Oropher looked up, his crown combed tight into his hair, as someone entered his tent. He set aside his quill and regarded Ailunai as she bowed.

"My king," Ailunai said. "Come walk with me."

Oropher lingered over the power of her voice, half-determined to reject her because of her tone but also pulled toward the shine in her eyes. He selected a pale green mantle, slid his sword into his belt, and gestured for her to lead the way.

Ailunai walked lightly from the King's tent, her arms swinging gently at her sides. "If you wish an escort, please summon one. I intend to leave the camp."

Oropher waved his hand. "There is no danger. Scouts attend the border. I deeply hope this is of some small importance."

Ailunai's scalp tingled at his tone. She kept her voice level. "Of course, my king. It is of the utmost importance."

The two left the camp and walked out into the open wood on a path parallel to the border. They passed under hanging vines and through the shadows of the great trees, some shaggy with bark. Ailunai's step seemed to clear a way through the underbrush and, as briars bowed aside for her, they snapped back into place after Oropher passed through.

In the quiet with only birdsong and the miniscule step of scattered deer, Ailunai clasped her hands behind her back. "Before I joined this quest, my king, I received a letter from my father. He recalled me home with news he has selected a husband for me and set a date for my wedding."

"Excellent news," Oropher said coldly. "I regret I have not done the same for Thranduil."

Ailunai smiled and laughed a little. "Indeed, my king. I confess I have been preoccupied with the unfortunate news of my betrothal since leaving the palace. I will not marry a man selected for me, but I did not know how to move forward. I . . . despaired. I felt sorrow and tangible death all around me. I came to think you were correct; the forest here was being destroyed."

A gleam of satisfaction entered Oropher's blue eyes. "I am pleased. Perhaps your words will finally quench the foolishness of Thranduil's rebellion."

"Yet," said Ailunai, "As it so often does for me, Mirkwood's roots came to me. Sitting with my sorrow I began to feel the ground around me. I began to listen past the ache of my heart and hear the voices of the forest. I felt life. I found clarity."

Ailunai walked backwards with her arms wide. "My king, the forest here is bursting with life! Where I first saw shorn stumps and pits torn up by dislodged roots, I now see intention. The humans here have forged their own relationship with Mirkwood. They have not brought only axes and saws; they have brought the intentions taught to them not only by the elves who have befriended them but also the knowledge the forest has imparted."

Oropher laughed. "Surely you do not suggest man has taken up our practices."

"I need not suggest it," Ailunai said. "I see it. I observed the human woodcutters. They come with open hearts and, as we used to do, cut only the dead, the dying, and the misplaced trees to create room for new growth. They cut the trees that signal they are willing and proud to be born into a new life."

"Rubbish!" Oropher barked. A stag burst past him, startled, and disappeared into the brush.

Ailunai held up a hand. "There is more. The woodcutters plant seeds. All around you, for every tree cut down, a seed is planted. In this earth, thousands of seedlings are growing. I feel their young lives under my feet."

"How easy it is to lay claim to something no one else can see."

Ailunai breathed deep, the smile growing on her face. She twirled, her skirts swishing out around her, turning into the wind. Her hair raced backwards as she ran, fingers combing the air. Joyous, alive, her happiness perfumed the grove, and, in her wake, hundreds of small trees unfurled into Oropher's view.

Oropher stood, turning in a slow circle to witness the beauty of the baby saplings pushing up with their first leaves. The trees above seemed to reach down with their shadows to greet their young relations before straightening upwards and realigning their branches to let sunshine in. The dead branches of Oropher's crown sparked with green life at their tips.

The moment broke, cruelly dashed against the sharpest rocks as a heavy, spiked net wrapped around him. The tiny spokes bit into his flesh and laced his arms to his side. Oropher toppled, the brass balls at the corners of the net smashing him to the earth. He could not see Ailunai, but he heard her scream before a sickening thud forced him into bleeding darkness.

Oropher came to with a groan and squinted into blackness. It turned grey and then dim as his eyes cleared. The pain surprised him; it had been centuries since ropes burned into his wrists. He struggled to sit upright against a dirt wall.

