Apologies if this chapter seems to be missing something, but I suppose this can be considered as a part one of sorts that joints to the next chapter. And also, another apology regarding the next chapter, for I will not be able to update until the weekend after the next.

Thank you for the reviews and whatnot. I appreciate it, especially the critical feeds that pierces my heart like toothpicks. It is a beautiful pain.

However, I cannot seem to bring myself to stop writing my descriptions with redundant colors. Apologies to the reviewer who brought up that concern, but I like repetitive colors. Fitzgerald does it, Professor Tolkien does it. I don't know, I like it. Sorry, sorry, but I can't stop. There is a relevance to the colors, though.

Well. Here it is. Review if you have a concern or if you want to share your opinions about the Desolation of Smaug. I'll gladly drive you up the wall will my nerdy rants.

Disclaimer: I could not claim to own anything as magnificent as Professor Tolkien's work.

Aldamir woke to the soothing sting on his palms, as if fresh herbs were spread over the skin and took effect beyond his wounds. Lifting the heavy lids of his eyes to examine his bandaged hands, he supposed that it was the case. This was no doubt the work of elvish healing.

Bringing his palm on the center of his chest, taking a distant note of the soft feeling of silk, Aldamir gave a heavy sigh and closed his eyes once more. He was so very tired. He would not have believed it if they had said that he had been resting for days.

But he felt that he had rested enough.

Moving his arm, Aldamir bent his elbow to support his weight as best as he could. When he attempted to do the same with his other arm, the scholar gave a quiet hiss, for he found an intense pain to shoot upon the upper portion of his limb and fell back again against the cushion of the bed.

His head shifted slightly—enough to look at the sleeve of his arm—only to find the wet, crimson stain of his wound seeping through the elven cloth. Aldamir felt a slight sickness upon looking at the injury and turned away. His hand hovered over his arm, but he dared not touch it in fear of doing further damage.

"Areth…" he uttered weakly, his voice low and rasping from disuse.

Aldamir uttered the only name he knew, for he did not know who else to call.

His eyesight failed him, for all that he could see was hindered by the blur of his unfocused vision. Though, despite that, Aldamir could see a light that emanated from the open doorway. A light, he thought in wonder, which certainly did not radiate from any flame.

From his half-lidded eyes, he could see the outline of a figure, graceful and radiant, enter through the pathway of his room. The figure was but a blur, for in his eyes, they remained unfocused.

Aldamir did not try to move when the healer began prodding at his shoulder wound, for they knew their craft well and helped sooth the pain until it dulled into almost nothing.

"Where is… Areth?" he repeated once more, though his voice became a mere whisper.

But the Silvan elf had no answer.

Instead, in her accented lilt, she said one word that Aldamir was able to understand.

"Sleep."

Securing the wooden bow on her back, Areth took a deep breath when she finally slowed her step. Here were the northern borders of Mirkwood, the very edge of the land which was under King Thranduil's protection. From where she stood by the edge of the waters, it was bare of tall trees and she could see clearly the small wonder that was the City by the Lake.

Esgaroth.

Even when renovated to its former glory, Lake-town seemed rather small and insignificant compared to its neighboring realms. She tilted her head to the side as she regarded the far-away settlement, renewed and awakened form its stagnating economy by the wealth brought by the Lonely Mountain. Then again, perhaps the wanderer was unable to fully grasp the beauty of the simple city due to her extensive traveling to much more majestic realms. Esgaroth seemed to almost fade beside the glory that they brought.

At that, she frowned slightly. It was such a shame to lose an appreciation for the small things the world had to offer.

Areth shook her head and rid herself of such thoughts. She parted from the Halls of the Elven King to find the swiftest and safest route to Esgaroth, not to reminisce over the old ways of life. They had lost far too much time as it was.

Still, there was a part of Areth that will be saddened by their inevitable departure from the elven halls of what once was Greenwood. Her heart has longed for a place where she could find her peace, where she could have no care and simply get lost in an ethereal beauty created by the hearts of a wise people that had long since sailed to Valinor. She had discovered it once in Imladris and found her heart casting the remnants of the reverence onto King Thranduil's Realm.

