Lynx: I'm back and I have finally started my centrepiece fiction.
Legolas: Yeah, after waiting on it for five months or more?
Lynx: Don't kill my thunder!
Legolas: You can't 'kill' thunder…
Lynx: Well you just killed mine.
Legolas: (walks away shaking his head)
Lynx: Sigh… please read and review.
Haldir: I guess I'll just do the disclaimer… Anyway, Lynx does not own some of the characters and places mentioned in this story. Taurens rule also.
Read, enjoy, and review.
Dark clouds rolled as mighty winds cascaded across the Running River, blowing the thick downpour of rain sideways. The once-wealthy fields were littered with blood and bodies of a raging war between two clashing races. Lightning separated the skies as the sound of swords clanking, arrows flying, and voices shouting filled the air.
It was a war that had lived for two centuries… a war over ownership of the plains that stretched between the sea of Rhûn and the forest of Mirkwood. It was a battle between two races, the wood-elves of Mirkwood and the taurens from Rhûn. The stretch of land was generally unnamed, but for the last decade it has been known as the fields of Edhel-Dagnir. In common tongue, the name spoke of the recent decline of the elves; the last few outbreaks of conflict having not gone well with them.
"My lord!" The call broke Amros from his silent reverie. He turned around to face Calagin, his advisor and long time battle companion. Calagin tore towards him through the lines of the tauren troops, cradling his bleeding arm. "My lord!"
"Calagin, what is it?" Amros asked, his deep voice carrying out to him easily.
"It's a trap!" Calagin exclaimed, grabbing the stirrup of the horse Amros sat upon for support when he finally reached him. "Some of the wood-elves were sent around the field to ambush us from behind!"
Amros cursed under his breath, a sour look on his face, "Damn that Thranduil... thinks he can outwit me."
"What are your orders, my lord?" Calagin wavering voice called Amros' attention to him once again.
"How large is the troop of wood-elves behind us?" Amros asked, looking back down at Calagin.
"Not great, my lord." Calagin replied, "Only approximately fifteen lines deep, thirty soldiers each."
"Hmm… send in twenty lines from the back; that shall do splendidly." Amros looked over his shoulder at the masses of his army. The first five lines were already engrossed in battle with the army of Thranduil's elves; the rest were waiting for the battle to deepen. "Keep the archer's firing."
"Yes, my lord." With that Calagin sped away, his white fox tail billowing out behind him.
"Blades at the ready!" Amros shouted to his soldiers that were not in battle, his large, black fox ears flattening against his charcoal-coloured hair. "Charge them!" He drew his own blade from its sheath as his grey speckled horse whinnied and reared impatiently.
The soldiers surrounding him cried out loudly in response to his command before rushing forward to advance upon Thranduil's army. The many archers formed lines in front of Amros, before letting out a flurry of arrows raging with flames.
Meanwhile, King Thranduil sat upon his horse on the opposing side of the field, drinking in the sights with his moon-coloured eyes. There was a calm, yet confident look on his face.
"Your majesty." Lolindir approached him, looking quite pleased. "Amros has sent twenty lines of soldiers upon our own on the other side of the field."
"Just what we wanted him to do." Thranduil laughed, shaking his head of platinum blond hair. "We shall distract his back rows, leaving him weak in the anterior. We shall attack with the army we left in the cover of the forest. Send word to the men in the forest that we shall need them very soon."
"Yes your majesty." Lolindir bowed low, his long jet-black hair spilling over his shoulders and sweeping the blood stained grass. He straightened up quickly and hurried off towards Mirkwood.
"Keep assaulting the front lines!" Thranduil instructed loudly to his warriors. "Archers at the ready!"
Amros grinned in satisfaction, noting that his troops were slowly pushing back Thranduil's forces, pushing them back towards their spider-infested trees.
He swiveled on his horse and surveyed the battle going on behind him, noting that the elves were keeping up a decent defense.
"My lord!" Calagin raced towards him, his light sea green eyes wide in horror. "My lord Amros! This is terrible!"
"What is it Calagin!" Amros jumped down from his horse, startled at what could possibly be bothering him when the battle was going so well for them. He grasped the troubled tauren by the forearms, steadying him.
"Thranduil has a secret army hidden in Mirkwood forest!" Calagin breathed out while trying to catch his breath. "It is a great army, possibly larger then the one he has on the field!"
Amros stared wide-eyed at Calagin, the words taking a great toll on him. His mind frantically tried to calculate the best plan of action towards this new threat.
"There is no possible way that we can survive that great in numbers!" Calagin fretted heavily. "It would be slaughter, my lord! We must retreat to Elvirin!"
Amros released his hold on Calagin then returned to his horse. He leaned against the saddle, his forehead resting against his arm.
"Your instructions my lord?" Calagin asked as he sheathed his bloodied sword.
"How goes the posterior battle?" Amros sighed.
"Not well my lord." Calagin said timidly, "Somehow the elves are slowly backing us into a corner."
"Then how are we to retreat? We cannot get past those in the way of the sea." Amros said more to himself then anybody else.
"I advise that we send the horsemen to the back to take care of the elves left." Calagin suggested cautiously. "That will clear our way towards retreat."
"Do so then." Amros replied calmly, climbing back onto his horse.
"As you wish, my lord." Calagin bowed slightly before he rushed off again.
"Thranduil you have not seen the last of me… revenge will be had…" Amros swore under his breath as he stared out across the battlefield.
