Mysteries of War

Thranduil studied Tolvaris with a blank expression for several moments before gesturing for his guard to allow him closer. He took to the steps leading to a pulpit, standing six feet from the ground. Legolas followed closely, unconcerned with whether or not his father approved. They stopped several feet from each other and Tolvaris clasped his hands together before him.

Thranduil stared down at the half-elf. "I find your claim difficult to believe, given the circumstances," he finally remarked. He refused to entertain Tolvaris' statement seriously but there was much he might learn if he pretended to.

"As you must have learned by now, Seren is not what she seems," Tolvaris said simply. "You cannot take anything about her for granted. I believed her lost until I dreamed of her. I sent Lagdar to ascertain if my vision was real. No one was more surprised than I to learn of a curious human living among the wood elves."

"A human to which you claim kinship..." Legolas pointed out.

"She was once a full-blood elf. I am half-blood on account of our father. Seren came with him to the shores of Middle Earth. I have no explanation for how she has changed so." Tolvaris tilted his head submissively and Thranduil frowned thoughtfully.

He paced away, tossing a suspicious glance toward the elf. "What you claim is not possible. It is more likely she simply resembles your long lost sibling."

Fury flickered in Tolvaris's eyes. "I have seen her, king Thranduil. She IS my father's daughter."

Thranduil stopped. "What of her mother?"

Tolvaris' ire wilted. "Father never spoke of her. She perished during the first war between elves."

Thranduil's lips flattened. "The kinslayings at Alqualonde…"

"The Noldoran revolt," Legolas murmured. "She's from Valinor…"

The elvenking's features registered nothing in response to this and a corner of his mouth twitched. "Of what crime is she guilty?"

Tolvaris straightened. "She is responsible for the death of our father. She defied him and divulged secrets to our enemy. He was struck down when he tried to stop her."

Thranduil let the accusations settle into his thoughts, weighing them.

"Father?" Legolas said softly enough so only he could hear. "Could he speak the truth?"

The king flicked a brief glance to his son before scowling again at Tolvaris. "I do not know, but it is unlikely. Tolvaris believes this to be true, yet there is more to his claims than he would have us know. He is hiding much." This last was said with a soft and resolute growl that made his features harden.

"This conflict need not continue," Tolvaris offered amicably when the silence stretched on. "Surrender Seren to me and we will leave."

A sudden gust of cold wind made the Easterlings flinch and snow stung their exposed skin. Thranduil peered down at the humans, unaffected by the day's bluster.

"You have given me no reason to trust the honor of your word for the accusations you have made and I do not entertain ultimatums," Thranduil announced haughtily. He turned away with a dismissive wave and his forces closed ranks and began to recede back toward the mountain. "You can remain out here and meet your end in this storm."

The howl died away for a moment and Tolvaris shook his hair from his face. "You consign your people to death for a coward and a criminal, king Thranduil! I will give you until this time tomorrow to reconsider your decision."

The elvenking exhaled sharply through his nose, thinking long and hard about the well-being of his people. It was possible there was a kernel of truth to Tolvaris' claims, though his instincts were vehemently insisting it would be a dire mistake to bring Seren in front of him.

He paused at the entrance into the mountain, allowing himself a minute to grapple with what he was committing to. If he accepted the offer, he would be giving an unknown magic to men who, in the past, had served Sauron. Thus far, Tolvaris had made no mention of the nature of Seren's abilities but he dared not speak of them himself for his own ignorance about them would be exposed. If he refused to let them take her, he would have to meet them in battle and more of his kin would die. Neither option bode well and he would not allow one thought of his personal hesitation to cross his mind, clenching his jaw against the ache it brought.

Thranduil released a heavy breath and took long strides into the mountain and Legolas fell into step next to him.

They almost collided with Halloran as she rushed toward the door.

"My lords!" She whipped down into a bow and straightened with a flourish. "I've come with news. It's Seren -"

Thranduil didn't slow as he traversed the walkway leading to the main corridors and Halloran huffed to keep up.

