Almarëa

by Elen-Silver Star

There were so many things she needed to know. So many things she wished she remembered. And so many things that still remained secret. And yet, even in the forests of Mirkwood, the powerful blue-stoned ring, Vilya keeps calling to her, and her father, King Thranduil seems to know things he is not yet willing to share... Sequel to Elerrina, ElladanXOC

63. Walls that Listen, Walls that See

"Dan!"

She dropped the book carelessly over the bed, not even seeing it as it nearly tipped over the mountain of decorative pillows and feathered covers. Her feet were already rushing towards the ivory couch to one end of the large bedchamber, her eyes only able to focus on a bottomless pair of liquid silver, smiling widely at her.

Both of the twins rose to their feet at her entrance, standing nearly a full head above her, and she was once again mesmerized at how identical they looked, even if to her eyes they were so completely different. Elladan's arms opened wide in a welcoming gesture, and she let herself fit there perfectly, feeling his hold tighten around her body, his spirit so close to hers that it almost felt as though it was her own. His lips her met hers, and for a second everything seemed to dissolve around her, nothing else seeming to matter, the ring that had been found, her worries over her eldest brother, the questions nagging her mind, the things she could not explain, none of that seemed even remotely important at the moment, everything else could wait.

"Can the two of you not have the decency to wait until I have left the room?" Elrohir's voice interrupted them, the gentle kiss ending way sooner than she had intended too, and even though part of her wanted nothing else than to strangle the younger twin for his opportune timing, she found it hard contain her giggles at the obviously annoyed expression on his handsome perfectly angled face.

"Then leave. And hurry." Elladan replied with a shrug, which made the younger twin's face contort in an expression of exaggerated offense, kind silver eyes suddenly wide as if scandalized.

"I will go check on Ada." Elrohir shook his head, stifling a laugh, his silver eyes sparkling with that usual mischievous gleam that she had missed so much during the last few days. "You should rest a little Rina." The younger twin's eyes met hers as me made his way towards the door, that kind gentle smile ever present on his face.

"I will try." She returned the smile, watching his back as he exited through the tall heavenly carved door which closed behind his figure with a deaf click.

"You know, I really nearly did murder him when I woke up to find out that not only had he conspired with Adar to drug me to sleep, but he had also let you out of bed the minute after you regained consciousness." One of his perfect dark eyebrows rose high on his forehead, suddenly looking so much like his father, lowering himself once more to sit comfortably on the couch. His fingers laced with hers, never letting go her hands, his skin soft and warm under her touch.

"I am fine." She smiled, reassuring him, once again finding it impossible to look away from those endless eyes as silver as the Moon that swallowed her into a bottomless sea.

"I know." Softly, he pulled her to sit on his lap, and she complied, finding out once again that her bod fit perfectly against his heavenly sculpted chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the shape of his muscles underneath the fine silk of his pale blue tunic. She never wanted to move from there, wanted to stay there for the rest of eternity, where none of her troubles, her fears, her worries would ever find her.

"Must I assume Elrohir has already updated you on everything that you have missed while you slept?" She tried to raise an eyebrow in the same he had but it was harder than she believed. She must have either made a face or look ridiculous for his silver chuckles filled the air like the most welcoming of choirs.

"He has." He confirmed in between chuckles, his lips pressing a quick kiss to her right cheek.

"Arahaelon woke up." She informed, brushing a stray golden lock from her pale face, watching him nod in understanding, his face once again serious.

"How was he?" Gentle silver eyes met hers, no longer gleaming with mischief, dancing with lightness, but suddenly slightly somber. She did not know how to explain exactly what had happened, how to tell him the many things that she was aware the younger twin did not yet know…And yet, that expression in his eyes, that darker look that shadowed his silver irises, stained with a concealed sorrow made her stop, her heart sinking inside her chest.

"I do not know." She answered honestly, her voice barely a whisper, glad that his eyes did not look away from hers, welcoming her in. "He was not himself for a moment."

She said it; the thing she knew her siblings and father and even Lord Elrond had been thinking only minutes before, in the Grand Sitting Room, the words she knew nobody had had the courage to say out loud, as though not saying them could make them disappear, pretend they were not true. And there it was again, that shadow that almost imperceptibly crossed Elladans' eyes, that hint of long forgotten pain that made her stomach clench.

"They never are." He whispered, and in a single second her hear broke. Slender fingers cupped her cheek gently, worried eyes looking at her with a pained expression, as though he could perfectly well understand her worry, her fear, could empathize with them so accurately. But he could, she could see it in his, could see that pain that was all too familiar for him, that pain that he did not want her to suffer through.

"You know how this goes" It was not a question, her hand lifting gently to rest over his at her cheek, his tender eyes looking away from hers for a second before returning.

"I do." He nodded, his face so gentle, so soft, looking at her as though he wished nothing than to tell her that her worries were in vain, that she had nothing to stress over, but he could not do that, and part of her felt worse that he too was forced to relieve memories that he had wanted to desperately to forget. "And I never wanted you to have to witness something like that ever in your life. Especially when is someone close to you."

"I have never seen anything like it. He was not himself Dan, he..he attacked Legolas, and it was as though he did not know where he was, or who was there with him. And then, once he came back to his senses he did not seem to remember anything that had happened in that split second. Do you think…."She could not finish the question, it was a though her words were getting stuck inside her throat, but she needed to know, she needed to find out what he thought. "Do you think he will never really heal? Do you think he will have to… leave…..he will sail? "

"I do not know." He shook his head, his arms holding her tightly against his chest, and she could feel his heart beating calmly underneath his tunic. "But I do not think he will sail unless there is no other choice."

He let out a soft sigh, for a second going quiet, and he seemed to be fidgeting with himself as tough debating whether or not to say something else, but she did not press him.

