The Beginning of a Beautiful End

Chapter Eight—Interrogation and a Slice of Despondency

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A/N: Well, forgive me everyone. I'm terribly sorry I haven't updated in-how many months?-Oh, I don't want to even look. It's just that during summer, inspiration disappeared like a wisp of cloud. I just couldn't write anything presentable. I know that's hardly an excuse, but I'm going to try and make it up to all of ya'll. Okay? Anyway, I'm not going to be surprised if none of my faithful readers show up to read my story again, but I guess I get what I deserve. At any rate, I'm going to try to be seriously dedicated to my chapters now. I promise.

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Elros

There are few things in this world that bother me to any real degree, but interrogation is certainly one of them. Especially for something I've no clue about. For instance, when I was little and my big brothers got into trouble, they'd always manage to turn the whole affair upon myself, so that nana would end up questioning me. I've bad memories of this type of non-trust, so imagine my horror and unhappiness when I learned that the king would like a "word" with me. Hardly the type of thing a young elfling would like to hear when he's trying to be a good friend by speaking to Legolas while he's confined to his room. I thought I was in trouble for sure.

The situation went like this: I was currently climbing into a tree that looked into Legolas' upper-level room in the cave. He was one of the few elves granted this mercy, for there were few other windows in the entire kingdom. My leg was spanning a great breadth, for I was trying to reach it across to another branch closer to Legolas' window. Legolas, naturally, was watching eagerly from inside while I performed this feat, and, of course, during the climax of my rather awkward and daring exploit a voice sounded behind me nearly making me fall all fifteen feet to the ground.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure you should be up here," I reached the other branch and turned about to see a rather cheeky elf sitting on top of the split in the tree trunk that led off into the other branches, "In the manner of duty, I really should report back to the king that his little son's friend is trying to thwart his well-planned punishment."

I gulped and behind me I heard Legolas quickly pull a drape across the window. I could clearly see the royal insignia upon the opposing elf's breast, and I knew he was a imperial messenger. "Please don't, sir," I squeaked, "the king would have me log-rolling for the rest of my immortal life."

"Oh, dear. Well we can't have that," said the young messenger elf swinging down from the tree acrobatically, "I know all about that horrid log-rolling. My father punished me with that castigation a few times as well, if I recall correctly. And I always do."

Not entirely sure of this elf's intents, I followed him warily and inquired more into this sentencing. "Well, obviously, I can't tell you what I did," he grinned mischievously here, which only made me all the more curious, "but I can say that it was indeed the most wretched of all punishments, and I'd wish it upon no one else."

"Not to mention," he said, looking back up at Legolas' window, whom, might I add was now peering down at us cautiously with only his eyes showing on the side of the frame, "I did something of this exact nature more than once." He looked upon me with another of his smiles that I was beginning to become quite taken with.

"Now, come. I know the king won't be happy if you don't show up at all. Let's get this ordeal over with, shall we?"

I followed the elf as he turned and walked briskly out of the garden, heading for the large green metal gate that led into it. Upon our entrance into the palace, I looked up at the elf and examined him.

Handsome like most elves, he had deeply fair skin and light brown hair, which I was surprised at. That was a trait of most Rivendell elves, not Mirkwood. His eyes were deep brown (also rather unusual) and glimmered with the light of one who is not tethered by worries or a serious heart. Faintly, though, I could see the shadow of a fear somewhere deep in them. It was barely there, though, and I found myself engulfed in the joy that this elf possessed. It was no rare occurrence to find a merry elf, but in this one I could sense something far deeper: a choice to be happy despite all circumstances and tribulations. I instantly resolved to be more like this elf. He had something I knew I wanted. "Tell me, what is your name?" I asked as politely as possible.

Those blissful eyes turned upon me, "My name is Olwe Tinehtele. And, pray tell, what is your name, O Impish One?"

"Elros—Elros Ciryatan."

"I like it; it suits you somehow. I shall have to find out what it means. Probably something along the lines of: "tall tree-climber" or something of that nature."

I couldn't help but giggle slightly. I don't like giggling. It doesn't seem very masculine to me somehow, but it seemed to fit this occasion. I felt that Olwe would not degrade me in any way if I did.