"She healed Nuineri and put something in my head!"

Abruptly the king halted and rounded on Halloran. He waited for her to come to attention but her gaze tracked off into the distance.

"The heart! I have to find the dragon's heart, she told me."

"Smaug's heart?" Legolas asked.

Halloran frowned at him and nodded vigorously. "'Set it ablaze with its own flame' she said… I could see it..."

Thranduil spoke calmly to keep the erratic elf on track. Never had he seen such a trick as this. "How did Seren heal the dragon's blood curse?"

Halloran's face went slack with awe. "There was silver light…everywhere...and I could hear the sound of water - feel the light of the moon… When it faded, Nuineri was well. I told Ceridwen I would inform you and then She did something to my mind!"

"Seren?" Legolas asked.

"Yes!"

"Did this image reveal the heart's location? Could you find it?" Thranduil asked.

Halloran blinked, her eyes like saucers and shook her head. "I know what to look for. I will know it when I see it."

Thranduil glanced pointedly at his son who took Halloran by the arm, leading her away.

"We have to plan a search for it. I need you to tell me everything you can," Legolas said as they wandered off.

Thranduil continued on, more pressed than ever to reach Seren. When he arrived at the healer's ward, the sight of wounded that lay dying of the Dragon's Heart poison halted his steps and held him fast. The salutations to his title went unheard as he gazed around the room, listening to his kin as they fought to keep their pain to themselves.

Seren stood before a window and had yet to acknowledge him. Ceridwen stumbled in from her storeroom, and struggled to bow with her arms burdened.

"King Thranduil!"

Nuineri and Varis arrived behind the healer, similarly laden with poultices and salves.

"Halloran spoke the truth…" he said awestruck as the cook stood before him, unblemished by her wounds.

"Yes, my lord," Nuineri agreed.

He openly stared with awe for a moment longer and then approached Seren. He went still when he saw her properly and gently touched her face. The soft luminance in her skin coalesced around his fingertips and his eyes widened at the energy he felt under his touch. She shifted slightly, pulling away from him to gaze past his shoulder to the sky outside.

"She's been like this since she healed Nuineri," Ceridwen offered.

Thranduil didn't take his eyes off of Seren. "Tell me everything."

Eleros, Nuinethir and Tellis crowded into a room with Legolas and Halloran, who couldn't stop pacing and staring northward.

"If we are to find Smaug's heart," Legolas said, "we must decipher what Seren meant."

"It lives where nothing thrives," Halloran repeated immediately.

Legolas' brow furrowed thoughtfully. "What does it mean?"

Halloran shook her head, cursing the chaos Seren had made of her thoughts. She stared to the north again. "That way... More will come to me once we go."

"There is a blizzard approaching," Tellis pointed out. "It would be wise to wait for it to pass."

"No!" Halloran insisted. "We will find it in the storm. We must…"

"If we find passage difficult, our enemy will find it especially perilous," Nuinethir retorted. "I say we should try."

"We may never have a better chance," Eleros agreed.

Tellis sighed and made a gesture of resignation.

Legolas grinned. "Then it's settled; as soon as we can organize a search, we go."

Tellis laid his arms over each other across his chest. "Until we figure out how to 'set the heart ablaze with its own flame' finding it will be the least of our concerns."

Legolas scowled. The advisor had a point. Seren's cryptic statement mentioned nothing of how to achieve a fire with dragon's blood. It was poisonous rather than flammable. "We will have to ask again."

The wind battered his army as Tolvaris led them back to the only cave big enough for most of them. The raised ridge helped to protect the rest but it would still be a miserable night. The minor houses that had withdrawn from the battle earlier hadn't set up their tents and Tolvaris could see their leaders preparing to leave.

One of their commanders wandered close and Tolvaris hurried over to stall him, grabbing his blue coat by the sleeve but the man didn't wait for the half-elf to speak.

"You failed, son of Tolind. We will not wait to die for your foolishness."

