Thranduil awoke fresh from a nightmare in black and red with an anvil in his stomach. He sat up straight on his narrow divan, blankets and pillows sliding to the floor.

Silence. No breath whispered quietly from Oropher's side of the bedroom. He strained; the front of the tent was empty too.

Panic. Thranduil leapt out of bed and clambered into his clothes. Braiding his hair as he ran, he burst out of the tent and slammed into Hyrondal. The two tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Hyrondal propped himself up on his elbows cheerfully as Thranduil, slumped across his legs, groaned.

"Knew you would wake up in a fright," Hyrondal said.

Thranduil grabbed him by the shoulders. "Hyrondal! Where is Oropher? Tell me now!"

Hyrondal smacked his hands away and stood up. "Look around you. Save ten warriors, every elf is accounted for. Oropher has not gone to war while you slept. And," he added painfully, "I would have woken you if he had. What kind of friend do you take me for?"

Thranduil sighed. "I am sorry, Hyrondal. I know I am edgy."

Hyrondal slapped him on the back. "Think nothing of it! Come eat some breakfast. Nimrethil manages to turn out edible, dare I say delicious meals, even out here in the wilderness. Tis a far cry from the paltry fare Yuai and I are used to on our scouting trips. Gourmet food, Thranduil!"

"I see Nimrethil is not idle," Thranduil remarked. As he approached Nimrethil's blazing cooking fire, the flames reaching to her hip despite its deep pit, he saw she had cleared the land around her of brush and ordered logs dragged in for seating. Vertical stumps made improvised tables. Her covered wagon and supply carts created a wall behind her.

Nimrethil grinned at Thranduil as he approached. "So glad you could join us. I reserved a small spot for us just yonder where I can keep a close eye on these young fools." She jerked her head at the team of kitchen-clad maids and assistants teaming behind her.

Nimrethil barked at an elf and thrust her turning fork into his hand before she walked with Thranduil and Hyrondal to a cluster of logs around a huge stump laid with food a few paces away. She sat facing the fire

"You would not believe how long it takes to cook a couple deer," she said cheerfully. "Why, I practically have to start preparations for the noon meal right after breakfast."

Joined by Jailil, Delya, and Ailunai, the six started into the array of food, complete with fresh fruit, butter, and toast.

"Hyrondal does not jest when he congratulates your gourmet cooking," Thranduil told Nimrethil as he buttered a croissant.

Nimrethil batted her eyes at the apprentice. "So kind you are, sir. No, no, it is simple, really, to bake a thousand croissants, you know, with the lovely heat that fire gives off."

Hyrondal shot Thranduil a venomous look. "Tell me, Ailunai, what says the forest?"

Ailunai glanced up, startled. "I . . . am not yet certain. Oropher had ridden forth with his captains to survey the settlement. I believe after he returns and announces his next move, I will be able to pick up a clearer message."

"How is the leg?" Jailil asked.

"I barely feel it," Thranduil answered. "Delya's salve certainly is excellent."

"She gets it from me," Jailil said saucily, and hugged the lady to him.

Nimrethil bounced to her feet as horses' hooves clattered into camp, headed by Mirkwood flags. "Must be off! The King has returned, you know, and I must head my post."

She hurried back to the fire and importantly took the turning fork from the elf standing there. Head held high; she carefully inspected the whole deer slowly roasting over the fire.

Hyrondal swigged down the last off his coffee and put the mug down as he stood up. "Yuai will be back with the King. He will want to see me."

"You should speak to Oropher before he makes a rash move," Ailunai said to Thranduil. She smiled. Faintly.

Thranduil watched her walk away. She had not eaten much. When he looked up from her plate, she was gone.

Delya stood up quickly with Thranduil. "I will speak to her. Let me speak to her. You talk to your abar."

"She is marvelous," Jailil said admirably, looking after Delya. He winked at Thranduil as he contentedly enjoyed the last of the food. Thranduil strode away, hands clenched, toward the King's tent.

Delya caught swiftly up to Ailunai walking restlessly around the perimeter of the camp. They passed the horse enclosures.

"Even Thranduil, blindly in love, knows something troubles you," Delya said. "What is it?"

Ailunai shook her head. "I wish I were you, Delya. I would gladly give up even my connection to the trees for the simple openness of your life."

"Crafting balms and salves and sterilizing needles?" Delya laughed. "I think not."

Ailunai twisted her hands. "I envy you and Jailil, Delya. I envy the honesty of your love. I see you sitting together, hugging, and kissing without having to look over your shoulder to see if you will be seen—without having to worry what gossip will be spread. The wine merchant's daughter kissing the prince!"

Ailunai flung herself down on mossy tree root and buried her face in her hands. Delya sat down beside her and put a hand on Ailunai's shoulder.

"I know Thranduil does not think of you as the wine maker's daughter, Ailunai. He does not look at you and see only rank and bloodline."

