Meatherion now flew to his feet from the chair beside Aireiel, looked around the slowly moving crowd, and concluded it was time for the guests to retreat to their private accommodations provided and arranged especially for the pair. But once he deepened into realising the brilliant idea he came up with, he discovered there was no sight of the elleth's father. The last time he checked up on him was the time Edenir was dragged outside the hallway by Calaron's hand, but Meatherion made sure they remained in sight. Now, there was no trace of either Calaron or the father. Despite his best efforts not to jump to the obvious immediately, he allowed himself the time to gaze upon the crowd beneath him one last time in hope he would notice a familiar tall figure sticking out of the common folk. But once he realised his wishes would not be granted here, he stepped from the dais with quick light steps, his breath caught in his throat. With so many things happening at once, with so many unidentified dangers lurking within the halls, he thought it only appropriate to act soon than be sorry later.
While he passed the distraught crowd of slouched Sages, he gripped Aireiel's left forearm, forcing her into his direction. The grasp was unexpected and brisk, so the reluctance in Aireiel's muscles increased when she discovered she was being pulled into unwanted direction.
"What are you doing?" she asked, baffled by Lord Commander's uncouth gesture.
"We must find your father," he replied hastily.
Aireiel, still unfamiliar with the reason for Meatherion's recent haste, reluctantly followed the Commander to the same hallway Calaron was last seen with her father. Doubt and fear lingered in the back of the elleth's mind, but she chose to denote the warning as of lesser significance since she believed she should be more alarmed by the Commander's enhanced grip.
The two roamed the halls with magnificent, endless ceilings Aireiel's eyes managed to observe in quick moments of rest Meatherion used in order to think of the most logical route Calaron would chose. Luckily, Meatherion was an expert in putting himself in someone else's shoes and think as they would think which enabled him to almost immediately return to his hasty pursuit. But what at first seemed to be mere concern for the guest's safety due to recent horrible events staining the Realm's reputation now grew into something much more vicious. His mind was filled with hollow, gruff sounds, his vision focused only on a few steps before him. It was as if something from within the heart of the palace was dragging him closer and closer to what had seemed to be the source of his current struggles. As it was painful for him to get nearer and nearer to the source it was also inexorably addictive, and that was only what drive him further to reach the destination he was heading to. Soon after, the Commander and Aireiel unwillingly dragging herself behind him would find themselves at the corner of the most unexpected hall. Since Aireiel had only acquainted herself with the residence she was not able to accurately orient herself in the unknown environment. Meatherion, however, was very familiar to all the secret and least known routes, tunnels, and passages the undefeated fortress possessed, and it was no wonder it took him by utmost surprise when he realised they were standing at the entrance to the Corridors of Prophecy. Coincidentally or not, it happened to be the same location where the murder had occurred.
"Why did we stop?" a soft voice inquired coming from behind Meatherion's side which reminded him of his intention.
As if locked on the spot, Meatherion could not move. All the disturbing noise and sharp sounds were now gathered in his head and radiating at the highest frequency possible. The screams cut his brain like razors and left him burning with physical pain as he continued to just stand there, observing the deserted corridors, completely oblivious to Aireiel's calls for urgent explanation that was definitely in order.
"Lord Commander, would you care to explain to me what is going on?"
All of the sudden, there was a movement at the end of the main corridor which Meatherion caught with the corner of his eye. A light, pale silhouette slithering behind the corners of the corridor that lead into the Hall of the Ten of Sages. A mortal with an ordinary vision adjusted to usual tricks of the light would not be able to catch a glimpse of the skulking figure that now left smoke traces behind it. Even Meatherion was at first believing it to be a mere illusion, a strange shadow produced by odd angle of the light. But as it turned out, it appeared to be more than just an illusion of the light. It was a vision of evil.
"You are not safe here," was all he was able to utter as he gripped her hand with even fiercer strength. "We have to take you to the King."
