Chapter 18

It was a little past enedhor – noon when Turi grunted her way up the palace walkway on the return leg from her journey to see Taryan.

She obsessed as she ran, seeing all kinds of imaginary dangers lurking around the king. Areurion in a dark corner with a dagger. Areurion pushing Thranduil down a flight of stairs, or out of a window. Areurion aiming an arrow at the king's heart.

As she pushed forward through the reinforced gates of the palace – the structure still wasn't completely stabilized after the explosions – she second-guessed every decision she'd made so far on the case.

She was terrified she'd let everyone down, including herself. How could she have missed the personal connections behind the attacks? Why were the perpetrators still free, the body count rising?

Some sharp turns and jogging through halls later, she blew into the throne room like a small storm. But the throne was empty, and the place seemed deserted. Turi stood there for a minute, panting and resting her hands on her knees, her mind frantically running over the possibilities of where she might find the king.

Someone however had followed her in, moving with the grace of a feral cat. Crossing her arms as she leaned against the door behind Turi, a haughty voice rung out. 'You have high expectations, don't you little Sinda – Sindarin elf?'

Turi swiveled around to find herself face to face with Reinilian, who had her eyes trained squarely on her. 'What do you mean?' Turi spoke, still trying to get her breath back to normal.

'I'll tell you what I see.' Reinilian spoke with the cold and calculated voice of someone who wants to inflict pain but is presenting it like facts and logic, as if motivated by friendly concern.

'I see a young elf who has a big crush' she paused and smirked 'on the great king, and is trying hard to impress him.' Turi grunted at the young, but patiently let the lady feather snoot continue. 'But dear' she looked at Turi as if pitying her 'you must realize that, well, you are just not suitable as a companion to the king. Even if he speaks highly of your skills.' She followed that with a strange, high-pitched laugh.

Turi perked up. He did? Speak of her, think highly of her even? 'And?' she asked, trying not to show her keenness.

'Let me reassure you, dear' Reinilian continued in a sweet, pitying voice 'that Thranduil is taken, and you stand no chance. Whatsoever.' She faked a concerned look and tilted her head to the side as if speaking to a child. 'Best not to have any expectations.' She gave Turi another honey coated smile and blinked her eyes.

Unsure of whether to laugh or to play along with the charade, Turi waited.

Reinilian stared at her dully, then decided to escape the awkwardness of the moment and backed out of the room mumbling something that sounded like 'poor henig - child' and 'for your own good.'

Left alone in the dark room, Turi broke into a big smile. The lady grey feathers seemed to have miscalculated Turi's character entirely. If this little speech had been meant as a discouragement, it had quite missed its aim.

She grinned to herself as she carefully exited the throne room, making sure Reinilian was gone. She could still hear green snooty elf's words resound in her ears. So the king talked about her when she wasn't there? That could only be good, Turi decided.

'Okay then' she said to herself. This encounter hadn't deterred her from her mission, and her mind was racing again, trying to extrapolate where Thranduil might be.

She ran down a hallway towards the garden, then changed her mind and cut a sharp right towards the destroyed west wing. Indeed, as soon as she reached the courtyard she could hear Thranduil's voice resounding across the ruins. How typical.

Turi slid carefully across the hallway, which was nothing more than a gaping wound as one of the walls had collapsed entirely. She smiled at the thought that she understood enough of Thranduil's character to guess that he would not be terrorised, but that he would go and have a meeting at the heart of the attack, standing fierce and strong.

As she moved towards the sounds of voices she recognised one in particular. Turi's heart nearly stopped.

She moved into sight of the group surrounding the king and recognised the council members, including Areurion. He was standing next to the king and had grabbed his left shoulder. Turi froze.

Then she propelled herself forwards shouting and waving. 'Hey! Back away. Now!'

Thranduil and the council members stopped talking and turned towards what looked like a crazed elf, her pretty blonde hair flying in the wind and her eyes wide as she was making manic gestures. She seemed to be shouting for them to move away.

The council members looked around confused, expecting part of the palace to collapse on top of them. But Thranduil knew who this was, and why she may be coming over to talk to them. A slight smile played on his lips. What was it now?

He truly loved this crazy elf's spirit. She would just not let go. Yet she seemed to carry off this tenacity in an intelligent and even elegant way. Mostly. Despite her sometimes unkempt appearance, she also possessed a natural beauty that few elves in the realm had. He was so keen on her, but so much was at stake.

He was woken from his thoughts as she approached fast, seemingly ready to attack one of his council members who was backing away and trying to shield himself from the frontal assault. 

Earendil Elenion Ancalima – by Earendil, brightest of stars, now what was this?!