Chapter Five- Introducing Ari

'Did you hear what happened last night?'

Twenty-year-old Daeron, the Second Prince of Mirkwood, looked at his younger brother from over the rim of his coffee cup and shook his head. He set his cup down beside his breakfast plate. 'What happened, Legolas?'

Thranduil's youngest son smirked from across the table. 'Saer's new bodyguard is dead meat.'

One of Daeron's eyebrows raised, his breakfast now forgotten. 'Oh? What happened?'

'He stole dad's Dorwinion and got drunk on duty,' Legolas whispered back, sending a wary glance at their father's chair where the King of Mirkwood sat looking sour. 'And then he trampled Aranwe's roses.'

'You're kidding.'

'No I'm not.'

'What, seriously? You mean the exclusive variety of Dorwinion that dad had imported from Laketown for the Midwinter Fest?' Daeron looked sideways at their father, who was now rather aggressively slicing his breakfast to pieces.

Legolas nodded vigorously and reached for the small basket of bread. 'Yeah, I guess so.'

'Cirdan's beard!' Daeron chuckled and leaned his elbows on the breakfast table. 'I wonder how old Saer's bodyguard is, cause he sure has just about reached the end of his days.'

"Just my thoughts," the younger mumbled through a mouthful of bread.

The brothers were about to resume their meal when Saeros walked in. He had been hoping with all his heart and soul that his father hadn't heard of what Ari and that stupid guard did last night, but judging from the way Daeron and Legolas looked at him, glanced at each other knowingly and snickered, a bad feeling immediately flooded him. One look from King Thranduil silenced the duo, but they proceeded to search for an answer from their brother with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Saeros bit his lip in order to prevent himself from smiling at the iconic look on Daeron's face, and ignored them from that point, concentrating all his senses on their father, who was still looking painfully sour.

'Saeros.' Thranduil finally said after a long moment of silence, setting his cup of bitter black coffee down with a thunk. From the way he was staring at Saeros, all three brothers knew this wasn't going to end well.

'Yes dad?'

'What happened last night?'

'Last night?' Saeros asked innocently, wondering if it was best to maintain an angelic facade, or simply admit it.

'Saeros!!!'

Ok, well, obviously, it would have been better to admit it.

'My new bodyguard kind of drank some of your wine.'

'Kind of?!' Thranduil thundered, looking even more furious.

Outside in the hallway, I flinched and glanced cautiously at the two other bodyguards who stood nearby. One raised his hand, traced a finger horizontally over his throat and mimicked a dead person.

I scowled at him. Well that was certainly comforting, I thought despairingly. I wonder if the king will really kill me for taking the wine. That was a really dumb idea last night- stealing the king's private wine with Erolith and getting drunk in the cellars… and Prince Aranwe's roses… and they were given to him by the Queen before she was killled… oh Valar! Kill me now and save me from my woes! I blinked. That was actually poetic! I'm a poet! Wait- why am I composing poems right now? I pinched myself in the arm, and yelped out loud in surprise at the suddenly sharp pain. The two bodyguards looked at me again, and I groaned. They probably think I'm an idiot now. I turned my back on them and leaned my forehead against the wall. No, my sub-conscience replied, they already thought you were an idiot.

'Ari!'

I jumped upon hearing Saeros' voice from within the breakfast room and turned to the doorway of the room where the king and the princes were having breakfast. I quickly entered the room, and stood behind Saeros' chair which was beside the king's chair at the table.

The king gave me a long, hard stare until I was sweating in my boots. 'Name.'

'Ari. Arion.'

'Explain to me what happened last night.'

I looked slowly from Saeros, to the other two princes that I recognized as Daeron and Legolas from the portraits I had seen with Miss Dalarë, and then at King Thranduil. '...my friend and I kind of accidently drank some of your wine last night.'

'Kind of?!!' Thranduil looked furious.

'My friend and I accidently drank some of your wine last night.'

'Accidently?!'

