for dinner as he sat out on a low log beside a campfire smelling the rabbit sizzle. All around him tents were illuminated or blotted out by fires struck up by the resting Mirkwood guard.

Hyrondal leaned forward to turn the rabbit on its spit. Thranduil turned his head as he heard Nimrethil laughing beyond the second ragged row of tents. The yellow aura of her cooking fire speared up above the points of the tents.

The rabbit spat fat into the fire and a spark flew up as Thranduil listened to the low voices of the elven warriors gathered around their fires. His heart sat like an undigested rock in his chest at their light tone and humorous conversation.

Yuai sat down beside Thranduil and flung his cloak off onto the grass. "The Crown Prince of Mirkwood looks glum indeed!"

"He refused to join Oropher in the King's suite at Moss Knoll Inn," Hyrondal said, and grinned.

"I did not refuse!" Thranduil snapped. "I simply did not make myself available to be prevailed upon. I confess I am surprised to see you here, Yuai. Oropher booked out half the inn for his company and captains."

"I prefer the company of the troops," Yuai said quietly. "I find it more real."

"I do not feel the hearts in these people," Thranduil replied. "I cannot fathom their willingness to partake in the bloodshed and butchery soon to come."

"It is a warrior's first duty to obey the call of his commander," Yuai said. 'And a commander's first duty to obey the call of his King."

Thranduil frowned. Hyrondal said, "A Warrior's Way teaches otherwise. You will never find me taking innocent life." He broke the rabbit into pieces and served it out alongside heaping's of Nimrethil's coleslaw and bread.

Thranduil moved further down the log as Ailunai stepped up behind him and sat down with a plate warm with food from Nimrethil's fire. "It is a warm night," she said.

"It will freeze over if Oropher discovers Nimrethil appointed herself chef to the troops," Thranduil joked.

Ailunai smiled indulgently. "It is a matter of when. Soon enough we will venture forth into land bereft of inns. I dread to think of whom will struggle to erect the King's tent night after night."

"I will be expected to share it with him!" Thranduil exclaimed.

Ailunai raised her eyebrows. "Do not alarm yourself, Thranduil! You have been tense since we left the palace. The forest is at peace."

"Will it still be at peace when we reach the border?"

"I do not know," Ailunai replied. "I know where I stand on the matter. I know I will do all I can to bring the voice of the forest to negotiations for peace. Live life as it comes to you, Thranduil. Allow yourself to relax. Look around you; we are a company on a quest. We think we know what we seek but perhaps our prize will be unexpected. Be open to the possibilities."

"It is about time someone lectured him," Hyrondal said cheerfully. "He has been terrible the past week."

Thranduil glared at him before he lapsed into a smile. "Perhaps I have been out of touch with the forest too long."

"You cannot think ahead to a solution for a situation you have yet to witness," Ailunai said. Her voice lingered.

The weight of the ring box weighed down on Thranduil's heart as he looked at her. He wanted to leave it behind; tuck it between a birch tree root and a rock and forget about it. Let the earth break down the sneering emerald and compost the velvet of the box.

Tucked instead in one of his saddlebags, caught between the hammer and anvil of his mind and heart, Thranduil said nothing. His silence lasted until the border came into view.

Through the last line of great trees, Thranduil saw the tall grass of the plains wavering in the breeze. Pressed flat, it sprang back up again; a mass that stretched beyond his gaze and descended into the dips and curves of small valleys and hills.

The scouts sent out ahead of the main body emerged out of the trees and hailed the company. Thranduil saw them speaking to Yuai, heads closed, gesturing along the tree line to the far left. He assumed the human settlement lay in that direction.

The army spread out to erect their tents, building a camp almost identical to the ones they had built every night during their march. Thranduil saw the green and gold colors of Oropher's tent off center on the left of the circle. A moment later the flags rippled forth.

Thranduil left his horse in the hands of the elves roping off sections around the open grass between the trees. Ailunai joined him. She gestured. "The settlement is this way."

Thranduil glanced over his shoulder at the encampment. To avoid the hustle, he took to the trees. He reached down to offer Ailunai a hand, but she was already standing light beside him, her blue shoes bluer against the dark bark.

"These trees are old," Ailunai said, her arms outstretched for balance as she walked the broad limbs smoothed down the center where many feet had trod. "Oak and poplar, birch and locust were among the first trees to create Mirkwood."

The trees were wide and twisted, firmly rooted, and brilliantly leafed. Their branches stretched high and broad, allowing for pathways to be formed among the very makeup of their bodies. Thranduil and Ailunai walked easily, noting the smooth places against the trunk where scouts often sat whittling and listening.

Prince and tree oracle passed over the camp by easy way of the branches that reached out to each other tree to tree. Looking down Thranduil smiled to see Nimrethil beside her covered wagon, hands on her hips, as she surveyed the area and commanded her assistants to set up a manageable cooking space. Already a pit was being dug for a fire.

Thranduil and Ailunai approached the border. The trees closest to the start of grass were the biggest and grandest, as if they knew their proud trunks were the kingdom wall. Standing on a branch, Thranduil and Ailunai held onto a jutting vertical limb and looked out past the last leaf.

The human settlement was a large one stretching back into the forest line by way of thatched houses and barns. Thranduil saw children running in circles around the well at the center of the village. Small, he heard their voices.

"It is a peaceful place," Ailunai said. She flattened her palm against the branch. "I sense no discomfort from the forest. I do not understand Oropher's hate."

Thranduil scanned the forest floor as he walked back the way they had come. He picked up on paths created by hunters and deer and noticed the overgrowth grew tamer.

