Why I go to such lengths for Legolas, there are times that even I question. His tendency to forget his standing among the people has grown almost too common—not that he thinks his importance greater than any other, but rather that he treats it as far less—as if he were not the only blood heir of the throne. Despite my century long attempts—combined with those of the King—to instill otherwise in him, stubbornness would not yield to the truth presented to him.
All I can do is keep trying and hope Legolas doesn't fall prey to his own reckless determination.
Legolas took the knife to the armory, while I stayed in possession of the note. There was no significance to the handwriting, seeming purposefully scribbled and chaotic. That itself was not unexpected as it seemed unlikely that the offender would wish to be found out or recognized. I turned my steps toward Legolas's quarters—or more accurately, our late queen's table. Perhaps the location of the note held some significance—something missed at the initial examination.
I stopped. But what good could I do there—in halls of the palace far removed from all others? Something in that thought was amiss.
I traced my path back to behind where Legolas had gone. Our first hope now would be to find out who had passed through that hall in the day since we left on patrol. There was more chance that I would unearth some lead along that route than at where the note had been left. Come to think of, so far I had fewer suppositions than I had hopes.
Earandur and Legolas having walked out of earshot, I quickened my pace behind them. The two may have a different task at hand than my own, but I could still monitor Legolas until our path divided. They would continue to the armory while I would divert to the palace staff quarters, where the maids might bear witness to what had transpired. If one of them had seen any strange elf in the hall, our search would be aided greatly. And again—it was only a Fleeting hope.
Minutes passed lethargically. All seemed to hold to a momentary peace when a sound far from that peace reached my ears. Without a moment's consideration, I pulled a knife from my belt and broke into a run back toward the armory. Could Legolas truly not stay alive without assistance for even the smallest stretch of time?
The sound of blade greeting blade rang through the air as an ominous warning. Weapons were rarely used inside the palace walls. Amidst the cacophony, a disbelieving shout echoed down the corridor. Blades drawn in the heart of the stronghold was never a good omen—and it was more than a threat if in the vicinity of Eryn Galen's prince.
My run was cut short upon reaching the armory—almost. Few short steps from stepping through the doorway when a thud sounded and a body dove across my path. In the next second, a hooded person came into my line of sight and I narrowed my eyes, the situation coming to clarity in my mind. The one who had rolled in front of me bore the unmistakable bearing of Legolas. Opposite him, a hooded warrior moved forward, dark intention intwined in every movement.
An assassin.
Not in need of any further information, I surged into action. I flicked my dagger at the apparent foe, slipping another from my vambrace when my blade was evaded. In the same moment, Legolas rose to a crouch and lunged forward, arms wrapping around the attacker's legs. The two went sprawling, as I reached for the assassin's cloak.
As soon as I had confirmation that Legolas was untouched by the assassin's blade—a fierce burning in his eyes meeting my searching gaze—I gripped the assassin's shoulder, pressing my knife to his back as I pulled him to his feet.
"What is your name and purpose?" I hissed, gripping his hands behind him.
Legolas stood just to my left, breath evening even as he stepped closer to the assassin.
Defiant, the assassin struggled against me and I tightened my grip. "Never mind your cooperation. Your identity can be revealed easily enough."
Legolas nodded at my insinuation, reaching for the assassin's hood. But before his hand could touch upon it, the assassin jerked his head back, an unexpected power behind the movement. It was a novice mistake on my part, for my grip loosened and the assassin was loose. He lurched away and Legolas' attempt to grab him fell just a finger's breadth short of regaining a hold upon him.
The assassin swung his knife blindly. He was no longer aiming to kill, but instead to escape. I put a hand in front of Legolas, attempting to ward him from pursuit, but he payed the action no mind, darting after the assassin. I cursed under my breath, a step behind Legolas who was half a step behind the attacker.
For a heartbeat, I thought we were to detain the hooded figure again, but another novice mistake was made—this time by a novice. Unbeknownst to me, Earandur has joined the conflict of his own accord. He ran just beside Legolas.
Somehow I wished it might be otherwise.
We all ran—footsteps uncharacteristically loud upon the hard ground—and then Earandur spoke. "I've got him!"
And though I acted quickly, it would never have been fast enough. Instead of continuing the chase, Earandur dove for the attacker, much like Legolas had just minutes before except—he missed.
If the situation weren't so dire, I might have allowed myself to sigh.
