Apologies for the delay. I've been so busy! :( Will explain more in the next chapter. For now, enjoy!


Chapter Two: The King and his Son


"I wonder how these uruk-hai breed. Their number grows by the day and it seems like they have no plans of stopping." Meginor said with a scowl as he wiped his short sword with an already soiled rag. "I would wager they operate like ants. They crack from foul eggs that incubate underneath ugly, filthy little hills." He gave a shudder, then a smirk as he looked up from his weapon. "Although I would wonder what their queen would look like. It must be one ugly and great brute."

Tauriel only shook her head, but Gobelion answered their Captain eagerly. "Your speculation is not far from the rumors I've heard, hest. They say the Uruk are born from dark cocoons deep under the ground," he shrugged. "Though I would think their births would not be far from ours. It is an unpleasant but curious thought: that we come into this world in just about the same way they do."

Tauriel frowned. This talk of the creatures' births turned her stomach. "You really should stop goading Meginor's talk about such things, Gobelion. His stories alone can be unpleasant enough."

"Oh, forgive me, my lady," Gobelion said, while Meginor laughed.

She gave him a tired smile. Decades since he had arrived, and Tauriel had constantly reminded him not to address her so, yet the elf seemed uncomfortable with calling her simply by her name. She wondered how many more centuries it would take before he would realize that she was but a commoner elf now.

She exhaled deeply as she untied the heavy cape that weighed on her shoulders, hanging them instead on a peg by the door. She stretched her arms above her, grateful that the day was over. They had spent the better part of the afternoon hunting the Mirkwood forest for trespassers. It was all they ever did now. In fact, it was all she had ever done, since she had left her old home for Thranduil's kingdom. She had thought before that she would be able to help in lessening the number of dark forces in the forest, but Meginor had been correct about one thing: the spawns of darkness multiplied at a far faster rate than the sting of her knives and arrows. Of course, it helped naught that the shadow in the east now loomed over the entire Middle-Earth.

She sat on a small bench as she waited for her companions to disarm. Soon enough, four other capes hung just beside hers.

"Well," Meginor smiled as he turned to face her. "I think we've earned ourselves some rest and food?"

Tauriel nodded as she stood. "That would be a fair presupposition," she said, as she followed them out of the weapons room. If she were to be honest, however, she did not have any desire for food. Appetite seemed to abandon her, in the days of late.

"I wish we also had some wine and mead," Meginor said longingly, as they raced up the stairs that led to the dining halls.

"You know the King only approves of such liquor during feasts and occasions," Gobelion added.

"And for good reason," Tauriel murmured. "Especially when it comes to you, Meginor."

The other elves chuckled, but Meginor seemed not to have heard her comment. He pushed open a pair of heavy wooden doors, and they entered a room filled with rows upon rows of tables, a few of them, filled with other members of the Guard who were finishing with their meal. Food was also often served to her room—it was one of the few things that had not changed even though they had stripped her of her position as a Captain of the Guard, but she preferred to dine with her friends, even if she ate little, or nothing at all. The stories of her friends helped distract her from ominous thoughts she had grown tired of pondering on.

"It is one of the reasons I wish every day were a momentous event," Meginor sighed while he propped himself into one of the emptier tables. Eagerly, he reached for the bread and fruits that were served before them.

Gobelion took a sip from the goblet by his side. Tauriel watched as he swallowed painfully slowly, as if the liquid burned his throat. He then stared at the cup in his hand, bending his hand in a circular motion, such that swirls rippled on the surface of the water that was held within.

"Pray, tell us, mellon," Meginor said, his lips forming into a smile. "What is it in your water that has made you so transfixed with it?"

Gobelion swirled his cup a few seconds more, before he sighed and placed it on the table. "I was merely pondering on the Captain's pronouncement earlier. And I realized…" he smiled at Meginor mischievously. "…I think I can also see why you crave for wine."

Meginor laughed loudly.

