A/N: A somewhat shorter chapter, but I do hope you will forgive me (all 3 dozen of you)!
Disclaimer: I have not acquired additional rights to Tolkein's books, unfortunately, and neither have I found a way to purchase a life sized version of Orlando Bloom circa 2001. Thus, i still own nothing.
Please read and review and enjoy :)
Cassian escorted Ashryn to a court session the following day, walking too fast as she did her best to avoid tripping over flowing lilac skirts.
"Rohan envoys arrived late last night," Cassian informed her as they crossed a narrow wooden bridge, water tumbling swiftly past. "This ought to be an interesting session. I was up with your uncle half the night watching him prepare all of his arguments against neutrality. He's determined to make the absolute most of out this opportunity."
Ashryn made a noise at the back of her throat as Cassian rubbed wearily at his eyes with a free hand, the two of them making a turn to join the steady flow of elves into the courtroom. "I would not get my hopes up."
Cassian frowned at her, pace slowing as they neared the wide double doors of the chambers. "Have a little faith, won't you?"
Ashryn snorted. "What, in you?" She was smiling, however, as the chamber opened before them, ceiling vaulting high and carved painstakingly with the constellations so beloved by the elves. Steps led to platforms lining the hall to allow some observers to watch from above, almost at level with the carved throne of the woodland realm. The main floor was already milling with activity, advisors and aides in their finery congregating about the foot of the empty throne, the Rohan delegates clear amongst the crowd.
"I leave you here, my lady." Cassian pressed a brief kiss to the back of her hand as he inclined his head towards the courtiers. "I am obligated to notify your uncle of the faith of his favourite niece."
"Please do," Ashryn gathered up her skirts to ascend the steps to an upper level as Cassian wound his way through the crowd towards the circle of advisors around her uncle, Lord Candor: prominent military commander, influential advisor, spearhead of the interventionist movement.
The landing was fairly empty, with most of the watchers preferring to be closer to the action, so Ashryn planted herself right at the edge of a balcony, forearms resting upon the carved stone. There was a murmur of activity as a bright golden head emerged from a side door at the back of the chamber, a simple steel band upon his forehead and a forest green tunic in place of armour and weapons. The Crown Prince.
Ashryn leaned forwards in interest as her uncle instantly managed to position himself at the prince's side, light glinting off his embellished shoulder plates when he moved, a red cape swishing about his feet. She was mildly amused to watch the irritation strain Lord Candor's features as Legolas greeted the Rohan men, fist pressed over his heart. The sight of Cassian, papers almost spilling from his arms as he followed her uncle was almost enough to make her regret her teasing.
A bell chimed in the distant, drawing instant silence from the crowd as footsteps rang through the hall.
"Lords and Ladies of Eryn Lasgalen, honoured dignitaries: Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm."
The King's crown of autumn leaves preceded him onto the dais as the room sank into respectful bows and curtseys, heads lowering everywhere. "Rise," he intoned as he sank gracefully onto the throne, sleek and dangerous as a panther, staff clutched loosely in his left hand. "Honoured guests," the King addressed the finely dressed group of men at the foot of his throne. "I bid you welcome. What news do you bring of the Riddermark?"
A tall man clad in a black doublet - dull in comparison to his companions - stepped forwards, bowing elegantly, hands clasped behind his back. "Your majesty, we come as delegates of King Eomund of Rohan, and regret that our news is not as joyous as times of peace would allow."
The chamber seemed to inhale collectively, heads everywhere straining for a better look. From her perch, Ashryn watched the way her uncle directed his entire attention to the Rohirrim, his gaze sharp. Legolas, at his side, fixed his eyes upon his father.
"The threat of Sauron has been extinguished, but his forces remain. Leaderless, perhaps, but packs of orcs roaming the misty mountains are straying into the plains. They are organised, numerous, unconventionally well supplied. Our patrols aren't coming back, and Lorien is no longer a significant power - your lands are under direct threat of invasion."
A murmur coursed through the hall. There was a gleam of ambition in Lord Candor's eyes as Cassian passed him several sheets of parchment.
"I come bearing a proposal," the envoy plunged on, ignoring the unrest around him. "A brief alliance between our peoples to confront this menace and root out this problem at the source before it has the chance to grow further." He extended a sealed envelope to the aide at the foot of the throne, who hurried up the steps to present the letter.
