Chapter 6

"Stay away from me."

Gathering yourself up, you get as close to the back of the bed as you can. Luckily, you had managed to wriggle your underwear back on whilst the King had left. The less exposed you were the better.

Also, proving you wrong, there is such thing as an ugly elf and unfortunately for you, it's standing at the foot of the King's bed. He looks of a similar age to Lord Elrond, but with far more repulsive features; his nose is thin yet pointy, with a slight hook to it and his narrow eyes are a dark grey colour, lacking any signs of life.

"Come now, do not be afraid my pet..."

He skulks over to the bed,

"I have heard great tales of your beauty whispered around these halls… Ariella, isn't it?"

You whimper silently at the mention of your name,

"Such a lovely name for a face as angelic as yours…it's just a shame you're human."

Your eyes immediately widen in fear, as he pounces onto the bed, leaping over the barricade of silk cushions with surprising grace. Yelping as he seizes your wrists, he pins you down – he may be old, but his elven strength is still noticeable.

"Get off me!"

You thrash around, kicking your legs up you manage to catch him in the balls; a skill you've perfected from being around Tarron.

As he retreats in pain, you take the opportunity to free one of your hands from his grip to slap him hard across the cheek. Whilst he's momentarily stunned by both acts, you utilise all of your strength to push him off the bed. Darting across the room, you break away to reach for the doorknob.

Suddenly you're grabbed by the ankles and dragged back down, screaming loudly, your head hits the floor. You feel a warm substance trickle down the side of your face and break out into a wail. Regaining control over you, it's him that slaps you this time, far harder than the one gave him. It instantly bruises your left cheek.

He roughly rips your emerald necklace dangling from your chest and sends it to the floor, the small pendant shattering into tiny pieces. He leans in to kiss you, but you dodge his face, biting down hard onto his shoulder. But for this, you receive a heart-stopping blow to the ribs. You feel sick at the sharp pain that gravitates through your body.

"Human bitch…I'll teach you some manners-"

"You will die before you lay another finger on her."

A blade to his throat, you look up to see Tauriel standing over him. Tarron rushes to your side, his eyes take in your barely clothed body.

"No…"

You're hardly able to speak as helps you up, shaking violently from the shock. You feel a sudden weakness overcome you, unable to walk, you collapse onto Tarron.

"Ariella! Look at me, what's wrong?!"

"Tarron…look."

Drawing attention to the huge gash by your ribs, Tauriel's face goes white with shock. It appears that you have been stabbed, your blood dripping onto the floor, draining the life from you.

"Go. I'll take care of him…take her to the healing room. Now."

Tauriel instructs Tarron as he holds your limp body in his arms.

"Tarron, go!"

Breaking out of the daze, he sweeps up your body gently into his arms, carrying you bridal style. You hear them mumble directions in elvish as you drift in and out of consciousness.

Exiting the room swiftly with you in his arms, he heads off back down the hallway, it isn't long before you black out completely.

Upon reaching the healers, Tarron yells at them to move faster as they tell him they'll try to do everything they can, but he must stay calm. They also say you've lost a lot of blood, and that saving you may prove to be a struggle...

Tears falling from his eyes, he presses his lips to your hand and whispers,

"Please…stay with me…"

Meanwhile in the conference hall, representatives of each of the elven realms debate what is to be done in order to counteract the dark forces on the move.

"…no, no no! We cannot simply drive them away by our armies alone; we need the backing of others."

Legolas voices his opinions, sitting next to a rather displeased King.

"Yes, my Prince! We should ride into battle with a colossal army behind us, one that would put theirs to shame!"

"But we cannot ask for the help of dwarves! And what of men? Their race threw aside our trust long ago, when they had the chance to-"

"That was one man alone. You cannot taint the entire race of men with the same shade of black as you do Isildur."

Lord Elrond's voice is strong and causes the room to quieten. He turns his gaze to Thranduil.

"King Thranduil, what do you say?"

All eyes turn to the head of the long table, as the Elf King leans his head back to rest on the chair. Looking bored and unimpressed by all the suggestions that have been made, he turns his head to Elrond, then back to the other elves. Throwing one leg over the other as he speaks,

"We must do whatever is necessary to keep our lands safe. If an alliance with men is needed, then so be it."

They all nod in agreement until out of the blue, Lindir's chair collapses. Pulling down Elrond as he goes, it causes a domino effect to occur which sends the elves at one side of the table crashing to the floor. Laughter surges, booming from all walls, as the conference takes a slight detour - much to the King's disgust. Although fiercely protective of his people, he disliked Silvan elves at the best of times. But other elf officials were far worse.