"The liquor makes it easier to fall asleep, my lady," Gobelion explained, when Tauriel looked at him questioningly. "The darkness has been noisier these days. Sometimes, a thousand voices whisper to me in my head, keeping me awake until the torches die in the deepest of the night."

Tauriel frowned, and even Meginor's smile disappeared. "Is it still the voices as before, mellon?" she asked worriedly. "The voices that whispered to you when you…" she hesitated, the memory of the moment still haunted her, though many years had passed. "…when you were poisoned?"

Gobelion nodded. "But I ask that none of you think any more of it. I reckon that the voices are not more than that, a memory," he shrugged, and reached for the fruits in the center of the table. Like Meginor, he filled his plate with food, trying to look as nonchalant, but Tauriel could see the stiffness in his jaw that would not go away.

"But there is a possibility that these voices grow along with the shadow in the east?" Meginor said, quietly. It was one of the few moments Tauriel saw him without a trace of mischief in his face. "You said before that the voices were strongest when we held the creature Gollum in our keep. You said it was…different."

Gobelion nodded, and he almost hesitated to answer. "Yes, I think the shadow strengthens it," he said slowly. "However, I repeat it again, mellonin, you do not have to worry about me. There is enough trouble that weighs on us all, and I do not want to contribute to that heavy load," he said, looking almost as if he was angry at himself for speaking of the matter at all. "Glines speaks to me of it already, and always inquires as to how I am faring. Her company makes me forget of these concerns. So again, you shouldn't have to worry, mellonin."

"Very well. I will take your word for it," Tauriel sighed. "But also please remember that you can speak to us if it burdens you more than it should."

"Thank you, my lady," Gobelion smiled at her warmly. His eyes fell upon her plate, and quickly his smile gave way to a worried frown. "You haven't touched the food yet."

"I'm not very hungry," she answered hurriedly, her brain racking for something new to say, to divert their attention elsewhere.

Before she could talk, Meginor turned to look at her, and his frown mirrored Gobelion's. "Tauriel, you need to eat."

She scowled at him. "You know I don't eat very much, and am rarely hungry," she crossed her arms in defiance.

Meginor groaned. "You keep saying that every night!" he exclaimed, taking her plate and placing on top of it a slice of cheese and a loaf of bread. "I know you may not have the appetite but you have to at least make care for your own health," he placed the plate in front of her.

"I ate twice already today, mellon, and I'd rather not shove food down my throat when to me they taste like rocks. That, would be taking care of myself," she pushed the plate away. "Besides, we are sustained by even less food when we voyage out of the kingdom. I'll be fine," she said defiantly.

"But you're not exactly travelling now, are you? You are in the kingdom, where there is an abundant supply of food." Meginor pushed the plate back at her, his eyes now narrowing as he faced her. "I have to take care of you, and that includes making sure you eat enough to sustain yourself."

She glared back at him, wondering why she had to be stuck with someone just as stubborn as she was. "I can take care of myself, hest, as you've known from all the attacks we had to endure."

"You're not the one who has to face the Legolas'wrath when he returns," his stare intensified.

Tauriel's heartbeat quickened at the mention of the prince's name, but she fought to maintain the glower on her face.

"Might I remind you the bruises I had to suffer when he returned and found out that you sustained injuries from our scout in the southern part of Mirkwood?" his lips thinned. "It was one of the worst duels I ever had to endure."

Tauriel pursed her lips, but the beat of her heart did not slow. "I can't be blamed for the reality that he is much better at wielding knives than you are."

She had not thought it possible, but Meginor's glare intensified even more. "That's not the point, Tauriel."

"Yes, the point is the prince forgets that I am not the young elleth he first met. I do not need a guardian and I have proven time and again that I can take care of myself. He is not my teacher, nor my father, nor a dictator to tell me how I should behave."

"No, he is not," Meginor agreed quietly. "He is someone more than that to you, and you to him," he sighed, then his eyes finally softened as he slumped back on his chair. "While I admit it can be tiring, he just wants you to be careful, both outside and inside these halls. The very least you can do is not ignore food when it is readily available in front of you. I know you're worry for him is getting in the way of your activities, but that shouldn't mean you neglect yourself as well."

