In Middle Earth a wide variety of creatures exist. There are the more commonly known such as orcs, wargs, and trolls. But there are some that few know about and even fewer have seen. Creatures like werewolves, shapeshifters, and vampires. It was almost 2000 years ago that Thranduil had met some of these creatures, but it was the vampires he will never forget. For it was in that one incident that his life had been changed forever.

Thranduil sat silently lounging on his throne. It had been a little over a month now since the battle at the foot of the Lonely Mountain had ended. The last great dragon Smaug was dead, the dwarves reclaimed their mountain, and the people of Lake-Town became the people of Dale. Legolas had set out on his own after the battle. It had caused him great sorrow to see his son go, but he also understood why the young prince had left. He needed to see the world, and who was he to keep his son from it. Thranduil sighed heavily. He hated to admit it but he was bored. It had been three weeks since the funeral for the dwarven prince Thorin Oakenshield. Thranduil had laid the sword Orcrist on the dwarf's grave as a sign of peace between his people and the dwarves. He had been given back the jewels the dwarf's grandfather had stolen and no longer harbored any grievances. His kingdom was at peace and it made him happy to see his people safe, but it still left him with an undeniable boredom he could not seem to satisfy and his people were beginning to notice. He was becoming more and more restless each passing day. But it wasn't all due to his insufferable boredom. An old hunger, one the elven king thought he had buried long ago, was beginning to wake and stir from its two century long rest. Thranduil sighed again absentmindedly twirling his staff between his fingers. The amber top reflecting the daylight creeping in through the cracks in the trees. Just as he was about to get up and stroll around the grounds for the fifth time today a guard came running up the long walk way towards him. The elf kneeled before the throne's stairs and addressed his king in elvish tongue.

"My King Thranduil there is a man at the castle gates requesting an audience with you. He says his name is Bard King of Dale. What would you have us do my King?"

Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Why was the bowman here? Surely not for a visit or word would have been sent at least a week in advanced. Perhaps something had happened. An orc attack maybe?

"Guard, tell me, how many man does the Dale King have in his company?"

"None sire. He stands alone save for his horse."

Thranduil's brows furrowed in confusion. He rides alone? A king riding alone to another King's land was unheard of. Thranduil found himself intrigued.

"Let him pass. Take his horse to the stables then lead him here to me. I will grant him an audience."

With that the guard bowed his head, climbed to his feet, then took off running back down the path. Thranduil brought his right leg down from the arm of the chair crossing it over his left as he leaned into the back of his throne. He taped his staff against the floor as he thought of what the new King could possible be here for. In the end it was a nice distraction from the boredom and the hunger...at least for now any way.