'Elena, I need you to do something for me.  For Eirwen.'

I turn expectantly to Thranduil, debating whether I should return his firm gaze or play the innocent.  His figure is strong and solid, yet at the same time lithe and majestic against the dull backdrop of Gundabad's outer wall.  I find looking in his eyes to be bitterly cold, but I hold my gaze.  Thranduil is, as always, the epitome of perfection.  He's the most beautiful and yet terrifying thing I've ever seen.

My response ends up as a low whisper.  'What is it?'

'You took us this far.  Now you must find her.  Tell us where she is being kept,' he says earnestly. 

My immediate reaction is to shoot Thranduil a glare.  'I cannot simply have a vision now.  The last one was triggered by intense emotion, and I know I'm frightened now—petrified, even—but I don't know how to recreate what happened before.'

No one has the nerve to interject, let alone to go against Thranduil... except me, of course.  That was always the way.  Legolas would stand up for his own personal matters, but he would never question or defy an order—and then there's me.  I once thought that being a Star meant I was above Thranduil, but somewhere amongst the kissing and fighting there was a little piece of me that realised how wrong I was.  Despite that, I still have my moments.

I will under no circumstances force myself to have a vision, or use any of my powers for that matter.  I don't know what they could do, who they could hurt... it's too risky.

'If you do not find her soon, we may lose her forever.'  Neither of us look at Elidir as Thranduil says this, but I can easily imagine his appearance.

Instead, I keep my focus on the platinum-haired king before me, whose glare is the ice trying to counter the liquid fire flowing through my veins.  'You think you can force me to have a vision?' I begin defensively, 'well, I'm sorry to disappoint you all, but I have so little control over my powers that I don't even know why they choose to appear when they do. I have about as much chance of locating Eirwen as any of you do at this point.  If I tried to force one of my powers to work, I might hurt one of you.'

Tauriel steps in, attempting to be the peacekeeper as she has before.  'Elena, you don't have to. We'll go in and look for her together.'

'And be caught,' says Legolas firmly, 'who knows how many orcs are lurking around in there?'

'There is no other way other than to go in and brave it,' Elidir states, and as he does I catch a glimpse of horrific memories surfacing in his forest eyes.  Memories of the battle here nearly three thousand years ago, from which the survivors never truly recovered.

'Did we arm ourselves for nothing?' Tauriel raises her hands questioningly.

Straight away, Legolas replies, 'Tauriel, we cannot fight our way out, there will be too many of them.'

'It's a death trap in there,' Elidir concurs, 'it'll be difficult enough to navigate without orcs on our heels.'

'I remember the way,' Thranduil finally says, not taking his eyes off me, 'I remember it all as though it were yesterday. There will be no need to navigate as soon as we know where we must go.' 

I scoff.  'Yes, hint at your intention until the Star is pressured into having a vision. Waste the time you said was so precious, why don't you?'

'I am losing—have lost—my patience with you.' Thranduil corrects himself before taking a slow step towards me, as if to be... threatening.

However, I'm not backing down.  Why should I back down, when I know that we can save Eirwen perfectly well without a vision?  I know his game—Thranduil is displaying his authority in an attempt to convince Legolas that we do not love each other, and at the same time portraying himself to me as pathetic.  He may be indisputably regal and dominant, but his intentions at this moment are weak.  Weak, like when he threw me from his elk; weak, like when he kept secrets from me; Thranduil Oropherion, you are weak, my gaze seems to say.

'With me?' I rebuke, 'because I can't comply with your request? Or did this start back in the Woodland Realm when I couldn't fit those Valar-forsaken daggers onto me?' Another idea springs to mind.  'No, wait, perhaps it's because this whole disaster is my fault, and the longer I speak the more I'm ruining the cover you're putting on to pretend that you care nothing for me—'

'You're being unreasonable,' Legolas cuts across me irritably.

I turn to the Prince to silence him.  'I'm being unreasonable? It was you who brought Ellerian into this!  You who provoked your father to start his whole act—'

'I do not know what you're talking about,' snaps Thranduil.

'We mustn't fight amongst ourselves! The real enemy is in there!' Elidir points in exasperation to the gargantuan towers of the orc stronghold, 'please, we did not come here to quarrel.'

'Elena, you must calm down.'  Thranduil's already deep voice seems to deepen immensely with this stern command.

I instantly retort, 'You cannot tell me to calm down after your delightful speech a moment ago—'

'ELENA!' Thranduil booms, 'either have a vision or don't. Just keep your mouth shut unless it is of use to me.'