Tauriel sighed, also slumping back into her chair. She stared at the plate of food before her, the bread almost falling off from all their pushing. "I know," she resigned. She took in a deep breath, and released it slowly, urging her pulse to slow down. "I'm sorry, mellon."

Meginor shook his head. "I apologize as well." A few seconds passed before he spoke again, the familiar mischievous glint back in his eyes. "I would be very much thankful for that wine, now more than ever." He glanced at Gobelion. "I apologize to you as well, mellon. I can only imagine how unpleasant that must have been for you to witness."

Gobelion timidly shook his head. "I think these disagreements are what strengthen the bond between us. It was beautiful, in a way," he smiled at them, with a sorrowful look in his eyes.

"Well if it was that beautiful, then we should do it more often," he laughed, his attention again stolen by his food. "It isn't that hard to do, especially with—,"

"Tauriel!" a voice called out, and Tauriel turned to see Irima emerging from the doors. Her long, brown braid whipped behind her as she hurried to their table. "Maeral has returned from Imladris," she said, when she reached their table. She stood beside Gobelion, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

Tauriel stood, but it was Meginor who asked the question that bubbled within her. "And Legolas?"

Irima shook her head, before giving Tauriel a pained look. "Maeral arrived alone," she said in a hushed tone. "He would not speak to me when I tried to ask, but he was walking from the king's chambers when I saw him."

"I shall try to ask the King, then," she said. She apologized one more time to Meginor, before bowing herself away from their table and out of the dining halls.

She could not remember the last time she had seen or spoken with the king. There was a time, she knew, when the king's throne room had been as familiar to her as her own room. She would spend much of the time with Thranduil's company, even if neither of them said anything. His very presence seemed to strengthen something within her; it made her unafraid. And in the few moments that they would converse, it felt to her almost like she was speaking to Elrond. Like she was speaking to a father. If she would be daring enough to tell anyone, she would also have claimed that the king did not entirely dislike her visits. She could see it, when he spoke to her: the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the amused glint in his eyes. It was why she had often been unafraid to speak her mind to him. If she were to conjecture, she would have guessed that the great Thranduil King greatly missed a voice who would dare to oppose him. Well, someone other than his own son.

Often, then, she would be with Legolas. It would be the three of them, alone, in the throne room. Many of those times, silence would be their conversation. Other times, she would be left speaking with Thranduil. But in a few, rare moments, she would be the audience, and she would always watch in rapt attention when the father spoke with the son. If there was one person whom she knew to be more adverse to the king's decisions than she, it would have been the prince. Whenever he would sense the King Thranduil to be suffocating in his instructions, Legolas would always speak, unabashedly challenging his father. People said she was too opposing to the king, but that had only been because they never saw Legolas speak to him.

It was astounding, how alike they were, but also how different. It was no question that Legolas had become more a mirror to his father as the decades passed. But there had always been a gentleness in him, so greatly pronounced that she often wondered how people could not see it. He had grown to be cold and aloof, but all of it was clearly a façade, and she knew how much he struggled to keep it.

Legolas.

It was frustrating, how much she tried to keep him from his mind, but how she seemed to think of no one else. It did not help that so many emotions raged when he would visit her thoughts. Everything she did seemed to be futile attempts to keep him off her mind. She missed him, of course she did. He was like a cloud, appearing one moment but before she could fully appreciate his presence there, already disappearing in the next. Ever since the Battle of the Five Armies, he had been restless and unpredictable, as if searching for something that he could never wrap his hands on.

But there was also annoyance at his incessant need to keep her well within the kingdom's confines. She knew, like Meginor had said, that he only acted as he did in order to protect her, but that didn't mean she had no right to feel angered by it.

Her boots thudded heavily as she climbed the stairs of Mirkwood, and she slowed her walk upon the realization that her contemplation had let her to almost stomping on her way.