"I have given the elves until morning to answer my demand, lord Duroz. You forfeit a chance at glory and rich reward with your impatience."

In the midst of their white surroundings and his snow covered wool, commander Duroz's ruddy face appeared to float ghoulishly in the air as he leaned in close.

"You failed to remove the Guardian. King Thranduil will never hand her to you if he has the slightest inkling what she is and he's not one to miss such a detail. The dragon poison was supposed to be your upper hand against the elves and it's useless so long as she lives! Now the heart threatens us all. I won't allow half my army to die in this storm so the other half can die in a pointless battle, meant solely to stroke your pride."

Duroz yanked his arm free and marched away, telling his men to continue readying for their return trip home. The remaining houses began to march out and Duroz's contingent soon followed. Tolvaris watched them go, features contorted with fury.

"What now?" Lagdar asked him. "We need them to force Thranduil's hand."

"No," Tolvaris said flatly. "The One Who Serves has always provided for my family..." He flattened his lips together and glared at the clans abandoning him.

Lagdar paled at the mention of their powerful master but his curiosity kept him from finding something better to do.

Tolvaris strode to his tent and whipped the flap aside. Ornate iron furniture stood in stark contrast to the pale color of the hides and he sagged as warmth from the fire, standing central in the space, seeped into his bones. His desk and chair stood to the right and he spied the little ornate black and gold box he kept near him. He lifted it, taking out a glass phial. A reddish, black ash swirled inside and Lagdar shuddered upon seeing the stuff.

Tolvaris grinned. "This is all that remains of our last dragon heart. For centuries this poison secured our house and made it what it is today."

He snatched up a quiver of arrows and plucked five from it before sitting and placing a small glass bowl before him. He tugged the stopper in the vial free, gently tapping it until the dried old blood drifted into the waiting bowl and then added several drops of water. Using an arrow, Tolvaris stirred the mixture until the water was entirely reddish black and had noticeably thickened, coating the arrow's tip. Satisfied he set it aside and admired the liquid's shine in the firelight for a moment before repeating the treatment with the other four arrows. He placed all but one in Lagdar's hands.

"Gather our best archers and see these are delivered to each of our friends. It seems only fitting to mark the beginning of a new era for the houses of Rhun with a time honored Tol tradition. And when the clans have seen reason, bring them back to camp. Tomorrow, king Thranduil will give us Seren because he will have no choice." He smirked with such arrogance, he showed his teeth in a cruel grin. "Once we are assured of her death, we can proceed with extinguishing the light of every elf in that mountain."

"Seren," Thranduil called to her softly.

She heard him. She heard all of them. They were among dozens of thoughts, hundreds of perceptions and thousands of possibilities swirling in her mind. She hadn't gone anywhere but her head was too full. She couldn't move, couldn't think, didn't know if she felt hunger or thirst; she merely was. She was a glass through which everything passed. She felt the world more than saw it. She heard its sorrow and its joy. She couldn't focus on anything for long but her memories of the king pressed everything back just enough and her gaze met his.

Thranduil's breath left him heavily. "You are still there…"

She managed a slight strained upward twitch of her lips and breathed deeply, resisting a strong and foreign thought to return her attention inward: I will wait no longer…

Gently Thranduil touched her cheek with the barest caress and he was drawn impulsively in for more, slowly opening his palm to curl it fully over her features. His gaze wouldn't move from the emerald depths boring into him and his body went rigid. He was snared and he was consumed whole. His eyes fell closed, so suddenly heavy he could not resist. Seren was indeed there. A flood of thoughts not his own abruptly filled his mind and a silent cry parted his lips as a keen understanding instantly settled within him, resolute as stone.

