Well hello there. I'm sorry I didn't reply to all the reviews, but I tried responding to those of you who had specific questions. This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I cut out a few things for the future. Hm. I don't really have much to say. Oh yes. I'm sticking to the red-haired Silvan Elves, like in DoS.

Shout out to an anonymous reviewer who leaves poetry about spooky Thranduil. My friend, you need to log on so I can respond in kind. Or at least leave longer poetry. I do so look forward to those.

Thank you for the reviews, likes, and favorites. I love reading what you guys have to say.

So who's your favorite LotR/Hobbit/Silmarillion/etc. character?

Disclaimer: Anything familiar is owned by Professor Tolkien and Peter Jackson.

Within the walls of beneath the hill but beyond the dwelling of the King's throne were passages that much resembled the intricacy of mazes. Steps turned and turned, leading eventually to an unknown portion of the domain that much resembled one another, but was no less beautiful. It was easy to get lost in such a place, as the sheer enormity of the realm was enough to overwhelm a foreigner.

It truly seemed never-ending to Areth, but perhaps it was due to the fact that she had no purpose in these halls save to wander without aim. With her companion resting, the guide had nothing to do but to wait until Aldamir was fully healed.

The days passed with no significant change and, not entirely sure with what to do with herself until Aldamir's recovery, Areth was left to her own devices. While King Thranduil had made an effort to seek her company, his duty to his realm prevented their decided friendship from progressing any further than it had when they first established it.

She could not deny that she found his words fascinating, nor could she deny the allure in the eloquence of his speech. They were so filled with wisdom and thought supported only by his many years of experience. However, their conversations rarely delved deeper past common niceties. While Thranduil had permitted her freedom of unrestrained speech, Areth would not risk the formation of any unintentional animosity between them by taking liberties with the King's hospitability. And so while this established friendship between the realm's ruler and herself served its purpose of severing the chord of distrust, Areth could not help but feel that it was somewhat artificial.

Areth found no hidden motive behind the King's actions. However, she regarded his kindness with suspicion, for it seemed rather uncharacteristic of him, even in the eyes of his kin. When she inquired, Ernil acknowledged the truth but did not divulge further into the matter. The mortal dared not ask the King for fear of creating further issues between their balanced relationship and so consequently kept her silence.

If she had gained anything from the days in which she remained idle, it would be a new perception regarding Thranduil. While he remained to be unusual in her eyes, she had found a hidden empathy that was not so outwardly expressed. Though he hid behind a dismissing face and a rather irascible manner, Areth could not deny that Ernil was correct in saying that Thranduil was a good king. And so, in her eyes, any previous faults that she was familiar with were redeemed.

But at the present, the Sindar was attending to the duties of his realm. And so, with nothing to do, Areth was left to wander his domain with far-away thoughts. As her purpose was to explore without the burden of heavy contemplation, she had long decided to continue to turn right whenever a chance presented itself. While it was true that her keen sense of direction seldom failed her, the vast expanse of the Halls was too overwhelming a place to lose one's way.

Long had Areth decided to walk bare of shoes, for she had become tired of hearing the loud patter of her own footsteps. While perhaps not the cleanest choice she ever made, she had become rather tired of the elves and their discreet nature, for beside their quietness, she seemed like ostentatious beast.

She had been walking though the steps of the Elven King's Halls for quite some time and found it rather strange that she had not encountered many Silvan Elves, save for a few. However, they seemed to be rather preoccupied with their thoughts or busy with their duties. It seemed to be in preparation of the great feast. Even so, not many lingered past the lower levels of the realm save to gather fine wines. The Silvan Elves were very fond of their beverages, Areth thought wryly. Some seemed far too eager to be intoxicated. It was strange, then, that despite the Halls' vacancy, Areth never once felt that she was truly in solitude.

Areth's steps faltered when she reached an open archway. Her green eyes narrowed in contemplation as she regarded the patterned pillars, detailed with dry, twisting vines unto the open expanse of an entrance. For a moment, she did nothing but stare at it with a dreadful sort of curiosity. This room was unlike any of the others she had come across.

A shade of darkness touched the expanse of the open room and the strength of its shadow was so great that it seemed to seep past the archway to the front of the entrance. Without even entering, Areth could feel its air of sorrow touching her heart, like a broken promise made long ago. It was odd how such strong memories clung to the walls like an old pain. So eager to be remembered, so cruel in its insistence.