"My mother…." He made up his mind, his voice uncharacteristically sober as he spoke, not a hint of that usual laughter, that carefree tone and smiling eyes. Instead, his eyes were not focusing on anything, as though he was reliving ghost from his past.

"You do not have to tell me this." She whispered, angling her face to be able to place a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"My mother was a different case." He continued, ignoring her completely, as though his need to comfort her was greater than any pain the memories could cause him. "I know exactly what you feel, what you worry about. My mother was not herself, Rina, but she did not even recognize us. She could not tell who I was, would not let me or Elrohir or even Arwen or Ada to touch her, to even come close to her. The horrors she went through had clouded her mind, and she could no longer tell whether she was having a nightmare or if it was really happening….she could not distinguish her traumatizing memories from reality."

The flickering fireplace casted orange and red tints on his long ebony hair as he paused for a moment, the long ivory curtains swaying soothingly at the soft breeze.

"Every case is different, Rina." He continued with a sigh, his silk tunic brushing comfortably against her skin a she readjusted his hold on her. "But I understand that Arahaelon did recognize you, and he knew where he was and he was coherent. He does separate reality from those ugly memories. He was only taken for a few days, not enough time to cause truly irreversible damage. My mother was missing for months."

She nodded her head, letting his gentle words sink in for a long second. She rose to her feet, making her slow way towards the large open balcony, listening to his soundless footsteps trailing behind her. Down below the forest slept peacefully under the mantle of stars. Except it was not the same forest. Only ashes and blackened and burned branches remained where only days ago her eyes would have found nothing but green. The forest too would recover, of that she had no doubt.

"There is one more thing" She let herself whisper into his mind, using their bond. There were things that she knew better than to say out loud. No matter where she was, or even if she thought she was alone, ever before had she been so sure that these strong stone walls and pointed arches that made her home had ears of their own, could whisper into the night, into the shadows, into the darkness. These walls that only now was she realizing how little she knew….

"Which is?" His voice echoed inside her head, not asking her and yet seeming to understand that there was a reason for her sudden silent communication. Strong arms wrapped around her waist form behind, and she let herself lean back against his chest, his chin resting gently on her right shoulder.

"Arahaelon had a ring." Was all she said, feeling his warm breath brushing the skin on her cheek.

"How is that possible?" That seemed to be only thing he was able to coherently ask. She could feel his shock, his worry, his confusion so clearly through their bond, as though they were her own. She had not told him the details, had not mentioned anything of the few scarce things that had been discussed about the ring in the past few hours, but she did not need to. It was a tough he could read it himself in her face, through their bond.

"That is precisely what I have been asking myself." She sighed. She could still see it, fi she closed her eyes, so perfectly, so vividly, could almost hear it once again as it came to life in the palm of her hand, that bright red stone glowing dully into the night.

"I want to see the Palace's Architect." She finally said, turning around in his arms to face him, staring at that handsome face she would never get tired of looking.

"Now you lost me." He shook his head, making his silky curtain of dark hair brush his shoulders.

"Do you remember this book?" She was already making her way back inside the large bedchambers, towards the bed where the heavy tome lay discarded a heap among the pillows. She could feel Elladan's silver eyes perched to her back, watching her every move, her every gesture, as though intent on not letting her out of his safe sight again.

"I do." A smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth as he took the heavy tome patiently in his fingers. She knew he would remember it, would remember how they had gone over the drawings not too long ago. "What of it?"

"I do not know, but I there is something about which I simply cannot point at exactly." She knew she was making little sense, knew her words could barely even formulate any argument, and yet those liquid silver eyes still looked at her patiently, indulgently, and she knew the he would believe her no matter what.

"This." She said, flipping the yellowish delicate pages in a rush, listening as they softly scratch against each other. Finally, her finger landed on the precise image she had been searching, laying out neatly over the bed's feathered covers for Elladan to see.

"The inconsistency?" He guessed, even though his brow furrowed slightly in puzzlement, as though wondering where exactly was she headed with this, but nonetheless he did not question her, not yet.

She nodded, emerald eyes meeting his steely silver ones for a long second. She watched his gaze slowly drop, carefully eying the opened book over the bedcovers. It was exactly as she had remembered it, her memory not failing her in the slightest. She could see those lines, expertly traced, depicting a perfect drawing of the Palace's Council Room from above. And she followed every line, from the thinner delicate lines that depicted the perfect placement of expensive looking chairs and other furniture, to the darker thicker, darker lines that demarcated the round columns. They were arranged in two perfect circles, and inner one consisting of slightly smaller columns, and a larger one outside, with thicker massive looking columns. And there it was: the inconsistency that would not leave her mind. Up nearly in to the right corner of the drawing, one of the columns was not right. It was square, not round. And she could that line, softly traced in graphite around that specific column, circling it. Whoever had drawn that line had noticed that tiny inconsistency as well, as was highlighting it.

"The square column." Elladan's soft voice carried through the room, his face studying her carefully as if trying to follow her trail of thought but not quite understanding her.

"It is different than the others." She pointed out, her voice barely even audible. A soft breeze filtered through the open balcony, making some of her strands of long golden hair dance uncomfortably in front of her face, blurring her vision momentarily.

"That column must have been before this room was built." He explained, the same words he had said to her when they had first looked at that drawing, what now felt like an entire lifetime ago. "Whoever designed and built this room must have been forced to work around that specific column, that is why it is different."

"Precisely." She nodded, clearing the stray hairs from her face. He had gotten exactly to where she was headed. "It was there before, the architect worked around it. You said the Palace has been rebuilt several times, over the years, which means that whoever builds it has needed to work around existing structures many times over. Nothing is completely hidden. There must be records of all of these additions, of what was there before and what was built over that. Do you see what I mean? Arahaelon was being kept here, inside the Palace, and nobody even knew, nobody could even find him! The way these insane elves keep appearing and disappearing, they are moving through somewhere. And whoever drew these rooms, whoever designed them, they must have a record of every singly stone that makes this Palace stand."