A greater part of Edenir believed Calaron's actions to be a part of a required protocol of welcoming guests into a highly protected institution, but he could not get rid of a clinging, warning feeling that it had more to do with a reason unknown to Edenir. As if the procedure of the verdict wasn't difficult and complicated on its own, even more confusion was brought to Edenir once he was asked to leave the Hall with Calaron without any particular explanation being given to him. Ever since he had entered the palace he somehow managed to convince himself of the potential benefit Aireiel and he could gain from being under the King's protection, but the more he witnessed how things were being run here the more he doubted his previous estimation of the Realm's stable, firm condition. Perhaps he himself bore part of the guilt for being suspicious of everything that was now happening; he had been, after all, cut off a normal life ever since the day they were forced to leave their homes. With every passing day after the horrible occurrence he slowly began to forget the taste of free air of the West, the smooth touch of fresh winds blowing from the Bay of Belfalas, the sound of white doves cheering in the blossoming spring. Through the years he was forced to obliterate any trace of carelessness and freedom dwelling inside his mind which weakened his body. Yet it was the only way which ensured him survival.
As they were hurrying pass the countless corridors and passageways, Edenir was not the only one who bore the weight of doubt in his mind on this special occasion. Despite being evermore bound to the King's disposition and a devoted servant to his needs and command, Calaron was an elf laden with a right amount of reason, sanity, and wariness which altogether formed a combination of traits every successful leader should possess. That same combination was the one which prevailed in his mind today, a day that essentially provoked an unwonted extent of suspicion and hostility to rise within the palace. While somewhere deep down Calaron was aware keeping the crucial reason for dragging the guest to the wanted direction hidden from the elf did not help him earn his trust and faith, he was on the other hand convinced the reason for hiding the truth from him outweighed any argument against it. For as much as he would wish to accept the elf with his arms wide open, filled warm welcome, generosity, and patience, he simply did not have the time nor would the circumstances let him exploit such privilege that was in fact what the Realm stood for. As much as any other resident of the Woodland Realm, he would want to make the absolute best impression on any guest of at least a tinge of importance, but he realised that by forcing him to do something against his will might actually incite an opposite effect.
"We should arrive soon," Calaron soothed since his conscience ordered him to at least try to assure the guest that everything was under control.
"This would either calm me down or make me anxious if I knew what the destination was," Edenir replied without a trace of humour despite his wittily composed sentence.
Calaron could not help but feel an uncomfortable tingle burning his insides as he tried his best to avoid Edenir's reprimanding glare. He did believe that what he was doing was only in the guest's best interests for if he was actually aware of where they would going the chances of Edenir trying to escape wouldn't be so small.
Fortunately for Calaron, the pair soon arrived to one of the most intricate and remote hallways Edenir had visited during his stay. Despite being at the entirely other side of the palace, the hallway was one of the most safely guarded passages Edenir had noticed. Although he was initially completely oblivious to its concealed meaning
and purpose, the elf began to recognize strangely familiar patterns and ornaments that were covering the walls of the hallway. Further as they walked, the number of masterful portraits of majestic individuals grew and Edenir's eyes kept sliding from one masterpiece to another. While under the weight of time he barely managed to preserve the memory of his own kin, he now realised he had forgotten about other kingdoms of Middle Earth as well, and how much tradition they all bore. How much grandeur, glory, and rectitude this particular kingdom could be proud of and how lucky it was to be able to uphold the memories of their forebears in such magnificent hall, dedicated only to these noble elves who built the Realm's reputation with their own bloody hands. With a bitter ache in his heart he attempted to remember what the hall of honour at their home used to look like. Yet as soon as the vague picture of his past home would appear, it would be replaced by fire and smoke which filled the halls in their lapsed residence. Acrid regret settled in his heart and he knew it was time to let go of the hurtful memories and focus on what was ahead of him. Which were a pair of large stone gates, equipped with high-skilled guards at each side. Edenir successfully deciphered this meant no good was to come.
