Walking a familiar path at the side of his visitor, Thranduil was subject to quite unfamiliar attention. Naturally, he would always be noticed by others, even inside his palace, where it was not uncommon to share one’s way with him, and his passing was never ignored, but today the attention he got was of a different nature.
The elves of the woodland realm were curious about the man, who shared his path, and the nature of their conversation, as much as the nature of their dealings with each other. Strangers were rare and far between in the halls of the Elvenking and they surely recognized him as the one, who had brought the foul creature Gollum into these halls.
In return, the Elvenking ignored the ones passing them by, in favor of focusing on their conversation and well aware that some might have picked up on one word or the other. The prisoner they had was not a secret in the realm and it could never be. Its foul nature stirred their hearts and unsettled them all.
"Your help in these matters is very much appreciated. However," Thranduil averted his gaze, eyes following an elf, who passed by them, in a sudden urge to keep this particular part of their conversation hidden, where he did not mind anyone listening in before.
Carefully, and making use of his knowledge of the fairfolk’s exceptional hearing that other races usually lacked, he waited until the other was out of earshot, “However. I doubt a solution can be achieved quickly, unless we convince the wretched to reveal its secret to us willingly.”
An alternative solution could have been found in Mithrandir offering insight, where he had kept it hidden from them until now. If there was anger inside the Elvenking over the pollution of his realm in the form of Gollum and the time he had already wasted on this endeavor, it was directed at the wizard, who remained conveniently absent in this.
"Yes, of course you did." Thranduil saw no reason to be polite over this matter. Aragorn was right. The Dúnedain had brought something foul into his realm, willingly, even if only because the Istari had told him to and he had thought it wise to follow such suggestion. The Elvenking understood the decision well, for he had made it in the past. But the past was the past and his ability to endure the antiques and theatrics of the wizard was wearing itself down with every new inconvenience brought onto him and his realm.
The gray wanderer would have him involved in matters he did not want to be involved in anymore and Thranduil did not take kindly to manipulation.
The Elvenking stopped in front of a large door, a pattern artfully carved into it by skilled hands. Inclining his head, as he turned, the Elvenking looked at Aragorn. “But not with the intent to poison my kingdom, I would presume.”
"Not many see valiant fight, when they look upon my realm." A sad truth was, that most people paid no mind to the hardship the woodland realm had gone through ever since they had lost Oropher. Things had gone from bad to worse quickly and when Thranduil had returned to the realm a king with only a third of his army left, he had tried to make the best of it.
But corruption had soon crept into his home and poisoned the very forest they lived in and things had become even worse. There was a foulness nesting and festering in the roots of their trees and the mixing with the water of their rivers, that he knew could only come from the darkest and most wretched form of sorcery.
Sauron was not defeated and inside the woodland realm, Thranduil thought it had to be clear as day for anyone to see. Strangely enough, nobody seemed to do so.
"That leaves you, either with eyes, keen beyond those of every other mortal, or with such dear friendship to my son, he would speak to you of this. You will forgive me, if I consider the latter to be the more reasonable alternative.
Alas, this only speaks of trust, already offered to you.” Thranduil fell silent then, considering Aragorn as he stood before him. Ragged and worn by weather and nature, like his clothes were, too. He did not make a good figure, next to the radiance that was the Elvenking of the woodland realm, but he had a quiet grace dwelling in his eyes and kindness sitting in his bones.
Beneath the rubble that time and fate had made of this man, sat a king. Of that, Thranduil was sure, even if he did not share Elrond’s state of mind, when it came to the strength of men.
“Gladly, I will see to it, that we will find a solution to this, together. In case such solution exists, of course.” Lifting a hand to indicate the door, Thranduil waited for the man to enter his chambers.
