Legolas sighed. It's been a few hours since his strange, rather unpleasant conversation with his father. Dusk was falling over the Green Forest. Gold-plated lanterns that resembled the shape of a beautiful, large flowers with hanging buds, illuminated the path leading to the Grotto of the king of the elves.
Lady Arwen was walking slowly along the alley which was traced by light and big stones. Her blue coat was sinking in white snow lying on the path. Cold wind made her pale, beautiful face blush.
''Do not worry. I am sure that Aragorn will soon come back.'', said Legolas. For more than fifteen minutes, he accompanied queen in her walk and tried to soothe her nerves.
Arwen stopped in place and stared at the stone fountain located at the place where the alley branched in four different directions.
''I hope so, I hope so, Legolas.'', she said. There was anxiety in her melodious voice.
They moved from place and continued walking until the sound of thud reached their ears. They both turned toward the noise and saw that the big gate leading into the Cave was open. After a while, ten riders emerged from the inside of the Grotto. At the head of the column rode the king of the elves. He was wearing a silver, shiny armor adorned with precious stones, and a long, burgundy cloak that gleamed with gold and was fastened with brooch carved in the shape of the rowan.
Thranduil hurried the horse. Animal's hoofers burrowed silver, pure snow. When the man caught up with Legolas and Arwen, he drew the reins. Horse neighed, kicked and stopped. The rest of the riders followed in king's footsteps. They all stopped and waited for ruler's orders.
Elvenking looked at woman and bowed his head respectfully.
''Lady.'', he said.
Arwen curtsied and smiled slightly.
Legolas looked worriedly at Thranduil.
''Father, you are not thinking about fighting with orcs, are you?'', he asked.
King looked at him briefly, then he shifted his blue eyes and looked into the distance... somewhere behind the circle of bright light of the lantern.
''I am going to do what I have to do'', he said.
''You can send your knights! Or at least… you can take me with you.'', an impatience could be heard in Legolas's voice. '' I will go with you!''
''No, you do not go anywhere. You are needed here.'', Thranduil looked at Arwen. It was as if he wanted to make his son understand that he should look after the lady.
''Father…'', Legolas shook his head.
King gave him a sharp look and lifted up the reins. He was about to move, when Arwen stopped him. She took a red ribbon out from her coat pocket and handed it to Thranduil .
''I did not have an occasion to give it to my husband, so I give it to you, lord. Maybe it will bring you luck.'', she said.
King took the ribbon, tied it around his arm, and then nodded.
''Thank you.''
He swung his reins and moved forward. His knights did the same.
Aragorn hurried his horse and leaned over his neck. ''What have I done?'', he thought. He didn't want to plead guilty, but he knew that what happened was his fault. He shouldn't have given Thranduil a ring. He should have destroyed it. It's obvious that orcs will want to get their trinkets back. They never forgive. So… how could he be so stupid?
''Why did I take this ring? Why?! It should have remained in the cursed orcs'cave!'', these intrusive thoughts didn't give him peace of mind. Two months ago, on one of his expeditions, he found an emerald ring belonging to orcs. He fell in love with beautiful, shiny stone right away, so he decided to take it. Of course, Aragorn wasn't stupid - he knew that orcs would notice the lack of something so dreamlike. However, he didn't expect that they would decide to perform so well organized, armed action of recovering the object. Apparently, the ring was more important than he thought.
He looked to the left. Five riders from Thranduil's guard were riding next to him on the dappled horses. One can think that the expedition of six warriors against five hundred orcs is a suicide, but, well, they weren't going to fight. They wanted to conduct a reconnaissance.
Blond locks of the elf riding next to him were waving in the air. King of Gondor stared at them for a moment. He thought about Thranduil's beautiful hair. Even before he met him some years ago, he heard various funny rumors. Some of them said that Elvenking's skin is smooth like alabaster and fragrant as violets; others assumed that his hair smells like camomile which soothes the nerves and produces a feeling of happiness. Aragorn was curious whether these rumors were true. Well, probably not. Rumors are spread to entertain and harass others, not to tell the truth.
They continued riding. At one point they saw a red glow on the horizon. King of Gondor stopped his horse and raised his hand. His companions stood behind him. Aragorn peeked out from behind a tree. In the distance, on a hill, he saw a big camp, consisting of dozen tents. Small groups of ugly orcs were walking here and there.