I winced. 'My friend and I drank some of your wine last night.'

'Just some?' Thranduil spluttered. 'You drank everything there was!'

'We did?' My eyes were wide as I looked at the princes for confirmation of the king's last sentence.

'Yes. You did.' Thranduil's voice was dangerously low. The room crackled with tension, and several minutes passed before the king continued speaking. 'This was your first offense so I won't give you any severe punishment…'

I grinned in relief and clapped my hands. 'Thanks!' Across the table, Daeron choked on his fruit tart, Saeros coughed harshly, and Legolas stared meaningfully at me with wide eyes, a wacky half-smile on his face. I quickly recovered my manners, and gave a half-bow to the king. 'I mean, thank you, your … serene … self.'

"It's 'your majesty'!!" Saeros whispered loudly from his chair.

'However!' Thranduil continued loudly, emphasizing his speech. 'This was your last chance to prove yourself, so your next offense will end your job and that of any immediate family working for the kingdom. You will also resupply every bottle of the wine you stole, and then you can go and explain to Aranwe what happened to his mother's roses.'

I nodded silently in submission.

'Dismiss.'

Eager to be gone from the breakfast room, I fled quickly, barely managing to get in another bow to the king. Back in the hallway, I closed my eyes and sighed in relief.

'Hey, you're pretty lucky, you know.'

I opened my eyes to see the same two bodyguards leaning against the opposite wall of the corridor. I chuckled. 'Oh yeah, I know.'

'That was really dumb, though. What you did.'

'Oh, believe me, I know that too.'

'I'm Valenion, bodyguard of Prince Legolas. This is my brother, Velmithir, bodyguard of Prince Daeron.'

'I'm Ari, bodyguard-'

'Yes, the infamous bodyguard of Prince Saeros. We know.'

I chuckled harshly. 'Yeah…'

'We also know,' Valenion continued, 'you should start the tasks King Thranduil assigned you. Usually, we're supposed to stay wherever our prince is, but this is one of those special cases. Know what I mean?'

I was positive I did. 'Yeah. I think I'll be seeing you.'

'Prince Aranwe is grounded in his room again. Good luck with that.'

I wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but my gut told me it wasn't good. Scowling at my recent bad luck, I left Valenion and Velmithir and headed back towards the corridor where the princes' rooms were.

Sure, I had intended to cause a little bit of trouble just to get myself fired, but I hadn't planned on almost ending mine and my brother's careers.

And speaking of my brother, it was time to fix this before he found out where I was and all I'd done in the three days I'd been apart from him and Tairon.

OoOoOo

Son,

You must come home. I am your mother- you are obliged to obey my orders, no one else's. I don't care if you'd rather live with that old hag and her man. I said come home. This is the last chance I will give you before I come to Mirkwood to get you.

Taekiel

Estar sighed and dropped the letter onto his bed. He leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands, wishing with everything he had that Taekiel would just go away and leave him alone.

He had gotten the letter yesterday, not planning to read it after the two letters he'd previously received from her in the past month. But when he'd woken up that morning, it was the first thing he saw after the slanted wooden barn roof, and he'd finally given in and opened the letter.

But Taekiel wasn't his mother in any way except biologically, and he wanted nothing to do with her. He didn't understand why she was suddenly demanding that he return to Lothlorien with her, after the way she had dumped his father and him right after his birth. She didn't even know his name. So in his point of view, Taekiel didn't deserve to be his mother. And it wasn't because she was just a bar-girl without any kind of morals.

'Estar!'

His grandfather's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he quickly shoved the letter under his pillow. Neither Remilioin nor Mariwen was aware of the letters that Taekiel was sending him, and he planned to keep it that way. He didn't want to worry them, and he didn't want to cause a household fight because of her, either.

'Coming!' Estar quickly changed into his everyday tunic and boots, and climbed down the ladder from his loft bedroom above the attached stable and house, to find his grandfather leading a brown horse from a stall.