Even from beyond the small expanse, those who saw would feel its dead air.

Her curiosity took a hold of her and she made small steps with the intention of entering through the doorless doorway. Her pale hand reached for the dead vines of the pillar, caressing with only the tip of a finger.

But before she could move beyond that, a voice called to her. Steady and calm though it was, Areth's actions quickly followed with the instinct of her alarm when her hand came to her back. Upon feeling the unfamiliar bareness of grasping nothing but air, she once again had to remind herself that weapons were not needed in the King's Halls and that she was in no sort of danger.

I do curse the Elven race and their sly nature.

And so, Areth turned.

The Silvan merely inclined his head and rested his hand on his chest in silent apology. He was lithe and fair as all elves were, and was similar to Ernil in stature, though perhaps stooped above him slightly. Like many of his kind in the Woodland Realm, he was in possession of the auburn locks of the Silvan Elves. Unlike those that she had already met, however, this one held an almost nervous disposition.

"Greetings, Lady Areth," he uttered diplomatically, almost stiffly, in his mother tongue. The chain of keys that hung about his waist chimed slightly with his movements, making Areth wonder how it was possible for him to have reached her without a sound.

She inclined her head but offered nothing in response.

Regarding him with a speculative eye, she uttered finally in Sindarin, "Am I being summoned by the King?"

"No," he denied swiftly. He glanced behind him quickly—a sly act that did not escape Areth's notice—before facing her once again. "I merely intervened," he uttered deliberately, his words carefully chosen, "because the Inner Gardens are not in fine condition for visitors."

Areth narrowed her eyes at him but retained her silence.

Interlocking her fingers behind her back, she then uttered, "And you were merely passing by?"

"Of course," he uttered quickly with forceful resolution.

The Silvan Elf then bowed lowly, the many keys clattering even more against one another, and Areth found herself tempted to pull him upright to his proper height. She stopped herself, however, and allowed him his words.

"I am Elros," he said. For the first time in their entire encounter, his speech and mannerism gained a natural calmness. His posture straightened when he uttered, "The keeper of keys of the Woodland Realm."

"Well met," she uttered blandly, for there was nothing else she could say.

Areth regard the shadow of the forbidden room for a final time before turning to the direction from whence she came with the intention of returning to her ill companion's resting quarters. The unexpected and rather unwelcomed intrusion of the key's keeper succeeded in nothing but quench the desire to explore the Woodland Realm further. In fact, it only served to fuel her irritation and confirm her suspicion.

With no further words, she then walked back to the ascending staircase from where she came. While she knew that it was considered rather unmannerly to do so, she merely walked past Elros, who compliantly moved aside, with no last exchange of words. After all, she was far too irked to spend any more time with niceties with a stranger posing innocence. Areth somehow felt that this was not the last she would be seeing of the Keeper of Keys.

Upon reaching the final step of the winding staircase, Areth turned to regard the path behind her. Her green eyes, narrowed and wary, swept along the path, only to note the disappearance of the Silvan elf.

For a moment, she merely stood with not a single movement, until finally, her features dropped every hint of unfriendliness and replaced by neutrality. She merely let out a small sigh of what sounded to be defeat before stooping lightly to the ground and gently placing her boots on the platform.

With her shoes securely tied, Areth then continued on her way to the infirmary, her heels clacking the entire way.

"How are you faring?"

"Well enough," Aldamir sighed as he leaned back onto the cushions of his bed. He sounded utterly miserable, though Areth knew from the first hour of their acquaintanceship that the scholar was rather histrionic. It was possibly the reason why she at first disliked him.

"Perhaps you should show gratitude rather than whining petty complaints," said Areth, but not unkindly. In fact, her words held onto a tone of suggestion rather than irritation. Her eyes not once straying from the worn pages filled with the scholar's scribbles and academic muses, she then continued, "After all, King Thranduil was not obligated to welcome us in his realm, as we are merely trespassers in his land."

Despite Areth's tone of neutrality that suggested her words had not been made with ill intent, Aldamir nevertheless felt the slight sting from her bluntness. However, he quickly dismissed it. If he were to take all of her words to heart, it would have long ago been shattered to pieces.