She could almost see it again, if she closed her eyes, those abandoned Halls with their withering columns and crumbling walls, the once heavenly statues now covered in ivy and vegetation, dancing in dust, forgotten somewhere beneath the Palace. They had crossed through some of these rooms, had been their way out of the Palace that terrifying night so long ago. How had she not even thought about it before? How many more rooms were there like those?

"So you wish to see the Palace's Architect." Elladan concluded, his voice dropping, his face and eyes suddenly wary, tensed, all previous confusion disappearing from those handsome angled features.

"No." He suddenly said, his voice suddenly unyielding, closing the book in a single fluid movement, the perfect drawing disappearing from view.

She stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, now knowing how to react. Whatever she had expect form him had not been this.

"But wh-

"I said no, Rina." He cut her short, once again leaving her perplexed at his blunt words. She had never seen his so serious, his body suddenly tense, standing tall and elegant like the trained warrior she knew he was, and yet his eyes were sharper than steel, suddenly wary, alert.

"I need to know what is hiding within these walls!" She hissed, her temper quickly rising at his unexpected reaction, at manner in which he was stopping her from acting. She had thought he would support her, would understand what she meant, would see the importance in what she was telling him!

"There was a ring of power hiding in these walls Elladan!" She added through their bond, whispering the words she could not say out loud.

"And who found it, Rina?" He hissed in return, rounding the bed to stand right in front of her. The crackling fire brushed the back of his ebony hair, casting orange and yellow reflections that licked his head like a fiery halo. "Who found it? Who had that same book you are now so intently looking at?"

She did not answer, did not need to say it out loud, for a long second his eyes bearing into hers: Arahaelon.

"He is smart, brilliant even, do you not think that he noticed the same misalignments you are now seeing?" Elladan continued, not waiting for her to answer him. "Do you not think that he came to the same conclusions you are arriving at now? He must have done exactly what you are about to do Rina, he must have started asking questions. And look at him now, look what those elves have done to him!"

"I will be careful." Her voice dropped, her anger slowly dissipating as she caught something else inside his steely silver eyes: fear.

"Careful." He chuckled, a humorless chuckle that did not reach his eyes. "Do you not think Arahaelon was being careful enough? I can assure you he must have been, he must have taken every existing precaution, precautions that perhaps neither you nor I could even think of. By the Valar, he is the Crown Prince, Rina! Does that tell you nothing of the dangers you intend to meddle in? Arahaelon is the Crown Prince, he is the most powerful, important and highest-ranking elf in the realm, directly after the King. And, following your own father, Arahaelon is the most protected elf in Mirkwood. Nothing should be able to even touch him. Laying a hand on him can be punishable by death if the King so wishes it. Hurting the Crown Prince in any way is one of the most offensive crimes any elf could hope to commit, it is immediately considered treason against the Crown and one for which punishment should be most feared. And look at what those elves dared do to him! Do you not think they knew what awaited them if they were caught? If they failed? Do you not think they knew the kind of punishments that awaited them just by capturing the Crown Prince, never mind torturing him like they did? Do you not think those elves knew they would be immediately considered guilty of treason without even the benefit of a trial? Imagine what they could do to you, Rina, you who are less protected by laws of guards than Arahaelon is? No, Rina, I cannot allow you to put yourself in such reckless danger."

He was nearly fuming, his stance protective, determined. Cold shivers ran down her spine, the hairs at the base of her neck rising at his words danced endlessly inside her mind, slowly downing on her. She understood what he meant, could tell that his anger, this suddenly wary and determined manner was nothing but fear, fear for her own safety. And yet she could not get herself to back down from what she intended to do. She needed to know. She could not sit back and do nothing, could not merely wait because it was deemed 'safe'. By the Valar, was there even a place in this Palace that could be really considered safe?

She reached for his hand, gently taking his long slender fingers in his, half-way expecting him to pull away from her in his current angered state, but he did not, his fingers slowly securing around hers.

"I cannot sit here and do nothing. Whoever these elves are, whatever it is they want, they are moving inside this Palace. The thing Arahaelon found was hiding inside this Palace. They knew it was here, Arahaelon said himself. They knew it was here, but they did not know where. Yet, someone must have brought it here, someone must have hidden it here. Arahaelon was being kept inside this Palace and nobody even knew!" She tried to reason once again, emerald eyes gazing steadily at his way silver ones, matching him stubbornness. She would not back down. "I want to see the Palace's Architect. I want to find out who knows where these tunnels or halls or passages are."

"This is madness, Rina." He shook his head, strands of dark hair brushing his high cheekbones, and she wanted nothing more than to reach a hand and smooth them away from his handsome face. "I love you, but right now you are being only reckless and irresponsible, looking for danger and ways to get hurt."

"I am going to see the Palace's Architect." She said firmly, suddenly standing tall, shoulders back, her voice not leaving room for argument. "You can either come with me, or wait for me here."

She saw his jaw clench, his body tense. Silver eyes were looking at her fiercely, nearly glaring, but she did not flinch, not knowing from where she managed to procure this sudden courage, this sudden determination. A long second of silence stretched between them like a hollow ghost, shadows dancing eerily on the walls from the flickering flames, long languid black silhouettes.

"Do you even know who the Architect is?" He said at last, looking away, gaze lost somewhere in the balcony ahead. And she knew she had won. He was angry with her, perhaps even furious, but he would accompany her.