Areth internally berated herself. She should not give in to such fantasies of home, for such things came with a price. A constant comfort would leave a mind idle and disillusioned, for they sheltered one from reality. She was not willing to part with that. Doing so would be letting go of how she came to be who she was now.

Areth craved a sense of belonging, but she had sacrificed much for her freedom.

"Your mind must be plagued with heavy thoughts, mellon nin, if you did not notice my arrival, for I purposefully made my strides indiscreet."

Areth stiffened. The mortal's gloved hand twitched by her side, though she made no motion to reach for her stringed weapon. She knew the deep, mirthful voice well enough to know that no harm would come to her by its owner.

"Ernil," she said evenly in a way of greeting.

When Areth turned to face him, she unconsciously schooled her features. Still, the Silvan elf frowned when he cast his eyes on her face.

"What troubles you?" he uttered with such sincerity. Ernil took his bow, asymmetrical as was the fashion of the Sivan bows of Mirkwood, and secured it on the leather of his back along with his arrows. He allowed himself a few steps towards the woman.

Areth merely raised a brow.

Ernil regarded her with a disbelieving look. He then said, "You cannot fool me, my friend, for the depths of your eyes betray you."

Areth turned her forest eyes back to look at the town that resided by the lake. They became unguarded, and, to Ernil's surprise, utterly sincere. They shone of an honesty that the elf had not witnessed before, and he could not help but note that the glint in her eyes was enough to bring emotion to the stranger's usually stoic face. The Silvan elf found it incredible how such simple a thing could change how one could be perceived.

"I suppose… I feel a longing in my heart," she uttered haltingly, as if she were not fully confident in the justice that her words would convey.

The guard found her response even more unexpected. He didn't think that Areth would give him a proper answer.

"You speak of a longing as you stare at this far-away town," Ernil said softly as he stared ahead, his light steps swift and quiet upon the uneven stones by the river. He did not stop until he stood beside the mortal, looking over the heights of Esgaroth's wooden peaks. "But I do not believe that it is Esgaroth that you are speaking of."

"No, of course not," she instantly denied, "I have never even been to Lake-town."

"Then what is your heart's desire?"

The wind blew from the south, its caress chill but gentle. It took with it their long strands, effectively swaying their hair with the breeze's motion. For that one moment, Areth's pale strand hid her eyes from Ernil's. The elf almost expected her unguarded features to turn once again blank and impassive, like warm water to ice.

And to the Silvan guard's utter expectation, and perhaps mild chagrin, he was right.

And yet, while her face became blank, one word brought Ernil to the conviction that all Areth spoke was of utter truth.

"Peace."

A quiet moment of utter silence ensued, in which not but the whispering of the wind could be heard with the quiet rustling of the leaves from its gentle caress. As if the Valar themselves had granted Areth her wish, the gust of air blew no more. All were still, and for a moment, one could almost delude themselves into believing the world's peaceful illusion.

"What brings you here, my friend? Surely not for the sole purpose of seeking my company," she inquired evenly, retaining her usual tone of dryness.

And the moment had passed. The wind sung once more.

In an instant, Ernil's solemn expression was lifted and was once again filled with calm and mirth.

"Can I not walk past by these borders without question? Must I always have an answer for my every action?"

Areth merely nodded, as if acknowledging to a different answer. Her stare still lingered towards the distance to Esgaroth.

"So the King sent you here to patrol the northern borders."

"Precisely," he responded. Glancing sideways towards the woman, he then inquired, "What brings you so far from the Halls? I did not think you would leave without the company of your sickly friend."

Ernil, of course, did not believe for a second that the guide would leave without her companion, but he was rather curious as to what she was doing outside the Halls of his King. She was not even dressed in proper attire to wander in the forest, much less travel past the borders, as she was wearing only the dress of elvish making, now sullied due to being dragged about as she walked.

"I was merely estimating the distance that we must travel after Aldamir's recovery."

Her eyes narrowed against the bright light of the sun as she contemplated the time. The sun was directly above them, indicating the passing of the morn and the day's emergence to noon. Areth had been traveling since before the light's rise.