And so, instead, he conceded.

"I am grateful," he insisted. Taking a moment of silence, he pursed his lips and then continued, "But I am also restless. Perhaps if Rovain would allow me beyond this chamber, I would be in better spirits."

Areth merely hummed as she lightly traced the lines of charcoal that strayed on the single expanse of paper. She marveled at the skill in accuracy that Aldamir possessed in depicting real life on paper. Even in the darkness of the Forest, he was still able to portray the herbs and plants to distinction. Though many were left unnamed, it was a start in unveiling the mystery that was Mirkwood Forest.

Turning his head, Aldamir regarded Areth with inquisitive eyes. With curiosity, he then uttered, "Have you met King Thranduil?"

"I have," she said stiffly.

Aldamir did not speak but simply stared at her, waiting for her to continue. It became apparent that she would not when she merely turned to the next page. It was then that he felt the familiar irritation for his guide. While an unspoken bond had grown between the companions upon their time spent in that wretched forest, the nature of their interaction did not change. Areth still spoke in monosyllabic sentences without further inquisition.

"It is rather irking to find you rifling through my notes without my consent," Aldamir uttered rather peevishly. Had he not been so conscious of his injured arm, he would have had the mind to cross it. "I've allowed it, any yet you won't even offer me any answers."

Areth closed her eyes and snapped the book shut, as if feeling the drain of tolerating a rather petulant child. However, it was more for dramatic effect than sincere agitation, Aldamir knew. She would not have that shadow of a smile if it had been so.

"That is because there is nothing more to tell," said Areth. She drew her knees up from the ground and wrapped her arms around her bent legs. The white dress she wore was long enough to maintain her modesty. "And if I heard correctly, you only asked one question."

Aldamir huffed slightly before rhetorically asking in his exasperation, "Must I specify?"

"Why the particular interest in the King?" Areth asked with curiosity.

"Simply because I am intrigued," said Aldamir. His tone remained even and factual. If anything, the honesty in the man's voice convinced her of his position as a scholar. "King Thranduil along with Mirkwood is the most mysterious of the Elven realms in Middle Earth. Surely that is enough of a reason?"

"I hope that the satisfaction then outweighs the pain from your illness," Areth responded, albeit rather dryly.

"I never intended for this to happen," Aldamir said defensively.

Areth almost rolled her eyes. "No one ever does."

"I did not fully know the perils that we were to face," he said. Regarding her curiously, he continued, "But you did. Why did you agree to be my guide if you so thought it foolish?"

"I would not have done it if it had not been asked of me," Areth uttered truthfully.

Aldamir rifled through his memories to remember exactly who it was that could have possibly called upon the wanderer for a favor. He did not tell many of his intentions to enter the Forest of Great Fear, so it was not so difficult to draw the correct conclusion.

"Of course it was him," he sighed, as if the answer should have been obvious from the start.

"I admit that I was rather surprised when Gildhel asked me to serve as a guide—and to Mirkwood Forest, no less," said Areth, for once showing the extent of her confusion, "I have never been to this realm before."

Aldamir's surprise and utter bafflement was made clear. And then, he felt a sudden twinge of irritation at his old friend. Gildhel had been the one to recommend Areth as his guide and, trusting his judgment, Aldamir did as was suggested. It was rather disconcerting to find that he had relied so much on a guide that knew perhaps as little as he did regarding the Forest.

"Do not fault Gildhel," she said, breaking his train of thought. Once again taking the leather-bound journal from the table, Areth continued, "While I do not know the reason as to why he chose me to lead you through that forsaken path, it would not do you well to question your trust in him."

"How can I not? I feel rather deceived," Aldamir uttered honestly, if not irritably, "For all I know, your unfamiliarity with the path might have led to our demise."

Areth seemed to nod her head with his words, but did not take his meaning in offense. His concerns were, after all, valid.

"True enough," Areth conceded. She turned a page, but even Aldamir could tell that her thoughts were at the moment far away from the almost incoherent descriptions of poisoned plants. She then admitted, "I have never acted as a guide, nor am I familiar to the Elven King's Realm, and so Gildhel's reasons for suggesting me to you are utterly lost to me."