"No." She admitted, feeling slightly pathetic that she had not even thought of that. Her fingers brushed awkwardly at the skirts of her dress, brushing the wrinkles that had started to from. She wondered if it would always feel this odd, this strange, feeling such expensive and rich fabric around her when not long ago she would have never even dreamed of ever owning a dress like this one. "But I will ask."

"Who will you ask?" His voice had lowered, no longer that agitated angered hiss, but still it carried a sharp edge to it that nearly made her flinch inside.

"Lhenes." She said without thinking about it, the idea suddenly popping into her mind. In front of her Elladna gazed in her direction, seeming to be considering her answer before he slowly nodded in agreement. It was a safe choice, she had known it the moment the name left her lips. The chamber maid would most probably know who the Architect was, as she was sure the maids probably knew who every single Lord and Lady in the Palace was, and at the same time the obedient chamber maid would not ask her questions about it. She could have asked her siblings, she knew that any of them would probably know who the Architect was, or could point her to someone who could tell her, but she did not want to drag any of her siblings into this, not after what Elladan had said before.

"When do you intend to go?" Slowly Elladan lowered himself to sit at the edge of the bed, eyes lost in the waltz of the crackling flames.

"Now." She decided, lowering herself beside him, once again glad that he did not pull away from her closeness, even though his eyes did not look in her direction. Now was a good a time as any. It made no difference.

Making up her mind she made her way to the door, opening it only a fragment and summoning one of the guards standing dutifully at the entrance. It was a tall elf, she noticed, chestnut brown hair neatly braided down his back as his head bowed respectfully in her direction, waiting patiently for her orders. She asked for the maid to be summoned, and watched for a few seconds as the guard in question disappeared down the long corridor with her request. It was again felt odd, she thought just as she closed the door once more behind her back. She had never given orders to a guard before, even though they had been there for days now, just outside her door. Her siblings did, she had seen them multiple times, and yet she had never done it herself. It was strange, reminding herself that she was a Princess, that she could order guards to do her bidding.

Blessedly it did not take long for the maid to arrive, feeling only like seconds before there was a soft knock on her door, the thin, delicate maid steeping silently inside once she was let in.

"You called for me, Your Highness?" The maid soft voice carried through the ample room like a frail song, her eyes dancing curiously around the room.

"Can you take me to the Palace's Architect?" She asked right away, not feeling like dragging the matter any more than it needed. For a second the gentle maid seemed confused by the unexpected request, taken aback.

"You mean the Royal Architect, Your Highness?" Was all the maid asked, and she was glad that she had guessed correctly that the maid would not question her request.

"Is he the one in charge of designing and building the Palace?" Was there more than one architect? That would surely complicate things. But there had to be one in charge, right? There had to be one who kept the records of every construction.

"Yes, Your Highness, that would be Royal Architect, Lord Camaenor." The maid nodded her politely, pale thin hands neatly folded in front of her, over the skirts of her plain dress.

"Yes." She nodded. Lord Camaenor. She had not missed the tittle. But of course being Royal Architect would a high enough honor to merit a high-raking title.

"The Royal Architec does not usually receive guests, Your Highness." Lhenes explained, not able to hide her confusion from her delicate face. "Only the King when His Majesty brings him commissions."

"He will receive me." She added stubbornly, watching with a pang of guilt as the maid immediately nodded her head in silence at her commanding tone. Would the Architect receive her? If only Lhenes could see how her determined stance and confident voice was nothing but a facade, if she could only see the knot of nerves and worries and insecurities that twisted sharply inside her stomach at the moment.

"Could you take us to him now?" She added in a softer voice, trying to sound confident even though her fingers kept fidgeting with the skirts of her dress. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Elladan rising to his feet, coming to stand beside her.

"Of course, Your Highness." Was all the maid said, and sooner than she had anticipated the three of them were out the door and into the long familiar corridor.

She blinked a couple of times, for a second startled by the commotion happening just outside her door, once again surprised by the sheer number of guards flanking nearly every door, even though there was twice the number standing just outside Arahaelons' door. And the healers…there were healers nearly everywhere, once again coming in and out the Crown Prince's bedchamber.

Her eyes caught sight of Tadion among the crowd, her hand nearly instinctively reaching out to him, grabbing him by the forearm.

"What is it?" She asked, her eyes momentarily dancing through the crowd of rushing elves before returning to land on Tadion. Clear blue eyes gazed in her direction, taking a long moment to answer, and her heart skipped a beat inside her chest. Her brother looked exhausted. Tadion, ever carefree Tadion, suddenly looked on the verge of losing it, of finally breaking. There were dark shadows underneath his sunken eyes, which were now almost permanently filled with worry where there was usually only mirth and mischief, only laughter. The Prince ran his hand through his hair once, a gesture of frustration, just as she had seen him done repeatedly in the past few hours.

"It is Ar." Tadion replied with a defeated shake of his head, his voice sounded as drained as he looked. "He is not well. He is awake again, even though the painkillers should have knocked him out for at least a day. Melnor says it was a nightmare that woke him, I do not know. But whatever it was he is refusing any other teas that would make him sleep. He is in a lot of pain, Rëa, a lot of pain. But the healers cannot give him anymore painkillers so soon after that previous dose. He should have slept through for much longer than this after that powerful tea they gave him hours ago, but he did not, and those herbs are alarmingly strong so now that he is awake he is going through all the side effects of such herbs, which he should have slept through, so he is exhausted and in pain and dizzy and nauseous and, and….."

Tadion stopped, taking a second to take a long shaky breath as if to hold himself together somehow, eyes momentarily drifting up to look at the intricate ceiling. "And I am this close," He motioned with thumb and index finger, "to simply force the sleeping draughts down his throat or to hit him in the head hard enough to knock him out for some hours and make this easier for him."