'Where did this animal come from?'

Estar took the reins from his grandfather, his cheeks tinted a light pink with embarrassment. 'I forgot to tell you! A kid came by yesterday. He's a newly recruited warrior for the king's army, and he needed a place to stable his horse. He'll come by later in the week to pay once he has some money.'

Remilion nodded, stroking the horse's glossy brown shoulder. 'That's fine,' he said. 'Can you take care of this stall then? Here.' He handed Estar a pitchfork which had been leaning against a nearby wooden post. 'I'd just rather have you clean up after this one than I would the stable hands.'

'Sure, Grandpa. What's for breakfast? Something smells awful good!'

Remilion shrugged. 'I don't know what your grandma is cooking, but it will be ready by the time we finish here.'

Estar grinned and set to work energetically. Remilion watched him work with a happy heart. It was like having another son all over again. No one would ever replace Emeilas in his heart, but Estar was Emeilas' son. And Remilion and Mariwen loved him as they had Emeilas. Just after Estar's birth, their daughter-in-law had disappeared one night, leaving the baby with their broken-hearted son. And just six months later, Emeilas had been killed in battle saving the life of his captain. Estar was left without parents, but he grew up with the stories of Emeilas' heroic deeds, and his grandparents serving both roles. Nothing had ever been said to him of his mother- Remilion had disapproved of Taekiel from the start- and Estar had never taken it upon himself to ask further than the part when she ran away.

Before long, Estar had the chestnut mare's stall cleaned, spread the new straw, and refilled the water bucket. He took Li'er out to the corral where the other horses were enjoying the fresh morning sunshine, and headed into the house for the morning meal.

He finished his breakfast in distraction, worried that if he did not reply to his mother's letter she would really come to Mirkwood. He had never seen her before in his life and he had never wanted to, but he was positive she would stand out in a crowd. After all, he only had white-blonde hair and green-blue eyes because Taekiel was from Lothlorien. He never wanted to attract any attention to himself or his grandparents. But now, it seemed that things were going to change. Drastically.

OoOoOo

It was silent. Which meant there was no one around. Which also meant that it was the perfect time to escape.

Prince Aranwe, fifth and worst-behaved son of King Thranduil, was well-known for his rebellious, arrogant attitude and his endless fights with his father. Each time it resulted, without fail, in the king grounding him to his room once more, and each time, somehow Aranwe escaped.

This time, the fight had begun with the king's anger at how much time Aranwe spent outside the palace with his friends when he should be studying. Aranwe had argued back that his friends had more freedom than he'd ever had in his entire life, and Thranduil retorted that they were not the king's son like Aranwe, and as a prince, he should take responsibility and act like one. Of course that only escalated the situation, and Aranwe had ended it by shouting that if he couldn't live his own life then he'd rather not be the king's son at all and that Thranduil 'didn't know what he was talking about'.

And if there was one person you should never say that to, King Thranduil would probably top the list.

So naturally Aranwe ended up being grounded to his room for an entire week this time. But that didn't mean he wouldn't sneak out- or at least give up without trying.

Thranduil was used to the window tricks, and the knock-out-the-kitchen-maid schemes, and had left Aranwe's bodyguard- Aglar- at his doorway so that the poor elf could not be corralled into the Prince's schemes. He'd also planted a warrior outside at the bottom of the palace wall where it would be impossible for anyone to escape out the window unseen.

But Aranwe wasn't any more stupid than he was defiant. He was as clever as they come and he knew it.

Which was how he'd found the door.

It was in the back wall of the fireplace in Aranwe's room, blending into the stonework. To open it, the stone in the center of the hearth-floor triggered the mechanism that opened the door. In Aranwe's opinion, it was a strange place- both for the door and the stone that opened it- but still, if it was a door that Thranduil didn't know about, it worked good enough for him.

