Everlong

74

"Sire," one of the elves that was accompanying Thranduil through the ruined streets of Dale spoke up uncertainly. He had watched the short conversation with Gandalf, had followed his king as he walked away; in truth, they hadn't even got that far, if they looked over their shoulders, they could still see the wizard standing there looking their way. The look on Gandalf's face said it all, he was in disbelief that they were walking away, that they were leaving.

"What is it?" Thranduil's tone wasn't the most polite in the world, but he had had enough. He looked to the elf as they continued on, slowly stepping over the dead when and if able. In some places the bodies were piled up, all dying and landing upon each other from when they were cut down. It was horrendous, it was truly a horrific sight that even the worst nightmares could not compare.

"Princess Liruliniel, she is not with us." The elf hated to be the bearer of bad news, but his words had Thranduil pulling to an immediate stop. He turned slowly, firstly looking over his shoulder with a hard glare before turning completely and looking at the pathway they had just walked down. Thranduil's expression said it all, he was shocked, but also hurt that she had not followed.

He couldn't quite believe it, he honestly thought from their previous words she understood. Or at least, understood enough that Thranduil wouldn't need to physically escort her out of Dale. Apparently not. And, well, even as he stared long and hard at the path ahead, he spotted her and Bilbo. The hobbit looked uncertain, worried while Liruliniel tried to put on her best fooling smile; she hurt, even he could see that, try as she might to suggest otherwise. Whatever she was doing, was foolish. She was leading herself into unnecessary danger that at the moment, he could not protect her from.

With wide eyes, he took a step forwards, and then another. The other elves with him parted ways to let him backtrack, he paused where he had last seen the pair, only they weren't there. He couldn't even see them through the groups of fighting men, elves and orcs. They had gone. Vanished. Thranduil's expression turned stormy then, slowly turning his head to the side, he narrowed his eyes at the wizard. Gandalf stood there, unafraid of the glaring which was being sent his way, Thranduil was angry, but Gandalf did not see how he was the root.

"I do not appreciate my hand being forced."

"There is no forcing," Gandalf's tone was aghast, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I came with a message, you opted to ignore. It seems that not all in your company are lost to the idea of aid." That did it really, and Gandalf didn't regret saying it even as Thranduil closed the gap between them. His head tilting slightly to look down at the wizard, Gandalf may act casual most times, but even he had a limit. Thranduil was pushing it, so it took little to exude the aura of darkness, of danger, it pushed Thranduil back a step but he still looked at him with a withering glare.

"If she dies, on your head be it." Thranduil warned while turning, the cloak attached to his shoulders whipping violently in the air as he walked off quickly, his pace purposeful and his eyes staring around and upwards. Of course he would deter that inevitable, he had promised as such. But to go to Ravenhill meant to be few amongst the many. If another army were coming, even with what energy the dwarves still had, and whatever skills he had, it would not be enough. They would be overrun and then they would be killed. He could not allow that, and would not. He was not dying by the hands of some orc.

It seemed like his path was destined to go to Ravenhill, despite of not wishing to. With an altercation with Tauriel and watching as Legolas accompanied her to the outcrop, Thranduil couldn't help but breathe deeply and shut his eyes for a few seconds. He knew what was awaiting up there, it would be death and carnage, chaos and lunacy all rolled into one. But yet, he still found himself moving forwards. He unsheathed his sword as he went, any orc unfortunate to try and cross his path at this time was brutalised. Thranduil was not in the mood to delay, to humour an outweighed fight in his favour. He was moving increasingly closer to Ravenhill, the brickwork all but destroyed and blacked with time, vines and roots growing up and over different parts of the structure as an unnatural fog hung around the area.