The Silvan elf shook his head, as if in dismissal. "You worry needlessly, my friend. As you are the guest to his realm, my King Thranduil would gladly provide you with the proper escort to Esgaroth-"

"-Which would be an unnecessary trouble," she cut off.

"Is it truly such a task for you to accept help?" Ernil said with only a hint of exasperation.

"Of course not. I just do not see the point of accepting help that is useless to me and troublesome for you."

The Silvan guard was tempted to make a comment about her rather prideful nature, though held his tongue. Any note like that, no matter how harmless or simple, he knew, would bring back her guarded façade.

And so, he conceded.

"Will you not turn back, Areth? The day grows darker. Danger hides to shield itself from light, but peril still lurks until it deems itself safe during the night."

His voice remained light and did not change, but Areth could sense an underlying solemnity in his words. While she and Aldamir had spent days in Mirkwood, even she knew that they had not been exposed to the worst that the Forest of Great Fear could offer. It had been a misfortune that her companion had become ill, but she knew that they found themselves lucky that poison had been their only enemy.

"Yes," she said. Catching a final glimpse at the floating city of Esgaroth, she repeated once more, "Yes. I have done all that I must here."

Her forest eyes flickered once more at the sky.

"The morn has passed," she uttered quietly, as if she were talking to herself, "and so has my opportunity to speak with the King."

Ernil regarded her curiously before saying, "What need have you to speak to King Thranduil?"

"None, but he invited me to seek his presence."

Her Silvan companion exhaled a quiet sigh.

"Areth," he uttered, his smooth voice not lacking reproach. The condescending air that he gave made Areth bristle slightly, though she could hardly do anything about it, as she was not too keen to fight with the only ally she has in Mirkwood. "Had I not spoken to you about the King?"

"Of course," she said. She could not help the frost that seeped through her words and certainly made no attempt to hide it.

Ernil seemed to notice the effect he had on his companion's demeanor. Feeling rather repentant, he softened his tone in hopes of placation when he said, "My friend, why do you dislike King Thranduil so? He has not wronged you in any way, surely."

"You think I dislike him because I made no effort to seek him out as he requested?"

"I am certain that I am not mistaken, mellon nin," said Ernil. He was utterly convinced, for Areth had not done anything to change his opinion otherwise.

"I... do not dislike him," Areth uttered finally, her speech halting. Then, she uttered truthful, "But I do find the King odd in his manners. The intensity of his gaze unnerves me."

"But he is a good king," Ernil insisted strongly, as if his conviction alone would provide proof, "My King Thranduil deserves all the respect that his people bestow upon him."

Areth opened her mouth as if to speak, but then paused.

"Is he truly?" she uttered, "A good king, I mean."

"Of course, mellon. I would not lie. Fair are his judgments, for they are all made to ensure the safety and happiness of my people."

Looking at him now, Ernil's expression remained calm and blank as it always was, and yet the gleam in his eyes spoke of an ineffable reverence when he spoke.

"Good," Areth uttered quietly as she turned her head, her light hair hiding her eyes, "That is good."

The Silvan elf regarded the mortal with questioning eyes, though did not have the heart to voice his curiosity. If she was not willing to share her thoughts, then he would not press her. Still, he wondered about her.

"You may not believe me, but the King does not think any less of you," Ernil said haltingly, as if unsure whether or not it was appropriate to confess so. "I believe he thinks you the more interesting for your quick tongue, if I am to be honest."

"If that is how he treats people he deems worthy of high esteem, then I can only imagine how ill he regards his enemies," she then said, her voice suddenly taking a lighter tone.

Ernil let out a single knowing chuckle. "Most unfortunate, they are," he said, "for while King Thranduil is fair, he can be quite ruthless when he wants to be."

"I do not doubt it," Areth said dryly.

The wanderer then turned from the panoramic scene of the small trading center by the lake to face the forest of Mirkwood with the intention of following the same route back to the Halls.

When she did, her eyes widened in utter surprise. The guide stiffened and, in her alarm, instinctively brought her hand to her bow.