Images, perceptions and awareness washed through him. A beginning of knowledge and exploration, then darkness and tragedy and following that the chaos of a sense of self split in two stretched him. He beheld glowing trees and a small human family laughing around a humble setting not of Middle Earth. A song he didn't recognize but knew well played notes no one else heard but he and a servant of all things that grow. A friend near death and an undeniable impulse to reach for her brought a flash of silver light and held him there…

Words not spoken but understood as if they had just been uttered, left an unheeded warning: "If you do this, I will have no choice…. You meddle with something not meant for you - not as you are. To disregard the rules is to invite your end and you will have to choose… I have waited so you can learn and understand, such is the gift you refuse with this action…"

Determination washed away the words with a flood of light and the consequences were thought acceptable, no matter their severity.

The choice of kindred.. Thranduil felt his mind slow over the epiphany and narrow to that one notion for a moment that stretched endlessly. As suddenly as it began, the vision ended and he stumbled a single step before regaining his balance and gazing upon Seren's still visage.

Confusion and wonder stole his breath. "Peredhil...

Seren didn't reply.

The sky was far too dull to cast the reflections of light in the depths of her eyes. Her thoughts drifted around her and his awareness of her filled the room. It prickled his nerves. Such is war, no matter the battlefield...

"There is no telling how long she will be catatonic, my lord," Ceridwen said, coming up behind him and stopping a few paces away.

Slack with shock, he moved not one whit. "She is Peredhil... she must choose… "

Ceridwen blinked. "How…? There are so few and none have been born in recent history."

"I do not know, but I hope to have a chance to discover the answer."

Ceridwen smirked at the back of his head, keeping her thoughts to herself but amused with them all the same.

A crash ended her musings and all eyes turned to Menui, who had dropped the tray of bandages and utensils she'd been carrying, though her expression didn't register the accident. She ran from the room, wordlessly and didn't respond to her mother's calls to return.

Thranduil stared after the child and wondered about her behavior until his son strode into the room.

"Father… Halloran thinks we need to go north to find Smaug's Heart."

Thranduil pressed his lips together. "Into the storm…"

"Yes."

"Set the Heart ablaze with its own flame," Seren said for the second time.

They found her staring at them, eyes intent on Legolas but her face remained impassive.

"How?" Legolas asked her.

For a long moment it seemed she wouldn't respond and the sounds of agony from the other end of the ward echoed unnaturally in the tense silence. She turned again, now facing the dying elves and one in particular started to cry out as his body turned to embers.

"Fire needs something to burn…" the prince murmured.

The dying elf released a final cry that dried into a long croak, followed by the whisper of falling ash as his body crumbled.

Thranduil burst into movement, crossing the room in long strides and grasping a lantern burning brightly on the wall. He dumped the fire and its swaddling into the nearby fireplace and placed fresh kindling sticks in the basin.

Legolas took the iron tongs from the mantle and went to the dead elf's bed.

"You can't take one of our people's remains!" Ceridwen protested as she understood what was happening.

"His death is absolute," Thranduil pointed out. "They are of no value and will soon be lost, turned to ash."

"This must be done now," Legolas added. "Or we will have to wait for another to perish."

Ceridwen subsided and stepped away from them, head down. Legolas rushed to the glowing embers and plucked a clump from the bedding, dropping it into the lantern Thranduil held. The fire sparked but didn't catch the kindling and began to dim.

Legolas scowled. "This will be out before we reach the bridge."

The flames licked a little higher at the soiled bandaging clinging to the lump of embers and the king watched it, transfixed. "Dragon's Heart consumes life."

Abruptly he pulled one of his swords partially from its scabbard and swiped his palm along the fine blade. Crimson flowed over the pads of his fingers and he squeezed the wound over the flames.

Both elves blinked as the flames roared suddenly higher, their color taking on a reddish hue on the edges and the center burned a bright golden white. The fire rippled with a scalloped diamond pattern and followed a serpentine rhythm.

A grim smile graced Legolas's features and he took the lantern from his father, closing the little panes of glass.

"Now we only need to keep it lit."

Thranduil nodded at the clean bandages Menui had dropped and Legolas gathered them. He passed a roll to his father to clean his cut and the blood smeared cloth was tossed into the lantern a moment later.

With an abrupt nod, Legolas strode from the room, snatching more bandages from a nearby table as he passed.