He alone occupied a dark, cool cellar. Stairs formed out of the earth led upwards to a door in the wall above him. His lips twisted at the earth smeared across his mantle. The brown stains mixed with dried rivers of blood where the net's spikes had gouged deep.

The door opened and light stung his eyes. Oropher turned his face away to clear his vision. Many feet stomped toward him. Rough hands dug into his shoulder and jerked him around.

"How dare you lay your cursed hands on me?" Oropher spat into the eyes of the people clustered around him. "You will die under the wreckage of this; a foul stain upon the land!"

The man punched him. Under his rage, as the pain shone through, Oropher came to realize he was alone. No guards. No palace walls. Nothing. Twenty men and women, the hate and anger in their blood radiating out to drown him. When he looked up, he fought the fear out of his eyes.

The man in front of him let go out Oropher's arm. His fingers left behind red marks. He held up Oropher's crown and, maliciously, flung it on the floor and crushed it underfoot. Oropher winced.

"See it," the man snarled. "You are nothing here."

"The woman," Oropher said. The spark of Ailunai's life pricked him. "What have you done with her?"

"You deserve no answers! Your wickedness, from hundreds of miles away, has hung like a shadow across our homes since we came here. You have harassed us, terrorized us, reduced our lives to ashes multiple times. You do not own the land!"

"I am King of Mirkwood! It is my duty to protect it from the disrespectful, destructive, infinite rats' man always becomes. Look what you have done to the forests in the rest of the world."

"We," said the man. "Are not our kin."

Oropher laughed scornfully. "Fine words from a barbarian raised on the wisdom of jackals! You will pay dearly for this."

To which the gathered people chortled. A man with a close-shaven beard and narrowed brown eyes leaned close. His black hair brushed Oropher's cheek. "We despise you, demon king. We need you alive, but I dare say your people will bargain for you broken bones and all."

A shiver left the hardpacked earth and ran up Oropher's spine. The man turned as a woman came down the stairs and murmured into his ear.

The man grabbed Oropher's arm and jerked him to his feet. The remaining shreds of his mantle tore off him and joined his broken crown on the floor. Oropher resisted but was pushed and prodded up the stairs at knife point into the light. He twisted at his ropes, noticing the people he passed stop to spit in his direction. The bearded man gripped his arm and, in company of the armed humans behind him, approached the exit built into the stockade.

Mounted on horseback with Hyrondal holding Mirkwood's flag at his side, Captain Yuai glanced at him before riding forward a few meters from the sixteen armed elves behind him.

"Eragion," Yuai said, inclining his head. "I see you do indeed hold our King. I am prepared to negotiate the price of his freedom."

Oropher shrugged Eragion's grip off his arm. He shouted to Yuai, "Not one coin goes to this filth! Kill them now!"

Yuai's horse shifted. The Captain of the Guard said, "Forgive me, my king, but I prefer to avoid bloodshed until the last possible moment. Eragion, I hope we can communicate."

Oropher shifted his blazing eyes to the sixteen warriors. "Hear the command of your King! Burn this bloody village to the ground; slay those who stained the flesh of Mirkwood's royal."

Eragion twisted Oropher's arm. "Silence!"

Oropher winced. He met Eragion's eyes. "I see the cowardice in your eyes."

The man twisted. Oropher grunted and stumbled to one knee. Eragion kept twisting. Oropher's scream drowned the pop of his bone from its shoulder socket. The hate of the man entered Oropher's body. With tears in his eyes, he began to see the horror he had created.

"We are not ready to part with your King," Eragion said to Yuai pleasantly. "You know we have him. That is enough for now—one step more and I behead him." Oropher felt the steel at his throat.

Yuai pulled his horse backward. Hyrondal leaned to whisper down his ear. Yuai said crisply, "I understand your situation, Eragion, but understand my duty is to my King. He will be recovered, dead or alive, and how you are treated afterwards will depend on his condition."

He wheeled his horse and cut through his warriors to resume his place at the head of the line. Hyrondal met Oropher's eyes before he turned his horse and caught up to Yuai.

"Fool elf," Eragion said scornfully. "What use have we for money?" He dragged Oropher to his feet, shoved him at the closest man, and walked away.

Gratitude for your continuous and enthusiastic reading!

Next Chapter: Jailil attends to his King.