unedited
________

The next day as Thranduil was walking through his halls, he noticed that something was terribly wrong. It was... quiet. There was no laughter, no singing, even the distant sounds of the training fields could not be heard. It was as if everything simply stopped. And it wasn't because his elves had too much to drink the night before; they had perfected a juice that could cure any hangover, so that they could tolerate even the strongest of drinks. He himself had used it earlier that morning.

This silence, however, was simply uncanny.

He furrowed his dark brows as he exited his office chambers to investigate the matter. This was so odd, so out of the ordinary, that it couldn't mean anything good had come upon his realm.

There was stillness in his halls and not a soul in sight.

"My Lord!" Someone called for him after several minutes of the king's wonderings.

"Where are my people? Where has everyone gone?" Thranduil demanded, hostility in his voice.

"Your majesty," Galion said breathlessly, it was as if he had ran marathon. "People throughout the kingdom have been taken ill. The healing wing has been overrun with reports of people feeling as if they're about to die!"

"Continue." The king ordered as he turned towards the healing wing at an alarmingly fast speed for one who was only 'walking'.

"Rumors have already begun to spread, they say that someone has tried to poison the Greenwood!"

"What else?"

"There are stories of elves that are dying. Some say that it's a punishment from the Valar for something we have done. Others believe—"

"ENOUGH! This is not a punishment from the Valar. They do not deal so directly anymore. And—" he added with a pregnant pause "we have done nothing wrong."

Every room within the healing halls was in utter chaos. Healers rushed about, tending the sick. Many patients laid on white beds while others were leaning against the walls, clutching at their stomachs and groaning in pain. Others gently rubbed their throats, trying to relieve whatever was burning their throats.

In all his long ancient life Thranduil had never seen such a sight, especially not among his immortal kinsmen. This was something completely new and unknown. And it frightened him.

"My Lord," an ellon said as he came up to Thranduil "as you can see we've been overrun with a mysterious sickness; we are unaware of what it is or what caused it. Please my Lord, you're the best healer we have..."

"Peace Rinir. What needs to be done?"

The next several days were spent by the king taking care of his sick people. Tending the worst of cases, lifting their spirits, and distracting them if only for a short while by his powerful fea.

He could not get a moment's rest for those four, excruciating days. Neither could Galion, who was busy organizing the few elves who had not contracted the illness to care for those who had.

Loki, however was rather amused by this 'outbreak'. He could easily tell that these people were not used to any kind of sickness and found it hilarious how much they thought they were all going to die from this "frightening disease". He was also impressed by the ability of the Elvenking to do, seemingly, everything. Not only did he personally take care of his people but the king also made room for his own meetings that he demanded.

He also decided that Odin could not have managed half as well as Thranduil. Loki smiled to himself. He also knew that he would have been much more capable than this elf without a doubt. Especially with the use of his illusions he could quite literally be everywhere at once.

He chuckled as he walked back to his bed chambers. He was in such a good mood, he felt as if he could fly (without the use of his magic of course)! He will get exactly what he wanted out of the deal and he had caused chaos during the wait. It was times like these that he loved being the god of mischief.

Thranduil did not think the situation was quite so funny. For the past four days he had gotten no rest from anything; as a healer he was needed for his powerful magic, as a ruler he was needed to keep the people calm and organized along with making sure his persnickety guest was well entertained and busy enough not to bother him farther. And as a father he was worried about his son who had gone on patrol mere hours before the first reports came pouring in.

But now the days of panic were over and he wasn't sure if he had ever experienced a longer four days in his ancient existence before or not. It could be hard at times to keep track of such things.

And now that everything was over, Rinir was telling him that this was not an accident, but someone had intentionally poisoned his people.

"orm the captain of the guard. Begin the investigation immediately." The King told one of his personal guards, who nodded once then left the throne room.

"I have reason to believe that the substance used was foxglove and that..." Rinir cleared his throat "it came from my own supply."

"Why? Did you poison them?" The king asked with a glint in his eye.

"Ha no. I didn't notice it missing. I hadn't needed it since treating..." at this his voice gave out. There was no need for saying the name.

