To Live Again {Lord of the Rings/ThranduilXOC Fanfiction}

17. Human or Elf?

I will admit that the human settlement is clearly inferior to elven architecture; firstly it is so visible and out of place in the fringes of the forest - not natural at all.  It is surrounded by timber fences and every so often a stone pillar or lookout tower fortifies the structure.

My nostrils burn with the smell of acrid fumes, and there is a stench in the air not dissimilar to that of rotting or decay. I hug myself closer to Thranduil and he places a comforting hand over mine, I think he assumes I am frightened but in reality I just want to try and inhale his scent as opposed to the not so pleasant smells irritating my oddly sensitive nose.

For a few minutes I consider we are just going to crash through the settlements reinforced gates, because they show no signs of opening as we gallop swiftly towards them. However one of the guards race ahead and hails for the gatekeepers to receive us, and they do, just in time for us to cut through the gates and emerge in the village.

I fancy we would appear quite like a glittering stream swiftly flowing over rock. Even in what I would consider rough looking garb I know we appear completely out of place, too elegant, too shimmering and far too perfected for this place. I have my hood pulled up and the silken overlay pulled over my mouth and nose, just to help against the scent which I am surprisingly coming to terms with. I scally around me with curious eyes, taking in the dilapidated community and its inhabitants; with their dirt streaked faces, lined with age and weather worn limbs. My eyes widen when I realise how I view these people, am I that changed that I don't even recognise my own kind? Am I so repulsed by their insignificance and uncouth ways?

The horses finally slow at the end of a dirt courtyard before a wooden hall, and a broad and well fed man, with more coopery hair on his face than the top of his head, approaches us with a confused and slightly awestruck expression. I guess he must be middle aged, but it is so hard for me to remember what that looks like now. I have been surrounded by a race that does not entertain wrinkles or sagging skin. The man stomps very ungracefully down the stone steps and awaits our approach; Aradan trots his horse up to the one man welcome committee and paints a very sincere welcoming smile across his face.

"Hail good captain! We have come to seek an audience with your lord if he would welcome us?" He speaks clearly and in that charismatic voice that draws everyone in.

"The elves of Greenwood are always welcome here." He replies a little timidly and eyes our entourage questioningly, "but we were not expecting company from the Elf King's halls, please forgive our poor welcome-"

"We require no welcome, we are merely passing through, but my lord wishes to greet your new chieftain." Aradan cuts the man off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Yes of course my lord Thorald will be mighty honoured to meet with our elven neighbours," The man nods to a scrawny youth who quickly scampers off into the hall to alert their chieftain, whilst we wait, and Thranduil sighs with displeasure. He hates waiting and I think, and I may be wrong, but I think he considers the chieftain's absence disrespectful.

After a few intense minutes the doors of the wooden dwelling creak open and a young man exits, he is so young...I reckon younger than me! He is obviously out of his depth, apparent by how he moves uneasily in his rich looking robes; he was not prepared for this title. My guess is his father has died too soon and has practically landed him in this position of which he has no real experience dealing with. He is no more ready for ruling than Legolas would be, and I instantly feel a great deal of sympathy for him. He tries to appear confident as he steps towards us but his big brown eyes just roam our company with a certain amount of terror. Those eyes are gentle and innocent, I doubt he has seen much battle, and I feel like I'm looking in the mirror.