"Never been a guide!" Aldamir repeated. He did not know what to think. "You must have owed a great debt, indeed, if you had not the will to refuse."

"Gildhel gave me the option, of course, but he and I knew that I would not refuse."

"Pure luck," Aldamir uttered with a disbelieving shake of his head, "We have only survived this far due to pure luck."

"I will not disagree with you. But worry not—your time with me is limited. Once we reach Esgaroth, you are bound to meet many that are more than qualified to lead you farther north. While it does not guarantee your survival, the companionship of a knowledgeable escort does irrevocably increase the chances."

Aldamir felt a slight twinge of sadness upon the inevitable partings from Areth's company. While it was true that they irritated one another when in great difference, the many weeks in her presence was a constant in his travels. He was suddenly reminded of just how temporary she was in his life.

Swallowing slightly, he then steered the subject.

"What are your plans upon the end of our journey?"

Areth contemplated for a moment. Had she been asked a few days previous, her answer would have held onto utter certainty.

She said haltingly, "Return to Gondor, perhaps."

"You sound rather unsure."

"That is because I am."

Aldamir hummed slightly and simply regarded her with grey eyes, though did not inquire further. Areth did not need to hear the words from his lips, as she could see the question written on his face. Closing the journal, she touched her bare feet to the cold ground and handed it to her companion. Aldamir took it from her hands and merely hid it beneath the pillows.

"You must rest," she uttered, resting the tips of her fingers to his uninjured shoulder.

"You are leaving?" he asked, sensing the end of their conversation.

Areth merely nodded the affirmation.

"Take caution," Aldamir said in warning. Although he felt rather envious that Areth had the freedom to move about as she pleased, he knew that he must prioritize his recovery.

"Worry not. I will return before the sun descends."

"You tarry beyond the King's Halls so close to the night."

"The air is rather stifling under that hill," Areth confessed.

The chill air of autumn was still on this day, which the mortal was thankful for. The leaves were tall and unmoving, and not a sound broke the calm silence save for the running of the Forest River and their quiet voices. Neither of them minded when their conversation faltered into a serene silence.

Ernil was the first to break the peace, his accented words seeming to float with the voice of the running water.

"Where do you intend to go after this journey?"

Areth was reminded of Aldamir's question only a few hours past.

"I… I first had the resolve to return to Gondor," she admitted as she absently sought the sky for stars. Her efforts came to no avail, for light was still present. "But perhaps I will stay in the company of the Elves for a time."

"Are you returning to Imladris?"

Glancing at her lithe companion, the mortal merely shrugged and uttered, "Perhaps."

The Silvan guard regarded her silently. And then, he said, "You are welcome to stay here if you so desire."

Areth simply waved off the topic. After all, the journey was yet to be over. Aldamir's recovery and the short travel to Lake-town stood in the way of any future intent that she may have. She had time to contemplate.

"Have you been to Rivendell?" she inquired, suddenly realizing that she knew close to nothing past the Silvan Elf's name and position.

The guard shook his head and regarded the same skies, darkening as the hour passed.

"I have always wanted to," Ernil confessed softly, "But this realm is isolated from our kin beyond our borders." He gave a slight chuckle before saying, "I confess that I almost could not understand your Elven speech due to your Western accent."

"Is that why you insist on speaking to me in Westron?" she said lightly.

"No," he negated instantly, "I find that I have been denied the opportunity to speak with another in the Common Tongue. We do not receive many visitors from foreign lands, and so many of my kin do not deem it necessary to learn their language. I have always held an interest in affairs beyond this realm."

"Why is it you do not leave?" Areth inquired quietly. Her forest eyes rested on the sky, but Ernil knew that her attention was on his words.

He merely shrugged in a rather indifferent manner, though his light eyes expressed his passion.

"I suppose I sometimes feel the desire to leave," he uttered softly.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, the shine of a single star soon emerged from the beneath the darkening blanket of light.

"But then I remember that there is nothing waiting for me beyond these lands."

"You are rather reckless to linger about the borders so close to nightfall."

Areth almost let off a loud sigh. Of course he sought her company when she most desired her solitude. It also did not help that she held little patience for the King's elusive antics at the moment. She closed her eyes for only a minute to gather her bearings.

