Thranduil can't remember the last time he felt so jittery dressing himself. Perhaps for his wedding day… or his coronation. It was definitely on a day that marked a huge shift in his future.
Just like tonight.
His future, and Tauriel's, is dependent on his behavior and decorum at tonight's dinner. Thranduil must leave no doubt in his "sincerity" about marrying Neleth, not so much for her sake, but for the sake of everyone else there.
If anyone suspects anything, and raises questions, there is no guarantee how Neleth will respond, and he cannot allow his actions to bring any harm to Tauriel.
I will do my best to embody a devoted suitor, he thinks, cringing.
Thranduil is thankful for the fact that Elves are not nearly as romantically forward in public as mortals. He couldn't stand the idea of having to cuddle, touch, or heavens forbid kiss, her all evening.
He frowns distastefully.
Then he pushes Lady Neleth from mind and replaces her image with Tauriel. There is something quite pleasing, perhaps even a bit wicked, about the thought of displaying his affections for Tauriel publicly. For everyone to see, and know that she is claimed.
Thranduil can't help but smile, thinking of her no doubt angry response at being referred to as claimed, as if she were a possession.
His smile fades as quickly as it appears, and he reminds himself of the dire circumstances they are both in, and how he must focus fully if he ever wants to hear Tauriel's voice again; angry or otherwise.
With a sigh, he finishes clasping his blood-red robe, and gives himself an appraising look in the mirror.
Inhaling deeply, and standing tall, he puts on the air of superiority he is so well known for, despite not feeling it at all.
When he steps outside of his bedchambers into the hall he finds two guards ready to escort him to the front gates to meet Lord Elrond's party.
Just before he strides out of the front doors, Lady Neleth swoops in; undoubtedly she had been lingering nearby waiting for him.
"Hello, my sweet king," she purrs as she falls into step beside him.
"My Lady," he responds, pleased when his words come out sounding natural, rather than as the snarl that's growing in the back of his throat.
Neither of them speak again as they make their way outside, the rest of the greeting party joining them as they go.
Right on time, Lord Elrond and his group arrive, and Thranduil feels the slightest surge of relief at the sight of his friend. If he ever needed one, now is the time.
"Elrond," Thranduil says, genuinely beaming as Lord Elrond dismounts from his horse. "The seasons have been kind to you, dear friend. I hope the roads were as well?"
"Indeed they were," Elrond smiles, stepping forward. "I can see the effect your recent policy changes have effected."
The two place closed fists over their hearts and bow to one another.
As he straightens up, Thranduil scans the rest of Elrond's party, his gaze coming to rest on one person in particular.
"This cannot be your young Arwen?" he says, approaching her, and reaching out for her hand. "It has been centuries, my dear, since I last saw you. And such a tiny thing you were then."
Arwen smiles softly at him, and glances around nervously, letting her dark hair fall to cover much of her face
"It is a pleasure to see you again, King Thranduil," she tells him.
"Please, such formalities are not required," he insists waving her words away.
"I thought this the perfect teaching opportunity," Elrond explains. "You can only learn so much about diplomacy from books."
Releasing Arwen's hand, Thranduil returns to Lord Elrond, nodding his agreement.
"You and your party will be shown to your accommodations so you may freshen up from your journey, and when you are ready, the… lovely Lady Neleth here," Thranduil introduces as smoothly as possible, gesturing to Neleth, " has arranged a welcoming dinner we would be honored for you to attend."
Lord Elrond takes a smiling Neleth's hand and bows.
"Your hospitality is much appreciated. We will be ready shortly."
The rest of the welcoming party leads Lord Elrond and his group away, into the palace as Thranduil and Neleth hang behind to watch.
"That was not so difficult, was it?" she chimes.
Not gracing her with a response, Thranduil shoots her a cool look and marches inside.
It doesn't take long for his guest to ready themselves for dinner, and Thranduil suspects they must be hungry for something other than trail food, and ready for a soft bed.
Lady Neleth sits on one side of him, and Lord Elrond on the other. She's doing her best to be charming, and Thranduil begrudgingly admits she's doing so admirably.
She's just finished some funny anecdote or another (Thranduil wasn't really listening, so he fakes laughing along with the others), when Elrond turns his attention to him.
"Tell me friend, how have you been?" he asks. "I was saddened to hear of the losses you sustained," Elrond says apologetically. "While losses such as that cannot be so easily overcome, I do hope things are improving?"
Beneath the table Neleth nudges Thranduil harshly.
Here we go…
"Actually, things have taken a surprising… and welcome turn," he says, drawing on his feelings for Tauriel as strength. "I have an announcement to make."
