CH10 – Because, Of Course, Could Anything Ever Go Right? Clearly, Not.

Arryin grit her teeth as her stomach grumbled for the sixth time. The 13th sector had been running drills over and over in the sun's heat all day. It was entirely unnecessary as they had gotten the movements right hours ago, but Legolas kept pushing. Quite frankly, they weren't improving anymore; they were just getting more irritated and exhausted.

The thing that finally prompted the Prince to end training was the sun, well, the lack thereof. As the pinks, oranges, and purples of the sky faded into dusk, the weary and bone-tired warriors made their way into the dinning hall.

The hearty aroma danced across their noses, luring them to the large pot at the side in the room. As if they were undead creatures, they all slowly bombarded the stew. Of course there was more than enough for everyone, as the Mirkwood cooks were well aware of the guards eating habits, but still they acted so.

Everyone was currently gathered around, waiting in anticipation for their turn. Arryin, Rowan, Belanor and Beyla were at the front of the line. As Beyla was using the ladle to scoop the stew into her bowl, Arryin leaned forward. She placed her hand on the rim of the pot in order to make it easier to smell the deliciousness.

That was a mistake.

"ARRYIN!" Rowan called out in alarm.

He lashed forward and ripped her palm off of the hot pot.

Almost every elf in the room now had their attention turned towards the commotion.

Rowan grimace, "Damn, you won't be able to pull a bow string for at least a week with a burn like that."

The amber-haired elf picked up her hand and gingerly turned it over to reveal...absolutely nothing.

He sucked in a deep breath and his lips parted in confusion, "You're—you're not burned?"

Arryin opened her mouth to speak but Rowan spoke before her, "I saw you—your hand! It was on the..." He looked up at her face and his voice got quiet, "...you should have a burn."

All the warriors had gathered closer for this indeed was an interesting situation. Legolas, who had been talking with other sector leaders, pushed through the crowd to to see what all the commotion was. He arrived at the front just to see Arryin pull her hand away from Rowan's grasp.

She spoke quickly, "You must have been mistaken Rowan. I didn't touch it."

Internally, Arryin was filled with anxiety, panic, end alarm. Her previous hunger was replaced by queasiness and nausea while her mind raced. This couldn't be happening. How could she be so stupid—so careless?! This was a mistake. It all was a big mistake. And it was going to haunt her if she didn't get out of there...fast.

Arryin was about to weave through the immense crowd, but a gentle grasp stopped her. Now it was Legolas who had taken Arryin's hand in his own. He turned it over, his fingers brushing upon her callouses, before gently moving his thumb across her palm.

"There is no burn," he stated simply.

Legolas then turned to Rowan, "Are you sure you saw her hand on the rim?"

He was about to reply but Arryin interjected, "I am not burned. You're eyes must have deceived you."

She pulled her arm away from Legolas' and turned around. She felt like she was suffocating—like the walls and countless elves were closing in in her. Arryin could feel every gaze upon her form as she shoved warrior after warrior to the side—desperate to get out of the crowd. She just needed to leave. Now.

As she stumbled into the hall, she began to suck in deep breaths. Everything felt so...so...hot.

Her heart began to race. Oh, no.

This is not happening. This cannot be happening.

Within seconds she felt it—the tingle in her palm, the heat in her hand, and the fire in her eyes.

Because, of course, could anything ever go right? Clearly, not.

Arryin squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to calm the adrenaline rushing through her blood. She needed to get a grip. Now. She knew she already was screwed considering the incident that happened only minutes beforehand. But this—this would just top all off. Because, quite frankly, no one could get away with blowing up an elven fortress.

Arryin clenched her fist and began racing through the woodland halls towards the east wing—to her chambers. Luckily, for for her, every maid, guard, and official were busy with the hunger that haunted their stomachs, so the halls were vacant.

The door to her chambers flung open under her touch and she instantly blundered in. Slamming the door behind her, she flipped the lock, and began pacing the cold, stone floor.

She would have to leave for they knew by now. She had been so—so stupid, so ignorant, so oblivious. How could she ever think that she could live here with elves. This—this is why she had always traveled alone. She had gotten too comfortable while planning her escape, and now she would have to pay for it—by being hunted.

Arryin's thoughts only worsened her panic, for her breath became faster and her anxiety peaked. However, it wasn't until flames began to flicker in her palms that she realized that she was truly, consequently, completely, and utterly fucked.

Normally she could control her powers. She had practiced with precision her entire life. She had trained in the open lands of Arda. She had survived. So, why was this happening now? Why was her control weakening. The Ranger felt tears prickling at her eyes. Never had she felt so much disarray and disorder. Never had she felt so scared.

At that moment, there was a brisk knock on her door.

She shook her head. There was no way she would let herself be taken into the dungeons—be captured, be controlled, be used. Not an option. She needed to accelerate her incomplete escape plan, and fast.

"Arryin?" The soft voice of Rowan called from the other side of the door.

She opened her eyes.