There was a long silence as Thranduil slit open the envelope with a hunting knife, flicking through the parchment slowly before looking back down at the masses congregated before him. "250 soldiers?"
"Aye, your majesty."
"I will spare you 25."
First was disbelief on the delegates' faces, then the hints of anger. "Your majesty, double that number was slain just in the past month."
The King sat forward, icy stillness in every feature of his face. "And I will not allow elven casualties to add to that number. Greenwood's borders are secure. The blood of my people will not be shed for the security of the gap of Rohan."
Half of the group of envoys instantly turned to Legolas, who determinedly stared only at his father.
"Your majesty -"
Lord Candor's hand on the envoy's arm cut off the protestation. "My King, perhaps we can discuss this issue further at this afternoon's council meeting?"
Thranduil's ice blue eyes were dismissive despite his affirming nod. "Business will be postponed until court proceeds tomorrow. My lord, my ladies." Everyone bowed once again as the King swept from his throne in a swirl of silver, disappearing down the stairs.
Not for the first time, Ashryn found herself rather envious of the king's flexible schedule.
—
Ashryn leaned back on the couch by the window of her uncle's meeting room, veiled in shadow and watching the seats fill. The door to his study remained firmly closed, but Cassian moved amongst the guests milling about the informal couches, his particular playful charm making occasional appearances as the haze of pipe smoke slowly filled the air. The room was dimly lit by a few candles, moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains. Ashryn tipped her head back, feeling the night wind caress her waves, shutting her eyes and listening.
"… raiding along the Riddermark…"
"… Orcs on the edge of the forest…"
"… Inconclusive council meetings…"
"My lady Ashryn." The seat beside her dipped and Ashryn caught the scent of sharp forest pine. "I will not intrude upon your hospitality for long."
Ashryn cracked open an eye, a flash of blonde hair beside her glinting through the haze. "My prince," she inched herself into a sitting position. "I would not presume to deny it."
Legolas smiled slightly despite his tense features, his shoulders squared. "I wanted to check in on Drauchir's condition."
"Recovering steadily," Ashryn leaned back, draping a stray shawl around her shoulders, her voice low. "When I left this morning he was asleep. I left him some herbal brews and bread, but it will be some days yet before you can have him moving properly."
"Good," the prince replied somewhat absently, bracing his forearms on his knees and surveying the room. "Good. Thank you." Lord Candor's servants were pouring wine.
Ashryn felt a stab of concern as she assessed the stress lining Legolas's features, head tilting. "With all due respect, your highness, you need to get some rest. When was the last time you slept?"
Legolas breathed out heavily, eyes fixating on the Rohan delegate who had spoken at court earlier in the day. "A day and a half. As you may have gathered, I did not quite get sufficient rest last night." He blinked a few times. "But I am heir, and I must do my duty."
Ashryn bit her tongue, glancing once more at the door to her uncle's study, and Cassian chuckling with friends at the far end of the room. "Your duty to your king, your land, or the realm?" She met Legolas's gaze steadily, burnished gold to sapphire blue. "You know what my uncle wants."
The prince's breaths were steady as he analysed her, the instinctive twitch towards the knives at his side the only sign of discomfort. "My lady, I am perfectly aware of my position here."
Are you? Ashryn broke eye contact, shifting her skirts into a more comfortable position and feeling the comforting steel strapped along her thighs. "My lord, I know my uncle." And she knew the line between treason and idealism ran fine in this room of hazy smoke and gauzy curtains.
Legolas dropped his hands from his weapons, a clear apology lingering in his eyes - alongside evident mistrust. His head snapped up as Lord Candor finally entered the room, his imposing figure dwarfing all those seated on low couches. "I - I must go, my lady. May I beg the honour of borrowing your expertise on the morrow for some of my soldiers?"
Ashryn managed a smile as he stood. "Your wish is my command, highness." And my uncle would be ever so pleased. Finding herself lacking the heart to listen to passionate declarations concerning the state of Greenwood's policies, Ashryn rose from her perch, pressing a kiss to her uncle's cheeks before saying her brief farewells and swiftly escaping the room.
No, the throne room's not like the movies. No, I'm not going to change it. Instead I wrote this note.