Perhaps Tadion's words would have been funny in a different time, perhaps she would even have believed that he was merely joking. But her brother was not joking, she could see it in his exhausted looking blood-shot eyes. And her heart constricted painfully as she realized that Tadion was so worried, so scared, that he would knock Arahaelon out rather than watch his elder brother go through the misery he was probably in right now.

"An Ada?" She asked, Tadion returning to look at her, his attention once more focused on her.

"He is inside with Ar." Her brother nodded in the direction of the familiar heavenly crafted door that led to the Crown Prince's bedchamber. "He is attempting to convince him to drink the sleeping teas, but whatever nightmare was that woke him up, it seems Ar would rather feel miserable than having to face it again."

She did not know what to say, did not know what to add that could help comfort her worried brother. But the truth was there was nothing she could say.

"He wants to see Lady Indilene." Tadion's voice suddenly dropped, his shoulders falling, a sudden helpless look crossing those features that she was used to see only smiling. "He asked me to look for her just before Ada arrived. Did you he has been seeing her? As in, he has been courting her?"

Her heart suddenly dropped, feeling hollow, empty, and for the first time she could perfectly understand what Tadion's slumped shoulders, what his defeated and helpless look meant.

"You cannot bring her here." She concluded, and just by pained looked that crossed her older brother's eyes she knew she had been right. Her heart dropped heavily inside her chest, remembering the figure of the gentle ashen haired lady sitting oddly in the midst of water lilies.

"So you did know he has been courting her. How was I the only one not to know?" Tadion's brows shot up high in his forehead at her words, managing to read easily through her face. And for a moment he looked his normal self, a teasing gleam crossing his exhausted looking eyes, but it disappeared only a second later.

"No, I cannot bring her here." Tadion shook his head miserably. He had changed, she noticed, his formal robes from the trial no dismissed in favor of a relatively simply wine red tunic, embroidered in silver thread. He looked handsome in red. "Not with Ar in this condition. Nobody is allowed in the Royal Wing at the moment, much less to see Arahaelon. She might be allowed another day perhaps, when he gets a little better."

When. She had not missed that word, even though part of her flinched at the thought that perhaps the correct word should have been if. But of course, part of her had known it, even though she had not wanted it to be so. Indilene would not be allowed inside the Royal Wing at the moment. Nobody would be allowed to see the Crown Prince when he was weak and suffering. And suddenly she had the feeling that every single guard in this hallway, that ever single healer that entered and left Arahaelon's bedchamber had been carefully hand-picked.

"Where are you going?" Tadion's question brought her wondering mind back to the present, her eyes once again focused on his face. He was looking at her puzzled, his eyes wary as if he could suddenly perfectly well read she was about to head for trouble.

"Outside, to the gardens." She lied, mustering all of her strength to sound natural and casual, even though she could see his eyes piercing through hers. She had always been such a bad liar, especially when caught off guard.

Thankfully, her older brother merely nodded his head after a moment, even though he threw her a suspicious look, his eyes quickly glancing at Lhenes. She cursed herself for being so careless, having momentarily forgotten the maid's presence there. She did not need a maid to take her to the gardens, Tadion knew that perfectly well. He did not fully believe her, she could tell, but by mercy of the Valar he did not ask further questions.

"Be careful." Was all he said, throwing her a meaning look before turning around, elegantly making his way the short distance to the heavenly crafted door that led to Arahaelon's bedchamber, disappearing through it.

"Lead the way." She turned to address Lhenes, the maid having thankfully remained silent the entire time.

They walked in silence, her eyes focused solely on the back of the maid's head. She could feel more than see Elladan's silver gaze piercing through her figure, and could almost feel his disapproval of this mission emanating from him in heated waves. Btu he said nothing, merely following her, towering next to her as if ready to pounce at the slightest of threats. Even her heartbeat started to race in anticipation as the crowded familiar hallway was left behind, the corridors the crossed become more and more empty, seeming longer, darker, even with the pale silver moonlight that filtered through the open archways and occasional skylights.

She could not really tell where they were going, once again reminded of how little she actually knew of this Palace she called her home. At times she was almost fooled into believing she recognized a specific hallway or staircase but then she would realize that she could not quite recall if she had bene in that specific portion of the Palace before or if it had merely been a place that looked similar. The majestic stone walls stretched high around her, contracting and expanding as they moved from smaller corridors to large ample halls lined with arched windows and decorated canopies above. And she could feel them, almost breathing, almost whispering to one another, watching them with the eyes of a thousand shadows casted by the chandeliers and candle lights.

These walls have ears. The thought would not leave her mind, her eyes gazing nervously around her as if expecting the massive stone structure to suddenly speak to her. They have eyes, and they watch and listen and whisper to one another. And she intended to find who was the ears on the walls, who was the whispers than traveled like the wind, who was the eyes. And where were they hiding.

She had been expecting for them to head down, had almost imagined herself walking endlessly down long staircases. After all, the Royal Wing was located in one of the highest levels of the Palace. But instead, they were heading up. She could not tell how many flights of stairs she had climbed, only noticing that the wide marble staircase were gone now, replaced by narrow spiraling steps that seemed to never end. They were climbing a tower. Of that she was sure. Except it was so different from the narrow spiral staircases she had climbed while inside the servants passages in the Palace. Unlike those, this one was not enclosed. In here, the spiral steps were anchored to a massive looking column all in heavy white stone, its diameter too wide for her to even imagine closing her arms around it. And yet, on the outer circle of the stair instead of a solid stone wall enclosing the structure, there was an endless row of pointed arches, a thin delicately carved railing and balustrade being the only barrier preventing any of them from tumbling down what seemed like a long deadly fall. It was beautiful, for a second reminding her of the blue stoned ring on Lord Elrond's finger, or the newly found red stone ring. Eerie and dangerous, yet beautiful.