Legolas attempted to stop himself from colliding with Earandur's prone form, only managing to decrease the force of contact between himself, Earandur, and the floor. In turn, I did the same but with the half a step more I had to react I managed to half leap over them. Unfortunately for us all, my foot caught on Legolas's arm. My shoulder hit the ground and, as I rolled, my head came up. There was no one in sight. My feet back under me, I sped to the end of the hall, glancing left and right at the end of it.
Empty.
Legolas quietly came behind me. "He is gone then?"
"It would seem so."
Legolas's reply was silenced under a cry from behind us. "Did I get him?"
Turning, I saw Earandur slowly standing. He stumbled, and I almost stormed back to him, except for the hand Legolas kept upon my shoulder. I turned an accusing glare upon him. "How do you plan to explain him?"
Legolas shook his head. "I don't. Better to leave him, I'm starting to think."
I would have pressed my case except for matter at hand. "Well come on then, we'd best tell your adar there's a rogue inside the stronghold. Speaking of, would you mind telling me exactly what was going on? And how you positioned yourself in that situation?"
"Contrary to your fantasy, I did nothing. The blame rests entirely on whoever that was. I would wager he was fully prepared to thrust his sword in my chest had I not ducked and rolled. I was simply leaving the armory when it happened—strangely enough the armorers weren't there. He just... appeared. I swear, he wasn't there when I walked in. There's no possible way he would have escaped my notice. My best guess is that he was following from afar."
I narrowed my eyes. "But I was following you as well. He couldn't have known your intention to have the knife examined."
Legolas's eyes suddenly widened. "The knife." His hand leapt to his pockets and belt. Heart hammering in my chest, I prepared myself for the worst but I was faced with something much different. "Well it's here," he said, holding it between us. "But so is this." Held next to the knife was a slip of paper, seeming to have been stuck upon the knife's blade. Something was scrawled upon it. The note looked much the same as the last one, but along the corners was red. Two words were clearly to be seen.
Eyes Open
I groaned. "Again? Is that...?"
Legolas held the note to his nose. "Blood."
"But whose?"
The realization came upon us in the same moment. "The armorers." Once again, Legolas and I were desperately moving towards the armory. Stepping over the abandoned weapons from Legolas's skirmish, we split, Legolas's going into the larger adjoining room while I searched the minor array of smaller. My search unearthed nothing out of the ordinary, however I distantly heard Legolas grunt as his breath caught. It didn't take a brilliant mind to deduce the meaning behind that. I stepped into the room, lacking any sort of eagerness. Legolas stood in a far corner, kneeling behind a shape. Whether this shape was alive or dead, I couldn't tell.
"Found them," Legolas said with an allusive sort of bluntness.
"So there's more than one?"
Legolas nodded toward behind the counter. "Two total. They're tied."
I moved to where he had gestured. "Alive then?" Two not-dead elves was much preferred to two murdered.
"Breathing and mostly well. From what I can determine, the attacker cut into the hand to draw blood. Painful but they'll live. Should probably call a healer once they wake. But why are they tied up? And why's it so dark in here? There's hardly a candle lit."
I pondered his question, attempting to quell the jab rising in me. It was a losing battle. "Perhaps the attacker felt that it would be easier to cut into a subdued ellon's hand, and while he was at it felt like blowing out a candle? This part of the palace truly could use some redecorating, you should talk to your adar about it. Might draw in a few more visitors, fewer assassins.
"Forven."
"Just a thought. If you meant why he was subduing them in the first place, I haven't the slightest."
"Your opinion is valued above measure."
"I'm glad," I answered. "That doesn't explain, though, why you won't listen to me when I say that Caladhiel is a rather pleasant elleth, especially for the likes of yourself? Smart but completely clueless in the midst of courtly conversation. You should try talking to her."
"I have and never will again. I much prefer to keep my arm attached to my body. If you're quite through, might you consider—wait a moment." Legolas stood, looking around us. "Where's Earandur gone?"
"Probably somewhere he is not wanted."
Legolas held up a hand. "No, listen. Earandur was in here."
What? When? Why does that matter? How does that relate to the present? A sequence of questions raced through my mind until comprehension dawned. "He should have seen the armorers."
Nodding grimly, Legolas said, "Exactly. Perhaps even seen the attacker enter. We can't speak to him yet. If he knew we suspected him already..." Our eyes met with the same sentiment. Darkness may run deeper into Mirkwood's roots than we yet know. Elven blood has been spilled by someone much more morally conscious than a spider. We may soon have a kin-slayer in our midst.