"I was under the impression that the borders of your realm are never left unguarded," she said. Despite her better intention, even to her ears, her tone sounded bland and impatient.

The King, naturally aware, naturally observant, was quick to catch the irritation that hid beneath her words. His chin raised and his cerulean eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he regarded her in silent contemplation. He said nothing more, however, and merely set the bottle of wine back to its proper place beside the forgotten glass.

Areth realized her mistake and instantly recompensed by adding, "My King."

Still, a silence between them ensued, reminding Areth briefly of the tense—and rather painful, on her part—meetings they had at the beginning of their acquaintanceship. If anything, the reverent addition of his title only made the Elven King's eyes narrow even more.

Finally, his voice retaining the smooth and even lilt that he usually held, he uttered, "Thranduil."

Areth's mouth opened slightly, as if about to speak, before closing. At the unconcealed look of surprise and bafflement on her face, the King did not even try to hide his wry smile. The opportunity to catch her off-guard was rather rare.

With nothing but silence on her part, Thranduil took it as an opportunity to continue.

"We are friends, are we not? It is only fair if I gave you leave to use my name."

Despite herself, Areth could not help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the fact that permission was necessary to have freedom to use a name, as if it were such an honor to those who were granted consent. It was irrational, she knew, since the King really mean nothing by it.

"I am not so familiar with the nature of friendship," Areth said slowly, wording her thoughts with care, "but if I understand correctly, I am rather certain that friends are supposed to trust one another."

Clasping his lithe, pale hands together as he regarded the Rohirrim before him, Thranduil raised a single, thick brow and tilted his head in slight before uttering with the same even tone, "I do not pretend to know what you speak of."

Oh, but he did. The scheming twinkle in his bright blue eyes and his unfading shadow of a smile did nothing but confirm it. It was Areth's turn to regard him with narrowed green eyes, the surprise quickly evaporating from her face only to be replaced by suspicion. It was clear that they both knew the truth, and yet he had the gall to pretend otherwise. Areth was certain that Thranduil especially found amusement in provoking her.

"Friends do not spy on friends."

"Are you truly so surprised?" Thranduil uttered ironically, stepping about the study with lingering steps, his long robes gliding with his movements.

Thinking for a moment, Areth found that she really wasn't. And so, she responded in truth, "No. I think I would have been more surprised if you had not done so."

Areth heard Thranduil breath what sounded like a soft chuckle, though she believed that she somehow misheard. She was convinced that the Elven King had not the ability to laugh.

"You might have done well to choose someone a bit more discreet," Areth advised dryly as she leaned slightly against the arm of her seat.

"I did not send Elros to spy on you, as you so believe," he uttered. When he saw that the mortal's wary expression did not once alter, he inclined his head slightly, his pale locks following the slight movement, "Though, I am certain I have no such luck convincing you of this truth, as you seem so insistent to think ill of me."

At his words, Areth could not help but feel the slightest bit of rue. Though she did not do it consciously, it was true that she held a particular mindset regarding this peculiar king. Her harsh expression softened and she inclined her head in silent apology. Unbeknownst to Areth, this only caused Thranduil's smile to widen. It faded from his pale lips before she lifted her head.

"What…" she began haltingly, for the first time truly at loss for words, "Why did you send him to follow me?"

"To see to your safety, of course," he said simply, as if it was the only possible explanation. Returning to the wooden counter to fill the empty glass with dark wine, he said, "The lower passages of the Halls are a danger to those who do not know their way."

It was then that her previous ire evaporated into nothing.

"Are the Inner Gardens dangerous?" Areth asked in sincere curiosity.

Just as he was about to bring the edge of the glass to his lips, Thranduil stopped upon her words. He simply gave a slight smile, his bright, sapphire eyes contemplating, before saying, "Not at all. It is simply not fit for the use of visitors. All that used to grow there are dead."

"Why is that?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Thranduil merely closed his eyes and tilted his head, though did not seem at all perturbed by her question. Taking a small sip from the wine glass cradled by his jewel-adorned fingers, he then answered her inquiry with a sort of lilt that one would use to state a simple fact.

"I've not had any reason to keep it alive."

Well, I think we're getting close to the actual plot. The next chapter will certainly be more fun, since I can finally stray away from Areth for a moment. These last two chapters seemed more transitional, really.