CH6 – Thranduil's Pompous Ass

After months of training with the Mirkwood Guard, Arryin had become an intricate member of the 13th sector—even making some friends along the way. Her skills were greatly valued for she pushed the others she spared with to work harder and was quick to slay spiders that slipped through the borders. Although Arryin's main focus was weapon and battle oriented, she still brought forth a lively presence for she was fairly bold. She spoke her thoughts regardless of the company around her and she did not take shit from anyone. In other words, the Ranger made it her mission to push buttons—Thranduil's, Razela's, Legolas's, though the last did not mind as much. To say the least, Arryin had obtained quite a reputation. Besides, it was great entertainment for the other members of the guard really, and they had become quite accustom to her behavior. But still, for every coin there was another side and that didn't go unnoticed by her new friends. Her quick remarks and smug attitude was not all there was, for she often retreated from the group. It seemed she never let anyone too close—past her mental wall—for she would close up, turn stern, and occasionally lash out in anger.

It was early morning when Arryin approached the 13th sector's table in the Mirkwood Dinning Hall. She moved fast with bouncing steps as excitement filtered through her blood. The Ranger tried to contain the smile that tugged at her lips, but failed to do so, for the news she had was too invigorating.

Arryin slammed her hands down on the smooth wood with force, "I heard whispers that we are going on far distance boarder patrol."

Belanor, Legolas's second in command, pulled his tea cup to his lips in attempt to hide the smile that crossed his face. "Is that so?"

Arryin grinned as she swung her legs over the bench to take her own seat. "Rowan told me."

Belanor shook his head and chuckled, "Of course he did."

Beyla, a sweet dark-skinned elleth with hair the color of sunshine, let a light laugh slip from her lips. "He always has been terrible at keeping secrets!" She tossed the Ranger an apple while speaking again, "Are you excited? It's been a while since you have roamed the lands of Arda."

Arryin took a large bite out of the sweet fruit before replying. "Of course I am. If I have to see Thranduil's pompous ass for one more moment..." She let her sentence trail off as laughter from the table filled the air.

This would be Arryin's first time far from the Mirkwood castle since her arrival due to some bullshit Thranduil liked to call 'training'. Of course she had gone on close-distance patrol and slain some straying spiders, but that is not what her heart desired. She yearned for wind in her hair, sun on her face, grass beneath her feet, and water flowing through her fingers. Not to say that she hadn't been able to sneak out at night, but it wasn't the same as being able to see the beauty of the world in light. Besides, the number of her nightly journeys had lessened due to the new obligations to Mirkwood. Who knew basic guard duty was to last so long.

Arryin had been a ranger for 984 years—ever since she was twelve. Her heart belonged in the exploration of lands—it not meant to stand still for three hours while Thranduil had meetings. Therefore, not only would this be an opportunity to feel freedom once more and map out the lay of the land; it was also a chance to kill. She desired to divulge in her blood-thirst and lay waste to orcs again—to get her dose of revenge. In the past, Arryin had thought that she wanted to stop ruining, but it became clear that that was not who she was. It wasn't in her blood. It was her mission to reclaim vengeance. It always had been. Blood for blood, and as much of it as she could get.

The Ranger was pulled from her fantasies rather abruptly as a gentle hand rested upon her shoulder.

"Yes, we have been assigned far distance boarder patrol," Legolas stated. "However, we do not depart for five days."

The blonde Prince sat down on the bench beside her—his arm brushing lightly against hers, yet the action wasn't acknowledged by either of them.

Arryin turned to look at him with disappointment. "Five days!" She grumbled in exasperated annoyance.

He chuckled, "You can wait, Dilthen Er (little one). My father's, as you put it 'pompous ass', isn't that hard to tolerate."

Arryin rolled her eyes and snorted, for of course the Princeling had heard her less than appropriate words and of course he continued to use that absurd nickname.

"You know," she started smugly while pointing her apple at him, "I have been exploring Arda my entire existence, and I bet that I'm older than you. Therefore that nickname is invalid."

Another deep chuckle rumbled from Legolas's chest, "Oh really, and how old are you?"

Arryin crossed her arms and stuck her chin in the air, "Nine hundred and ninety-six."

A self-congratulatory grin crossed Legolas's face. "Well, I'm afraid you are wrong, I am indeed older than you. I have been on this earth for two thousand six hundred and seventy-one years."

Arryin snorted. "Oh really? Then why have I never heard of you—" Her tone changed to heavy sarcasm and leering mockery, "—the heavy training-dragon of the Mirkwood Guard, who has never stepped outside of his home—"

Her taunting words were abruptly stopped by a grape bouncing off her forehead.

With a gaping mouth, Arryin sent a glare at the smug blonde elf who was the cause of such an action.

Belanor, Beyla, and the other elves at the table burst into loud laughter at the antics displayed before them, for the dark-chestnut haired elf and their sector leader's ridiculous banter was always entertaining.

The two had become quite good friends since the Ranger had arrived. Arryin was the first to push and pull on strings, but Legolas had no problem meeting her with the same raillery. They fueled each others's spark for relentless digs and comments—all in good faith that is. Furthermore, it seemed that the Prince had at least some leeway with her mood swings. Any time that she was charged with electrifying anger or irritation, he was the only one that could deal with it—aka take the beating.

...