Thranduil swallows the bile threatening to rise and clinks his fork on the side of his goblet, calling the attention of the table.
All eyes are on him; Elrond, Arwen, and their travelling companions, and the members of Thranduil's council.
"In these times of great stress," he begins, "I have found something I never thought to find again. I have found myself in love. I never dreamed I would ever be in such a place again, where my very soul calls out for another so desperately, but here we are. I have denied it for far too long, and can no longer contain it within myself."
Flaming red hair dancing in the breeze, haunting green eyes, and mischievous smile…
Thranduil takes a deep breath and holds his hand out to Lady Neleth, biting his cheek hard enough to draw blood.
"I would like to announce my betrothal to the enchanting Lady Neleth," he announces, his voice hitching slightly, and he hopes it can just be attributed to overwhelming emotion.
That is true… I'm overwhelmed by disgust.
There is a polite smattering of applause and congratulations from around the table, quite a few surprised looks, and several whispers, but overall it does not take long for the topic to switch.
"We've decided to marry at the next full moon," Thranduil tells Elrond.
"So soon?"
"We… see no need to wait. And I had hoped that since you are here you would consider performing the ceremony?"
"I would be honored," Elrond smiles, nodding.
Lady Neleth sweeps Lord Elrond into conversation and Thranduil buries himself in his wine goblet.
When he comes up for air he finds everyone at the table preoccupied; all except for one.
Arwen is watching him, her brow furrowed as if she is confused. When he catches her staring, she blushes slightly and looks down, but continues to glance up at him through her hair throughout the rest of the meal.
After dinner draws to a close, Thranduil and Lady Neleth stand by the door to the dining chamber to wish everyone a goodnight as they exit.
Lord Elrond and his daughter are the last two to exit, and the four of them begin walking together.
Neleth is quick to sweep Elrond into conversation and the two pull ahead, leaving Thranduil and Arwen to trail behind.
Arwen is still watching him closely, whenever she thinks Thranduil can't see her, until finally he has to say something.
"Is there something troubling you, Arwen?" he inquires. "You've been studying me all evening."
She takes a long moment to respond.
"There is nothing troubling me," she replies, "but can you say the same?"
"I am afraid I don't know what you mean."
"When you made your announcement earlier, I sensed something was off. I assumed you were lying," she admits.
"I see," he says thoughtfully. "And do you still assume that?"
"No."
"Good—"
"I know you are not lying about your feelings," Arwen interrupts, "but you were lying about whom you have them for."
She nods to Lady Neleth walking in front of them.
"It is a terrible thing to lie about love," she chastises softly.
"And yet," Thranduil sighs tiredly, "sometimes we must do terrible things for the ones we love."
On that note, Thranduil and Neleth take their leave of Elrond and Arwen.
"Would you like to join me in my room to celebrate or engagement?" Neleth asks him suggestively.
Thranduil scowls.
"As… tempting as that sounds, I have to start working on tomorrow's hangover."
"As long as you don't try anything foolish," Neleth warns before blowing him a kiss and sauntering away.
Thranduil hurries back to his own rooms and begins preparing for his departure.
He changes into more practical clothing, arms himself with his swords, and packs a small bag. He's not sure what shape Tauriel or her patrol will be in, so he makes sure to take some medical supplies; fresh linen, herbs, and salves.
After that, Thranduil paces his chamber impatiently for over an hour before there is a soft knock on his door.
He rushes to open it and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds Arradon on the other side.
Thranduil quickly ushers him inside and closes the door again.
"Well? Did you speak with Lord Elrond?" he presses.
"Yes, yes, I explained everything," Arradon reassures, "he seemed quite concerned, but promised to help in whatever way possible. There's just… one thing…"
"What?"
"His daughter, Arwen was there when I went to speak to him, and I thought since you trusted Elrond so much it— it wouldn't be a problem if I spoke in front of her, but when I explained everything, it didn't seem to faze her. She almost seemed… smug. You don't suppose she could be working with Councilwoman Neleth, do you?"
Thranduil snorts.
"No, there is nothing to worry about," he insists. "I promise. But now we really need to be on our way."
"I'm ready," Arradon assures him, puffing his chest out.
Thranduil nods, and they quietly slip out of the room.
X
The day is the longest so far of their captivity, Tauriel feels. She knows it only seems that way because of her nerves and anxiousness, but her awareness does nothing to speed up the passage of time.
It doesn't help matters that Grond seems to be worsening again, falling in and out of sleep, leaving Tauriel nothing to do, but watch on in helplessness and concern.