May but not if I had any hand in it. Neither king nor prince would breathe their last breath as long as I served the kingdom.
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The two armorers were fine. Legolas was fine. And upon further investigation so was the King.
Why did peace still seem so unattainable then?
I stood in council. This particular meeting, I had called. As Legolas's second I had clearance to do so, sort of. When it came to my captain's safety, duty took precedence over the captain's preference—King's orders.
The incident with the assassin—his official title now—had been kept quiet. We did not by any stretch of the imagination need a rumor running around the stronghold that a note written in blood had been pinned to a knife, that knife recently having been stabbed into a table with another different note informing us of someone's intention to murder the king and therefore the prince and therefore send the entire kingdom into disarray while we wallowed in misery. It was cringe worthy to say the least.
I shuddered at the never ending thought. Thranduil had been especially upset by the news of an assassin, for it was one thing when his own wellbeing was at stake but an entire other when it was Legolas's. He had ordered Legolas to increase the home guard on duty while increasing the frequency of border patrol. It was to be a nightmarish week for Legolas's warriors.
This particular council of captains was to decide how we were to assign the workload—and who had warriors willing to do it without complaint.
The result was almost overwhelming as nearly every warrior had expressed their compliance. Legolas may not be in charge of Eryn Lasgalen's forces, but he very well should be with how favorably the Guard looked upon him. We were not in council much longer after that discussion, dispersing to our different tasks. The kingdom may be at war with the spiders, but it was beginning to fight against itself. Every warrior was on edge, only being told that the safety of the King and Prince were questionable. Not in what way or how—simply that they must be wary. It would be enough.
I walked out of the room once it was void of any other presence. I shook my head, attempting to clear it of the strange assortment of thoughts that had been running through it since before our patrol. Had that expedition truly only been last night? It was just past midday now. Eru help me if I was simply going mad.
As soon as I stepped outside the door, I stopped short. Ah, Legolas, just the elf I might have searched for had the situation been ever so slightly different. I may or may not have forgotten to notify him of the meeting that was to be held. "Mae Govannen, mellon," I greeted, forcing a smile.
"Mae govannen, indeed," Legolas said, arms crossed. "Would you care to explain what is happening here?"
I shrugged. "Nothing too exciting. No wine, no ellyth, nothing worth being disappointed to have missed. Speaking of, I just saw Caladhiel—"
"That's enough from you, Caneir already explained. I do not appreciate the gesture."
There always had to be the one to rat you out. Always. "Caneir, that traitor, I'll have his hide..." I muttered, glaring at the end of the hall. Legolas's face was hardly something to look at when he was agitated.
"Not if I have yours first. Truly, Forven, what were you thinking? And I don't care if my father gave you clearance."
I worked my jaw back and forth. "Hm, now that you've taken away my argument... I suppose I must beg for your forgiveness, tell you what remorse I feel, and then beg to retain my position as your second?"
"Oh, don't push it." Legolas turned and began to walk away. "Now that I'll have an entire contingent trailing me every hour of the day, would you care to come explain what you've done to my guard?"
"Certainly," I answered, smiling. Legolas would appreciate being alive one day.
___________________________________
Thranduil came to my door late that night. I'm not sure if he thought the simple tunic he wore made him look any less regal, but I can say with certainty that it did not make any difference. There was an air about him that spoke volumes, despite his attire.
His eyes were so like Legolas's and yet so entirely different. They were cold, but not uncaring. A mask that only those who had proven themselves glanced under—which apparently I had as he pushed past my shoulder and into my quarters.
"You've taken the precautions then?"
"Yes, aran-nin, guards are presently posted outside his room and I personally checked it over before he arrived." I paused, looking down the hall. "However, it would seem you have abandoned precaution entirely. "Thranduil's gaze turned. I had shriveled the first time he had looked so icily at me, but since then I had had practice. Many, many times.
"Be glad I like you, lieutenant, otherwise you would be dead many times over by now."
"As you have told me, aran-nin."
"Don't soon forget it," Thranduil bit out. "And I trust that you will see to it to be on patrol with Legolas as he undoubtedly will refuse to keep the stronghold..."
"No doubt, sir."
"Good," Thranduil nodded once and turned to leave. "You're a good friend for my son, Forven. I would have no other by his side. Keep it that way."
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