mithril

IX.

— IX —

The Feast of Starlight lasts long into the night. The long hours bring a great, deep sleep to my tired body when I finally return to my chambers. The mixture of alcohol and food allows me to rest nearly as deeply as the night in Beorn's house. I remember little of the events of the night, only waking well after dawn has risen in a pile of blankets and the taste of wine still on my lips.

I'm stirred by the distant sounds of horns blowing into the morning outside the halls. By the time I'm fully roused and moving to find out what has occurred to stir the Elves so, parties of the Fair Folk are streaming back into the Realm. They carry wounded Elves, and some don't move at all. My heart sinks as I find Legolas, the blond Elf dragging a dark figure across the floors of the hall. It's an Orc, I realize, the beast struggling and growling at the grip the prince has on him.

Tauriel is storming behind Legolas, rage crossing her fine features and a knife bared.

"Legolas, what has happened?" I ask, my eyes tracking the mayhem of the morning.

"Your beloved Dwarf escaped." It's Thranduil who speaks, though I hadn't noticed his presence as we approached the throne platform.

"And my guards would have stopped them if it wasn't for this pack of Orcs," Legolas growls, hoisting the Orc to his knees. Thranduil's face is unreadable as he looks at the prisoner.

"I do have to wonder how thirteen locked-up Dwarves managed to escape when their only help beyond bars was a human girl I so graciously offered the freedom of my halls to." The king murmurs. I cross my arms and stare at him. Daring him to accuse me so openly.

"I had nothing to do with their escape, if that's what you're implying, King Thranduil." I think of Bilbo. The other member of our party.

Such a sneaking, tiny little thing that the Elves would look at as insignificant. But Bilbo...Bilbo was brave. He evaded capture, and I didn't have any doubt he would follow us. I also wouldn't put it past him to break out an entire company on his own.

There is no doubt in my mind it was Bilbo who set the Dwarves free, but I will not betray my friend to the king.

"Léra was by my side through the night. I only left her when I was alerted to the escape of the Dwarves," Legolas mutters. "It was not her." Both Thranduil and Tauriel turn to look at us in surprise. I don't react as I maintain eye contact with the king. One dark eyebrow raises in a silent question before he turns his attention to the kneeling Orc.

"They are beyond our realm now. I want to know what this filth was doing," Taurial bites, shaking the Orc, one hand gripping the front of his leather jerkin. Thranduil steps forward, switching to the common tongue.

"Such is the nature of evil. Out there in the vast ignorance of the world it festers and spreads." Thranduil starts to pace slowly around the figure. The Orc growls, pushing against Tauriel's knife at his throat. Legolas holds him steady. "A shadow that grows in the dark. A sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was. So it always will be. In time, all foul things come forth."

"You were tracking a company of thirteen Dwarves. Why?" Legolas prods, more straight-to-the-point than his father's lilting rhymes.

"Not thirteen. Not anymore," the Orc gurgles gleefully. My heart drops. "The young one, the black-haired archer, we stuck him with a Morgul shaft." The Orc is directing the words at Tauriel. Taunting her. The fair She-Elf is barely holding her composure. "The poison's in his blood. He'll be choking on it soon."

Kíli.

"I would not antagonize her," Legolas warns the Orc.

"You like killing things, Orc? You like death? Then let me give it to you!" She lunges, blade raised. The Orc doesn't flinch.