A Single Dream is More Powerful Than a Thousand Realities

Clouds Gather and Birds Sing

Legolas' sensitive ears picked up the delicate whispers of movement through the trees as a doe slowly picked her way through the undergrowth, her gait cautious and wary. His ears also picked up the faint chirping of insects, whizzing about through the branches.

But what he was straining to hear were the low murmurs of men's voices, carried by the wind. He knew there were still patrols combing the woodlands on the outskirts of Laketown.

And he was doing his best to avoid them.

Gazing from his perch high in the trees, he peered down the slow sloping hill and fancied he could see the dark shapes of men as they lumbered through the undergrowth.
And then, the soft murmurs he'd been hoping to hear were gradually growing in volume.

The men, The Master's men, were making their way up the mountain.

Undoubtedly in search of the Bowman's son.

As well as himself.

They had been witnesses to The Master's dirty work after all.

A small shifting movement on the branch he was crouched on, alerted Legolas that Tauriel had returned.

"What news," He murmured, never taking his eyes from the growing shapes.

"Twenty at least," Tauriel's lilting voice hummed through the air, "Though we can't be certain of how many more men are up the river on patrols."

Legolas could feel the tension radiating from her form as understanding raced through his mind.

This was going to be tricky.

"Then we best get moving," Legolas sighed shooting the she-elf a look of resigned determination. "You and the archers will head South-East, bypassing the group coming up the mountain. I'll be taking the rest North-East towards the lip of the lake, where we'll meet up with Bard and make our way down towards the banquet hall. By then my father will have made it and, Aule willing, he will have created a sufficient distraction so that we may slip in relatively unnoticed."

"And what of these forest-combers?" Tauriel questioned warily, casting her gaze down towards the shadows who were still a league away, "How are we to bypass them?"

"We'll stay upwind of them if we can help it-travel a few leagues before heading down. But," His brows knit together, "If you run into any trouble making your way to the lake, you know that we cannot allow anyone to sound the alarm. Make sure your spotters are alert."

A low whistle, disguised as a birdsong, pricked at Legolas' ears, making them twitch. Two low, long pitchy reverberations rolled through the air.
It was familiar.

And two whistles signaled they were a league upstream.

"Time to move," he muttered.

*****

Thranduil kept his face pulled into a frown as he spied the first wave of men patrolling the forests near the docks leading towards Esgaroth. His guard stayed close at hand, encircling the elf king at every angle to ensure his safety.

He knew that even in the trees, scouts observed the activities below, their mistrust on high alert.

They would not allow harm to come to him, should anyone attack their party.

Thranduil's sharp eyesight caught a glimpse of the banquet hall, situated right on the shoreline. It was the first building that you passed by as you entered Laketown and one of the only buildings to actually rest on solid ground.

It was the only place large enough to house the children beneath it.

And though Thranduil trusted Gandalf, trusted his son's judgment, and trusted the truthfulness of the young boy, Bain, a shred of doubt still flickered in his brain.
Or rather he had HOPED it wasn't true. For who would wish such wickedness upon a people?