Rowan's voice didn't sound threatening. If anything, it sounded...remorseful—sad, even.

"Arryin, please open the door. I'm sorry."

Bitting her lip and sucking in a deep breath, she emptied her thoughts of panic. She needed to stop this power surge before it got her killed...or got Mirkwood burned to a crisp.

She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw.

The Ranger focused on sucking the fire back into her soul. She focused on taking the flames into her heart and keeping them there. She focused on control.

A calming feeling washed over the elleth and she opened her gaze. No longer were her flames dancing upon her palms. No longer was her vision blurred with glowing light. No longer was her chaos.

Slowly, Arryin opened the door to reveal Rowan.

He smiled softly, "May I come in?"

She hesitantly extended the door and the elf cautiously entered. He sighed before turning to face her. "I apologize for causing a scene. It was not my place to panic. You must have been right, my eyes deceived me for there is no other explanation. I did not mean to upset you, Mellon (friend). I hope that you can forgive me."

The Ranger released an exhale at his words.

She was okay. She was safe—for now that is. Maybe...maybe she could stay just a little while longer?

Arryin looked up at her friend and nodded in response, "All is forgotten, Rowan."

The amber-haired elf grinned, "Good because yesterday I collected some colostethinae frogs from the pond. Wanna go release them in Legolas's room with me?!

The Ranger snorted, "Need you even ask?!"

The two mischievous elves ran off but the incident wasn't forgotten entirely. Arryin took this as a lesson: she needed to be more careful and she needed to come up with some temporary solutions. One thing was clear to her: the longer she spent in Mirkwood without exercising her powers, the more risk she was at. She needed to find a way to use her abilities regularly until she escaped, otherwise she would slip into uncontrolled chaos again. The starlight within her was not meant to be contained. It never was.

...

That night, Arryin rolled over in bed for the millionth time. No matter how much she shifted her position, she could not get comfortable enough to slip into unconsciousness. She was restless. Her mind would not stop slipping back into the days events. If the Mirkwood Elves had found out, she surely would be in deep horse shit. However, who's to say they didn't find out? Surely someone besides Rowan had witnessed her grasp upon the pot. How much longer could she blend in with these elves before she was noticed?

Arryin groaned. The only reason she was in this mess was because the King forced her into the guard. She had been spending the past months mapping out Mirkwood in her head and learning their patterns, but she needed intel. If she was to leave these woods, she needed to know if Thranduil knew of her abilities and heritage. Her escape plan was not complete until she discovered if the King needed to die or not. And she needed that intel now. She had pushed this thought of assassination to the back of her mind, for she did not take pleasure in having to kill someone who wasn't born of darkness. But that was a mistake. Reality was, that if he knew, he couldn't continue living. The Ranger already had one army hunting her for her flames, she did not need another.

The green-eyed elleth threw the velvet blankets from her form and let her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well do something useful.

Arryin slipped off the mattress and moved to the drawers of clothing. She quickly dressed in a simple black and grey tunic with dark trousers before pulling on her worn-leather boots. The Ranger then began arming herself for she never left without a weapon. She strapped her obsidian crystal dagger to her thigh and tucked her silver knives into her shoes. She then crept out the door.

Arryin strutted through the Mirkwood corridors as she closed in on her destination. Given that it was way past midnight, Thranduil's office would be rip for the rummaging and snooping. Perfect for her information-seeking mission.

Just as she rounded the corner, she heard the soft sounds of conversation. The Ranger frowned as she slowly approached, for the sound was coming from Thranduil's office. Muffled it was, distorted by the thick woodland walls. The green eyed elf sighed. Hunting through the Elven King's papers was not an option, but that did not mean this night was entirely useless.

She began to run her fingers along the edge of the of various paintings upon the walls. When she was injured, when she first arrived and not permitted to begin training for the guard, she spent her time exploring. Mirkwood was a maze really, but Arryin had just about figured it out. One thing she discovered was that some paintings opened up into passageways or a secret rooms. It wasn't common throughout the castle, but one could hope that this strange anomaly presented itself near the King's office.

As if the Valar had heard her prayer, her calloused fingers stumbled upon a small lever behind a massive depiction of the forest. The Ranger gently pulled on the lever and, sure enough, the painting separated from the wall like a door. As quietly as she could, she slipped into the passageway.

Arryin walked slowly and silently throughout the secret, cramped corridor; winding, twisting, and turning at every bend. Eventually, the sounds of conversation became clearer and she stumbled upon a small crack on the wood.

The Ranger stopped and pressed her face against the wall. She peered through the gap and was surprised to see that she was looking down upon the King's massive office.

Thranduil was wearing long, draping, silver robes and a simple crown upon his head—his usual extravagant attire. He sat on a brown colored, leather sofa with a glass of wine in hand. Across from him was another elf—one that she didn't recognize. This man had dark brown hair and was clothed in light purple robes—not the Mirkwood colors.

The sound of their conversation drifted to her ears.

Thranduil spoke with frustration, "I know not Elrond, which is why I called for your counsel. She is different, wayward, if you will."

