Repudiate || legolas

𝟏𝟑

𝐑𝐮𝐧

Wind brushed past his long hair. He had just left Legolas's bedroom for the final time. He ran as fast as he could. His powers are untameable and wild. Gaurds surround him and in a scream of panic and adrenaline. Thorns bolt out of him and puncture through the weak points of their armor. Without a second to process before more showed up. He left and kept running and running. He had killed five. Then another. Then he was free.

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Awarthon stayed in Thranduils sleeping quarters. Well, at least with other officials in his own room. He couldn't sleep, his mind was restless, and all he could repeat in his head was approval he had finally gained with the necklace. Yet Thranduil was still going to war to fight for the gems that went along with it. The ones Awarthon couldn't snag in time without a deadly risk. He had said good night to the hobbit who had mentioned sneaking back to the dwarves. Awarthon had stayed, for his authority told him to stay in town. Yet sleep wasn't coming easy. No matter how he rocked in his hammock amongst the beams he mind wouldn't rest.

Sleep wasn't important to elves. Many of them were still posted up, ready to fight at a moments notice. But Awarthon was requested to rest. Yet a hunger was growing, and he knew he should indulge. Magic would be used, and he would need something to keep going during the fight. A door opened. Thranduil. It was supprizing as he looked down from the dark shadows of a collapsed ceiling to see him. "Awarthon, I know you are there," Thranduil spoke without wave in his voice and not seeing Awarthon yet. It was a sense of wisdom one may have gotten from existing for so long.

Jumping down from his hammock, he felt bare with his lack of armor. "Indeed. I hadn't found any sort of comfort in a bed," he stated, looking at the king with a small bow of his head. He had combed his hair and slicked it back with a gel that had been offered to him. Though his hair was still grown more than he had in a while. Legolas had an effect.

"I wish for you to stay with by my side during this battle," Thranduil spoke, which surpized Awarthon, who tilted his head, his expression unwavering. Thranduil gave a soft sort of breath that seemed to have some humor. Yet it was subtle.

Awarthon looked out the window, seeing the sun was starting to peek its curious eyes from the land it slept on. "How come you pick me?" Awarthon asked his gaze, returned to the opposite wall to Thranduil. The room was old stone bricks laid out in various patterns. The ceiling was caved in with support beams bare, which Awarthon had set up his bed. An unused bed lay there where the hobbit had been resting before escaping, saying his farewells as soon as everything seemed to had died down.

Thranduil seemed to have expected the questioning. "You have intrigued me. Many of my gaurds report how you fight and when you first left all those years ago. Single handedly, you took out multiples," Thranduil spoke with a wave of elegance to his voice, "I also desire to see how much control you have or yourself after all these years. Gandalf and I had spoken on your condition. It is quite interesting but very dangerous,"

Awarthon gave a slow nod. "Then, I shall ride with you into battle your highness," Awarthon spoke, refusing to say my king instead of sticking with your highness.

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The wind was crisp on his skin. Having denied golden armor for his leather and having found a horse to ride upon. He stayed behind Bard and Thranduil, holding the Arkenstone in his bag, which he was to hand to Bard for the bartering. Equipped with a bow, a sword, and his daggers, he still felt underprepaired. A cup of blood was given in secret by Gandalf before he left. He had enough to last him this fight, and if needed, he could always use the life he took from those they were fighting. Orcs were hot on their trail, and this war was going to feel hopeless.