"There," he said. "Stumps."

Ailunai looked. Scattered among the trees were the flat, decomposing tops of stumps. Wide enough to sit around or small enough to sit on, stumps popped out of the grass or peeked from under briars.

Ailunai shook her head and frowned. "I still sense no . . . resistance from the trees. I would feel something if the humans had done the forest harm. I will stay here a while, Thranduil, you go on ahead."

Thranduil glanced at her. Her shoulders pinched together with her brow. "What is troubling you?"

Ailunai smiled but her eyes remained troubled. "I will communicate with Mirkwood and see if I can discover its wishes. My worries . . . can wait."

Thranduil walked on alone. He turned back a moment before stepping onto the next tree branch. Ailunai sat dangling her legs, hands clasped in her lap, looking down as if the sky pressed on her shoulders.

Uneasy, Thranduil coasted down the length of the long trunk and set foot on solid ground. He followed a thin path further into the trees, allowing his ears and the faint smell of smoke to lead him toward the elven camp.

As the first flashes of white and green tents glimpsed into view between the trees, Thranduil walked parallel to a tall embankment of briars. His ears pricked up. He turned in time to catch a flash of steel.

Thranduil ducked into a roll and came up crouched, hand on his sword. He narrowed his eyes at the man standing in front of him. The man bared his teeth, fingers clenched on a slender dagger.

"I mean you no harm," Thranduil said.

The words meant nothing. The man came at him again, stabbing. Thranduil rolled aside to his feet and danced back, leaving his sword sheathed.

"Demon child!" the man spat. "I have seen your army with my own eyes. You mean to slaughter us like the orcs plaguing your precious forest!"

Thranduil posed, ready to dodge. "Those are the needs of my King Oropher. I do not share his wishes. Mine are peaceful intentions. I wish to live in unison."

"I believe no words spat forth from the forked tongue of an elf. You have troubled us before, tried to drive us off. This is our land!"

Thranduil heard the desperation in his voice. He saw the frustration glance off the man's blade. He realized he could not negotiate; could not speak past the hatred in the man's eyes. Quietly, saddened, he dashed up the tree trunk at his left.

A brief burst of pain skidded across his leg. Thranduil glanced down at the man's dagger buried in the bark. Blood oozed out of a slash across his left shin were steel had cut back the cloth and his flesh. Even in peace, he could not come out ahead.

Oropher raged. Thranduil's small wince, despite Jailil's ministrations, caught his eye the moment Thranduil stepped into the King's tent.

"You have been attacked!" Oropher sputtered. "How dare man lay hand on the Crown Prince of Mirkwood! I will have him beheaded in front of his wretched village!"

"I cut myself on a rock," Thranduil replied calmly.

Oropher stepped up into his face and glared at him. "Lies."

Thranduil sat upon a high-backed daybed near the tent wall. He faced Oropher's massive oak desk. "I cut myself on a rock. I have seen the human settlement, Oropher. The bloodshed you have planned cannot pass."

"It need not be bloodshed, Thranduil, if the humans consented to leaving. Unfortunately, our previous routing of their foul race continuously results in their coming back."

"This is their home, Oropher! Where do you expect them to go?"

"Anywhere else," Oropher replied. He flung himself, mantel whooshing, into the behind his desk.

Thranduil gazed at him in disgust. He tried to stop his lip from curling, but it twisted. Footsteps approaching the tent gave him an excuse to quickly look away. Setting sunlight glanced through the open tent entrance and briefly silhouetted Nimrethil balancing a massive tray on her shoulders.

She clashed it down on a small table set near the tent wall dividing the main front from the small sleeping quarters behind.

"My!" Nimrethil exclaimed, tossing her head to clear hair from her eyes. "You live in comfort, Thranduil, whilst I slave away to provide food for a thousand hungry warriors. In terrible cooking conditions too, I might add."

"You appointed yourself to the task, I might add," Thranduil told her as he hugged her.

Nimrethil regarded his suspiciously. "What is this unexpected showing of affection? Had a spat with Ailunai and need a breast to cry on?"

Thranduil chuckled. "No. I am relieved, Nimrethil, to have my friends with me when I need their support."

Nimrethil shook a finger at him. "As if I have time to lounge and make small talk! Barely a competent soul in the place to tend the fire. I expect you to advocate for the comfort of the cooking staff, Thranduil, and see to it those wretched elves daring to think themselves above common labor because of some fancy insignia gather me wood with a smile!"

Thranduil's grin broke his face. "I am surprised, Nimrethil, you cannot handle them."

"Oh, I can," Nimrethil assured him. "And I am. But only you can order them to smile."

She whirled, bowed. "My king." She flounced her head and rushed out of the tent.

Thranduil stood up slowly and pulled out his chair at the table for two. Oropher joined him with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"I suspected I tasted Nimrethil's cooking the long journey here," Oropher remarked. "I was certain; however, I requested the service of Dallyon."

"You did," Thranduil answered shortly.

"I take it you and Nimrethil are not the only familiar faces I will soon see."

Thranduil looked at him bitterly. "No. If you had . . . interacted beyond your small circle of elites perhaps you would know the names of the elves you ask to spill innocent blood."

Oropher raised his eyebrows and laughed. "Do you try to tell me you know the names of every elf in this camp?"

Thranduil picked up his fork. "Yes."

Loved writing the chapters to come! Passions are things I believe in.

Thank you for your continuous enjoyment of this tale! I love hearing from you.

Next Chapter: Ailunai is troubled.