Hi, guys. Thank you for the feedback and support!

So this chapter is a definitely less than half of my usual updates, but I wanted to try it out. Is it better if I make my usually long chapters with a long wait, or shorter chapters with faster update times?

The problem with shorter chapters, though, is that it seems terribly incomplete.

The raffle will be closing as soon as I finish the extra chapter. (:

Disclaimer: I don't own the Professor Tolkien's works.

"What have you to report?"

Arphen paused before Melhros and took the time to bow as soon as he entered. His long, auburn hair fell before his pale face and the steel mail of his armor sounded lightly against the silence of the room. Melhros inclined his head in acknowledgment and motioned his fingers upwards. The Silvan guard straightened.

"Lady Areth is on her way to Dale," he said diligently. His eyes were drawn away from his elder.

"For the fifth time upon her return," Melhros said, his expression contemplating and searching.

The mortal's return to the Halls of Greenwood surprised Melhros. But more than anything, he was displeased. Long had he advocated against her welcome, and when he spoke to her, he had hoped that she possessed the mind to see the harm that her presence brought to the Elven realm.

The Silvan lord sighed in disappointment. He seemed to have overestimated the compassion she held. However, it would be unfair of him to blame her completely for her decision to stay. After all, the Elven King was no doubt at fault for urging the mortal's choice to remain. Ever the silver tongue, Thranduil was particularly known for his great skill of manipulating words to suit his wishes.

From the moment his eyes were cast upon her, Melhros knew that the mortal did not have a chance. Thranduil kept the past close to his heart.

Turning his head, Melhros regarded Arphen and said, "What is her business there?"

The Silvan guard inclined his head in silent apology.

"I know not, my Lord," he said, his calloused hand, strong and rough from centuries of training, resting lightly upon his breast, "for the Lady is wary of her surroundings. We do not follow her beyond our borders."

"How are you certain that her affairs are with Dale and not Esgaroth?"

Arphen's humble attitude continued, and yet he could not help but feel a flare of indignation and offence. While he may not possess the higher abilities of his superiors, he was not incompetent. His façade, however, betrayed nothing, and so Melhros saw nothing.

"None of the villagers of Esgaroth had seen Lady Areth since her departure from guiding her Gondorian companion."

Melhros clasped his hands before him, and his face hinted at nothing of his thoughts.

"What news do you bring of the Gwathuirim?"

"Thankfully, there have been no attacks as of late."

Melhros remained silent, and spoke after a moment only to dismiss him.

It was none of his business, Arphen knew, but his curiosity could not be quelled without the proper answers. He would not be so forward as to ask the Silvan lord, but he was not oblivious. He could make the connection between the attacks and the mortal's arrival easily enough. He wondered, however, at Melhros' evident suspicion.

Before the guard could reach the door, Melhros stopped him. Without once turning to face him, he said, "Be wary of her, Arphen. I wish to know all that you can tell me."

Linden relished the quiet moment of solitude. While he managed his authority over his wild companions well enough, to their reluctance resentment, he sought isolation from them. He did not think himself above them, but the horse rider knew that while they were not a loyal people, they remained to be a clan of brothers. He acknowledged himself to be an outsider of the group, and for that, he remained cautious and wary.

With winter soon upon its end, the Dunlendings found content with the coming warmth. They had no reason to complain, but they wished to return soon to familiar lands to claim their bounty and return home. The Wild Men's patience was wearing thin. Wasted time and men killed, they turned their anger to whom they saw was the cause: the woman.

A small flicker of anger sparked within Linden's heart, and his fist clenched against the handle of his sword.

It was fair to say that he held little love for the savages of the South.

He and Dunlendings dwelled within the forsaken Forest of Mirkwood for longer than a season. It was unfortunate that they had found the woman's location during the middle of winter, for such cold was harsh against the skin of the Southern Men. Many of them were either lost to the darkness of the Forest or taken by the guards of King Thranduil.

During this hunt, none were willing to linger too close to the fair Halls of the Elven King save for Linden, for they feared the strength and power of their enemy. The horse rider, however, held confidence in his ability in stealth and often espied a glimpse of a fair head of gold from a distance.

It came as a surprise to him, however, when he saw that Areth had secured her friendship with the leader of the isolated Elven kingdom.

From then on, Linden damned his luck. And yet, it could not be denied that a small light grew in his heart when he saw the King take a gentle hold of the woman's hand, for then he knew that Areth had gained a strong ally.

Linden closed his eyes, hiding away a set of sapphire eyes, and leaned the back of his head tiredly against the rough bark of the tree. From the moment he had been assigned as captain, the confliction rose within him, for his loyalty to his kin and allegiance to the throne forced his actions to be fulfilled through an ultimatum.

And so, in the end, he pledged his loyalty to the very power that his sister fought against.

The weight of sadness and rue ate at him and never left, but his duty to his kingdom must first be upheld by the people who swore their lives to protect it. Blind, Areth had once called him before her departure, but she foolishly followed her heart, which would inevitably be the cause of her downfall.

His allegiance was unquestionably to Rohan, but that did not stop him from hoping that his sister would escape the inevitable doom that awaited her in the shadowed hall of the once gleaming Meduseld.

