Ringspell

Chapter 23.
The Library of Mirkwood...

"Aragorn!" Gandalf's voice rang out in the great atrium of Thranduil's halls like cracking thunder, causing the local citizenry to abandon their light chatter and turn to stare curiously at the old Wizard, as he rushed across the polished floors, grey robes swirling dramatically about him. Sighing, Aragorn stopped and turned also, silently resenting Gandalf for waylaying him in his quest for food.

"There you are!" The old man triumphantly announced, as he approached the disgruntled Ranger.

"Gandalf." Aragorn greeted his friend who, rather than halting before him continued straight past, motioning for him to follow. At a loss, Aragorn complied.

"I thought I might see if the King is anywhere around." Gandalf spoke as they walked. "The old fool was notably absent at lunch." The old man stopped abruptly and eyed Aragorn closely for a moment. "Where on Middle-Earth have you been, anyway? I've not seen you since yesterday."

- Lunch? - Aragorn's inner voice begged. He struggled to ignore it, vaguely aware that Gandalf had asked him a question.

"What?"

"Oh well, it is not important." The old Wizard continued. "What is important is that that idiot Thranduil can be made to see reason and soon. We cannot wait around here indefinitely, the Ring must be taken to Gondor. You may as well come along. Even if it does not help us, it cannot hurt you to be privy to such things." The old man stopped again, peering at Aragorn with ageless eyes. "There is every chance in the world that you will find yourself dealing with Thranduil again, during your life time."

They passed through the giant doors in the left hand wall of the foyer and began a trek down a wide corridor, not dissimilar in appearance to that which led to the Dining Hall.

"Where exactly are we going?" Aragorn asked.

"To the library. It is where Thranduil spends most of his time." Gandalf explained. "Not that it has done much to improve him. I suspect it has made him worse. " The old man added, as they turned left through another golden doorway. "People who read, often tend to consider themselves wise. It makes for terrible company."

They came to the end of the short hallway they had entered and paused before a pair of heavy, closed doors.

"Now, be careful what you say." Gandalf warned, in a low voice. "The secrets of our quest he already knows but he has an awful temper and delights in executions, so do not offend him."

With that the old Wizard pushed open the doors.

Mirkwood's library was not terribly different from any other that Aragorn had seen, except in terms of it's sheer size. It was impossible to tell exactly how big the room was because the view was completely blocked by a thick maze of bookshelves that stood twice Aragorn's height. Large square pillars supported the roof of the massive hall and also served as walls against which more books and scrolls and crumbling parchment could be stacked.

The other notable quality of this library, compared to others, was that it was remarkably well lit and there was absolutely no dust or dampness in the air. While many of the texts appeared ancient and in quite a state of disrepair, they also seemed to be well looked after by their current curators. It occurred to Aragorn as he followed Gandalf through the maze of shelves, that a dry room under the ground was probably a very good place to keep books safe. Nevertheless, a part of him felt it somewhat unfair, that so much knowledge should be hoarded in this impenetrable fortress, in an unfriendly realm, unseen by so many generations of his people. It seemed to Aragorn, to be a terrible waste.

As they continued through the library, the mumble of soft voices reached the Ranger's ears and he and Gandalf stepped beyond the end of a row of bookshelves, into a large, open space. Seated at a large wooden table, was the infamous King of Mirkwood, deep in conversation with Kehlios, the Hunter who had greeted them on the bank of the Forest River.

Gandalf and Aragorn stopped a few feet short of the table, waiting respectfully to be noticed. While Kehlios glanced occasionally in their direction, as he spoke, Thranduil seemed prepared to ignore his guests completely. Now, Aragorn was an honourable man, who knew that eaves-dropping was impolite but because when his ears heard voices his brain instinctively listened, he could not help but catch pieces of the conversation.

"**...three more, in this last week.**" Kehlios was saying to his King.

"**It is their own fault, if they wander too far.**" Thranduil replied.

Kehlios seemed agitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"**That is precisely the point, your Majesty, they are not wandering. They are being dragged from their posts and slaughtered, in the night. Something must be done - **"

Gandalf cleared his throat, loudly. Kehlios looked over at him, Thranduil did not.

"**We have weathered such aggression before. The beasts will retreat to the mountains, when the sun returns.**" He said.

Kehlios looked long and hard at his monarch.

"**With all due respect, your Majesty. I fear a very long Winter lies ahead of us. The Shadows are deeper this year and they grow ever closer to our sanctuary. Who is to say when next we will see the sun?**" The Hunter spoke softly but the weight of his words hang heavily in the air. "**Or if at all?**"

"Kehlios is right, your Majesty." Gandalf interrupted. "This may be your last chance to cleanse the deep regions of your forest, for a very long time. Particularly if you insist on hiding here, while Sauron conquers the world around you."

Thranduil finally acknowledged Gandalf's presence, slowly turning his head, to look up at the Wizard with cold, hard eyes.

"I will tell you once more, Istari*; Mirkwood will have no part in your war.**"

"It is not I that have made this war, your Majesty. The Enemy is gathering his forces, as we speak. Gondor and Rohan will fall like the leaves of Autumn and there will be nothing then between this wood and an army of the Dark One's minions."

"Sauron has no interest in the conquest of Mirkwood, he never has. Why should we invite his animosity?"

"If you truly believe that Sauron will destroy all the nations of this Earth but yours, you are even more deluded than I thought." Gandalf replied. "Look, the war against Mordor aside, your forest is a breeding ground for the Enemy's spies. Will you not at least see to them?"

"For the sake of your hopeless cause?" Thranduil inquired.