It's not until the sun begins to set that a sense of calm falls over her.
It's almost time.
When darkness settles everything changes, and it is as if Tauriel is watching everything in double speed.
She waits until the camp goes silent, and the only ones left awake are her, Grond, and the Orc left to guard them.
Tauriel looks over to Grond and finds him the most alert he's been all day, and nods at him.
"Hey, ugly," she calls to the creature by the fire pit about twenty-feet away.
It only grunts.
"I need to use the facilities," she insists.
"You wait," it growls.
"I can't! Come on let me up. Erwarth said you would let me!"
When the beast doesn't respond, Tauriel sighs dramatically.
"I guess I could just call for him, I'm sure he would be thrilled to be called out for this." She sucks in a deep breath to yell, but the Orc interrupts, "H—"
It growls menacingly, but stomps over and begins to undo her bindings.
Tauriel struggles to her feet, her muscles seizing and cramping. She staggers a couple of steps towards the bushes, but it must not be fast enough because her guard shoves her and she stumbles forward.
She urges her body to listen to her, for her legs and arms to respond as she commands, and Tauriel can feel the adrenaline rush begin.
The Orc leads her to the bushes, and she could almost cry with relief when she spots the edge of the discarded dagger, thrown aside this morning, glinting in the moonlight.
Luck is with her and the Orc doesn't see the weapon.
"Do you mind?" she asks pointedly, and exaggerates the wobble in her legs.
Her guard curses in black speech, but angles himself away from her.
Tauriel squats down, and cautiously reaches for the blade. She takes a deep breath as her hand closes around the hilt, and as silently as she can, jumps up and onto the beast's back.
He has time to sputter no more than a syllable before she runs the blade across his throat, silencing him.
The Orc falls face first, briefly sputtering before falling quiet for good.
Tauriel looks around nervously, her hands shaking uncontrollably. It took much more effort to kill one Orc than she had anticipated after her days of captivity, and if anyone heard, she knows there is no hope for she and Grond.
There are no sudden war cries. No alarms sounding. No figures shuffling from tents.
I did it.
Tauriel scrambles off of the creature's back and hurries, crouching, to Grond's side to begin sawing away at his bindings.
"Nice work," he groans. "You should really get moving."
"I'm trying," she tells him, sawing at his ropes.
"No, I mean you should get going. I'm in no shape for a 'daring escape'. I'll only slow you down."
Tauriel rolls her eyes.
"And I'll speed you up. Now shut up."
His restraints fall free and Tauriel wraps an arm around his waist and helps pull him to his feet.
Grond buries his mouth into his shoulder, muffling his cry of pain. He's not a light guy, and Tauriel struggles to help support him, but once he is fully standing, it becomes a little easier.
She suspects she is supporting about forty percent of his weight and isn't sure she can take much more.
"We need to move, come on," she orders, leading him towards the woods. "I don't know how much of a head start we have."
This time Grond doesn't argue, instead he focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.
They travel, slowly, for the first hour not speaking.
"I… need a minute," Grond tells her, grimacing.
Tauriel nods and helps him sit.
"Let me see it."
He leans back and doesn't protest when Tauriel pushes his shirt up and starts pulling his bandage aside.
"You're bleeding again," she says.
"Like I s—said, I'm just slowing you down. You need to get to the king. T—to warn him."
"I will not leave a fellow soldier behind! Not after… I'm not losing anyone else, do you understand me?"
Grond doesn't reply.
Tauriel grabs a handful of hanging moss and uses it to pack around his wound before rewrapping him.
"That'll have to do for the moment. Now on your feet, soldier," she commands. "We have a lot of ground to cover, and I don't know how much time we have."
"Yes, Captain," he responds smartly.
It's almost dawn when they hear the first signs of their captors catching up with them.
"Get down," Tauriel whispers, pushing Grond into the brush.
A few minutes pass and she can hear several Orcs approaching. They walk right past Tauriel and Grond's hiding spot.
She's about to pull Grond up again, when she hears another group approaching, and she freezes.
This happens another three times before she gives up going anywhere anytime soon. It's too dangerous right now.
"You should get some sleep," Tauriel tells him. "Rest up while you can, we're not going anywhere right now."
"You should sleep," he argues.
"I'm not the one about to bleed out. Besides, you look ready to pass out whether you wish to or not, and one of us needs to stay on guard."
Grond mumbles a response, but he falls unconscious in under five minutes, much to her relief.
She lets him sleep for several hours, until enough time has passed without patrols searching nearby for Tauriel to feel comfortable venturing out again.