"Leithenil..." Galadriel whispered, gazing at the path ahead.

Elrond stopped beside her and scowled at the kinder, warmer passage northward. "You believe she did this?"

Galadriel merely smiled with a certainty only she possessed and stepped a few paces forward. "I know this magic well. It has been ages since I've felt it but I would know it anywhere."

Elrond's lips flattened as he considered this. The path in which they stood began not far from the city of men known as Esgaroth and the direction it lay led straight to the kingdom of woodland elves. Within the borders of the path, the storm seemed muted, softer and not as cold. He smiled when he spotted a young small tree swaying from the breeze.

"The sickness of Mirkwood has been lifted here," Elrond noted. He turned to Galadriel. "It couldn't have been your doing…"

The older elf's eyes twinkled with a pointed look. "Come Lord Elrond, a much overdue reunion awaits."

She spun from him then and began to march over the soft snow packed terrain. Her retinue fell into step on either side of her, leaving her son-in-law to follow as he would.

Legolas checked his gear and supplies a final time before asking each of his kinsmen about their readiness. All reported they were ready and double checked their weapons were secure.

Halloran paced incessantly, her pack clinking with glass bottles, poultices & medicines given to them by Ceridwen. The warrior itched to be on their journey, more so for the strange impetus placed in her head than any real desire to trek through a storm, searching for a dragon's heart. Even if she were not an excellent tracker, she would've known the direction she needed to follow. The pull in her thoughts would have guided her north. It was a maddening sensation.

When the prince gave the command to head for the doors, she all but sprinted to the kingdom's main passage.

Legolas felt his stomach drop as he left the warmth and safety of the mountain, trailing behind Halloran. Snow stung his skin and the forest was nearly lost amid a canvas of dull white. Night would be falling soon but it was nearly dark despite it being late in the afternoon. He checked the lantern he held, to be sure the fire inside still flickered well, The glass protected it from the worst of the weather but streams of icy wind slithered into the vents that kept it from getting too hot and it sparked erratically.

To himself he muttered, "I hope this works."

Ahead of him, Halloran couldn't hear as she picked her way precisely around the trees and slopes of their home, despite the terrible visibility.

Behind him Tellis, Eleros and Nuinethir copied his footsteps and his words were lost to the howling wind.

Thranduil shifted from one foot to another, lightly holding his right arm around his middle, pinning his hand with an elbow and grimaced faintly. Ceridwen watched him, eyes narrowed.

"Does something trouble you, king Thranduil?"

He dropped his hands, clasping them behind his back. "A father's worry…"

She smiled understanding and approached him, to stand before Seren as well and peruse the unchanged expression.

"Had you crowned him king, you could have undertaken his mission."

The king allowed the remark. It wasn't false. "He does not want the crown, though he is still young enough to grow into it."

Ceridwen nodded absently. "There may come a day when he finds himself wearing it regardless."

Thranduil didn't refute her.

Unease bloomed in her stomach but before she could think of a way to voice the feeling, the shuffling of feet broke her attention.

Menui huffed under the weight of Seren's easel, several canvasses and the satchel of brushes and inks. Her feet slid over the stone flooring in quick tiny steps as the cargo impeded her knees.

The healer snickered and went to help the child. "Goodness!"

Menui set the easel not far from Seren and began setting it up with a canvas.

Thranduil watched curiously as the paints and brushes and inks were prepared for use.

"What do you intend with this?"

Menui met the king's gaze, eyes going round.

"Seren has no need of these things," he added.

"She asked for them," Menui said in a rush, "in my head but without words."

Once everything was ready, they stood and waited, watching Seren but there was no change. She remained as unreachable as ever, her gaze drawn to the world outside.

Snow stung his eyes as Legolas tried to see what it was Halloran declared to be a sign of the Heart's proximity. The immediate vicinity was bleak, grey with the snow-covered sick trees of Mirkwood and had only grown harder to see through in the hours since they struck out from their mountain home.