Calaron let out an anxious sigh before making another step towards the chamber's gates. Their arrival in the chamber would mean the involvement of the two guests in the decision of the Realm's fate would be official and final. The polemics on whether or not they should be involved at all was, according to the King, futile and wasted. For far too long they had been ignoring the signs sent by the Gods to allow themselves yet another mistake of paying no attention to a possibility of saving the Realm. Thranduil was now prepared to use all means to achieve his ultimate goal without complying to compromises. That meant even the most unusual means that would come across his path.
"Let's go," Calaron prompted as he began to walk towards the gates.
Edenir confusedly followed the lead of the elf he hardly knew. Wondering if there was time to escape and search for his daughter instead was something that had crossed his mind several times since they left the Hall of Justice. But as much as he wished to contemplate further on realising this idea, he was coming to be aware of something more horrendous. Something that had sprung in his weakened mind once they passed the Holy Corridors. An eerie feeling progressed in his veins which produced feverish, silent impetuousity to stir in his tired bones. He was indefatigable and petrified at the same time, chained to the ground by his heavy heart. He started to realise he was becoming a part of something far greater than what his mind could encompass, something far beyond both him and Aireiel. They were both to play a part in something of such immense and disastrous measures Edenir was not physically able to comprehend the consequences it would leave on them as well as the entire of the Woodland Realm.
The pair hastily walked towards the gates as they were slowly being opened by the hands of the guards scanning them with their relentless eyes. Calaron bowed his head in appreciation once they had passed them, and then quickly turned to see if Edenir was still behind him. The First Sage was both regretful and gratified to see the mysterious elf hadn't fled when he was given perhaps the only chance to do so. He was also aware that if he had arrived to the meeting chamber empty handed, he would've been rightfully scolded by the King. Speaking of the ruler, Calaron was still left in the dark on what secret agenda lay hidden behind the King's words of ordering the father to be brought to this chamber, what dark intentions he had in mind when it came to using the newly arrived father and daughter to the palace. To be entirely honest, he did not even wish to know.
Before Calaron could come up with any highly unlikely theories about how the King planned on exploiting the pair, he and Edenir finally arrived to the wanted destination that had been kept in secret for as much as a quarter of an hour. After a long, tense stride across the secret tunnel the pair stopped as small doors appeared ahead of them. They were not as impressive or decorated as the ones Edenir had seen before. What he had also noticed was that there were no guards surrounding it which meant whoever was behind those doors requested complete privacy. Edenir was not sure whether he should be alarmed by that fact or not.
"Shall we?" Calaron sighed and opened the doors which enabled Edenir to have a sight of the person that had called for him so urgently and in most secretive manner.
"My King," the Sage bowed as he entered the room, and then took a seat of his own, encouraging the new elf to copy his moves and show the great King the respect he merited.
Edenir did in the end do exactly as the First Sage, but he did not utter the same words for he deemed them false in comparison to his true identity. He would not step so low to offend and humiliate his own kin and blood by admitting this conceited Sindarin elf to be his righteous ruler. However, he did devote the elf quite a look which was not in the least polite nor lenient. Edenir had figured out summoning him to such secret location meant they had more use of him that he had initially predicted which meant they presumably needed his help more than he needed theirs.
"Thank you for joining me," the King responded to their gestures.