Gently jostling Grond awake, Tauriel is pleased to see how much better his complexion looks after a little rest while not tied to a post.
The sun is dipping low in the sky by the time they step out of their hiding place, with Grond still leaning heavily on Tauriel as they move.
"Let's go home," she tells him, and they set out once more.
X
Thranduil has no problem slipping both himself and Arradon out of the castle; no one knows it better than him.
Except perhaps Legolas…
Arradon insisted on leading the way once they made it into the forest, spouting some nonsense about needing to "protect his king", and Thranduil decided it was easier just to let him rather than argue.
They move stealthily, unsure about how far Neleth's web of spies spreads, and whether there are sentries in the forest.
Thranduil doubts her reach is as far as she claims, his people are loyal and such traitors are almost unheard of among the Elves, but he still traverses the trees with caution.
Around dawn they locate the missing patrol's camp.
There are clear signs of a struggle, most likely an ambush, and Thranduil grits his teeth, fury raging within.
"Blood," Arradon points out near one tree, "and it isn't Orc."
The two exchange solemn looks, neither voicing their fears.
"It looks like they went this way," Thranduil observes, and begins tracking the new trail with Arradon hot on his heels.
X
Tauriel feels the weariness seeping into her very bones as they press on, daylight fading around them. Captivity was not good to her, and having to support someone so much larger than herself as well is really affecting her. Much more than she'll admit to Grond.
Several times her feet seem to find rocks and roots to catch themselves on, almost sending her and her companion into the dirt, but she always manages to catch them before they fall.
Grond is more alert than ever, but his injury is still too severe for him to be much help; something Tauriel knows is tearing him up inside.
About a hundred yards to their left suddenly comes a loud rustling, and the pair looks at each other, silently agreeing there is no way for them to handle any attackers.
Instead of mounting a surprise attack, Tauriel veers them to the right, pushing them through some low hanging branches and trying to get as far away from the sound as possible.
They stumble forward another ten minutes before they hear more rustling; just the tiniest sound of shifting foliage, coming from right in front of them.
Tauriel reaches for her stolen dagger and braces, knowing there is no time to hide.
Everything shifts. Her whole world seems to click into place as she watches a tall ethereal figure step from the brambles in front of her.
"M—my King," she croaks, barely more than a whisper, half sure she's hallucinating.
"Tauriel," he sighs, his shoulders sagging as he steps towards her.
Branches break loudly drawing her attention, and Tauriel watches as Arradon bursts from the brush beside Thranduil.
Arradon catches sight of Tauriel and Grond, and his hand clamps over his mouth stifling a small sob.
He pushes past the king and rushes forward, eyes shining.
Tauriel catches the dark look that passes over Thranduil's face just before Arradon sweeps Grond away from Tauriel, wrapping him into a tight embrace.
Tauriel and Thranduil watch on in varying degrees of shock as Arradon cups Grond's cheek and leans back to inspect him.
"You're hurt," Arradon notes, voice strangled.
"The pain is irrelevant when I'm in your arms," Grond responds, leaning his head forward so the pair's foreheads touch.
Tauriel's lower lip trembles and she turns to Thranduil, who looks uncomfortable, though more because he's just been upstaged on the reunion front.
"You came to find me," she says softly, her tired feet carrying her forward.
"Of course I did."
Tauriel suspects the relief on Thranduil's face mirrors her own perfectly.
His hand reaches for her and she smiles, her dry lips cracking as she does so, but she feels no pain, just happiness.
Breaking branches, and crackling leaves sound on their left and suddenly a lone Orc warrior crashes through an opening just beside Thranduil, blade drawn.
"No!"
Without thinking, Tauriel shoves her king aside and places herself between him and the threat. The Orc swipes at her with his blade, but she dodges, a little slower than she intends, and strikes out with her stolen dagger, burying it in the beast's neck.
The Orc crumbles, and she looks for any other attackers, but finds none.
"Tauriel!" Thranduil cries, drawing her attention.
She turns back to face him where he sits on the forest floor. All the color drains from his face when he sees her, and she frowns, looking down.
"Oh," is all she manages when she sees the blood on her, before the world fades to black.
Author's Note: I know! I'm a terrible person for stopping right there! Next chapter won't be as long as a wait. For those of you who don't follow my tumblr ( .com), or may have missed it, I posted about the delay for this update. M husband is in the military and has been in Korea the last year, and is currently home for a month on leave, so I haven't had much time to write. He's home for another week, so I'm not sure if the next chapter will be up this week, but I won't leave you hanging as long as this one did.
Please let me know what you think!