Bard of Laketown

Part Forty-Three

PART FORTY-THREE

But despite that fact, I strengthen my resolve. I know Thranduil knows something about Bard- he has already betrayed himself with that flick of his blue eyes.

I keep the knife pointed at his slender neck. He smiles softly. "I know you better than you might think." He speaks in a low voice. "Areya of Mirkwood would not dare to stab her king."

I move the knife closer, candlelight from the chandeliers reflecting off its steely blade. "Then you are wrong." My voice remains steady, and his eyes widen ever so slightly. But it is still enough.

I sigh, scraping his throat lightly with the knife. He backs up a few steps, but I move back with him, my palms sweating as they grip the silver hilt.
He puts out a hand to touch my cheek. "I never thought you could be this cold."

"I am surprising myself everyday," I say. The knife presses a little harder into his pale throat, and drops of crimson blood appear, like roses against a blanket of snow.

His blue eyes are softer now, and they drop to the knife. "Kill me now, I beg," he says, all traces of majestic commanding gone from his voice. He sounds almost... Heartbroken now, but I push all thoughts of sympathy out of my head.

"Where. Is. The Barge-man?" I hiss between my teeth. He winces at the bite of the blade. "Sheath your blade, Areya. I will take you to him, if that is where your path wishes you to go."

I slowly take the knife away from him, and slide it back into its sheath. I look over his neck, pleased to see that the cut is shallow, sure to heal very quickly. Thranduil holds out his arm, and I take it hesitantly.

"That was an act, my lady. I would have given you anything, had you only asked." I turn to look at him, but his eyes avoid returning my gaze, looking instead straight ahead of us.

"And you do not realize that what I have come to tell your prisoner may cost me my life."
Thranduil walks us to some chairs and tells me to sit down, but I resist. "I cannot waste any more of your time," I say. "I have taken too much of it already."

"Tell me, then, what burdens you? Your heart is heavy." His voice is reserved again, and I almost miss the caring tone he used just a few moments earlier.

"In the prisons of Laketown, known to you as Esgaroth... I met a young woman. She told me she was Bard's sister, who hadn't seen him in a long while. One of Thorin's company helped us escape from the prison."

"The woman, Daneya, begged me to take me with her to find Bard. I agreed, but on the way here, she revealed she was his wife, who he had long believed to be dead. After this, she slit her throat. She wants him to believe I killed her. Revenge is dear to her, I suppose."

Through all this, Thranduil listens quietly. "You need not tell him," he says. "He already believes her to be dead. Why bring this up now?"
"I owe him this much, at least. And after I tell him... Maybe I'll return to Mirkwood."

"And if he still loves you, what then?" He speaks carefully.
"I suppose I will marry him." These thoughts are strange to me. Thranduil's eyes are filled with hurt. "I am sorry." I say quietly, but he only turns his head again.

"No apology is needed," he says. He whispers the next. "For who could ever love somebody with such a frozen heart?"

I do not know how to respond to this, which is just as well, seeing as he continues down the twisting halls and staircases as if nothing is wrong. He and Bard, they are so different, yet so similar.

We come to the end of one last hall, and Thranduil gently pushes open the door. "Go now."
I turn and kiss him softly on the cheek. His scars appear for a second, marring his otherwise flawless skin, before disappearing just as quickly.

"Whatever you believe about yourself, it is not true. Your scars are part of you, and they are beautiful."
A tear appears on the edge of his eyelashes before spilling down his cheek and onto the side of his lips.

I smile at him one last time, touching my fingers to his face, before leaving him standing outside the door.
My heart thumps as I step inside, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light, and then focusing on the lone figure leaning against the wall.

"Areya?"