The elf called Elrond nodded in response, "And you know not of where she is from?"

Thranduil stood up and began to pace, "Only that she belonged to a village in the south that wasdesecrated by orcs. Still, she is a skilled warrior—she must have been trained by one of the best—which is why I though that perhaps she was one of yours."

Arryin felt her heart pounding.

They were talking about her.

Elrond spoke again, "Not every elf needs direct training. She may have learned on instinct."

Thranduil frowned, "What do you mean?"

"There were rumors running about the west three centuries ago. It was said a warrior was seen upon the lands destroying entire armies in solidarity. Apparently, the battlefields were the most gruesome bloodbaths seen in years. However, that legend seemed to fade into the darkness."

The raven haired elf felt a lump form in her throat, for they were starting to connect the dots and piece together the maze that she called her life.

Thranduil stood, "Are you implying that that legend speaks of the Ranger I harbor?"

Elrond raised his brows in response, but the Mirkwood King shook his head. "If those stories you speak of are true, it could not be Arryin. She lacks that precision. Hell, she can't even follow a single order. There is no way she could orchestrate that."

"Well then, may I ask you this: why did you take her in?"

Thranduil sighed and gazed into his wine glass seemingly taking time to carefully pick his words before speaking. "I originally though she might be a spy and I wanted to keep a close eye on her."

"A spy?" Elrond questioned in surprise.

The Mirkwood King nodded and began to pace, "Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice with poisoning intent." With icy eyes pooled with fear, he looked at his friend, "I have felt it. I have seen it's effects. It is destroying my forest—producing illness and dread. The orcs and spiders have been growing in number, working in precise forms and patterns. I worry, my friend."

The other lord's response did not register in Arryin's mind, for something else captured her attention in the confined and narrow passageway.

The scent of pine and honey filtered through her nose as a firm body pressed against her back. She instantly knew there was no way of slipping out from the form given that his stature was much bigger than her own. He had pinned her in place. Arryin blew hot air through her nose as dread rose in her chest. If she thought she was fucked beforehand, she was royally fucked now. She had been caught spying on the King and that was not something that would go unpunished. She bit her lip as a hand, that was not her own, trialed down her side and hot breath whispered upon her neck. A playful, teasing voice then sounded in her ear, "Spying on my father?"

She closed her eyes and let out a breath of relief. Yes, she had been caught, but by someone who would not report her. "Legolas, what are you doing awake?"

He hummed slightly before answering, "Well, I spent the better half of the night trying to catch toads that were loose in my chambers." He paused, "I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

Arryin smirked as she pressed her face to the wall once again. "Of course not, and they were frogs—there's a difference you know."

The Ranger felt the vibrations of a light chuckle rumble in his chest and he spoke again, "I knew it was you."

"Don't feel so smug, I was only there to assist," She whispered back while she continued to peer through the cracks. "How did you find me?"

The elf's self-satisfied grin was replaced by a frown as he muttered under his breath, "Only there to assist? Then who—"

Arryin cut him off, "Legolas, how did you find me?"

Being brought back to reality, he sighed. "It was a mere concidence, I have known of these passages since I was a young ellon. When I heard Lord Elrond of Rivendell was coming for a private meeting with my father, I was intrigued."

Arryin snorted, "Not the goody-goody that I thought then."

Legolas scoffed in response to her comment before speaking once again, "So, what is your excuse?"

Still fixated on the scene before her she spoke, "I heard voices in the hall and got curious."

The Prince rolled his eyes before gently shoving the green-eyed elleth out of the way so he himself could peak through the crack.

"Hey!" She hissed.

"Shhhh," He responded.

The sound of Elrond's voice drifted to their ears once again, "And Legolas? What is his opinion of her?"

Thranduil sighed heavily, "It seems that he has taken a liking to her."

Legolas's could not help the light pink tint that crossed his cheeks and tips of his ears. He did not know his father had been observing him in that sense and, quite frankly, he did not appreciate Thranduil babbling to Elrond. However, Arryin didn't seem to even notice the comment; she was too focused on trying to get the blonde elf out of the way in order to see. Besides, it appeared that she didn't really know what that comment meant, for she never was good at picking up on those types of social cues.

Legolas's thoughts were interrupted by her persistent pushing, "Legolas, move. I cannot see."

"SHhhh!" He retorted.

They both turned their attention back to the elven lords below them.

"Thranduil, you may be overanalyzing. Do not read into it so much. She maybe just be a roaming soul for often those who experience loss are."

A sigh slipped from the King of Mirkwood's lips, "I suppose you are right. Nevertheless, I shall not let my guard down for she still is a shadow in my mind."

At his words, Legolas, who was still peering out the crack, aimlessly muttered to Arryin under his breath. "He always was uneasy about you presence."

The dark-haired elleth smirked at that, for the thought of making the King nervous added to her pride and fueled ego. Thranduil indeed suspected that something about her was different, and he was right. However, he had no idea what was coming for him if he pried.

He should be scared.