In the shuffle through papers and maps and the sliding of doors and drawers, none of the three heard the door open, but they did hear it close. Erestor locked it behind him. “Perhaps, I can help you to find what you are looking for,” he said calmly, still holding a drink in one hand from the party.

Looking up or turning slowly, the three stood across the room and behind the largest of the desks in the office, all of them facing the dark elf who stepped forward. Thranduil took hold of Avisiel’s wrist and stepped so that he was in front of her as Thaladir slid a knife used to open sealed documents off of the top of the desk. “Halt right where you are,” Thranduil said in a commanding voice, his eyes scanning the area for some other weapons. “We know what you are up to, and we are not about to have others fall victim to your treachery.”

Erestor blinked a few times, looking at each of the three in turn. Only Avisiel shied her eyes from him, placing her hands on her husband’s shoulders and drawing herself nearer as she shook in fright. “I am not sure what sort of treachery it is you speak of, but I assure you-“

“Say nothing more; we know how you trick others with your words,” interrupted Thranduil, seizing a poker for the fire which had been left to rest up against the desk. “We have come to piece the puzzle together and know that you are not whom you claim to be, Morgoth.” Thranduil missed the warning look that Thaladir gave him as he finished his accusation. Across the room, Erestor’s expression turned from slight amusement to a clear look of hurt.

“If I were Morgoth,” began Erestor carefully, “which, I am not- but if I were, do you really believe the three of you would still be standing there unharmed?”

“Yes. For if you harm us, you would have to come up with an explanation,” spoke Thaladir. “Morgoth does not act rashly – he is one to carefully plan, in detail, as the ancient history recalls, and makes friends rather than enemies before smiting them down.”

Looking thoroughly unamused now, Erestor asked, “This is your proof? That both he and I pay attention to the details of a situation? That is poor evidence.”

“That is not all. Before you stands one who has seen him.” Thranduil glanced over his shoulder briefly, seeing the terror in Avisiel’s eyes. “She has said nothing since the day I brought you to her in the forest, living in fear for these years. It was her family, her tribe whom you lured from their homes, torturing them into the monstrous creatures who serve you.”

“Would not my hands be burned?” Erestor set the goblet he held on the top of a bookshelf, placing his hands before him with palms facing his accusers. “Would not my eyes be red?”

“Both are easily enough concealed,” Thranduil told him. “The final clue was your proclamation tonight. You did not name the Valar for you still think yourself one though you have fallen. The items which have been brought forth would be best announced before the king and council- Avisiel, go. Through that door there,” Thranduil instructed, pointing to a door nearer to them than the one Erestor had entered through. “Alert the king, tell him-“

“Wait!” Erestor looked at them with pained eyes, then turned his back to them and looked up, but not at the ceiling. It was if he was looking beyond the stone of the caves, speaking with his mind to someone. Thranduil tightened his grip upon the poker he held as Erestor turned to the side, glancing to them, then back up once more. With a heavy sigh, he shifted his gaze to them. “You are right. I am not who I say I am. But I am not Melkor, nor Morgoth, nor whatever name that demon has been given. I am Erestor, Orome’s son.”

“The hunter,” whispered Thaladir upon catching the confused look Avisiel had. “You are not elfkind, then.”

“I am,” defended Erestor. “My mother was one of the firstborn, awakened upon the shores. Her name was Tatie. My father was something of a leader before the days when the Eldar came to Aman, and he insisted upon having a son. All around him, the elves who had followed him had children, and their children had children, and so on, and he had no heir, no legacy. Orome took pity upon this, and did what he could.”

There was silence for a while, giving time for everyone to collect their thoughts. Thaladir made the first move, coming around the desk as he set the knife back down. He bowed his head and dropped down to one knee. Erestor rolled his eyes and threw his arms into the air as he came forward. He bent down and tried to pull Thaladir up by the arm. “Come on, get up,” he said, tugging on the younger elf’s arm.

“You are Tata’s son,” began Thaladir, staying knelt on the ground, “you are an elf of the stars, you are-“

“He had no sons. No children. I wasn’t his, my father was Orome, now get up.” Erestor’s voice was fierce and commanding, and Thranduil took a step back, pulling Avisiel next to him. Slowly, Thaladir stood, but he still kept his eyes lowered. “Look at me, Thaladir. I won’t have you showing reverence to the bastard child of the Valar.” Thaladir did look up, surprised. “There, not so difficult. Who else knows of your theory?”

Thranduil shook his head. “No one else. We came to... to find something else, something here to prove it without question before going to the elders.”

“You’re very brave to have done that. Stupid,” added Erestor, “for if I had been a threat to you, none would ever have known.” Erestor paused, and all three thought on his words. “I need to ask that you tell no one what you have learned.”