Chapter 2

"My Lady, the news is everywhere!"

Elora informs you as soon as you enter your chambers, your back facing her, you cringe at the use of 'my lady', the King insisted upon all your servants using it, but now it only serves to remind you of what you no longer are, in his opinion anyway. You pause, wondering why you actually care what he thinks. It makes you feel angry, yet upset at the thought that he might not let you stay here for disobeying him and quite frankly, you have no idea why. Bustling about your room, Elora continues to clean as you stand still as a slapped fish.

"They say there were a pack of orcs near the Forest again, orcs! I tell you if..."

She speaks rather commonly for an elf, you think, as her voice fades away whilst you lean against the door for support, fatigued by the effort it took to climb out of the river, you push lightly on one of the doors to see if it opens, but it doesn't – you begin to wonder whether you're a prisoner after all. You had been escorted by the guards right up to your chamber doors to ensure you wouldn't attempt anymore 'escapes', as if you had the energy to.

As you turn to face Elora, she jumps back in surprise at the state of you,

"Oh! My Lady, what-why are you…oh-and your hair!"

You drop your eyes to the floor and notice a drop of scarlet by your bare feet. Looking around for cuts, you see a long silver mirror to your right and stumble towards it, what stares back at you looks pretty damn terrible.

"Oh GOD!"

You groan, palming your hands in your face. Why did Tarron have to be such so pushy, it was completely his idea to go wandering off, but the longer you think about it, the angrier you become. Small cuts and bruises are scattered across your arms as you painfully peel back the layer of white fabric that clings to your tender skin. Collapsing into a scruffy heap on your plush bed, you let out a defeated moan.

"It's ok my lady, we can sort you out, a nice new dress'll fix-"

But the adventures of the day had left you so tiresome you'd fallen asleep as soon as your head hit the bed. Pulling the rich purple covers over you, Elora began tucking you in, only to be interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Scuttling over to open them, she found herself in front of the King's messenger, Elbereth. His face was similar to most elves, thin, but not unpleasant, framed by long golden strands of straight hair, but in his voice there was harshness. Despite his youthful appearance, he seemed all but endearing.

"The King demands her presence"

Gesturing over to the bed where you slept, he formed a most displeased face,

"…she is to be dressed appropriately and should be presented to him within the next hour."

And with that he strolled off down the hall, a smug look plastered across his face. Feeling panicked, Elora quickly begins attempts to wake you up,

"My lady! You simply must wake up!"

In response, you roll over and sigh, pulling the covers further over yourself to create a cocoon. Minutes later, she somehow finally manages to pull you out of bed in spite of her short stature and haul you over to the huge bathroom that joins your chambers.

"Wow, so big-" you stifle a yawn, "why do I need to take a bath, please Elora…sleep, I need slee-"

As she pulls you down into the steaming hot water of the gigantic Jacuzzi-like bathtub you feel a sense of relief. You let your head rest against the back of the tub as your cuts as bruises soak and you hum pleasantly. As Elora begins washing your hair, your thoughts turn to Tarron, and you wonder what he's doing now; was he escorted back to his chambers too?

But your thoughts were again interrupted by Elora's soft voice,

"Now my Lady, the King has asked to see you so it's very import-"

"What the- are you serious? Why?"

"My Lady, please! Calm down. I'm sure he just wants to see that you're alright, you did look a mess when you came back."

Yes, that's it. Of course, he wants to ensure your safety after he scolded you in front of his men and caused enough embarrassment to last you a life time. Typical. It's not that he wants to throw you into his dungeons and lock you away forever… you still aren't quite sure what had made the King so angry, even if you had been killed, what were you to him? A guest? Or held captive? Fuck that. You could leave at any time, right? It's probably because you had caused a patrol to be sent out…

Tarron was still at the forefront of your mind. With your thoughts whirling round your head, you almost fall over as Elora helps you step out of the bath and wraps you in warm towel. Disappearing into the other room, you hear her fumbling around as you continue to talk,

"Will it just be the King and I?"

"I don't know my Lady, Elbereth didn't say that much."

You were about to ask just who Elbereth is, when she re-appears with the most elegant ruby red dress you have ever seen. With your mouth agape, there in no way you can imagine wearing that in front of King Thranduil. The sweetheart neckline looks very low, and the mid-length sleeves are sure to show off your newly acquired scratches.

"I can't wear that!" you shout in protest,

"Oh but my Lady you must!" Elora wails, "It's the King's orders."

"But why must he have me wear such…such a revealing dress!" you pout,

"It's only because you aren't used to these things my Lady, in time you'll grow accustomed to it, do not worry."

"Well maybe I won- wait, what do you mean 'in time'?"

There was silence.

"I'm not staying here forever, you know? I can leave whenever I please."