"Oropher does. While he draws breath, we have no hope of marriage. And," Ailunai whispered, "My father has given my hand to a man I have not met. When I return home, he expects me to return home and be wed." She grabbed Delya's hand. "Not a word to Thranduil! He does not know. He has much on his mind already and—I will tell him . . . soon."

"No wonder you are miserable!" Delya exclaimed. "Do you intend to return home to be wed?"

Ailunai's lips twisted. "I do not know. If there is no future with Thranduil ahead . . . what else can I do?" She rose abruptly and walked away.

Delya clasped her hands behind her back and, brow furrowed, returned to the white tents where Jailil, much like Nimrethil, had established his base.

Thranduil, meanwhile, cornered Oropher in the King's tent.

"Good morning," Oropher greeted him, unrolling a map on the desk in front of him and weighing down the curling corners with paperweights.

"I understand you rode to see the settlement," Thranduil said.

Oropher raised his eyebrows. "Indeed. The men have built a stockade about their settlement. I do not wish this unpleasant business to cost elvish blood so we must carefully plan our attack."

"Seeing what you did, you still come away with violence in your heart?"

"I know not what you saw, Thranduil, but I experienced a stain on the fabric of Mirkwood. It is a stain I intend to wash out."

"Evidently." Thranduil left the word hanging in the air of the tent. As he left, he passed Yuai and his fellow captains going in.

Hyrondal fell into step beside him. "I am not invited to the stratagem meeting. I wish to see the settlement causing all this fuss!"

"You will be disappointed when you see it, maybe even a little horrified," Thranduil replied. He gestured to the tress. "Come, I need some air."

The two passed over the camp by way of the branches and soon took up stands in the tree line looking out over the settlement. Having come closer to the place with Hyrondal than he had with Ailunai, Thranduil crouched with his chin on one hand and looked down.

Hyrondal tilted his head. "I suspect I will hear a fine story from Yuai come close of the stratagem meeting. It brings me pain to say but, with the forces Oropher has brought, the settlement will too easily crumble."

Thranduil glanced back at the cluster of houses protected behind a stockade of bark-stripped logs. The gay clothing of children splashed among the greying homes; a pack of youngsters ran in circles around the town well. In the gardens behind each home, he saw women in colorful skirts bending among the rows and heard the chortling laughter of the men holding vegetable baskets.

"I do not see the harm Oropher claims they are causing. I—"

"Shh!" Hyrondal said. He knelt on the branch and gestured downward.

Thranduil saw two young people sprinting along a thin strip of path below him. Playful, girl and boy shoved at each other until suddenly they tensed. Their backs pressed to the closest trees and knives flashed into their hands.

Hyrondal raised his eyebrows at Thranduil. "I believe they heard us." He swung off his branch and dropped twenty feet lightly to the ground crouched. Thranduil followed.

"You!" the girl spat. Her hand clenched on her knife.

"I do not believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance," Thranduil replied mildly.

"An elf is an elf," she replied defiantly. She glared at Hyrondal in his green and gold uniform with a sword at his hip and a bow across his back. "I know a butcherer when I see one. You have come to drive us out! We will die to the last among us before we budge."

"My dear lady!" Hyrondal objected. "I wear the uniform of the Mirkwood guard, but I have never taken an innocent life. I am not here to start now. My name is Hyrondal. This is Thranduil."

Hatred entered her black eyes. "I think no less of you. Son of an orc!"

"Prince," Hyrondal added, crossing his arms. "Prince Thranduil."

Interest entered the eyes of the young man. "Prince Thranduil? I have heard of you. You are not a butcher. You are held in high regard."

Thranduil's eyebrows shot up. "I was unaware you knew of me. Among whom am I held in high regard?"

The two humans exchanged wary glances before the girl said, "My name is Sigayan. This is my brother, Darvine. The elves of Buried Creek who do not treat us like filth speak your name as if is the only thing they are proud of."

"Buried Creek," Thranduil said thoughtfully. "Your people interact with them?"

"We have relations with them," Sigayan answered. "Their village is the closest to ours. Our hunters first discovered it several years ago whilst hunting. The elves there are not . . . aggressive."

"It is a scout outpost," Thranduil told her with a smile. "But I am relieved you have proof not all elves are—"

"Bullies," she said.

Thranduil frowned. Sigayan laughed. "I would invite you to meet our father, but I am afraid you might be treated poorly because of the stress we are all under."

"I do not intend to let there be bloodshed," Thranduil answered. He watched the siblings go before he nodded to Hyrondal and the two broke into a silent run toward Buried Creek. A small settlement between four knobby hills several miles into the wood, built mostly into the hillside, it housed rotations of border scouts and their families. He and Hyrondal spoke to the elves there are came away saddened by the general loyalty felt toward duty but hopeful.

Thank you all so much for reading! I am really delighted you are loyal to each new chapter. New readers: Welcome!

Next Chapter: Oropher is . . . captured.