Thranduil rose form his throne. Slowly coming to stand atop the first step to his seat of power. "Do you understand what you are accusing him of? Are you aware of what such accusations could bring?" The first spark of anger was in his voice as he circled the now jittery healer.

"Your majesty, I was only stating a fact..."

"A fact that places blame upon the innocent."

"I did not mean to place blame on him. I know he his incapable of doing this." Earnestness was in his tone, but the king only stared at his friend until a guard came to inform him that two witnesses had been found.

"Bring them." Was all he said to the guard with no-name.

Thranduil walked up to his throne and draped himself across it.

Rinir knew better than to fall for this facade. He was well aware that he had sparked his friend's anger. He knew how Thranduil was able to have sparks set off, then turn around and be cold the next. That is until something else ignites that flame of anger again. That is when one turned to ash by the heat of his emotions.

So Rinir stood off to the side hoping, praying that nothing would ignite that second flame.

By the time the two witnesses arrived with a nod to the healer and a bow for the king. The two friends had schooled their faces so it appeared as is they were bored out of their minds, and wanted nothing more than to get the duo news they were surely about to receive out of the way and onto more interesting things. For Rinir that might be reading a book without being disturbed by anyone or anything (unless it was his two children, in his opinion they never visited him enough). For Thranduil that might be sitting by a fire, sipping on his prized Dorwininian wine, or practicing his broody face on his throne— which he was doing right now...

"I thought it was rather odd to see him." Said Haimadri, although he was more commonly known as 'The Chef', "usually Legolas is either up enjoying the party or hiding down in the kitchens. But that night I asked him if he wanted to try my newest batch of berry tarts, and he gave me the most disgusted look. Then he simply stalked off into the cellars without saying a word..."

"And what do you have to say on the matter?" The king asked gently of the of the slight kitchen maid. He saw the mark of fear through the hint of the tremor running through her being. "Take your time."

"Lego- I mean the Prince- he..." she took a shuddering breath as the Chef gently patter her back. She breathed in, gathering whatever courage she could summon. "I was going down to the cellars to count how many wine barrels were used and to see how many more we would need to bring up for the celebration of the treaty that you created with-"

"Lhinniel." Haimadri gently prodded.

"Apologies. When I went down like I was told, I found the Prince putting a strange yellowed substance into a few of the wine barrels. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me not to worry about that. That i should worry about... other things."

"What do you mean?" The King asked out of confusion.

"He... he stated coming at me. There was something in his eyes... something..."

Coming down from his throne Thranduil took the girl's hands, and gently encouraged her to tell him what it was.

"Lust." Was the answer which caused the father's dark brow to furrow. "He start to back me up... he's never... I mean we... the Prince has always been so kind to al of us... I don't understand why he... I thank Varda that Banu helped me..."

The brittleness of his voice rang in her ear as he told her of his own incomprehension.

With a grand on her back he gently guided Lhinniel towards Haimadri. "You may leave us."

The Chef escorted her out of the throne, room and back to the kitchens. The best place where he could make her some muffins to help her feel better.

The doors to the throne room shut. Thranduil demanded Banu's presence without delay. Then he wheeled around and stalked toward his seat of power. The guard with no-name rushed out in search of the servant.

'There it is.' Rinir though, 'Now is the time of fire.'

The Thranduil's eyes were ablaze, just as his face was impassive.

Banu entered. Once he went through all the formalities that one must do when summoned by a king, he began to tell them of how he had gone down to the cellars to fetch something for one of the guests. When went down he heard a female voice begging for someone to stop. Banu turned around the corner, and he felt the hollowness of when you heart stops beating. "A blond ellon had pushed Lhinniel flush against the far wall. This person" he spat the word like a curse. "was forcefully ravishing her neck as she begged for him to stop. But he didn't. I shouted for him to have some decency and to get off her. And when he turned around it was the prince! Then he warned us both to not tell a soul about what had occurred. After that he simply left."

As the story progressed Thranduil's eyes seemed to become dimmer and dimmer. Until finally his icy blue eyes only showed the coldness that he projected.

It felt as if someone had driven a knife into his heart then slowly pull it out. Allowing for his spirit to leak out of what was left of heart, along with the blood it once harbored.