You try to sound as though you believe yourself, but the longer Elora remains silent, the more you grow anxious.

"Um, of course, my Lady. Now let's fix your hair and make you look presentable."

As she gently pushes you in the direction of the dressing table at the foot of your bed, you sense that something isn't quite right. But perhaps now isn't the right moment to question her. You don't wish to be late and angering the King for a second time is most definitely not what you have in mind.

"Go on, my Lady!" Elora whispers, shoving you into the entrance of the throne room. It is truly beautiful and as you stare at the wonderful carvings, you realise it's more like an open platform. There are few walls in the elven halls and you had longed to take a walk around them ever since you had entered here, but it probably wasn't allowed.

Feeling exposed by the open-ness, you stumble round the corner, still feeling off balance from this morning you make a b-line to the middle of the room. As you are walking, you hear women giggling and clapping, looking up, you see him.

Surrounded by elf maids, his legs are casually draped over an arm of the throne. You watch with intent, as one of the maids goes to pluck a violet grape from the bunch that lies on the small table by his side; it is spread with the most exotic of fruits. She places it inside Thranduil's mouth, but as she tears her fingers away, he pulls them back sucking the juices off them, his tongue lapping up all that's left. His actions cause her to elicit a small moan, making the others jealous as they all clamour to feed him the next item of fruit.

Realising you have come to a halt, you shuffle to the centre, and, feeling confident, you clear your throat. It must be the dress. It fits you perfectly, as if he knew your measurements. The ripples of the fabric skim your hips but hug your waist, emphasising your curves. Your hair was curled into soft waves and Elora had insisted that it should be left down; apparently the King likes it so. Not that you cared what he thought, but it was best to please him after the incident. The blood red colour of your dress set off your now apparent flushed cheeks and until now, you hadn't noticed that the King's cloak was of the same shade.

Still refusing to acknowledge your presence, Thranduil utters something in elvish to the maids and they disperse. Refusing to even look at you, he begins to help himself to more fruit. You know he is keeping you in suspense, you've learned that this is something he enjoys. The bastard. Summoning you after the day you have had and he can't even meet your eye line?! Well, two can play at that game.

After standing there for what seemed like an age, you turn swiftly with all the intention of leaving, until you hear his smooth voice, practically dripping with arrogance,

"Leaving so soon?"

As you spin around to face him, you try to come up with some clever remark, but you aren't known for your fast replies. You find it hard to string a sentence together at the best of times, this is just pushing it. Thankfully, you don't have to. The King rises as that familiar smile is etched across his porcelain face.

"I'm sure you are wondering why I have summoned you here?"

Still not giving in to look at you, he regally strolls down from the steps leading up to his throne. You pluck up the courage to give him an answer, avoiding your last mistake,

"Yes. My King" you speak softly.

He is now inches away from you and with his next sentence, he finally looks at you,

"Tomorrow nigh- my, my…that dress looks wonderful on you."

His eyes once again roam across your body as you try to read his expression. You feel uncomfortable, and he uses this to his advantage. He has you right where he wants you. There's no denying his devilishly handsome looks as you imitate his actions, your eyes wandering over his lean body, dressed in silver, he looks close to perfection.

"My maids ought to be jealous of such beauty, they tell me humans are incapable of bearing such good looks…but you, my darling, appear to be an exception."

Your face is enflamed, your eyes downcast. Never have you ever received such a compliment. Maybe he's just trying to charm you into getting what he wants. Noticing your awkward manner, he lets out a dark chuckle before continuing,

"But as I was saying, tomorrow night, there is to be a Ball. Elves from realms outside of this one will be present. Afterwards we are to discuss future plans concerning the dark forces that lurk beneath the shadows of Mirkwood and beyond,"

With your full attention on him, the King takes a step closer to you, and reaches out for your hand. Recalling the last time he took hold of your wrist, you flinch and your breath audibly hitches. Looking into his eyes, you have never seen any so vivid, so full of colour. Registering your apprehension, he appears to look almost hurt, and feeling somehow guilty, you offer out your hand to him. As he takes it, you feel a sudden surge of safety and reassurance, which is rather strange, as you have never really felt like this around any other man – especially one who you have known for barely four days!

"..My Lady, I apologise for my temper, I did not mean to scare you earlier this morning. The reason I asked you here was to invite you to attend the Ball…with myself."

You almost can't believe it. A human being asked to attend an elven Ball, and with the King!? It does cross your mind that perhaps this is a scheme of some sort, but if you declined his offer you wouldn't get to see the great halls in all their majesty.

"B..but I'm-"

"Human. Yes? My Lady, if you do not wish to join me then you simply have to s-"

"No, no! I'm….just surprised."

"So you'll come? Very well, it is settled."

The corners of his mouth rise as he paces back towards the throne, mounting the stairs, he looks back at you,

"I look forward to it."