"We are here, my Lady." Lhene's soft voice floated in the air, bouncing and echoing on the tall pointed arches.

They had stopped walking, and in front of them stretched a tall wooden door with a single golden knob. She could feel her hands starting to shake, palms sweaty, and for a moment he wanted to turn again and head down the steps, suddenly losing all of her courage. Next to her Elladan moved, knocking on the door a couple of times, seeming to perfectly read her hesitation through their bond. With a single polite nod of the head he dismissed the miad, who merely courtsied before starting her way down the same staircase, disappearing from view around the curve.

She heard deaf steps on the other side, the door being opened a second later, her eyes almost involuntarily widening as it was a lady who stood at the other side. She had long dark brown hair that cascaded down her back in a collection of messy curls, tied up only half-way at the back but not with intricate braids. Her honey colored eyes widened almost immediately, and she could that the lady too had not been expecting what she found at the other side of the door.

"Your Highness, my Lord" The lady greeted, and even though her attire seemed relatively plain and sober, her hair lacking the many jewels she usually saw the lady's in the Palace wearing, the curtsy she offered was impeccable, her elegant moves giving away her high status. "How may I help you?"

"We were hoping to see Lord Camaenor." She managed to sound confident, though gentle, for the first time overly glad that Elladan that decided to come with her.

The lady only nodded her head in return, whatever it was she was thinking of the sudden request she could not tell, nothing showing in her beautiful round face.

"Of course."

The door opened wider for them to pass, but she could barely see inside what seemed like a wide receiving hall before she was forced to follow the lady through a small hallway to the right, which ended with two wooden doors. The lady nocked twice on the one to the left, adding words in that beautiful tongue she could not understand. Her eyes gazed up and down the elven lady who had not even given them a name yet, not knowing why the sight of her seemed so odd. And it was perhaps that she did not resemble any of the ladies she had seen at court, even though she was lean and tall and she too had exquisite features that would make her a beauty even among elves. But there was something off about her, the way her hair was so plainly tied, with no jewels or silver pins or pearls incrusted in the long dark curls. Her dress was odd too, plain, with no embroidery, and in a dark color, almost black.

She did not get to hear if an answer came from the other side of the door, but there must have been an answer for a second later the lady was opening the door to the left signaling them to walk inside. She led the way, not knowing if Elladan chose to walk behind her in an effort to guard her back or is he wished to allow her to lead the pace and the encounter.

Inside, the room was large and round, not matching any other room she had previously seen at the Palace before, as odd and out of place as the lady's attire and hairstyle had been. The first thing she noticed was how tall the room was, the ceiling extending almost three stories high above their heads. Except it lacked the branchlike columns that she had gotten used to seeing, the patterns of leaves and twigs that intertwined in nearly every single ceiling in the Palace were gone, here the ribs or the arches where the columns met were left bare, with no decorations

There was a fireplace, tall and majestic and yet, like the ceiling, almost too bare. The wide circumference of the room worked as a single three-story tall bookshelf, giving the room and strange resemblance to a library. Except that the walls did not only hold books here. No. Mixed to the books and almost in larger number than the former were piles and piles of parchments, some stacked in messy piles, nearly toppling over, some messily folded or wrinkling at the corners, some neatly stored and clipped together at the ends in the forms of bind-less books, and some rolled together in long cylinders that seemed too wide for the shelves. Some of the parchments looked relatively new, well conserved and clean, while other seemed as though they had been stored and abandoned here nearly as long as the very Palace had been.

There was a long wooden table to one side of the room, placed against the only window that pierced through the book and parchment covered walls. The window was not wide, merely a slit, but it extended almost as high as the ceiling did, ending the shape of a narrow pointed arch. Same as nearly every surface and shelf in the room, the table was filled with rolls and rolls of paper, messily stacked over one another, and even through the distance she could see black lines of drawings on their yellowish surface. There nearly a hundred flasks of ink, many of them empty but still hanging around, and along the mantle of drawings there were a number of strange looking instruments the likes of which she had never seen before and yet ignored what they were used for.

"Your Highness." A low deep voice called out from above, her eyes lifting to were a narrow circular mezzanine extended around the circumference in the room. "My Lord."

There was an elf there, she noticed for the first time, pale long fingers curling softly around the all too delicate and plain railing of the mezzanine, looking down at them. He had a long and narrow face, neither smiling nor frowning, with droopy green eyes that remained eerily silent. It was not the same green as her eyes, or Arahaelon's for that matter, instead it was almost olive, partly yellowish in color. Like the lady before, his hair was dark, but his did not hold those unruly curls. Instead it was pin straight, falling without any braids down his back and over his shoulders. He wore robes, the fabric looking rich and expensive, but, like the lady's dress, there was no embroidery in them, no jewels sewn in the hem or sleeves, the fabric a dull gray silk.

"How may I help you?" He addressed her, his deep voice once again low, the words pronounced slowly every letter seeming to drag longer than was usual.

"You must be Lord Camaenor." She started, even though she already knew the answer without needing to hear it.

Nevertheless, the elf nodded his head, slowly walking around the mezzanine nearly a half-circle before reaching a thin spiraling staircase that led him to their level, walking to stop with in front of her. He was tall, perhaps as tall as the King was.

"I would offer you tea, but it seems I do not have where to place it." He said in that same monotone low voice that stretched almost languidly, arms motioning around to the mess of papers and books and drawings the room was.

"That will not be necessary." She declined politely, not able to tell if the Architect had been attempting a bit of humor or not, his long face so silent, so serious.

"I was hoping you could help me answer some questions." She began, her palms feeling sweaty as she gripped the skirts of her dress. Droopy olive eyes started at her as she spoke, neither intrigued nor disinterest, merely waiting patiently for her to finish.