I ventured further into conversation, "So, do you know why it is that I've been summoned?" I questioned hopefully, knowing almost full well what my answer would be.

"The king simply said that he would like a…" he paused and smirked, "a 'word' with you. I dare say, you've gotten yourself into some sort of trouble. It seems to me that that's all you do: trouble, that is."

Inwardly, I was still groaning at having to meet the king for a "word," but at this accusation I became highly defensive. "Hardly," I stated, "it's usually my friends who get me into trouble. No doubt, that's what this is all about as well."

I thought of Alasse's suspicions and suddenly felt very ill. I hoped this wasn't about that. I didn't want to know if my friends had lied to me. There was a certain type of betrayal in that thought that I could hardly bear to think of. Olwe looked on my face, and I knew he could see my thoughts as clearly as though they'd been printed on parchment. "You worry of something, but I will not inquire. However, I will say this. Whatever it is that troubles you is only a fraction of the life you've yet to live. The Valar placed us upon this earth with the gift of eternal life, and I would not see you waste any time upon worries. They are of no use to you or anyone else in this kingdom, or the rest of the world, for that matter."

I stared up at the elf and knew that I'd found a very heavy clue to Olwe's constant joy. This was his reasoning. How fortunate was I to hear such wisdom?

I was still pondering this thought that Olwe had thrown at my feet like meat for a ravenous dog when we reached the door to the king's study. I tried to think of an elvish curse word suitable for this occasion. Certainly all the world's most awful things happened in the study of the king of Mirkwood. This was where Legolas and Ireth had been brought to for their untimely demise. (Not to mention, my friends and I had come here before more times than once.) Did I now walk to my own?

Taking a deep breath, I raised my chin and stood straight. "That's the way to do it, Elros. Don't let him see you quiver in your soiled breeches."

I turned and looked at Olwe who was quaking with laughter. If I hadn't been on a time schedule I would have hit him in the jaw right then and there. Turning back around, I grabbed the study handle and pulled it open.
Trying to ignore the piercing gaze of the Mirkwood King I quickly stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. Thranduil was standing over by one of his many bookcases fingering a particularly old book with two calloused hands. He closed it. I quickly read the spine and then instantly wished that I hadn't. It read, in bold elvish letters: Torturing Techniques Used by the Orcs in the First Age.

I thought I was going to be sick.

Replacing the book, Thranduil turned to me with a look of finality on his features. "Please, take a seat, Elros." He said, motioning towards an armchair sitting in front of his desk. I quickly obeyed and watched as he sank into the massive chair opposite me and easily imagined it to be the throne of Sauron.

"Tell me, Elros," he slowly intoned, "What all do you know of the incident beyond Forest River."

Oh, so, indeed it was about that. I didn't have anything to worry about though. I was already being punished for my part in the act…right?

"Everything I know, I have told you, my lord."

"Oh, really…" He didn't seem very convinced, "I seem to have forgotten your part of the tale, Elros. Please retell it to me."

I did, and in incremental detail, too, if I might add. I wanted there to be no doubt of my innocence in this tale, and, as I knew Thranduil to be a king of good judgment, I saw no reason why I shouldn't devote every memory I had of the episode into his capable hands. Oh, yes, the same capable hands that had only two minutes earlier been holding a dark book on torture. At any rate, I confirmed over my part of the story, and, despite his efforts to act indifferent to this information, I could tell he didn't seem suspicious of me anymore in the least. It looked like to me that Legolas had gotten himself into some more trouble somehow.

…Somehow…

Oh, great. More thoughts that I didn't want to think of anymore.

My meeting with the king ending quickly enough; he, having decided I was innocent, let me off without much more word save for a quick reminder to leave Legolas and Ireth alone seeing as how they were both being severely punished. Though, for what reason, he gave no explanation.
I left the study deep in thought, not surprised in the least to see that Olwe was gone. I hoped to see him again. I already felt as though I knew him well. Hopefully, when all this sentencing nonsense was over I'd be able to introduce him to my friends. This sounded like a good idea, and I quickly pattered off to see Legolas.

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A/N: Well, it's short, but I was eager to get this one out as a promise to all of you people. They shall keep coming. Be assured of that. ; ) Oh, and I hope this gives you a clearer sense of Elros' personality.