He looked to the east of the running lake and espied the faraway town of Esgaroth, rich and powerful from the wealth of its neighboring kingdoms.

"Hurry away, sister," he whispered in the tongue of the Eorlingas, his voice swept away by the great roaring of the running water.

Linden's countenance was lax and unhurried, for he was in no danger. And yet, from the corner of his eye, a swift shadow moved, but before he could even draw his sword, he stood stiff and unmoving, for a short length of a well-crafted blade was drawn against his neck, thus entrapping him against the tree.

He saw nothing of his assailant save for the gloved hand that drew the blade, but the light of their hair that Linden saw from the utmost corner of his vision was enough to confirm their identity.

Despite being held against a fatal hand that perhaps would cost him his life, Linden smiled. And though it was not entirely a smile of joyous greeting and welcome, it spoke of perhaps a small gladness.

"You have grown slow since last we met, brother."

It was that voice. The same dry voice that spoke volumes through its even pitch and crisp words. The voice that he remembered would refute him at every turn. The same one that drew light during his darkest days.

He turned his head despite the blade held against his throat.

"And you have become ever lovelier." He paused to regard her. The Captain's eyes narrowed, shadowing his ocean eyes, and the edge of his lip drew upwards in another ironic smile.

"Hello, sister."

The room was silent save for the Elven King's lithe fingers' rhythmic tapping against the side of the crystal glass. His eyes, solemn and quite absorbed in his thoughts, idly observed the soft ripple that broke the still surface of the red wine in the cup.

He watched the liquid calm again into stillness before once again causing another ripple.

After a few moments of doing the repetitive, idle, and time-consuming task of disturbing the peace, Thranduil frowned and stared at the beverage, as if it were to blame for his discontent. He had no interest to drink at the present.

It was odd, indeed, that the Elven King chose to partake in something so meaningless and dull when there was work yet to be completed. And yet, he had no interest in doing that, either.

Thranduil sighed. His forefinger, wrapped in the silver vines of his ring, made the motion to tap against the edge of the wine glass. He paused, however, when his keen ears heard the muffled patter of quick, light footsteps from the hallway outside of his study.

The King did not turn, however, as his cerulean eyes shifted to the pool of water that was at the center of the room. Hearing the pause of the intruder's steps outside the door, he could feel his hesitation.

Not waiting for him to gather the courage, the King said quietly, but with undeniable strength, "Enter, Ernil."

The sheepishness on Ernil's face went unnoticed by Thranduil, who took no effort in facing his guard. And so, upon his entrance, the Silvan Elf was met with the turned figure of his liege, silent and contemplating as he adjusted the silk robe that draped about his broad shoulders.

Though the King could not see, the guard paused and bowed in respect, as was the custom.

Though the Elven King did not fully face Ernil, his head turned slightly, just enough so that his keen eyes reached to see the guard. His eyes were half-lidded and contemplative, and though it was hidden beneath the depths of blue, Ernil could detect a shadow.

"What brings you to me?"

And despite this, he was still hidden behind a wall that showed only strength and authority.

Ernil inclined his head and said, "I apologize, my Lord. I came for Lady Areth, for I promised to seek for her company when I was released from my duties."

"That is unfortunate," the King's deep voice echoed against the walls, "for she has been gone for eight days now."

The guard's brow rose in surprise, but Thranduil merely hid behind the crystal cup as he took a sip of wine. He was unusually not keen to the sweet taste it brought to his tongue.

"If I'm not being too forward, my Lord," Ernil began slowly, choosing his words carefully, "might I inquire as to where she is?"

"I know not," the King said, if not a bit rigidly, "for her affairs remain entirely her own. Areth is free to leave as she pleases. She is no prisoner, nor will I ever treat her as one."

And even as he said this, the worry that seeped through the cracks of his façade became known to Ernil.

It was this very worry that concerned Thranduil. He had no claim over the mortal. He was not her husband, nor was she his kin, and therefore had not the right to feel so protective of her. And yet, Thranduil, perhaps though friendship, felt the concern regarding her wellbeing nonetheless.

"That is strange," Ernil muttered absently, "for Areth never lingers to Dale for more than a day. She must have traveled elsewhere soon after."

Thranduil's curiosity piqued at the small bit of information, for he was careful to indulge Areth's nature to be wary and so avoided any questions that would cause her to withdraw. However, he fought to quell his interest, for he respected her far too much to intrude on information that she did not wish for him to know. However, he could not help but feel a bit of indignation at the fact that Ernil was privy to knowledge that Areth had never once mentioned to him.

And yet despite this, he spoke a sly question, seemingly innocent in intent, and yet purposeful to the King, "What business does she have that lasts for more than a week's time?"

"Areth seeks but one person in Dale, as she had been doing ever since her arrival, and it had never taken her this long. However, with the ceasing of the attacks of the Wild Men, I fear for her."

At this, the King was finished with his pretense of elusion and outright said, "Who does she meet in Dale?"

The nature of his wariness did not extend so far to regard Areth as a threat to his realm, for while he may not have the right to shelter her from all of the world's perils, Thranduil would at least be contented by seeing to his friend's safety as best as he could from within his throne.

Ernil shifted his gaze from his King's and said, "I know not, for she keeps her business close to her heart."