"I will do my best." Was all he said, his hand motioning to where a couple of chairs lay to one side of the room, opposite form the desk, signaling for her to take a seat.

She did as instructed, not yet knowing what to make of this elf, what to think of him. She had to move a couple of books and a roll of parchment from one of the chairs in order to seat down, and next to her she could see Elladan eyeing the dust collecting at the other chair with a nearly invisible cringe, as though debating whether or not to sit down.

The elf, Lord Camaenor, took the seat in front of her casually, he too having to move away a couple of strange instruments in order to sit down, but he remained silent, watching as they two them made themselves comfortable. It was clear the Architect would not be the one starting the conversation.

For a second she was about to panic, suddenly noticing that she had forgotten the book with the drawings at her bedchamber, but Elladan seemed to always be a step ahead of her. Without her needing to ask, he suddenly handed her the heavy tome, managing to read perfectly her trail of thought through their bond. Silver eyes threw her a teasing glance, a sly smirk appearing momentarily on his face, mocking her for having forgotten the most important thing, and she threw him a glare. He would tease her about it endlessly later, she already knew it.

"I was hoping you could tell me more about this drawing." She said, her voice carrying almost too loudly in this overly tall room, bouncing on the overcrowded shelves. Her fingers expertly opened the book in the exact page she had been looking, and there it stretched once again, that perfect, beautiful drawing of a Council Room.

The elf's olive eyes stared at it for a long moment, seeming to be contemplating every line, following every single trace with rare appreciation. And then, he leaned back on his chair, plain long robes pooling around him like grey mantle, eyes turning in her direction.

"Why yes," He started, his voice as patient and slow as before. "This room you see depicted here is a plan drawing of the Palace's Council Room."

"A what?" She was confused, not understanding his jargon, and almost imperceptibly the corner of the Architect's mouth lifted if only a tiny bit, the expression resembling yet not quite a smile.

"A plan drawing." He repeated, long face serious once more. "Call it a map. A depiction of the room as seen directly from above."

She nodded, not wanting to go into more details on technicalities.

"Do you know who drew this?" She continued, feeling a pang of annoyance at the manner in which the elf seemed willing to answer any of her questions yet he would not offer any other piece of information expect for solely what he had been asked for, leaving the course of the conversation entirely to her.

"Of course." He nodded, his voice polite yet curt. "That would be me."

Wonderful. Just what she had hoped for.

"So you designed this room." She concluded. Next to her she could see Elladan's eyes traveling around the round room curiously, stopping at nearly every strange object and watching with partial fascination.

"No." A shake of the head.

What? She had not expected that. For a second she felt as though her heart sank, her expectations, that previous momentary feeling of victory suddenly vanishing into thin air.

"How is that possible?" Was all she managed to ask, not caring if she sounded as confused as she now was. He had drawn this picture, he had said if before.

"You see, Your Highness, I have been in charge of the design and overseeing the construction of this Palace for thousands of years now, but I have not designed every single room there is in this building. " He started, long fingers folding neatly over one another on his lap, his long face expressionless. "The construction of the Council Room belongs to a phase of renovations in the Palace that has been perhaps the largest renovation there has ever been. Many other rooms you know were included in that phase of construction. The King's Halls, for example, the current Throne Room, nearly half of the East Wing, a portion of the Royal Wing and I believe it also included an expansion of the kitchens and an additional bridge and passage way over the underground river."

"And you did not design any of those?" She asked, feeling as her hopes and expectations suddenly fell heavily, disappointed already starting to form inside of her. And yet there were so many new questions that were starting to form inside her head. The largest renovation, he had said. But why would such a large portion of the Palace suddenly be rebuilt all at the same time?

"Oh I did." His voice remained as slow and patient as before, his long narrow face still unreadable, neither friendly nor hostile. "But I did not designed all of it."

"How come?"

"There many Architects called for this particular job, all of them hand-picked by the King. There were seven, to be exact, including myself." She could not tell if it was a product of her imagination or if there was a bitter edge to Lord Camaeron's voice, as though he held some resentment at not being the only Architect trusted with the large task. "Each Architect was given a portion of the Palace to be in charge of its design and oversee its construction. I had the Throne Room."

"Is it possible that I see the drawings for this whole renovation you speak of? The 'plans' as you call them of how those portions were to be built?" She needed to see them, now more curious than before. So nearly half of the Palace had been rebuilt at the same time, and all with different architects. For what purpose?

"Ah, my Lady, unfortunately there are no drawings of that construction." Lord Camaenor added patiently, for a second giving her the feeling that he had been expecting this exact question from her.

"Surely there have to be drawings." She did not understand, everything was getting more and more confusing by the second. "There must be some record of what was built and how it was built."

"the only records there are, you are holding them in your hand." His pale right hand motioned languidly to the open book sitting on her lap, her eyes dropping momentarily to the beautiful picture of the council room.

"This is not a construction record." She stated, knowing it even if she knew very little of the matter. She had seen the drawings the men in her village had used to build their modest houses. They had been incredibly detailed, even if the building was such a small and plain one. There had been measurements, and annotations all over the place, even a detailed description of where every single stone was to be placed. In this drawing she could see none of that. It was merely an illustration.

"No, it is not." Lord Camaeron agreed with her, but offered nothing else, only managing to make her more frustrated than before. It was as if she had pull the information out of him question by question.

"There must be records." She insisted. "This drawing tells nothing. I cannot even tell what lies at the other side of the walls that compose this Council Room."

"Neither can I."

That surprised her, and she was aware that at least some of her confusion and frustration must have shown on her face for he continued speaking, for the first time offering more information than merely what was asked.