Edenir moved slowly to the other side of the table and sat directly across the King. This way he was exposed to him like never before. It was difficult to confront him straight away, but once he turned his eyes towards the majestic persona he did not see what he expected to. Thranduil's eyes were not peeking at Edenir as if he were trying to make out every single detail about his sinful soul nor were his hands in a position of hatching a scheme of the century. The look in his eyes was of weariness and desperation, his hands were gently placed on the table as if caressing the old wood beneath his fingertips. It was a rare sight to see the King in his vulnerable state, but this time it did not seem Thranduil was one bit ashamed of it. Perhaps that was due to the fact this was not one of his significant performances before a wide crowd, but merely a meeting of three ordinary elves, who were in fact all far from ordinary. Edenir being a good observer he was, noticed there was something tormenting the ruler's conscience and soul. It was painfully obvious his spirits were more trampled than ever before, yet the reason for this unfortunate occurrence remained unknown to Edenir, and he was not expecting he shall hear of it today nor any day after that. But despite the awkwardness and rawness of the situation they were all trapped in this very moment against their will, Edenir sensed a sort of need inside of him. If being dragged to this small chamber meant anything, it at least meant he had the right to speak, otherwise he wouldn't have been brought here at all. Thranduil had expectations of him, that much was certain. Only the proportions remained veiled behind the words unspoken.
"May I ask what is the meaning of this summoning? Where is my daughter?" Edenir finally gained the courage to speak his mind.
"There is no need to fear, my friend," Thranduil replied with his deep voice that kindled anyone's attention. "She is on her way."
Having answered only a part of his question, Edenir moved in his position in a nervous way, indicating he was not completely satisfied with this explanation. The King understood the subtle insinuation. He was, after all, a master of this skill.
"I must apologize on the Sage's behalf for not letting you know of the meaning of his action in the first place," he began. "You must understand this meeting is meant to be held in complete privacy and seclusion from curious eyes for matters discussed here today are of immensely sensitive nature not only for the Realm but yourself as well. That said, you must be wondering where is the connection between us and yourself. First, I believe it should be said that your arrival at Dol Guldur and my army finding you at that fortress of evil is not to be taken as pure chance. You have been brought here for a reason which isn't necessarily going to harm you unless you choose not to fully cooperate. You see, the Realm has found itself in direct threat with a form of evil no eyes of Middle Earth have ever seen. And as coincidentally as it may seem, you have awoken our interest since the moment we found you at the source of this same evil."
Edenir's hand
s froze on the chair's handles. Cold, treacherous drops of sweat trickled down behind the collar of his robe. His rib cage seemed to had crushed within itself and sucked all the air out of his lungs. These were merely cursory consequences Edenir felt as he listened to the King's words. At last, the meaning of their capture had been revealed. And the theories that came with understanding the meaning of all of this, manifested in the most numerous, cruel, and unthinkable ways Edenir's imagination had to offer.
Thranduil's rapidly progressing speech was roughly interrupted by an arrival of two most unexpected individuals.
Aireiel's flaming locks burst into the room as Meatherion pushed their way through the doors. His eyes immediately indicated remorse for intruding into the meeting in such robust and loud manner.
"Oh, perfect timing," Thranduil grinned as he turned to face the auburn beauty.
It fascinated him how those timid, demure eyes could burn with so much passion, devotion, and appetite that shaped her into an entirely different person. One fleeting moment she would seem so fragile, so innocent and bashful, and a resolute warrior the next. There was so much more to this wonderful creature than what lay exposed on the surface, Thranduil was sure. Something had captured his attention in a way rarely other things were able to. There was something about her unbreakable spirit, like a fluttering bird trapped inside her rib cage, striving to fly free for the first time. A power was stored inside of her, captured and contained; a power of such expanse it was certain it could not be caged for much longer before it would free itself of the rusty fetters and release a force that would doom all of Earth.
While Thranduil continued to let his gaze stroll all across Aireiel's slender frame, Edenir decided he would have none of this. Merely moments ago he was given an extremely elusive version of what had seemed to be a start of the explanation for their extended stay at the Realm, and now the same head of authority had the audacity to not only completely abandon the previously discussed subject, but lay his sinful, lustful eyes on his beloved daughter as well. There were a few carefully selected things Edenir was willing to negotiate upon in case of absolute necessity, including exposing his own daughter to the risk of being taken by the King. However, this had obviously begun to go out of hand. Outrageous and obscene were the words Edenir always had in mind when asked to describe the King, and on this occasion he was willing to utter them straight into his face for the first time if such perversity should continue right in front of his eyes.
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