It was a little door, hardly three feet tall and less than four feet wide. But it was perfect for a sixteen-year-old of small stature to disappear without a trace, and Aranwe had exactly that in mind. So he'd cleared the ash away from the middle of the fireplace where the stone was, and he'd double-checked that his bodyguard was still outside the door snoozing, and just as he pressed the stone and the secret door opened, there came a knock, and before he could say or do anything, a strange elf barged into his room.

OoOoOo

I stared in surprise at the elf kneeling on the floor in front of the fireplace, covered from head to foot in gray ash. What in Arda is he doing? I wondered, blinking a few times and taking a few steps closer.

'Hello?' I said slowly, my voice rising slightly at the end as if it was a question.

The elf scowled at me and stood up, doing his best to brush the ash and soot from his clothes. His white-blonde hair was tied back in a messy braid, and deep blue eyes glared at me from beneath the ash on his face. 'Who are you?'

"Ari, bodyguard of Prince Saeros," I replied. "And you're Prince Aranwe." I walked over to the fireplace where he was currently standing, and looked from the little door in the fireplace to the Fifth Prince. "What are you doing? Are you going somewhere?"

He shot me a dirty look, like I'd just killed his pet cat or something. "I'm hunting for spiders in the fireplace. Didn't you know spiders just love roasting to death in hot ashes? Of course I'm going somewhere! I don't want to stay in this rotten place any more than I want to date the Witch-King of Angmar! Get lost!"

I blinked at him, shocked. No wonder everyone said he was always grounded! If that's how he spoke to his already foul-tempered father, it wasn't surprising they fought all the time!

"Uh-"

"I said get lost! Get out of here!" He shook a finger at me. "And I swear that if you say a single word of this to anyone, you'll regret ever knowing me!"

Well, to be frank, I already did regret knowing him. I hadn't even gotten a chance to tell him that the roses his late mother had given him were destroyed, and he already was yelling at me.

I held my hands up placatingly. "Cool it, tiger. I'm not here to eat you."

"You- what?" The look on Aranwe's face was iconic. He seemed to be shocked, confused and utterly lost by my choice of expression.

I rolled my eyes and dropped my hands. "It's an expression we use in the mountains. It means-"

"I know what it means," the prince snapped, scowling at me as I had called him an idiot.

Although 'brat' would have been my preferred choice.

"Now are you gonna get lost or not?" he demanded.

I shook my head. I wasn't going to lose to him of all people, I hadn't mentioned the roses yet, and I wanted even more to find out why he'd been digging in the ashes of the fireplace.

When I made no move to answer him, Aranwe knelt and began brushing the ashes away from the center of the hearth, scooping it all to the sides. At this point I was lost.

"What are you doing?"

He ignored me. Apparently that was his way of revenge.

"Let me help you then."

Despite his foul attitude, I found myself wrapped up in the mystery of the fireplace. We cleared away all the ashes, leaving an open way to the small door in the back of the fireplace. The prince stood up. "There. You helped me. Now beat it. Goodbye!"

Crossing my arms and legs, I glared up at him from the floor, determined to figure out what he was up to. "No. Not until you tell me what you're doing."

Aranwe looked furious. "I don't have to tell you anything!"

"Fine," I replied, firmly bent on winning this… fight, argument, whatever it was. I had already noticed the cloak laid out on the chair beside the fireplace, and the old boots the prince had exchanged for his nicer pair. I stood up. "You're running away."

His eyes widened momentarily. Then he crossed his arms and looked away. "No I'm not."

"Are you kidding me?" I couldn't believe how easily he lied about it. "It's obvious! First of all, you have a history of running away. Second of all, you have a cloak and a torch here waiting for you. Thirdly, your father is becoming more strict, giving you bigger punishments and more time grounded. Fourthly, there is a door in the back of your fireplace! If you're not running away, I'd like to know what you are doing!" I knew Aranwe would hardly let me leave after that, and my assumption had proved correct.

