Chapter 4

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Thranduil's fast, furious footsteps carried him down the hall in the direction of the private dining area he shared with his son. Upon his arrival he pushed the door roughly, causing it to bang off the wall behind it. Legolas lifted his head at the intrusion but he didn't look surprised. He had been expecting this.

"You gave her a room?!" Thranduil practically snarled, pacing towards the table. "Must you insist on disobeying and undermining me at every turn?"

"Father." Legolas sighed, shaking his head. "Be reasonable."

Thranduil's eyes flashed with rage as he regarded his son. "Reasonable? Do not test me, my son." He stared silently for a moment. "That girl, her father. That man somehow got around my guards, broke into this realm, and assaulted you. And you wish to what? Reward his pitiful excuse of a daughter? For what purpose? She is my prisoner in his stead, my boy, she is not a guest here."

"Father." He said again, a moment after letting him rant on as he needed to. "That man was unwell, you know this, he had to have come across the river. He was not in his right mind. The wound he gave me was not deep, it had practically healed already." He gestured to his right arm, the top of which had been the victim of the man's dagger in his state.

"Excuses."

"Reasons." Legolas continued, ignoring the warning raise of Thranduil's eyebrow at the interruption. "Listen to me. This girl... she cannot go anywhere. She cannot get out of these halls. She is still, for all intents and purposes, your prisoner if that is what you wish." He paused, studying his father's face. "You said she was to live out her days in this kingdom, you did not specify that she were to be caged for the entire time in a cell."

Thranduil's eyebrow arched even higher as he stared his son down. Legolas had stayed in the forest when the girl was brought in but Tauriel had obviously told him of the entire exchange in the throne room and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at how close the two of them had become.

He could tell that his son was not going to back down on this for some bizarre reason that Thranduil simply couldn't comprehend. Why all of this energy over mortals? "There will be a guard posted outside of that room at all times." He snapped. "If she so much as blinks in the wrong direction, you will both be punished, do you understand me?"

"Yes, father. Thank you." Legolas forced himself not to smile at the win, bowing his head respectfully to Thranduil.

The older elf snorted, unsatisfied, and turned and strode from the room, robes billowing behind him.

Legolas allowed his expression to crack then, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he turned back to his plate.

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"Why are you doing this?" Tauriel wondered as she looked back at Legolas. "You're only going to antagonise him."

The two of them had met later that same day in the training grounds to practice together, though this was mainly just an excuse to spend time together.

Legolas smirked, shifting his foot as he blocked a blow from Tauriel's sword. "As his son, I believe that is in my job description."

Tauriel gave him a look, an amused smile beginning to tug at the corners of her own mouth. "Legolas."

He shook his head. "Come on, Tauriel. The girl has done nothing wrong, she does not deserve to rot away in my father's cells. He says a lot of things when he is angry, that does not mean they must be set in stone."

"He is the king." She reminded him.

"Yes, he is the king." Legolas agreed, dodging another blow with a chuckle. "He is also my father and you and I both know that that is his weakness."

Tauriel laughed at that, shaking her head at her friend. It wasn't a lie, really. Since the death of the Queen, Legolas' mother, everybody was fairly certain that Thranduil's son had been what kept him going, kept him holding on when he might have wanted to just let go and drown in his grief. Legolas had been an elfling at the time and could barely even remember his mother, much to his dismay. Time and the memories had turned his father into this harsh, unyielding king with a reputation of being cruel, especially outside of these lands. In the kingdom, however, despite his temper and his hardness, everybody knew that he was a good king. That he did what he did and made the choices he made for his people. The Woodland Realm would endure, he said, and would always do so, no matter what he had to do.

However, some things had perhaps gone a little too far. Legolas thought that perhaps his father had retreated too much into himself and pulled the kingdom with him. He thought that they were a little too isolated, too cut off, especially if they would ever be in dire need of help or aid. Who would come if his father continued to push away trade and allyship with most of the surroundings towns and realms? Legolas understood his father but he didn't often agree with everything and he certainly didn't agree with this. His father's distrust of humans, of mortals, and his fear over his son being injured (and the harsh reminder that he too could be taken from him) had driven him to act, once more, in anger.

Legolas wanted to try and show him that there was another way, that his worry was unfounded, that he could not control everyone and everything around him. He could not control the events of the world no matter how hard he might try. Legolas wanted to try and get his father to understand things from his perspective and maybe this poor mortal girl would be a good starting point for him to try and get that to happen.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Tauriel told him, though she was smiling softly, spinning to dodge the downswing of his sword.

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The room was much larger than your cell and you spent a short time looking around it. No weapons stashed away, not that you really expected there to be, but you had to at least look. The door had been unlocked when you'd tried the handle but there was obviously somebody standing guard outside so you hadn't had much hope of escaping that way. You'd be grabbed before you could get two paces and probably thrown back into the cell.

You still couldn't understand what you were doing here. Why were you in this room? Why had the prince let you come here? Did the king approve? You didn't think anything could really happen without the king's consent but you also couldn't imagine him suggesting or allowing this to happen, especially not with the reception he'd given you, and the fact your father had been in the cell for the three days since his capture and you'd been moved to this room the same day. You assumed, at least, time was difficult to track properly.

A polite she-elf had come to the room and offered you some tea and asked if you needed anything else. You were too shocked to do or say much of anything, still completely confused about where you had found yourself but your mind was slowly forming the beginnings of a plan. You would get out of this room and you would return back to the village, to your father.

Once the maid had left and the door had once again firmly closed you inside, you got to work. Gathering every sheet you possibly could from the bed, and some spares from a nearby drawer, you began to tie them all together by the ends, creating a kind of fabric ladder that you were going to try to use to get out of the window. Though from the height that you'd seen as you'd glanced outside earlier, you thought you'd probably need many, many more sheets. However, there was a ledge that you thought you could reach and for now that was your goal. You would figure the rest out later.

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