"There!" She pointed.

His gaze followed and at first nothing seemed out of place. Then he saw a vulture, flying in the storm against all good sense and drifting close to a thick wall of swirling snow churning in the gales just north of the ridge behind which they stood. The creature swooped down and forward only to veer left and circle away as if physically repelled. Whatever it sought, it refused to give up and attempted again to fly into the expanse ahead of it. This time it continued and immediately its flight faltered. The bird listed to the right and continued for a moment before the wings spontaneously folded. The body rolled face up, the wings slack out to the sides as the animal fell out of sight.

"It lives where nothing thrives," Legolas intoned.

"There goes another," Tellis pointed out just before a second bird plummeted to the ground.

"The ridge…" Eleros murmured. "It is only when the birds cross the border that they fall. How will it affect us?"

Everyone in the group shuffled nervously save Legolas. "They use the Heart for poison. If Tolvaris can withstand it, so can we."

Halloran yelled for them and they saw she had drawn several dozens of paces ahead and was near the base of the ridge. They hurried after her, breath puffing thick enough into the air to obscure their vision further. Legolas shivered. They would soon have to find shelter for the night.

"Halloran!" He called out to her.

She stopped and beckoned them toward her. A dark narrow gap took shape through the white haze and soon they entered a crevasse in the ridge. It was barely wide enough for them to slip through sideways single file but the relief from the wind was immediate and profound.

Tellis gasped with the freedom of breathing properly. "This is utter madness! We should return to our halls and wait -"

"No!" Halloran's eyes were entirely round and lit with a manic gleam. "We are close."

"We won't be able to get any closer in this blizzard."

"Do you not see?" She demanded of the advisor. "The Heart is the cause of this storm. We are near its center. Until it is destroyed, the storm will remain."

Legolas scowled. "How can you know this?"

Her eyes darted to him. "It consumes life. Everything life needs to survive, it destroys: warmth, sunlight, the essence of creation…"

Halloran squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head, placing a hand on the side of her skull and breathing deep to steady her thoughts. "Seren showed me the storm but I didn't understand. It's no accident I am pulled closer to the center. The Heart lies there."

The buffing wind pulsed outside their shelter and the cadence of it snared Legolas's attention.

Tellis sneered. "So we should take that human's word for it?"

"Listen…" Legolas muttered.

Tellis didn't hear him. "You have all taken leave of your senses to place such blind trust -"

"Listen!" Legolas commanded and it echoed over the rock.

Tellis watched him with wide eyes.

"The wind, listen to it."

A soft yet distinct dual thump echoed rhythmically under the howls and whistles.

"A heartbeat," Nuinethir said. "Legolas, that heart cannot still live!"

"Smaug's darkness will not soon be forgotten by the world. We have never had need of the Heart but who is to say removing it from his corpse wouldn't carry dire consequences?"

Eleros exhaled angrily. "We should've destroyed Smaug's remains when we had the chance, no matter what the humans wished!"

"Now his hatred for life will poison the land," Halloran said quietly.

"All the more reason to destroy it," Legolas said grimly.

Menui sat on an empty bed, trying to dispel her melancholy. The king had long since left the infirmary to see to management matters of the kingdom and Ceridwen was once again hard at work making medicines, salves and bandages. Varis came to check on her and to see if there was any change in Seren and she was fussing over the human's hair, combing it free of tangles. The sky had grown dark and the wind howled piercingly against the windows.

She knew it had to be getting late when her mother left to see to her kitchen. She thought of going there where it was warm and smelled of spiced bread but she didn't want to deal with the activity right now. Again she stared at Seren who hadn't moved an inch closer to her easel.

A particularly nasty wind whistling past startled her and she thought of her flute. The idea of drowning out the storm lit her features with glee and she scurried to the table she'd left the instrument on and unrolled the parchment of sheet notes she'd made earlier.

She started with the quiet soft notes and her fingers drifted over the reed. The song was still as pretty as she remembered and Menui smiled against the mouth of her flute.