"You see, Your Highness, that drawing you see was made by tracing the resulting construction. What you find in that drawing is exactly what you will see when you walk inside the Council Room. How it was built, or what was demolished in the process or around what it was built, neither you nor I will ever know. You see, there were seven Architects called for that faced of construction, and each was given a portion to be in charge of. Yet we were not allowed to exchange drawings or even see what the other was building, the King made sure of that. There were seven constructions happening at the same time ye not allowed to see each other. Not even the builders were allowed to peek. And there were to be no records saved. The only set of construction documents for each construction was to be handed to the King."

"The King." She repeated, slowly processing the information inside her head. The King had commission for nearly half of the Palace to be rebuilt. And he had done so using separate architects who could not see the work the other was doing. Something was hiding there, she was sure, he must have had something to hide. "So you mean to tell me that my father is the only elf in the realm that knows exactly how those portions of the Palace were all built."

"Ah, my Lady, I am afraid we are not talking about the same King." He leaned back comfortably on his seat once more, droopy olives eyes studying her carefully. "It is not your father who commission such constructions, King Thranduil must have been a little more than an elfling then. It was your grandfather, King Oropher."

Her grandfather. She had not even considered, the though had not even crossed her mind. And yet the second the words had left the elf's mouth she felt what little hope she had gained at the mention of the King suddenly shatter in a million pieces. Only the King knew. And that King was long dead. She had never met him, did not even know how or when he died, did not even know if any of her siblings had met him. She only knew he was long dead for her own father was now King in his place.

There were no records. And the only elf who had them was now dead. But that was impossible. There had to be someone else who knew what they were building. There had to be someone else who had seen the full plans of what was to be built. Surely the King did not have time to oversee and coordinate seven separate constructions at the same time. But of course, that had to be it.

"Someone else must know." She insisted, feeling as the elf's patient silent eyes continued to observe her. "There must have been someone else who had access to those documents. You say the records where given to the King, but who was in charge of coordinating seven constructions at the same time and overseeing them? I have been at the Throne Room, I know it its adjacent to the Council Room, they touch. How can you coordinate where two separate constructions, without knowledge of the other are to perfectly align in place when put together? Someone else must have known what was happening in each construction, someone else must have been in charge of joining the pieces, someone who had access to all of this records. Surely the King had more pressing matters to attend."

And if there had been records, even the single copy he had mentioned, which had been directly handed to the King, where were those now? Who had them? A second of silence stretched inside the long round room, the Architect's lips curling up in a curious crooked smile, that did not make her feel completely at easy.

"You are a lot like your brother, Your Highness." He suddenly added, cocking his head lightly to one side in curious observation. "You are a lot like His Highness, the Crown Prince. He arrived to that same conclusion not too long ago, although he was a little faster getting there than you were."

She felt herself tense, out of the corner of her eyes watching as Elladan's figure suddenly became rigid on his seat, alert, ready to jump if necessary. But Lord Camaroen made no move, sitting patiently and relaxed on his seat.

"You have nothing to fear from me, My Lady." The Architect added, seeming to have noticed the way in which Elladan's posture was suddenly protective. And yet the way in which did the architect spoke was slow as ever, as if not really bothered if she decided not to believe her, as if he would not force her to accept this words as the truth, would not attempt to convince her of it, and she did now know why but she found that lack of insistence reassuring. And she could suddenly see it in the elf's silent eyes. He knew what she was looking for, he knew of the elves that moved through the passages hidden in the walls like insects, he knew they had secret places they were hiding. "I keep every single record of every construction there was in this Palace. And yet the fact that I do not have records and never cast eyes on the full plans of the seven constructions is what has kept me alive this long. Sometimes it is safer to simply not know."

It was a warning. She had not missed that. He knew the threats that hung within the walls, he knew there must have been something to hide in order to build seven constructions separately and secretly.

"Someone else knew what was being built and how it was being built." She insisted, tired of more warnings. She needed to know. "Someone else must have seen the records of the seven constructions and how they fit together. Who was that elf?"

"Why, my Lady." Lord Camaeron started, once again taking his time to fold his arms neatly over his lap. "That would be an easy and almost obvious answer. There was only one elf your grandfather trusted blindly. One elf who knew more secrets of this Palace I dare say than King Thranduil himself: Lord Doronor."

Sooooo, probably the longest chapter I have written in this story and that's why it took so long for me to get it finished, but here it is! Chapter 63! I hope you enjoy reading it and that it can hopefully make up for the long wait!

Again thank you so much to all of you who left reviews for the last chapter. I devour through every single one of your words, they truly mean a lot to me: Drealla, Mysterious Jedi, SeekerOfStories, Another Sindar, AndurilofTolkien, Shetan20, Ari-Skywalker, glassary, Saum the Smol Teddy, Flower-Uchiha, thrndlwood, StarFilledSkies, Robmart, Amsim, artvandelay5001, and GondorianElf.

SeekerOfStories: Once again, thank you much for leaving a review, it meant a lot to me to read your thoughts on the last chapter! SO really thank you for taking the time to let me know what you thought! Please don't worry or apologize that it took you some time to review, it is me who should be thanking you for taking the time to post one! I know how busy life can be!

I'm delightd that you chose to be Almarëa for Halloween! And a silver dress seems like a wonderful idea, I have always like the thought of Almarëa in silver dresses (she has quite a few!). I am so glad you found this story as inspiration to begin your own fanfiction, I wish you all the luck with it and I know you will do a wonderful job if you put your heart into it! I would love to read it once you post it! As to your question, I am still uptading Hoping for the Rain, even though I know it has been a very long time since the last update.

And happy belated birthday! You mentioned it was November 30th, sadly I could not update that day as the chapter was not finished, but I hope it can still make up for it a be a belated birthday present!

Love,

Elena