Thank you EstelElfstone and Jaya-Avendel for voting on the last chapter! You both said it was short though so I'm writing this fast and I'll try to make it longer!

Estel awoke early, but still later than the elves, who woke at the crack of dawn and rose with the sun. He felt a growing apprehension and worry as he contemplated the meeting he would be attending today. It was the first of a series of three meetings which would occur throughout the week, the aim being that by the third they would reach a peace agreement between the three elven realms.

Aragorn didn't really understand the point of having three meetings. Really, couldn't they just have one short meeting which went something along the lines of:

"Shall we have peace?"
"Yes"
"Agreed"
"Meeting over."
And that would be it. Simple, easy...

Estel was jerked from his thoughts of quick and easy meetings by a servant who, it appeared, had come to escort him to the meeting room.

It appeared so, but he couldn't be sure because the servant didn't utter a single word, instead scurrying timidly along the passageway to what he hoped was the meeting room, pausing every so often to make sure Aragorn was following, and bowed wordlessly, leaving the human standing awkwardly before the wooden doors.

Taking a deep breath, Aragorn knocked on the doors and was half-relieved, half-terrified, when he heard the slightly irritated voice of the king.

"Come in."

Uttering a silent prayer to Ilúvatar, Aragorn pushed open the doors and walked quietly into the now silent room.

Before him was a semi-circle of chairs, one empty, and all facing the King's throne. Aragorn wondered numbly if there was a throne in every room of the palace, or if he simply moved the same one around.

"You're late." Thranduil stated blankly.

"Sorry My Lord, I was not aware that the meeting had started..." Aragorn's voice trailed off weakly.

"Do not waste my time with apologies! Sit down and listen, will you? Stars, why must Elrond send the most incompetent, incompetent mortal of all things, to represent him?"

Aragorn sat down without a word, silently questioning Thranduil's right to the throne. Was he even sane?

Aragorn tried to focus his attention on the meeting going in around him, picking up a now full-on argument between Thranduil and the elves of Lothlórien, led by an elf named Haldir, debating the terms of an agreement.

From what Aragorn could tell, Haldir was pressing for aid in any wars which may come to either realm, but Thranduil was refusing, shouting that he wanted only not to be attacked, and had not the armies to support Lothlórien. One line of the argument in particular caught Estel's attention.

"You ask for my aid only because you know you can't support your own filthy realm!" Thranduil spat.

Aragorn surprised himself by speaking up for the first time.

"That's not true."

Silence fell and all eyes turned to the human, who was now shifting self-consciously.

"What did you say, mortal?" Thranduil asked after the pause had stretched out for what he deemed long enough.

"I said, that's not true. Haldir wants support and safety for his realm, which is what you would want for your realm if you actually cared about your kingdom, which I can see you don't! You only care about yourself."

"Are you saying that I am not fit to be king?" Thranduil asked, his voice low and dangerous, and robbing Aragorn of all the self-confidence his small outburst had brought him.

"N-No! I mean, yes! Yes! You can't be a king if you don't care about your people! You don't care if war comes, do you? You would send your armies into battle without a second thought for the families of your soldiers, so long as you are safe! Because that's all you care about! Yourself! Your stupid, selfish self! I've had enough of you and your selfish arguments! Rivendell will not have peace with you! We can't trust you to keep your word if it puts you in even the slightest bit of danger, which it most certainly will! I can't stand your presence! You disgust me!"

With a last disgusted glance at the King, Aragorn rose to his feet and stormed out of the meeting hall, slamming the door forcefully closed behind him and striding down the corridor.

Back in the meeting room, Thranduil shook his head sadly.

"Mortals!"

✧ ★ ✧

Aragorn stormed down the corridor, not caring where he was going. He just wanted to get as far away from him, from people as possible. Every time he saw anyone, he would immediately take the route that took him as far from them as possible.

The air began to get cooler and as Estel came more to his senses he realised he was heading down. Continuing without much thought, he came to a sudden halt when he realised that he could hear someone.

Damn, why can't I just get away from people for once?

However, the more he listened, the more his frustration faded and was replaced by curiosity. He had by now begun to realise that he was in the dungeons, and knew that whoever this was was probably just some criminal, probably to be avoided. Still, his curiosity drew him on.

Following the faint sounds took him deeper and deeper underground, and he began to feel uneasy. Perhaps he should turn back? He had realised by now that he probably shouldn't be down here, but he also knew that he wouldn't get another chance like this to investigate. It was worth the risk.

He became even more convinced that he should continue when the noises became clearer and he could finally make out what they were. At first he thought he was mistaken but...

No. It was the unmistakable sound of a child sobbing.

Estel broke into a run, all the while following the quiet noises of distress. What kind of monster would keep a child down here? And if it was an elven child... he knew elves could die if their connection with the natural world was broken for too long.

Finally, Aragorn reached the door of a cell set into the stone wall of the passageway. The door was thick and unbreakable and it was locked securely.

Staring in through the bars, Aragorn made out the silhouette of a thin elven boy huddled in the corner, seemingly in a light and troubled sleep. Soft sobs escaped his lips even sleeping.

Set too high in the wall to be reached even if the child were to stand on Aragorn's shoulders, there was a long tunnel sloping upwards. Bars were set securely over the mouth of it and, at the far end, Aragorn could just make out a small patch of sky. So this was the pitiful excuse for a window which had kept the boy alive. That explained why the tunnel sloped upwards; the cell was underground, so in order for the sky to be visible, it had to go up so that it was above ground level.

But what really drew his gaze were the injuries adorning the child's body. He saw a mixture of fresh and old bruises covering his face, and dried blood at his mouth and nose and covering his bare arms. His thin, grey, sleeveless tunic was ragged and torn, revealing horrible bruises and cuts. As the elf shifted in a nightmare, Estel caught a glimpse of his back and gasped.

The tunic was all but worn away, ripped to shreds by unmistakable whip-marks. Twisted scars lay side by side with fresh wounds and welts as though whoever had done this had sometimes used a whip and sometimes other instruments, possibly a belt.

And not to mention that his left arm was at an unnatural angle and his left leg was either dislocated at the knee or broken, Estel couldn't tell which in the gloom of the cell.

In that moment, he didn't care about Thranduil, or what punishments he might face. He didn't consider what terrible crime this child might have committed to be kept in such a state. He only knew one thing:

He had to get the child out of there, and fast.

Thank you for reading! I hope this chapter is long enough! As always, votes and comments are much appreciated!

Oh, don't forget to vote :P