The sound of a brush whispering over a canvas reached her ears and she nearly dropped her flute when she whirled around. Seren stood before her easel, a brush in her hand and her features strained with concentration.

"Seren? Can you hear me?"

Menui watched for recognition or a pause in brush strokes but Seren continued on. The reed was warm in her hand and Menui exhaled sharply before returning to the song. The strains flowed through the room and the storm punctuated the song in the places where other instruments belonged and all the while, Seren's brush never stopped.

Nuineri surveyed the occupied dinner hall, noting the subdued air. Everyone was somber as the day's events and concern for the prince weighed on their minds. Many had lost loved ones or would soon. News of why Legolas went out into the storm had traveled thoroughly through the population and the tenuous hope it offered was palpable. No one dared speak of it so the conversation lull was strained and bland pleasantries.

The cook smiled sadly at them before turning away to gather the king's tray. The hallways were eerily silent after a day of hurried activity to respond to the Easterlings' attack. More lanterns had been lit as shudders had been placed over the arches in the stone that normally allowed the moon's glow to light the passages. The wind rattled the wood and the air was cold. She shivered and hastened her steps.

She found the elvenking seated on his throne, conversing with the remainder of his advisors. He nodded minutely at her in acknowledgement as she silently set the tray on a nearby table.

Abruptly he stood from his perch upon the dais, his gaze alight with interest. "Music…"

"My lord?" An advisor looked up from the scroll he'd been reading from.

"Continue with the new implementations," he ordered, sweeping down the steps of his throne, passing his dinner and all but running from the cavern.

Nuineri hurried after him, though she hadn't heard any music. Soon enough however, she could hear the ethereal notes of her daughter's flute too.

"It's Menui…"

Thranduil said nothing in reply and worry over the king's ire gnawed in her belly.

The music grew louder as he came into the healer's wing and he swept around the end of the wall into the ward, his hair drifting after him. Immediately he noticed the change and gazed upon Seren. Ceridwen, Varis and many others stood around the room watching the human as she painted furiously upon her canvas and Menui as her flute produced a fine melody. When she saw him she merely played on.

Nuineri blinked as her daughter ignored everyone including herself and the king and played with nimble confidence. Smiles adorned the faces of the suffering and wounded in the ward.

Varis slipped closer. "Her mastery of the instrument has grown considerably," she told Nuineri.

The cook could only stare at her dumbstruck.

Thranduil came to Seren's right shoulder and his mouth fell open, his features pained. The scene of Thorin Oakenshield's funeral was unmistakable. He lay still and arrayed to noble magnificence. Orcrist glistened with painted light as vibrantly as if it lay before them.

"The end of the line of Durin," Thranduil murmured softly. "An event that took place five years before she arrived here…"

"She's been doing this for hours now," Ceridwen said and gestured to several paintings standing on the deep window ledges, leaning against the glass. Surveying them, he began to understand.

The nearest one was a rendering of an elf who had passed during the battle at the Lonely Mountain. The man had golden hair and clear blue eyes, like the child who now played beautiful music. The image was fuzzy around the edges, painted that way deliberately and the face smiled as he watched. His hair fluttered by a breeze and he reached out of the confines of the painting. Thranduil felt a finger tuck his hair behind an ear and the sound of a giggle arose. Sunlight warmed his skin and the sounds of water flowed nearby.

Abruptly the illusion ended and he reached reflexively for his immaculate locks feeling foolish and staring wide eyed at the painting, now still once again.

Ceridwen watched him knowingly. "Menui's father…"

"These are memories." Thranduil murmured as he set the painting back in place.

An image of Tauriel grabbed his attention. The overly warm light of the image made his hand tremble when he reached for it. It could be none other than his son's memory.

It was her profile, lit by the midday sun, her hair aflame with its light as it eddied and swirled from the gentle currents brought by the waterfall below.

"You cannot hunt thirty orcs, on your own."

She turned to him. "But I am not on my own."

How well she knows me…. His chest ached with the thought. "You knew I would come."

