Woodland Prince

Chapter 11

Arthon

The guards led me to my room, or as I will now refer to it, my plush cell. I am still a prisoner here, just one who is not subjected to live among filth. For all I care, the whole place might as well be covered in blood and refuse.

I need to get back my uncle and discuss the wine intake of the Mirkwood royals. I begin to repack the few belongings that I removed earlier this morning and attempt to open the door.

"Where are you going?" The brutish guard asks, blocking me in with his lance.

"I intend to leave. I am going home," I say. I make to push his weapon aside when he steps in front of me entirely.

"No one is to leave this place. Not until the King or the Prince give the order. You will have to remain in your room."

"I came here as an emissary and student of Rivendell, you cannot keep me prisoner, or it means war." I hold the guard's eyes, waiting for him to flinch. He does not.

"We are well prepared to fight librarians and historians, little student," he sneers at me before pushing me back into the room and slamming the door. I fling a rude, but silent gesture towards the door and start looking for another way out. I cannot stand to be locked up.

The washroom seems like a good enough place to start. I start pressing on the walls, moving furniture, looking for anything that would indicate another door.

"My lord, it is nice to see you well. Some of us were worried about your health after that fall this morning," I hear from outside.

"Thank you, Hirandon. I would speak to this stranger now," I hear from a deep, familiar voice. I bolt back into the main room and grab my saddle bags. Just before the king enters, I situate my bags next to me on the bed.

"When will I be released?" I demand as soon as the door closes behind the King's robes. I stand from the bed, flexing my shoulders and chest to assert whatever dominance I can. I stand a few inches taller than the monarch in front of me.

"They await my orders. So you shall leave when I release you," he says flatly. If he thinks I am his son, I would have hated to grow up like Legolas. I snort in response and go to sit in a high-backed chair.

"Tell me about your childhood. I want to know everything," the King says, sitting down across from me.

"Why should I tell you anything? If I was your son, you gave me away. I would say that you have given up your right to know things about my life." Thranduil's eyes visibly darkened. The faintest droop appeared in his shoulders and there's an obvious frown on his face.

"Indulge an old elf. Maybe I would be able to tell you if you are who I think you might be," he returns, voice still slightly quivering in sadness.

"One question asked, one question answered, fair?" I say. I do not want to tell my whole story, but if my uncle did not tell me everything, maybe this gloomy king will.

"Alright, what was growing up like for you?" the king asks. I admit I was a bit surprised that he would rather learn about my time in Rivendell than the story of my parents.

"It was fine. I grew up in a library, surrounded by the greatest wealth of knowledge I could have asked for. I spent a great deal of time learning politics from Lord Elrond. That was why I came here; to study politics in this realm. I wanted to go to Lothlorien, but Galadriel could not have me. So I settled for this shoddy excuse for a kingdom," I spat bitterly. The king only looked confused.

"Galadriel is not busy, from what I understand. There is not a reason I am aware of for her to deny a student the chance to learn from her. I would like to follow up with her. Maybe I can get you into Lothlorien. That way, you do not have to stay where you are miserable." The king's eyes were sad, but I could see a spark where I hadn't before. A burning curiosity.

He stood to leave my room.

"Wait!" He only turned his head to look back at me, hand still on the doorframe. "You have to answer a question of mine now," I said quietly, feeling my heart beat wildly. He only inclined his head to indicate his attention.

"Why would you give up a child?" I asked timidly. The king snapped his head back toward the door and breathed deeply. I heard the breath leave his lips, but got no answer. The king simply opened the door, muttered something to the guard, and left.