"Peace, Areth," Ernil said calmly, glancing behind with no change in his expression, "No harm will come to you."

His assurance calmed her somewhat and she allowed herself to breathe properly. Areth let go of her weapon and slowly let her hand fall to her side.

In the brief instance in which she first saw him, her first thought strayed to the odd King, for this elf before her held resemblance beyond the pale color of his hair, which was so unlike those of the common auburn of the Silvan elves. His blue eyes, bright and keen, regarded her with an intensity that much resembled those of Thranduil's. However, a great difference that struck her were his features, for he held an air of forgiveness that Thranduil lacked.

Areth regarded the stranger with wary curiosity. Judging by his almost lax attitude beneath the shade of the trees, she was not fooled to think that his appearance had been a sudden occurrence. She glared at Ernil from the corner of her eyes, for she knew that he had been aware of the pale-haired elf's presence from the beginning.

Ernil seemed to have noticed Areth's accusing gaze and looked at her with suspicious innocence.

"Prince Legolas," Ernil greeted.

The elf's relation to the King didn't really take Areth by surprise.

In a sign of respect, she placed an open palm to her chest and inclined her head before uttering the very words that she had said to King Thranduil upon their first meeting.

"Yes, Arphen spoke of you," said the Prince. His voice was smooth, and yet held a gentleness that Areth knew was not always present when he spoke. Unlike Ernil, his lilt flowed evenly with the Westron tongue, and no trace of a Sindarin accent accompanied his speech.

He pushed himself from the tree he was leaning on and took a few step closer until he stood before them. While lithe as all elves were, his height was shorter in comparison to the King's, the wanderer noted. To Areth's utter surprise, the Prince copied her actions, his pale hand resting on his armored breast, before offering her a greeting in the elven language.

The Silvan guard beside her simply smiled as his hands remained clasped behind his back.

"I am Legolas, son of the Elven King of Mirkwood," he said.

"I am Areth," she said. Even to her ears, the introduction seemed lacking.

Legolas tilted his head slightly that so reminded the mortal of his father, though did not inquire further. Instead he effectively answered an unspoken question.

"Forgive me for not announcing my presence," he said. His dark brows furrowed slightly and the words that followed were halting, "You... you took me by surprise. You bear a great resemblance to someone I know."

"It's the hair, surely," Areth replied dismissively, flicking a golden strand from her shoulders. "Did you mistaken me for your father?"

Unlikely, Areth thought, especially with the possession of the keen eyesight of the elves.

"No," he said softly. He shook his head, his fair hair following his movements. Then, his voice took strength when he again uttered, "No, it matters not."

The Prince took a hold of his bow, his bright gaze turning to the sky.

"The day grows darker. Ernil, you are needed at the southern borders," he said, his tone commanding with the authority of not only a prince, but a leader, "Your eyes are keen and will serve well against the darkness."

The Silvan guard would usually have had no issue with complying with the Prince, but his light eyes strayed towards his mortal companion.

Legolas, always observant and aware, did not miss his hesitant countenance. As a way of placation and assurance, he then said, "I will accompany our guest back to the King's Halls."

Ernil's brown eyes snapped to his in surprise. He then uttered in his mother tongue, "Prestad?"

Legolas shook his head.

"I received message from the King," he said as a way of explanation, "He wishes for my presence."

The guard's head nodded slowly in understanding. Ernil reached for the wooden bow attached on his back. Finally, he regarded his mortal companion with a small shadow of a smile.

"This is where I leave you, mellon nin," he said, "But I do not doubt that I will see you again before your departure."

"Of course," she said before bringing her gloved palm on his shoulder. Lifting her chin to stare into his eyes, she uttered solemnly, "Be safe, Ernil. Navaer."

The guard only nodded before stepping back and turning to the forest.

"Forgive me if I seem too forward for asking, but what brings you in our realm?"

The Prince's voice held nothing but sincere curiosity. While his attention was on the mortal, his eyes remained forward, glancing beyond the darkness of the tree's shadows vigilantly. As was the nature of the elven folk, his steps remained light and graceful as he stepped about the path and roots, not uttering more than a whisper against the fading leaves.