"For the sake of your people, Thranduil." Gandalf said. "This war will come to Mirkwood, sooner or later and you will have a hard time holding your borders against a tide of Orcs while Goblins and Mountain Trolls are picking your Hunters off from behind your lines." He pointed out. "Besides that, your people are dying. Have you no love left for your realm, for your subjects?" The old Wizard paused, inching closer to the Silvan elf, his bright blue eyes shining with intensity. "The beasts of Mirkwood are symptoms of disease, Thranduil. Your forest is infected. The Darkness will only continue to spread. You know this. Gather some Hunters, send them into the mountains. Exterminate the vermin hiding there."

Thranduil considered this for a moment, gazing up at Gandalf, his face unreadable.

"I care little, in truth, who lives or dies. You must know that, by now. I will do this for you, Gandalf and on one condition."

"Which is?"

"You will not mention Mordor again, in my presence. I have given you my answer and whether you like it or not, you will accept it. **Go and send for the boy.**" The King ordered, seemingly to no one in particular. Aragorn jumped in surprise, when an elf, robed in dark brown, suddenly bowed and floated, silent as a grave, across the floor and into the corridors of books. Aragorn stared, in wonder, after the figure. He had not even seen the elf standing there, against the bookshelf. He held back a frustrated sigh, he had too often been caught unaware, of late. The Ranger's attention then drew back to Thranduil and his Hunter, who were speaking again as though their visitors were not in the room.

"...**three or four thousand, at the most.**"

Thranduil sighed, heavily.

"**That still means sounding the horns, dragging every soul in the forest back here.**" He said, seeming profoundly disappointed.

"**I will order the call, as soon as we are done here, your Majesty. We should have the numbers we need before tomorrow morning.**"

"**Fine. I assume you already have a plan of attack?**" The King prompted.

Kehlios nodded.

"**There is little to plan, in all honesty. We will approach the mountains from the East, there is a pass there, which allows access to the inner valleys, it is there that I suspect we will find most of our enemies.**" The Hunter shrugged. "**I do not foresee any kind of organized resistance. It should simply be a matter of running them down.**"

"**Very well,**" Thranduil consented. "**You know what needs to be done. Have the Hunters moving by dawn. The boy is going with you, you will take your orders from him, exceptional circumstances not withstanding.**"

"**As you wish, your Majesty.**"

"**Go now.**" Thranduil abruptly dismissed the Hunter, who bowed respectfully to his King, before turning to leave.

"Legolas is going on the Hunt?" Gandalf asked, after a moment of silence.

Thranduil looked at the old man, as though wondering why he was still there.

"Yes."

Aragorn's interest peaked at the mention of his friend's name.

Gandalf paused for a moment, as though carefully choosing his words.

"Forgive me, your Majesty but I had hoped to be on the way to Mordor, tomorrow." The old man said, suggestively.

"So?" Thranduil apparently had little patience for suggestion.

"So, I suspect your son would prefer to join us than go traipsing around the mountains, looking for monsters."

The King nodded, thoughtfully, as though listening seriously to the old man's complaint. Then he eradicated that notion with his reply.

"What my son cares to do is of no interest to me. If it bothers you, Gandalf, to leave without him, then I suggest you wait until his return."

"You will permit him to leave with us, then?" Gandalf asked, seeming to jump on the opportunity to secure the young prince's place in their Fellowship. It was, Aragorn thought, quite touching.

Thranduil grunted, in an undignified fashion.

"What does it matter? It seems he goes where he likes, anyway." He sighed then, in resignation. "Yes, he can go with you but not until his task is completed. The boy takes off for months, now he is back, he can at least do something useful before he leaves again."

Aragorn smiled, Legolas would be coming with them. It was something he had worried about, since learning that the prince had run away, to join them in Rivendell. Suddenly, Thranduil did not seem such an awful person. He was strict, certainly and somewhat unpleasant to have to talk to but Aragorn thought, he was not entirely unreasonable.

Though the real conversation appeared to be over, Gandalf and the King of Mirkwood continued to talk, mostly about things that had happened during their previous encounters. Aragorn lingered in the library, wandering amongst the bookshelves, making a show of browsing through the texts as though looking for something to read. What he was really doing, was waiting for Legolas to arrive.

He had been left terribly disappointed, after his visit with the prince that morning. In fact, if he had been forced to put a name to what he felt, he might have said he was heart-broken. Legolas had seemed so close to him, the night before and so completely at ease with their intimacy. Yet, after just a short time apart, the elf had suddenly behaved as though their lovemaking had been a dream, or a mistake.

- It was a mistake. - Aragorn's inner voice informed. *But Aragorn could not accept that, he had felt drawn to Legolas since the day they met. If their night together had been a mistake, he decided, it was one he would be happy to repeat.

"Ada."

Aragorn started at the sound of Legolas' voice drifting softly through the library. He immediately made his way back to the table where the King sat, taking care to continue his feigned inspection of the texts on the shelf beside him as he went, trying to appear uninterested in the presence of the prince.

He listened intently to the interaction between father and son, perhaps hoping for some sort of insight into their relationship. He heard nothing of the sort, however. Thranduil told Legolas, in very few words what he was to do and Legolas promised to fulfil his King's wishes. Gandalf observed, in silence. The conversation had been short and to the point and neither Legolas nor his father had made any offering in the way of personal contact.

When Legolas was dismissed, Aragorn turned and headed casually back into the bookshelves, quickly skirting the edge of the room, once out of sight and managing, with almost flawless timing, to catch his friend at the entrance.

“May I walk with you?" He asked, hoping against hope that Legolas would consent. The young elf gazed at him, with dark eyes before nodding slightly.

"Of course, Aragorn." *


*Istari - Wizard.
*(A.N) Sorry for starting sentences with 'But'. It's a crime, I know and one I'm often guilty of. Thought I should just say that once.