She breathed heavily, the cold air chilling her nose. It seemed that the winter winds had seeped through the kingdom's walls. She continued on her way, this time mindful of keeping the eerie silence of the halls.

When finally she reached the door to the King's room, she paused. She was unsure of what she would say to the King; the only thing she knew was that she needed to speak with him. She had long been meaning to, after all. She had one request to beg of him, and although there was very little chance of him granting it to her, she needed to at least try.

The heavy doors slid as she pushed them open and warm air from the throne room rushed to meet her.

Her boots were almost noiseless as she neared the King.

He was seated on his throne. Like many times before, his attention was concentrated on a faraway memory that played in his head alone.

"Aran-nin," she bowed, stopping just a few yards before him.

Before she could say anything more, he turned his eyes on her. "Tauriel," he said, his deep voice flowed like liquid to fill the room. "I was about to call you here myself."

She was unable to hide her surprise. "You—what for, aran?"

He shifted slowly in his seat, and his body pointed to her. "Legolas did not return. It seems that he left Imladris for Lorien." The king stretched his fingers, the jewels in his hand glinted in the light of the torches, and he stared at them with unwavering concentration. "They tell me he volunteered to deliver a very important…article along with eight others. A very curious company."

Lorien? An article? Company? She tried to decipher the king's words but none of it made sense in her mind.

"It seems he is travelling with Gandalf the gray, two men, four hobbits…and a dwarf."

Her mouth parted in surprise, and she struggled to say something, but the news left her dumfounded. What was Legolas doing?

"Yes," Thranduil said, again watching her. "I was also astonished." He stood from his chair, and the folds of his robes fell from his throne to the floor. "But what I do know is that this fellowship will untangle events that will shake Middle-earth, and our Kingdom will not be left untouched. Tell Meginor to double the guards, and increase also the scouts we send to the forest each day. We cannot be unprepared for whatever is to come."

"Yes, aran," she bowed. She did not know why yet he had told her all of this, even without her asking. But she had long stopped trying to understand the King. She still did not understand fully the implications of his news, but Thranduil's ominous warnings added a new emotion to those she associated with Legolas: worry. She knew of the wizard of Greyhame. She also knew that his activities involved dangerous and long travels, and her heart longed all the more to be by Legolas' side. If nothing else, was it not her duty to make sure that no harm would come to him? Again, she was tempted to make her request to the king, but when she opened her mouth, the words did not come. Instead, she gave another curt nod. "Thank you for telling me of this," she turned to the door.

"There is one other matter."

She stopped, and slowly turned back.

The king was watching her with a pointed gaze. "Maeral has news from Imladris that I felt you deserved to know of."

Her pulse quickened, news from Imladris that arrived for her was rarely pleasant. She recalled the moments Thranduil had sent for her, only to tell her words that cut her like no weapon could. A heavy voice in her heart hinted that this moment was no exception.

"It is about Lady Arwen Undomiel," he continued, not waiting for her reply. "The last ship for Valinor has sailed." A shadow of a frown graced his features. "She chose to stay behind. She refused to leave Middle-Earth."

Tauriel's breath hitched. Seconds passed before she remembered to accept the air into her lungs. "Aragorn," she exhaled.

Thranduil nodded. "She has made her choice. And it is to be beside the Elessar."

Tauriel dropped to one knee. Wisps of her red hair touched the floor as she bowed her head, wishing to hide from the king the worry that she knew would be etched on her face. If she had any hesitations before, the news of Arwen erased all that. "I beg for your blessing, aran. Allow me to leave the kingdom." Her voice quivered. "Let me go."

She raised her eyes to the King. He did not speak, nor did he even look surprised.

"Allow me to see my cou—the Lady Arwen. I know worrying bears no fruit, but I ask of you to allow me the time to see her, before…before the last ships sail out of this earth." She knew that much. She could feel it. Her heart's longing to leave the seas grew with each day. Along with it, the whispers of the earth and the stars muted. Sometimes, she could not even hear their words. Their time on Middle-earth was ending. She did not know how long it would take, how many more decades or centuries their kind could endure, but their time was an arrow on its last flight, already so near to the target. She did not know, also, how long Arwen would have to live, but she had to see the Evenstar, her friend, her cousin, because if what Thranduil said was true, then Arwen's fate was as fragile as glass. And Tauriel would not wait for it to shatter.