Areth found herself rather baffled, if not a little bit curious, about Prince Legolas. While she had not been so thoroughly acquainted with his father, she knew enough about him to notice the contrast in their personalities. She felt the Prince's kind sincerity. Though, she did acknowledge that perhaps she was too hasty in judgment, as she had based it all on first impression.

"That question is not for me to answer," she said quietly.

While she thought it an honest answer, for she knew that only Aldamir could voice a complete and satisfying response, Legolas thought it to be far too vague, in so perceived it as wariness.

"Arphen did tell me of your rather cautious nature," Legolas mused as he stepped over a large branch. He was familiar with these woods and so knew that they were almost at the Hall's gates.

Already, he could see the truth to Arphen's words, for he knew her to be capable of a flowing conversation when he observed her with Ernil's company. With him, she seemed rather withdrawn.

"I've not spoken more than a word to him," she argued half-heartedly, "He could not have possibly perceived my character through the few minutes that we met one another."

"Sometimes, a great amount of time is not necessary to gain an accurate portrayal of one's character," said Legolas.

"Perhaps that may be the case on some occasions, but it is a danger to rely too heavily upon first impressions," she refuted mildly, "Dark hearts and ill intentions are often hidden from too trusting eyes."

The Prince's dark brow creased slightly as he contemplated her words.

"You seem to know much about this," Legolas commented mildly, though his blue eyes became attentive and searching.

"I am no stranger to betrayal," she said simply. Her green eyes finding the tall doors of the Elven King's hall, she then said, "Let us enter."

He once again regarded her with his piercing blue stare, and while not as unnerving as the eyes of his father, Areth was once again struck by the uncanny resemblance.

Areth took the first step upon the wooden pathway towards the ornate doors. Beholding the entrance for a second time, the wanderer could bask in the beauty that was Greenwood without the burden of exhaustion.

While alike to Imladris in its ethereal majesty, Areth would admit that King Thranduil's Halls were different in that its beauty derived from sheer simplicity.

Areth regarded the winding pathway with distaste. Though quite beautiful in its tranquil nature, the indirectness of the route tried her patience. She had walked on it only once and she supposed it was enough to deem her dislike. Perhaps she did not like to waste time on such a consuming task, or perhaps she was just plain impatient.

She was brought out of her silent musings by the smooth voice of the Prince.

"This is where I leave you."

The mortal turned her head enough to see him clearly and raised a brow in question.

"I thought that the King summoned you."

"Yes, but my business can wait," said Legolas, "It is of no dire importance, as I am certain that it concerns only the upcoming feast."

While their voices maintained a steady quietness, it still managed to have an echo. The vastness of the halls seemed to swallow their words, however, and disappeared before ever reaching the ears of King Thranduil.

Areth managed felt the impulse to frown but then stopped herself. It would be inappropriate to do so. And yet, she could not help but feel a slight abandonment at the Prince's proclaimed departure. It was illogical to see it as so, and yet she felt he was casting her to the wolves.

Casting her green eyes towards the heart of the Hall to where King Thranduil sat, he may as well be, Areth thought wryly. The King's nature was unpredictable enough to compete with those of a wolf, though she hoped that the similarities ended there.

With a small, polite smile cast her way, the Prince inclined his head slightly.

"I hope to speak to you again, Areth," he said. His small smile suddenly became sincere. While he may have lived centuries upon this earth, that alone expressed the youth of his soul. "Despite the shortness of our conversation, I have found it enjoyable."

Further inquiry on her part was cut short by his departure.

Areth's steps slowed only when she reached the open platform that upheld the King's throne. By the time she had done so, the Elven King was already standing by the foot of the stairs, his chin raised as it always had.

The King stood tall and lithe with his long, jewel-adorned fingers gripping lightly on a thin staff ornate with intricate patterns and designs. His long clothing, now made of a fine green material, collared around his pale neck and reached to his knees. What was once hidden by his robe, a fine sword of fine elvish make was now visible, and Areth could not help but gaze upon it in wonder, for it must have been a companion to many notable battles.