She smiled and his heart paced faster.

"The king is angry, Tauriel. For six hundred years my father protected you, favored you. You defied his orders. You betrayed his trust. Come back with me. He will forgive you."

"But I will not. If I go back I will never forgive myself."

She turned from him, scowling with confusion. "The king has never let orc filth roam our lands, yet he would let this orc pack cross our borders and kill our prisoners."

A half-hearted rebuttal he did not believe but for the sake of loyalty to his father fell from his lips. "It is not our fight!"

She turned toward him,walking closer, fire in her eyes. "It is our fight. It will not end here. With every victory this evil will grow. If your father has his way, we will do nothing! We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light and let darkness descend. Are we not part of this world? Tell me, mellon, when did we let evil become stronger than us?"

Despite his father's wishes he felt this to be true as well and his gaze narrowed to have his heart spoken so plainly back to him. All thought of bringing Tauriel home seemed foolish now.

Thranduil slammed the painting down and backed away from it, ire churning like acid under his breast. No one dared speak to him though he felt their gazes upon him. His breath was ragged. He'd seen the moment his son was lost to her whims and shame burned through him to think it was an intimation of his cowardice Tauriel used to sway him.

It took several long moments to calm his anger and as he stared into nothing, a painting began to glow with light. His brow furrowed as he picked it up, now oblivious to the others. The image was a pair of shadows - two trees in a valley on a small hill. There was little light in the image but soon the trees began to glow softly. One was of silver hue, the other golden.

He felt soft grass on his bare feet and could smell the wet earth and rain in the air as flowers opened their petals again to sweeten the earthy scent.

"Leithenil!"

A friend filled her vision, her hair falling in liquid golden waves over her shoulders, cobalt eyes penetrating and her soft smoky voice teasing as she smirked.

"Tutor with me. Melian is kind but I should prefer to have a friend to learn with."

The trees once again took center stage in the memory. "For Laurelin and Telperion, I will ask and hope she will have me."

"How could she not? None are so skilled with Yavanna's gifts as you."

Pride was a warm sensation in this memory and the view was once again of blue all-seeing eyes. "You are a dear friend, but my power is nothing compared to yours."

Those blue eyes softened and yet seemed to laugh at the same time. "To nurture growing things requires a different sort of power than raw force." Now her friend gazed somberly. "I go to Melian to learn temperance."

Leithenil took her friend's hands in her own and her red locks fell over them. "Dispel this melancholy, Galadriel. Come… our destiny awaits!"

The room tilted dizzyingly as the memory released Thranduil. The painting in his hands was again still and he sat heavily on a nearby bed, eyes wide. He replayed what he'd seen, analyzing it. The memory belonged to one who had known the Lady of Lothlorien in a time long forgotten and no one in this kingdom - not even himself - could claim that. He recalled the clasped hands and studied Seren's head of ruby tresses and already he knew whose memory this was.

"Leithenil."

Seren stopped her frantic painting and bored him with a bright gaze.

Slowly he stood and went to her, his legs shaky under his weight. "That was who you were before, as a guardian of the Trees…"

Her features flickered with confusion but a severe scowl took its place a moment later and a heavy voice filled the room. "THE CHILD MUST CHOOSE!"

"How did she come to this?" Thranduil rushed to inquire.

Seren's expression became distant. "To keep the most precious of my rules, I had to break others but it is not my story to tell."

The elvenking frowned thoughtfully. "What rule could be so important?"

Seren returned the paint brush to her canvas before answering, "The chance for atonement."

"What of the quest my son is on?"

The voice within Seren laughed without mirth. "It is all the help you will get from me. Destroying the heart will lift its curse so that Seren may stop defying me."

The paint brush resumed its hectic strokes and Thranduil stepped away, watching her.

Nuineri voiced the question they all wanted to ask, "What could she possibly have to atone for?"

Thranduil gazed once more upon the painting in his hands and the silhouettes of the Trees standing serenely over a lush valley and wondered.