Especially with the growing darkness in the East.

"Please, aran." She said, her voice was reduced to only a breath.

Minutes passed, and still Tauriel kept her eyes away from the king's piercing gaze.

"I am surprised you haven't gone yet," came Thranduil's reply.

Slowly, Tauriel risked a glance at the throne and her eyes widened to see the King almost smiling at her. "I am surprised you are even asking for my permission."

She flinched, remembering a time when she had left the kingdom against his very instructions. "I promised you then that I would not disobey you again, ernil."

"Oh?" this time, he did not stop the twitch that tugged at his mouth. "I have heard reports that would be contrary to that."

Again, she averted her gaze, remembering the nights she had snuck out of the kingdom,

"Nevertheless," the king stepped closer to her, and she watched as his shadow touched her hair that trailed on the ground. "I will not stop you from leaving, this time around."

Tauriel's eyes snapped to meet the King's. Surely she did not hear correctly?

"I have done that before, and I know its repurcussions."

Again, it felt she had been slapped in the face. She felt her whole body burning with embarrassment. Her confrontations with the king were memories she had long tried to bury, and failed to do. "I am deeply sorry for those times, ernil-nin," she managed to say through her dry throat.

He waved his hand lazily. "Stand," he commanded.

She pushed herself to follow him, and surprised herself when her knees did not shake.

"I presume you will go to Imladris?"

"Yes, aran-nin."

"And afterwards, how will you find Legolas?" he asked.

Again, she wondered how he could so easily read her mind. Had she always been so transparent to him? "I am sure the Lord Elrond will help me on that journey," she replied, trying not to show the excitement that was bubbling within her.

He nodded, before again staring at her pointedly. "I would not think it wise for you to go alone, however. I will not presume you ignorant of the gloom that abounds the land. It is leagues to Rivendell, and a lone travelling elf would be a tempting target for—,"

"I will manage, aran." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could even think them wise to say. Still, she did not look away, even as his lips thinned. She was tired of hearing the same speech from the prince, he would not tolerate it from the father as well. "Travelling alone will give me more protection than any army could. It will give me stealth. I will not waste my life, aran. And I fully intend to reach the prince and still be able to offer him my protection."

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he gave her a nod. "Go, then. Tauriel of Mirkwood." Seconds passed, and he did nothing but stare at her. She struggled, but she did not tear her eyes away from his icy gaze. And then he turned away from her, his hair and robe swishing around him.

"Legolas still spoke of your name, when last he was in this room." In the span of a few minutes, the King had said so many things that had made Tauriel's heart race. Yet they all seemed to dull out and matter little, when finally he spoke the last words of that meeting. "He is bethrothed to another—this he already knows—but it is clear his regard for you has not changed."

Tauriel could not move, and the shadows of the room seemed to dance until they turned her vision into a blur.

"I, also, have not changed my regard on this matter. I have said it before, and the words ring true even now: do not give him hope when there is none." He walked to his throne. Almost lazily, he turned again to face her.

Those were words she had dissected over and over. It had been years, but she remembered how it felt like when she first heard them. Just like then, the pain shot from her heart and filled her body. She watched numbly as her hands trembled, and she pressed her fingers to her palm, but she could not feel her nails digging into her flesh, no matter how tightly she clenched her fist.

"Yet these are things that we shall speak of at a later time, for there are far more pressing issues to address." She chanced a glance, then, and was struck to see something glinting in the King's blue eyes. Something almost like worry. "Return, Tauriel of Mirkwood. And return with my son."

END OF CHAPTER


Aran- king (if anyone knows a better translation, please let me know!)

Important! I'm still looking for a beta if anyone wants to help! :)

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