Night had long since settled into the sky when Legolas shut the door to his father's office. The two had been discussing plans for expanding boarder patrol and, to say the least, Thranduil disagreed with every idea his son presented. It was a long couple hours of arguing and, quite frankly, it drained the Prince. Therefore, he made his way through the shadowy corridors, lit by only the occasional torch and moonlit windows, to rest in his quarters.

Legolas was about to round the corner to his room, when the creaking of a wooden door made him half his movement.

The blonde elf frowned, who would be awake and about at such an hour?

He peeked around the cold, stone wall and surprise etched it way into his mind. A small elleth, dressed in black, was making haste throughout the dark halls.

Arryin, he thought.

A frown crossed the Prince's expression, for she wasn't on guard duty tonight—and Legolas would know considering he created the schedule.

As curiosity took hold, he opted to follow for the peculiarity of the situation made his mind wander. With the stealth that his elven features allowed, he followed her footsteps. While keeping a fair amount of distance between them, he crept through the corridors. He was sure to duck behind walls and pillars when he sensed that he was too close.

At first, he had assumed she was sneaking into the kitchen like she previously had done; however, it was soon apparent that the Ranger was not making her way to the cupboards filled with dried leaves and herbs. The green-eyed elleth made many twists and turns throughout the Mirkwood corridors—taking paths that Legolas thought were only known to him—until she arrived at the South Gate. It was guarded by the night's shift for none were permitted to leave or enter without direct orders. As Arryin made her way into the vast, spacious room, she gracefully ducked behind a large, winding, wooden pillar. Legolas quickly did the same, for being inconspicuous was of necessity at the moment.

Only a few minutes passed before the shuffling feet of the guards caught Legolas's attention. The two warriors left their position. Arryin took this moment to easily slip out the threshold, for it was only seconds before the next shift arrived to take their post.

Legolas grimaced as he stopped a curse from passing through his lips. She was smart alright. Her size and stealth had made it easy for her to walk throughout the Mirkwood castle unseen; and she clearly used that to her advantage. Furthermore, it was apparent that she had studied the guards patterns for no one would be able to pull off such a feat without hours of reconnaissance. She had been well prepared.

The Prince exhaled as he sunk to the cold, stone floor. The next shift change wouldn't be for three hours, and he couldn't exactly leave the castle without his father finding out. So, Legolas settled on doing the only thing he could: wait with his thoughts.

What reason would she have to leave?
Was his father right? Is she a spy?

Legolas couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. The small elleth had become close with the sector and established many relationships, including one with Legolas. As fierce as she was, she still was his friend—well, at least he considered her so. The Prince didn't wish for their association to turn into distrust and regrets. She seemed like she was beginning to settle into living a life with her kind once more. It looked as if she was happy with the concept of having a sort of home and family. That is what the sector was, was it not? A family?

Could it all have been a cover? A lie?

Of course, every elf could tell there was more behind her shield of anger and mask of humor; it was indeed prominent that Arryin was content with her own company for she often retreated into herself and was always wary of others. But still, would she betray them to darkness? Legolas had sensed that she was keeping something deep within her soul, but that didn't mean she was a spy. Right? It couldn't. It just couldn't.

...

Legolas scurried through the forest at a quick pace as the sky's tears sunk into the soil around him. Arryin's tracks were fading quickly and he was three hours behind. Still, he followed his instincts and navigated the forest that he grew up in.

It wasn't long when his shifting eyes landed on one obscurely deep footprint at the bottom of a thick-trunked tree. Legolas glanced up through the leaves, desperate to grasp a glimpse of who he assumed was up there; and sure enough, he could make out the roughly human shape.

In attempt to not alert her of his presence, Legolas began to climb the tree adjacent to the one which Arryin resided in. The Mirkwood Prince easily hoisted himself upon the branches and continued upward. As his head rose from the near tree tops, his gaze locked onto the night's sky. Bright lights they were that twinkled against the dark—forming constellations and patterns that he easily recognized. The moon followed suit of the stars as well, for its quiet glow stretched upon him and reflected the rain-covered leaves. However, his attention was quickly changed to the initial cause of his outdoor presence.

Legolas turned his head to look at the Ranger nestled upon the pines. Her back rested against the thickness of the wood and her legs dangled below her. Legolas was surprised at how high she went and the spot she chose, for she was entirely exposed. The rain beat against her skin, soaking her form; yet, it looked as if she invited it to do so, for her palms were upturned and her face extended into the sky. But that was not what commanded Legolas's attention. It was her expression—a look of peace...and misery. Her face was twisted into one of desperate relief—as if the rain was washing away her sins; yet he couldn't tell if was the sky's tears or her own that encapsulated her skin.

Legolas felt as if he was invading a personal, private moment—one that he was not meant to see. However, at the same time, he needed to see it. Arryin was not a spy, that much was clear now, for there was no one here to meet her except her own dejected desolation. But here, past the strong stone walls, there was more than just that singular insight into the Ranger. Legolas was seeing beyond her harsh attitude and aggressive stance. He was being exposed to a different side of Arryin—a side full of utter sadness and heartbreak.

Legolas had been smart enough to assume—by her hostile inclination—that she hid away all pain, for appearing vulnerable wasn't the way to survive in the wild. It was now when that was confirmed, for she truly did hide behind a mask of humor and a shield of anger; but when she thought she was alone, she would disarm herself. She would be vulnerable. Legolas could sense there was more to the mystery of the Lone Elven Ranger. More, indeed.