Even when she bowed, he made no further inclination than to stand as he did, his pale eyes ever so watchful.

Thranduil's face was fair and impassive, but even Areth could tell that his gaze regarded her with more frost than he had during their previous meetings. She realized with rue that this was her doing, for her unfair assessment and natural caution had created a tension within their acquaintanceship.

"You are rather determined to set a barrier between us," he uttered, his voice ever so soothing. A silk of fine making that was wrapped about his arms gently glided across the floor as he walked before her with a lingering pace.

Her eyes slowly lowered to the ground, but as she found no proper words, Areth remained silent.

A single thick brow rose as Thranduil assessed her with half-lidded eyes. Her rather assenting countenance was unusual.

As she made no indication to continue, he then uttered evenly, "It is a shame. I would have liked for us to be friends."

His unchanging voice made his words seem insincere.

At his utterance, Areth's eyes quickly met his, and in the depths of her green eyes, he saw an unspoken disbelief. The edges of his pale lips lifted upwards lightly, creating a shadow of a smile. The frost in his old, cerulean eyes seemed to melt.

He inclined his head slightly before amending, "Or, perhaps, allies, if you so prefer it."

Areth opened her mouth as if to speak, but then closed it. Thranduil found it rather tiresome that she should feel it necessary to censor her words, for it usually resulted in the exclusion of honesty. Perhaps that it was the reason why he much preferred her quick, witty remarks.

Finally, seeming to hold a grasp on the proper words, she uttered, "I do not believe that my friendship will hold much value to you, as I have little to offer."

"But gaining an advantage is not the incentive for friendship, surely," he refuted.

"Perhaps not the main incentive, but even the noblest friendships hold something to gain for both parties," she argued lightly. "Be it companionship, love," her emerald eyes then evenly met his when she finally uttered, "information."

"My, how distrusting you are," he uttered quietly, the evenness of his smooth lilt taking on a much lighter tone.

He bent down to meet Areth's eyes at her height, though much farther in proximity than it had been before, thus effectively excluding the intention of intimidating. Areth could not help but notice the gleam in his eyes that spoke of his amusement.

"But tell me," he said, holding on a tone of curiosity, "What could I possibly gain from a wandering horse-rider?"

"Nothing of importance, I assure you," she uttered dryly. And then, she said truthfully, "Which is why I find it rather hard to believe that friendship from me is what you desire."

Straightening his posture, he brought his clasped hands from behind his back and opened his palms wide before saying, "My motives are not driven by ill will. I only wish to find a common ground."

The mortal regarded the tall King briefly with searching eyes. He seemed not to pay her scrutiny heed, as his gaze was drawn to the color of her hair. Thranduil's face remained even, and yet the slightest tilt of his lips brought brightness to his eyes. In that short moment she gazed upon the King, she found no trace of deceit.

And so, she conceded.

"I hope you do not fault me for my tongue," she said finally, "for I am sure that an hour will come in which you will not like what I have to say."

The King's thick brows rose when his eyes widened a fraction. He could not help but stare at the mortal in surprise. So long had she expressed her evident caution when in his presence that he found it rather disbelieving for Areth to suddenly accept him with only a mere assurance. And suddenly, it was his turn to express his wariness.

"I find your words invigorating," he confessed with sincerity, "Seldom do I hear utter honesty, and I am tired of deceit." And suddenly, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as her regarded her. "And while I cannot yet trust you incapable of deception, I have no reason to doubt you."

Before Areth could utter any more, he then continued, "But I do find myself curious as to why you readily accept my words with trust. I came under the impression that you disliked me." At this, he expected her to refute, but was pleased that she did not deny the truth. He then said, "What has changed?"

Areth offered no more than a small smile when she said only one word to answer his question.

"Nothing."

I've prepared myself a fortress of protection regarding the oncoming fire arrows with burning messages attacking Thranduil's OOC-ness. I don't know, you guys. I think he's still in character. He's just being strangely nice. Hint hint.

...

Yeah. Okay. See you guys in two weeks.