Sighing, the King's thoughts turn to you as he gazes into thin air, longing to be back with you. He wasn't completely sure why you had such a hold over him, especially seen as though it was he who had once frowned upon the mixing of races. But he just couldn't get enough of you.

In the midst of the commotion, a small elf boy, quietly enters the room, he appears to be some sort of messenger. Making his way over to the table, he avoids making contact with any of the other elves, except the King. He bows before speaking.

"My King, Ariella is injured. She was attac-"

Thranduil's face drops. But before the boy can finish, he is out of his seat, storming towards the door. Without uttering a single word, he leaves.

Catching up with him, Legolas is evidently irritated by his father's irrational behaviour.

"First you cause a scene at the Ball and now this! What will the others think?"

His father pays him no attention.

"Why do you keep on disappearing off like this? And where is Ariella? We were worried about her you know! From what Nym says she did nothing wrong, all my friends seemed to like her and she doesn't exactly look the trouble-making type."

"Go back, Legolas. This is not of your concern."

The young Prince falls behind, leaving Thranduil to make his way to the healers alone.

"You can't keep this from me. I'm going to find out what's going on sooner or later."

Hearing his son shout, the King has no time to comprehend what he says. Although he cannot understand it, it's plain to see that his attachment to you is strong. Never has he felt this way about anyone, elf or human.

Bursting into the healing room, he sees you lying weak and unconscious on a healing bed. His eyes never leave your face as he sits beside you on a wooden chair, taking in your delicate state. Tarron glares at him through tear-stained eyes as Thranduil takes your free hand in his.

"How is she?"

His voice is barely audible, as a lump forms in his throat.

"She is responding well and we have managed to stop the bleeding, my King."

He winces at the mention of blood, outraged by the fact that his actions have landed her here. There are at least five healers present, all females, and in appearance, they aren't too much younger than the King himself.

"This is all your fault."

Throughout all the years that you and Tarron have been friends, never has he seen you hurt…and it kills him knowing that the person responsible is right here in this exact room.

"When she wakes up, tell her I-"

"Tell her yourself."

Sensing the tension about to erupt, the healers tending you retreat to the back of the room.

"Do not forget who you are speaking to Tarron. She may be your friend, but I am the King."

"You got jealous, didn't you. That's why you stopped them dancing. Then what? You took her to your room to have your wicked way with her? Then you left her alone, for some vile creature to attack her? Or is that what you wanted. Did you plan for her to get stabbed, did you want her to feel pain, to feel revenge?"

"You know nothing."

The King puts a hand to your forehead, soothing it delicately.

"Oh, I think I know enough. I've heard of your 'possessive' nature."

Shaking his head, Thranduil refuses to give Tarron a response. Despite the fact that he knows what he's saying is right.

"Do you know how it felt to see the life draining from her, to hear her heartbeat fading, to hold her fragile body in my arms?"

It hurts Thranduil far more than he knows it should do to hear him speak of you in such a way and he feels strangely envious that it was Tarron who saved you. He hates what you do to his emotions, first noticing it at the Ball. It scared him how easily you could manipulate them without intention. The Thranduil that he knew wouldn't have reacted like that. He rarely lashed out or got jealous. Rumours of his 'wrath' were just myths until you came. Quite frankly, he couldn't even remember the last time he got mad. But since you had arrived, things were different.

"Do you not think I feel guilty!? She is…my guest, as are you. I should have been the one to protect her."

"But you didn't, did you? Oh great 'King Thranduil'…"

Tarron knows he's pushing it.

"Do not mock me, boy. You are in my realm and I am your King-"

"YOU ARE NOT MY KING!"

Immediately, Tarron is seized by the guards from outside the healing room door. He is snatched away from your side and forced to his knees, the blood in his veins boiling.

"Take him to the dungeons. Do not release him until I say so."

Thranduil bends down to taunt him with a smirk playing on his lips,

"…perhaps then you will see things differently."

Once Tarron is gone, the King sits back down at your side, but with the guilt surging, he is unable to look at you for much longer. Departing from the room, he makes his way back to the conference hall. As he passes by curtseying elf maidens, they stick to the far side of the hallway. He's not usually a frightening elf as such, just rather imposing. Until now.

Upon reaching the hall, no-one is there and from what happens next, this is most likely a good thing. Slamming the doors shut, Thranduil explodes. Overturning the table, he screams in anger. Sending a chair flying across to the other side of the room, he collapses into a heap on the floor. He's not only angry at you for making him feel this way, but he's angry with himself. If he can't hide his feelings for you, he knows that you'll have to leave….