In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, Thranduil finds the world within his Halls empty. He struggles to come to terms with the absence of his only child and the loss of the one he raised as if she were his own daughter. He begins to r...
As the elven army musters in the foothills of the Mirkwood Mountains, Lord Ortäuré learns the truth about his fathers' plans for the Elvenking. Struggling to cling to the tenuous thread of hope, Tauriel prays that Thranduil reaches her in time.
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Gritting his teeth, Eirik blinked against the light from the lantern as he tried to focus on the blurred image of the tall silvery golden haired elf who just entered the tent. Watching him as he licked his lips, he could taste the blood in his mouth and feel it trickling down the side of his face over his left eye that had swollen closed. Pulling against the ropes that bound him to the center post in the tent, he tried to flex his painful shoulder muscles but it was useless, he could feel the stake that pinioned his bindings to the ground.
Swallowing instinctively as the elf turned toward him, his face as cold as marble yet his eyes burned with a hatred that could not only be seen but felt as they raked across him with ice like fingers. The tall lithe figure moved closer, his footsteps making no sound in the strange silence that filled the tent. Dressed in the same ornate black armor worn by the other golden haired elf, the silver circlet on his head was the only visible sign that he was none other than the Elvenking himself.
"Your allegiance is admirable but I fear it is sorely misplaced." Thranduil stated quietly yet his deep voice carried easily throughout the tent. "I assure you I will discover everything I need to know whether you cooperate with me or not." He added, his soft tone belying the struggle within him as he fought the urge to kill him and be done with it.
"I think I would have had more fun with you than the little she-elf bitch...."
A strangled grunt ripped through his lips as Eirik felt his head twist suddenly and violently to the side, pain shot through his jaw and neck. Gasping for breath as he started to turn back toward the elf, he froze, feeling the sharp edge of the dagger pressing against his throat as the Elvenking now squatted in front of him. He cringed inwardly as the Elvenking leaned even closer, his lips curled back causing the marble mask to melt into that of a vicious predator about to consume his prey. He felt the edge of the dagger cutting into his throat as he swallowed against the fear that crept up from the depths of his stomach.
"Your life matters not to me." Thranduil whispered, enjoying the growing fear in the man's eyes as he drew the point of his dagger across his already bruised cheek. "These are my lands, my people and you have taken one of mine." He continued, his eyes narrowed threateningly as he drew the dagger downward to his jaw, leaving a long crimson trail in its wake.
"I already told the other one, I don't know where they went." Eirik choked out, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the pole. "All we were supposed to do was kill the guards and hold her there until the others came for her."
"What others?!" Thranduil demanded, striking him hard with a balled fist across the cheek he had just marked with his dagger.
"I don't know!" Eirik exclaimed angrily, pausing to spit out the blood that now filled his mouth as he glared back at the Elvenking. "The elf only told each of us what he thought we needed to know, nothing more!"
