How I Leave You

And One Step Back

Regardless of what Thranduil told me to do, I would not spend the time before the feast resting in his chambers.

The moment his guards exit through the heavily ornated doors of the bedroom, I slip on my ring and escape the moment before they shut close.

Most of the afternoon is spent getting to know Thranduil's palace. I locate the kitchen from whence I watch as they prepare their meals, and finally stumble upon a wine cellar with endless racks of barrels. It's no starlight wine, but it'll make do.

I find the place I've been looking for as the day draws to a close.

The cells.

But right as I turn the corner, a familiar voice greets me from below.

"Aren't you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers."

"Or nothing."

Tauriel turns around from Kili, climbing the stairs to my hiding spot. She walks past me without as much as a glance in my direction.

Quietly, I start making my way down towards the prisoners. Each has his own cell, though they're all adjacent and within hearing range of each other.

"What did he do to Ilwien?" Bilbo asks, the question aimed at Thorin's cell.

"Proved a point," is all the dwarven king gives for an answer.

"He didn't hurt her?"

A pause.

"No," Thorin says.

But you did.

"Did I hear something about a feast tonight?" Bombur asks, his nose sticking out between the bars of his confinement.

"Aye," Dwalin says.

"Do you think that elven-lady will be back to check on us?" Kili asks his brother. "Maybe I should make some noise so she does..."

"You're hopeless," Kili sighs. "You only think with your prick."

"So?" Kili says, grinning. "I have two heads for a reason."

"Enough," Thorin thunders. "Another word, and I'm leaving you two here for good."

"Not that we're ever getting out of here, anyway," Oin complains.

Not with that attitude, you're not.

I've heard enough. Quietly, I slip away, and, by a force of sheer luck, make it back to the chamber just in time to not get caught by the next change of guards.

The sun has set.

And so it begins.

As it turns out, the woodland elves are much less formal than their kin in Rivendell. There is no sit-down dinner, for there are no tables to be sitting down at, and the drink isn't made for enjoyment, but instead for intoxication.

And potent it is.

I should have capped my intake at one cup, though even that might have knocked me off my feet. After even the smallest sip, Thranduil makes someone come fill my glass back up to the rim. As the minutes pass, the dancing gets progressively lewd, and though it might just be the ever increasing temperature of the ball room, more and more clothes seem to come off.

There is something liberating about it.

All around us, little candles burn, softly illuminating the room. So these must have been the stars I saw in the forest. Just for tonight, I would like to dance among them. Just for tonight, I would like to be free.