My mouth obeys, closing abruptly as all the words I had planned were snatched out of my grasp by Thranduil's echoing cry.  The silence returns, slipping back in between us as though it is trying to push us all apart—Thranduil and I in particular.

At last, Legolas asks quietly, 'Are we going in or not, Adar?'

'It seems our means of locating Eirwen safely is dysfunctional,' his father replies in due course, 'therefore we move on immediately.'

The anger festering beneath my skin bubbles fiercely, but I swoop over to Thranduil before he can move along with the others.  My fingers grip his tightly, fighting to ignore how cold his are as Thranduil stops in his tracks to look down at me.  Though I am determined, I let my expression soften, my heart opening to him, hoping, yearning that he sees what I want him to. 

It is futile for me to deny that my heart still belongs to him and only him, even after what we have done to each other.  My heart is so content, so secure in who it has chosen, it would break it to have to leave him.

'What made you think it was acceptable to treat me like this?' I ask desperately, 'I love you, Thranduil, but I cannot let you do this just to pretend to your son that I haven't replaced his mother.  Just like everyone else, Legolas must accept what we are.  Drop the charade, I beg you.'

'You are acting like a child,' he says dismissively, pulling his hand away with ease.

'I just want you to stop lying to people!' I cry, something catching in my throat. He turns back around to face me, but the scream obliterates whatever Thranduil opens his mouth to say. 

It takes a second for me to register that Elidir has taken off running towards the nearest of the vast doorways, desperately bellowing his daughter's name, 'EIRWEN!'

'ADA!' a little voice cries, which somehow spurs Elidir to sprint even faster. As soon as he discovers that the door is sealed, he takes one look at the sheer fortress wall and begins to climb.

'Elidir, no!' Tauriel exclaims as we all rush after him, the other three running swiftly and elegantly while I stumble and teeter on my weaker legs. At this rate, they outrun me and leave me behind within seconds.

Thranduil hangs back for a moment to slip his strong arms beneath me and carry me the last bit of distance. 'We've given away our position,' he growls under his breath, 'we have to follow him. And since you can neither climb nor be left alone, you must hold onto me as tightly as you can.'

I have but a split second to utter, 'What?', before Thranduil has flipped me around onto his back and gestured for my arms to wrap around his neck. 'This—this is going to hurt you!' I squeal, as I'm forced to latch both my arms and legs around him. He ignores me. I feel his muscles tense beneath my hands, and he ascends just as quickly and easily as Elidir, Legolas and Tauriel, leaving me hanging precariously from his back with the feeble grip of my burning limbs being the only thing keeping me from splattering on the ground.

What, for the love of the Valar, is happening...

'She's in there!'

A shout from Elidir alerts me to prise open my terrified eyes. With one hand, he's indicating a set of open windows about halfway up the tallest tower, while the other is allowing him to hang almost casually from the wall. The mere sight makes my stomach churn. Willing myself to hold on for just a little longer, I bury my face in Thranduil's hair, too petrified to react when I touch the warm skin on the back of his neck. I will not fall again. Not this time.

'Elena,' Thranduil's voice murmurs, 'we're nearly at the window. I need you to grab Legolas's hands and climb over my shoulders.'

I cannot move. I cannot even acknowledge his words. If I shift my body so much as an inch, it could all be over. Not just for me, but for Thranduil as well. I barely even feel the bitter wind whipping through my hair and stinging my skin, or the aching of my limbs as they fight for that last shred of strength to hold on. There's only fear now.

'Elena,' he urges softly, 'listen to me. You were right. I am sorry, but I would hardly be surprised if you never forgave me. Now, please look up, meleth nín.'

'Of course I forgive you. It is my fault too,' I mumble into his neck before tilting my head just enough to see Legolas stood half-out of the window, dangling his hands well within my reach.

'I promise, I will not let you fall,' Thranduil says, and the fear is gone; this is the surest thing he has ever said to me.

'Hold on, Elena!' Legolas beckons to me, and I obey, abandoning all that was holding me back and grabbing firmly onto his hands. Sure enough, he helps me ease my legs up over Thranduil's shoulders and in through the gaping window, setting me down gently on the clammy floor.

Thranduil has followed me before I realise what exactly just occurred. Nor do I have time to pay attention to the screams and snarls of orcs just on the other side of the left wall. I am riveted by the horror in Elidir's eyes as he glances over to his King, who knows full well where we are and whose blood stained this floor nearly three millennia ago.

Breathing out slowly, Thranduil unsheaths his sword. 'It's a trap.'

***

Elvish:
Ada = dad/daddy