He sighed in irritation as he grabbed the cloak from the chair. He swung it over his shoulders, pinned it, and pulled the hood over his hair and the top half of his face. "Come, then. I'm not leaving you here to rat on me."

He crawled into the fireplace and through the door, and I followed, a little more slowly when my shoulders almost got stuck in the narrow doorway. There was a precarious slanting ledge on the other side of the door that suddenly ended in the dark. I gasped and grabbed onto Aranwe's arm before I lost my balance and fell. His hiss of annoyance gave me a long enough moment to regain my balance so I could let go of his arm. "Why didn't you tell me the ground ends two feet from the door?!"

"You didn't ask!" He lit his torch, and the scowl on his face made me feel better.

"Push all of the ash back to the middle of the fireplace," Aranwe snapped. "And put this on top of it." He handed me some firewood. After I'd done as he directed, he held the torch out. "Light it."

I frowned. "Why? How will we get back out?"

He rolled his eyes in the dim light and shoved the torch into my hands. "When I disappear, there will be a search. If there is a fire in the fireplace, will they think that maybe there's a secret passage? Obviously not. And here I thought you weren't that stupid."

"I was just asking. Can't I ask questions anymore?"

"No one cares if you ask questions, but refrain from asking dumb ones!"

Smarting from his harsh words, I lit the fire, blowing on it lightly to get it started, and slid the secret door shut. Aranwe yanked the torch away from me, and headed down a crumbly flight of stone stairs that I hadn't noticed before. "Come on!" He hissed impatiently from several steps down, and I quickly followed after him, distrustfully eyeing the cracked, ancient stone of the stairs, and wondering if this was a good idea after all.

The stairs went downwards for several more minutes. At the bottom, we found an elaborate tunnel with stone-carved ceiling and walls leading off into the dark.

"Do you even know where we're going?" I asked Aranwe, feeling very skeptical of the dark and musty passageway.

In the pale light, the prince scowled at me again. "Of course I know where we're going. Just shut up and follow me."

The tunnel turned out to be even older than I'd thought it was. In the darkness, I tripped over at least four different stone pieces of the tunnel ceiling that had fallen due to age, cutting the bottom of my chin and the palms of both of my hands when I face planted into the packed dirt and gravel floor. Stumbling and cursing, I followed the prince around another bend, trying to stay close enough to him that I could see where I was going, but far enough from him so he wouldn't yell at me for breathing down his neck.

Ten minutes later, in a fairly worse condition than I'd started out, I found myself standing with Aranwe in a dripping room with six or so tunnels leading off in different directions. The prince's face was pale in the light of the torch. I watched his eyes move from one of the branching tunnels to the next, and then back again.

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" I demanded, rubbing my chin where the cut was. "Cause it sure doesn't look like you know."

"If you think you're so smart, you can figure out which way to go then!" Aranwe snapped, looking thoroughly annoyed with me and the world.

"I haven't been down here before!"

"Well neither have I!"

"You what?" I stared in shock at Aranwe and grabbed his arm. "Did you just say you haven't been down here before?"

"Let go of me!" He jerked away from my grasp. "Don't touch me again." He rubbed his arm, glaring at me.

"Answer my question!"

"I haven't been down here before. So what!"

I chuckled harshly, doing the best I could to not throttle the kid. "Look, Aranwe. Have you ever considered that we could get lost down here? You haven't been here before and neither have I! It's a maze down here! Now how are we supposed to get out?"

He seemed to consider that, which surprised me greatly. Aranwe had not struck me as someone who'd listen to anything anyone else had to say.

"Well it doesn't matter if we get lost down here," Aranwe said after a minute.

"And what gives you that idea?" I snorted.

He shrugged. "If I die down here, you'll be killed for not protecting me, and if you die down here, no one will care. So what's there to worry about?" Without waiting for me to speak, he held up the torch and walked off into a random tunnel.

I ran after him, yelling angrily. "Are you for real here? This isn't a game, Aranwe! Aranwe! Come back here! Aranwe!"