She definitely wasn't prepared. How could she be? The King was Thranduil. The Thranduil. I chuck anyone I don't like into the dungeons Thranduil. I'm a cold and arrogant bastard with thousands of years of trauma Thranduil. Legolas' father, Thranduil. She was screwed. There was absolutely no way she was getting out of this. Why was she worried about joining the Fellowship in a few months? She'll never see anything outside of the dungeons! Resigned to her seemingly indisputable fate, Stella decided to put her mask on.

It wasn't a real mask of course, but how she referred to the mannerisms she used when working at the faire. Even if she was going to be locked up anyways, she didn't want to give the Woodland King even more reason to do so.

Aran nin? (My King?) Midhion pressed his closed hand to his chest and bowed deeply. Stella kept her gaze to the ground, her thoughts whirling.

Ma hen? (What is this?) The King's tone was sharp and cold. She risked a glance up towards the throne, meeting Thranduil's piercing grey eyes. He was just as depicted. Beautiful, almost ethereal, and seemed to radiate power. He didn't just rule. He controlled.

His shining silver hair trailed down his back and shoulders, and ended just above his waist. Upon his head sat an intricate crown made of branches and leaves, providing sharp contrast to his long, pale green robes and adding to the otherworldly aura surrounding the elf. She looked down again, cheeks flushed, realising she had been staring. While she was taking in the Elvenking's appearance, Midhion and Thranduil continued to converse in Sindarin.

I found this she-elf just off the path half a day East in the Wood. She did not know where she was or what her purpose was within the Greenwood. She spoke once in Sindarin but says she does not speak the language. The Elvenking lifted an eyebrow at the guard, not even glancing in Stella's direction.

Was she armed?

Yes, my King. Midhion stepped forward and presented Stella's sword to the King with a bow, stepping back to Stella's side once the King grasped the weapon in his hand. He examined it for a moment, tilting it back and forth so it caught the light.

An unusual blade, the King thought. He finally turned his gaze towards Stella, who was looking around the room with wide, awe filled eyes. Apart from her dishevelled appearance and the surprisingly impeccable condition of her armour, she looked like any other elleth. It was the armour that concerned him, though. No being tresspasses with good intentions on the Greewood while dressed for battle. An emissary would have been announced by messenger months in advance or would have arrived with a letter in the case of an emergency. Not to mention the fact that he couldn't identify from where she hailed based on her dress. He would have to tread carefully with this one.

You may go. Thranduil dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand. Midhion gave another bow and hurried out of the hall. Silence rang in the air until the double oak doors shut with a bang. The Elvenking then carefully rested the blade against the side of his throne and once again turned his attention to Stella.

"What are you called?" He demanded in Westron.

"I am Rainith, Aran nin ." Stella replied with a well-practised curtsy. Thranduil leaned back on his throne, folding his arms in a poorly disguised attempt to intimidate her.

"Am I truely to believe that an elleth such as you does not speak the language of the elves?"

"Elleth?" Stella was officially confused. Why would he call her that?

"She-elf." She almost failed to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. She knew what elleth meant. She just wasn't sure why he was using it like it applied to her. Then, a thought came to mind. She must still have her prosthetic ears on!

"Forgive me, Aran nin , but I am not an elf." At this, the Elvenking quickly stood from his chair and stalked towards her, robes billowing behind him.

"Do you think me a fool?!" He snarled at her threateningly, fire blazing in his eyes. His hair fluttered in the breeze he had just made. Stella's heart pounded in her chest as she swallowed thickly. This was the exact kind of confrontation with Thranduil that she was trying to avoid.

"No!" She exclaimed, reaching up to her ears to take off the prosthetics. When her fingertips brushed against the tips of her ears, she yelped. Her prosthetics were gone and in their place were the sensitive points of the elves of Middle Earth. She wouldn't have believed it had it not been for the seamless transition from the shell of her ears to the tips and the shocks sent through her when she touched them. She looked at the Elvenking, returning her shaking hands to her sides and starting to feel overwhelmed. How was this even possible?

"I - I don't understand." She stuttered, delicately tracing over the tips of her ears again, but with more care and gentleness than the last time. Thranduil stepped even closer to her, hand reaching for his own sword at his belt. The guards at the doors shifted their hands to their weapons.

"What is your purpose here?" He commanded her to answer truthfully. She looked up into his eyes, almost missing the fleeting spark of fear in them. Interesting, she thought. He is afraid. Her momentary sense of relief at the idea disappeared quickly as the Elvenking enveloped her already sore wrists in his iron grip. Heart racing once more, she broke eye contact, unable to hold it in her fear. She opened her mouth and tried to explain what had happened to her, knowing full well that her story sounded unlikely at best.

"You will think me insane, but I have no idea how I came to be on Middle Earth." She was starting to panic a bit, her hands growing slick with sweat and going numb from Thranduil's vice-like hold. How was she supposed to convince him of anything? She was still having trouble believing she was actually in Middle Earth herself! Stella shifted, grimacing as his painful grip on her didn't let up.

"Arda is not your world?" His cold blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"It is not." She insisted. She didn't think it was possible for him to squeeze any harder, but he did. Eyes growing moist and vision blurring slightly, she tried to persuade the Elvenking. It was a battle she knew she would lose at this point, but that didn't stop her from trying.

"It is not." She insisted. She could have sworn she heard a threatening growl come from the other elf. This wasn't going to end well.

"Why should I believe anything you say? You trespass on my lands and are dressed for battle. You claim not to be an elleth or speak our tongue, but you are clearly no Man and have all of the traits of our kin." Thranduil shoved her backwards and away from him. Stumbling, she managed to stay upright, massaging her throbbing wrists. When she glanced up at the Elvenking, he was examining her with a snarl still on his face.

Stella stood still, not sure what to say in response to his likely rhetorical question. She could admit that Thranduil's deductions were completely logical and sound. That is, they would be if she believed them herself. He must have taken her silence for an admission of deceit and made up his mind on what to do with her. With a gesture to the guards posted at the sides of the doorway, he spoke.

"Send her to the dungeons." One of the guards stepped forward and gripped Stella's arm tightly above the elbow instead of one of her abused wrists, steering her out of the hall. It was all she could do not to stumble at the quick pace heading out the doors. Once they left, the Elvenking addressed the remaining guard.

"Send for Legolas." Thranduil seated himself on his throne once more, rubbing his face wearily. The guard gave a stiff nod and left the hall. Thranduil braced his elbows on his thighs and massaged his temple with his index fingers. He could feel a headache coming on.

He felt slightly ashamed. Not with the way he had treated the elleth , of course. Just with the way his fears took hold and drove his reactions to the threat. He might as well have been an open book the entire time.

Hopefully Legolas would have something insightful to say about the situation. This was an occasion that called for tact and strategy. He couldn't risk anything happening to the Woodland Realm. It was his responsibility to ensure the safety and wellbeing of his people, and the presence of this unknown elleth was a threat to that.