''Scout was telling the truth. There are plenty of them.'', said one of the elves. One could see fear in his bright eyes.
Aragorn drew a deep breath into his lungs. He was about to say something, when he heard a crack behind his back. A few seconds later, fifteen armed orcs jumped out from behind the bushes. Aragorn's and elves' horses neighed and pranced. Dúnadan tried to stay on the horse, but he couldn't make it – he slumped on the ground and rolled toward the boulder lying under a pine tree. Fortunately, the fall wasn't dangerous, and a few seconds later Aragorn stood on his feet with drawn sword.
''It's a trap! Do not let them push us in the direction of the camp!'', he shouted.
Four elves restrained their horses and attacked the orcs. Fifth elf, whose horse completely refused to cooperate, got up from the ground and started to prepare a bow.
Aragorn lunged at the nearest orc, but he anticipated his move and quickly parried the attack. King jumped aside, but tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground.
''Glob!'', snarled orc with contempt. He raised his rusty axe and prepared to lunge at his opponent. But he couldn't attack, because Aragorn kicked him in the shin, stood up from the ground and pierced the orc with his sword. Creature gurgled, then stumbled and fell on its back.
Fight flared up. Unfortunately, it quickly turned out that six weary warriors dressed in light armors and armed mainly with bows and arrows, can do little against the fifteen heavily dressed orcs.
In the end, the whole group, including Aragorn, began to retreat and draw near the enemy's camp. King of Gondor knew that he couldn't allow himself to confront the large force of orcs. ''I might as well commit suicide.'' Therefore, he decided to do something crazy but necessary - at one point he started to push forward, kicking enemies whenever possible. The idea was pretty good, but after a while he and his companions weakened. Orcs used this opportunity to fight with redoubled force. Three elves almost immediately fell to the ground writhing in pain. The other two fought stubbornly, but in the end they slumped on the ground. The only one standing on the battlefield was Aragorn. He was waving his sword and parrying the attacks, as befits a remarkable king, but at some point a huge orc with face covered in red paint, plunged his sword down through king's clavicle. Aragorn fell to the ground.
A fierce laughter of orcs was heard in the air. Monsters looked at the fallen warriors with contempt.
Barely conscious Aragorn saw a hideous orc leaning over him and smiling like a lunatic. Man was preparing for the final blow, when suddenly, he heard the sound of trumpets and from the corner of his eye he saw silver horseshoes and hocks of a white horse. A thought passed through his mind, but he didn't manage to catch it because he lost consciousness.
When the king of Gondor opened his eyes, he saw a white, luminous figure who was leaning over him and holding something that looked like a small box. The figure seemed to be blurred, transparent. Aragorn tensed up and tried to get up. Unfortunately, he was too weak and fell back to the ground. He was blinking his eyes until finally, after a few seconds, he came to the conclusion that a person who leans over him is Thranduil.
''Please, do not move. You make it difficult for me.'', elf's melodious voice was like a balm for a human's tired heart. Aragorn relaxed his muscles and let Elvenking lubricate a wound with cold, sticky ointment.
''Orcs… what about them?'', he asked in a weak voice.
''Killed.'', said shortly Thranduil. His hands gently rubbed the ointment in Aragorn's wound. ''Fortunately, I arrived at the right time.''
King of Gondor looked around. He saw four dead orcs lying under the big tree. Group of Thranduil's knights was standing right next to them. They were talking in elvish and from time to time they were peeking at their king.
''Thank you.'', said Aragorn. Elf looked into his eyes and nodded. Human wanted to tell Thranduil the truth, but at that moment he couldn't find the courage. He sighed and turned his head. ''Have you seen tents pitched by orcs in the east? We now know that the scout was telling the truth. They can cause problems. What are you going to do?''
Elvenking closed the box with ointment and gave it to the archer standing next to one of the horses.
''I do not know yet. I will convene a meeting after our return.'', he said. He leaned over the wounded man and put his hand on his forehead. His long hair tickled the man's cheeks and nose. ''You have a fever. Ointment should prevent infection and quicken the healing process, but you need to be quickly transported to the palace, to the medic...''
Although Thranduil said something more, the meaning of his words didn't reach Aragorn. Because the man knew. He knew that not all the rumors were lying... or at least in this one case they were true. He closed his eyes and smiled cheerfully. In the air which was soaked with blood and death one could smell a pleasant, calming scent of camomile...
