So sorry I haven't updated in so long! My muse died for awhile, but it's finally back! So here goes...


Three

Ada

The only sound to break the silence as we travel back to the primary levels of the palace is the pound of my heart. My brother's pace quickens the closer we get to my father's chambers. His hand does not leave my shoulder; he has no intention of letting me slip out from under him again.

The once nervous bustle of the halls seems to ease wherever I step. Relief floods faces, and the day for many a soul levels out. But I know that the one that lies behind the ornately carved doors that Legolas pushes open will not be so easily pacified.

He gesticulates for me to enter, and when I hesitate, he gives me a look that screams that I am to face my impeding doom alone. Without a word I step forward, and the doors click shut. My heart drops to my toes. Swallowing and gathering my composure, I slip into the shadows behind the strong pillars holding up the ceiling. My moves are slow, my footfall quiet. I try to hold off the coming storm for as long as I can.

A shuffle towards the center of the room curtly informs me that I have indeed failed. Still, I remain motionless.

"There is no use in hiding." My father's voice is silk, but laced beneath it is a terrible potential. "I know you're here."

He turns towards my hiding place, grey eyes fell.

"Come."

His voice is soft enough to coax me out into the light. Unable to meet his gaze, I merely stare at the floor.

"Where have you been?"

Thoroughly terrified, I merely purse my lips and swallow.

Ada's demeanor morphs from paternal worry into rigid suspicion. He cocks an eyebrow and clears his throat.

With every silent second the tension in the room grows. I long to run but know by the look on my father's face that it would greatly behoove me to cough up the truth at the closest possible second. Finally I find the courage to form words.

"The dungeon," I all but squeak.

A fire bursts into his eyes, and I know he fights to restrain his wrath.

"And what, exactly, were you doing down there?"

His words are icy with protective anger, and he takes a calculated step towards me. Fear sends my respiration running wild and turns my tongue into lead.

"Answer me!"

I sigh. "Interrogation...of sorts."

His eyes pop. "Interrogation?"

"I..." I sigh again whilst steeling my composure and fighting for the explanation he craves. "I only wished to find the truth. A party of Dwarves stumbled into our homeland and possibly threatened our safety, and I wished to know who they were and why they came. According to Legolas they have remained quiet, and whatever you know you have kept from me, and I couldn't sleep until I at least found out something, so I went and spoke to the one I saw."

"And what did he tell you?" He leans back on his heels and crosses his arms across his chest as he speaks.

"That they were merchants on the way to Esgaroth and had lost everything to the spiders."

"And you believed him?"

"Not necessarily, Ada."

He chuckles rather coldly. "And it is a good thing that you didn't, my daughter. I know full well who he is; I have tried to reason with him, but he will not listen. He is no merchant, and he definitely is not as helpless as he claims. Initially, it was not completely necessary for you to know, but since you insist on yet again sticking your nose in business that does not concern you, then I shall tell you." He pauses and looks me dead in the eye before he continues.

"He is Thorin, son of Thrain, one of the last of the line of Durin, and," he adds dryly, "King Under the Mountain. Or so he thinks."

My jaw drops. Images of my past trek to Erebor flood back to me: the ancient halls of stone, the proud king on his carven throne, and especially now the timid yet fiery face of a little Dwarf-lad that peeked out from behind his father's leg, obviously curious but scowling a suspicious tempest at me. Little did I know what that child would grow up to become. My words to him come crashing into my conscience:

You know nothing of the ways of kings...and you never will.

And I immediately know that I have made a terrible, terrible mistake.

I fight to keep my fear from registering on my face and scramble to voice the questions that rampage through me.

"What in all of Arda is he doing here?"

"That," Ada sighs, "we have not yet been able to fully decipher. But I do have my suspicions..."

"What suspicions?"

He remains tersely silent.

Frustrated myself, I sigh. "Please tell me, Ada. But if you do not I have ways of discovering these things for myself."

"I know that full well," he replies with a smirk, his voice still stone. Then he abruptly turns. "Why did you go down there? It was incredibly foolish of you. Those Dwarves are dangerous, Caladhiel."

"I can protect myself, Ada. You've made sure of that over the years-"

"But there is still the possibility."

When I try to turn away he grabs my shoulders and forces my gaze back to his face.

"Do you not realize that you are all of your mother that I have left?" he all but hisses.

His voice and demeanor exhibit cold, protective anger, but when the tiniest spark of fear breaks into his eyes, it is brutally fought back.

"If that is the case, then why do you keep so much from me?" I manage.

He cocks an eyebrow. When his gaze intensifies, I know I have stuck a serious nerve. I tread carefully.

"Naneth took some of the weight of your duties and carried it with you. She was there for you, she supported you. But everything changed after she died." I sigh and look straight into his eyes, my gaze pleading. "You need not bear these burdens alone, Ada. Let me help you as she once did."

Thranduil sighs. "That was the past. Things have changed more than you know, Caladhiel. But here and now we must endure for the sake of our people. To survive."

My brow furrows and I begin to walk away, but a realization stops me short.

"Do you remember when the wood was beautiful?" A soft smile forms on my face as I continue. "When the birds flew in the treetops...the thickets teemed with life...the feasts in the summer? When we'd stay out and dance all night...and then come stumbling home in the morning?"

Quiet.

"Those days have passed, Caladhiel." He turns away from me as he speaks.

"But they are not yet lost."

I lay a quiet hand on his arm before I continue.

"There is still hope, Ada."

Silence weaves a spell of saddened tension. Finally Ada sighs.

"Go and get some rest," he says all but wearily. "The Feast of Starlight is tonight. I will not have you looking spent."

Slowly, dejectedly, I nod.

"Ben iest gîn, Ada."

With that I begin to slip away. I steal one last glance at him before I melt into the shadows. His back is turned to me and he leans his palms onto a sturdy table, wrestling with himself. Without a word I leave him to his brooding and exit the room, my head down and my heart heavy.