Tunnel of Secrets
The doors of the Great Hall swung open with a loud bang as the mighty and proud King of Mirkwood strode into the room, his large cloak swishing and swaying behind him and a frustrated look on his face. He had received a written message saying that a messenger had come with bad news concerning the King's scouts. That was all he needed to know.
"Let me guess" the King stated clearly before the Messenger could even open his mouth to speak.
"They've just disappeared off the face of the earth".
"Not all" the messenger said carefully, desperate to make the situation not seem as bad as it truly was.
"One did return – he was the one who sent me to give you this message. Though where he is now, I do not know".
"He'll have disappeared too" the King said, sighing heavily and slumping into his throne in despair.
He placed his head in his hand and a silence filled the Hall. Eventually, the King broke it with his firm, clear voice.
"This has been happening for months. We have lost too many men – soon, we shall no defence at all!"
"Perhaps it is the work of …"
The messenger's voice faltered. The expression on the King's face compelled him to go on.
"… of the South, your Majesty. Perhaps their plan is to destroy our defence completely by taking all our scouts and soldiers so they can launch an attack on us?"
"That is a possibility" the King said, his voice still heavy with frustration.
Once again, an awkward silence filled the air.
"Shall I send recruits to search for bodies, your Majesty?" the messenger asked, choosing his words with caution.
"No!" the King replied strongly.
"For the sake of the Valar, send no more. Are there any others out there?"
"Only those in the Three Trees, your Majesty" the messenger replied.
The King nodded. His voice now contained a tinge of sadness.
"Very well. Go and tell the families of those who have disappeared what has happened".
The messenger bowed low before the King and started to leave.
"Wait!" the King suddenly called, causing the messenger to suddenly turn around.
"Alert my son. He will want to know. Tell him also that I would like to see him for a meeting as soon as possible. Call all the other members of the council as well. This must end".
The messenger bowed again and left. The King Thranduil sat in his throne and sighed to himself. Mirkwood was growing weaker; the darkness was spreading and he didn't know how he was going to stop it. He could not allow evil to destroy his home and the home of his people, but equally, he could not defend his people against it – it was far too strong, even for him.
For centuries beyond count, Mirkwood and Thranduil's palace had stood strong and hidden against the powers of Mordor, especially against the evil of Dol Guldur in the south. But for how much longer?