At the same moment, King Thranduil was also staring smugly out in Amros' direction.
"King Thranduil, we have some bad news." Lolindir said after he gave a deep bow. "The posterior forces are straining under their horsemen."
"Hmm… seems like Lord Amros is attempting to flee the battlefield… Coward." Thranduil closed his eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. "We'll bring him down at the river. Prepare our horsemen."
"Yes, your majesty." Lolindir bowed once again in respect before he went to carry out his orders.
"I will not lose to such low life beings." Thranduil smirked arrogantly. "Victory shall be mine."
"My liege, the horsemen are ready." Lolindir reported as he pushed his way past the rows somewhat ten minutes later.
"Send them out after Amros' retreating forces." Thranduil instructed with an odd grin, "But I warn you, leave Amros alone... he is mine."
"As you wish."
"My lord!" Calagin dashes towards him through the lines of soldiers. "The path is clear! We must leave now!"
Amros gave Calagin a short nod before bellowing to his army, "Retreat! Fall back to Elvirin!" He turned back to Calagin, "I'm putting you in charge, lead them well, Calagin."
"You cannot stay, my lord, you are in danger!" Calagin's eyes widened as he realized what Amros was trying to say.
"I will not leave this spot until I know that each and every one of my remaining soldiers is safe!" Amros replied calmly, his horse snorting slightly as many taurens raced past her.
"No my lord! That is madness!" Calagin shook his head frantically, "We cannot risk losing you; you are the greatest lord we have ever known! You are kind and generous!"
"Thank you, Calagin." Amros smiled softly at him, "But I am not changing my mind. If something happens to me, Valandil will rule in my stead; he is quite capable. Now go, that's an order."
"Yes my lord." Calagin bowed before turning his gaze on him once again, "I will pray for your safe return… may our strength and love guide you." He bowed once again before rushing away to carry out his orders.
Amros watched him go before turning his head back towards Thranduil's fast approaching horsemen. "Let them come..."
Amros frowned as Thranduil's horsemen raced past him and after the fleeing taurens almost as if he was not there at all. "What's on your mind, Thranduil…?" He whispered to himself.
Over the thundering of hooves and the shouts from the warriors around him, Amros barely made out a strange whooshing sound when suddenly his horse whinnied and reared.
He leapt off it before the creature collapsed, a spear lodged in her side. Amros landed a few feet away, "Miralwen!" He dropped to his knees next to his dying horse, running his fingers over her muzzle in a soothing manner. She snorted softly, a soft whining noise leaving her throat before she closed her eyes and became still.
"You stayed out here by yourself, your army retreating home." Thranduil appeared before him on his horse. He dismounted and handed the reins over to Lolindir. "You are either very brave or very stupid."
"Thranduil…" Amros said with much acid as he narrowed his eyes. His black ears flattened against his head as he fisted his hand into the fine hairs of Miralwen's grey mane.
"Surrender the plains to me, Amros, and I will let you walk out of this hellhole unharmed." Thranduil proposed, "The alternative is not so merciful."
"No." Amros replied dully as he bore his sharp teeth. "You murdered Amondel, Thranduil, and now the greatest horse that I ever had. For that you will taste the steel of my blade."
"Your brother brought himself to my sword, Amros, and it was just a horse." Thranduil rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose you will ever get over your brother's death, though."
"Not until I get my revenge." Amros snarled as he brought himself to his feet.
"It's your funeral, Amros." Thranduil drew his sword, symbolizing a challenge.
"Not if I have a say about it." Amros replied as he drew his own blade.
Amros lunged at Thranduil, who blocked the strike with his sword and pushed Amros away. Thranduil took a swing at Amros' throat, but the tauren ducked down low and tried to stab Thranduil's side. The elf dodged to the side, wincing when the blade barely scraped his flesh.
The feud continued like this for a while, both covered in sweat and blood. Amros swung at Thranduil, locking blades with him. They tested each other's strength, shoving against each other, trying to gain the upper hand. Amros had a sudden surge of energy and began to push Thranduil back, the elf's boots dragging in the flattened grass.
Thranduil grit his teeth as his arms began to shake slightly with strain. In a swift move he hooked his foot behind Amros' and tripped the tauren. Amros fell onto his back with a grunt of dissatisfaction, he was about to get up again when Thranduil put a foot on his torso, keeping him grounded with his weight.
"Even if you kill me, you will not be able to claim these fields." Amros grinned wryly despite his current situation. "My son will rule in my stead and he will be your bane."
"Then I will kill him just as I did your brother and just as I am about to do you." Thranduil shrugged as he held the tip of his sword against Amros' throat.
"Kill me and get it over with, you filth." Amros urged viciously, his eyebrows arching to challenge to warlord.
"I will happily oblige then. Greet your brother for me." Thranduil smirked before he sent his blade soaring towards Amros' chest.
Laure shot up from her bed, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. When she recognized that she was indeed in her bed chamber, she drew in a deep breath to try and calm herself. It was the fifth time that week she had had that terrifying dream, the one where her beloved father met the end of his rope. She threw the golden-lined covers off of her overly heated body, welcoming the cold air from the open balcony door.
It was still fairly dark out with a few bright beams of light from the beginning of dawn coming through the trees that surrounded the palace of Elvirin.
Laure swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, brushing her sleeve across her sweaty forehead. Yawning, she walked over to the balcony doorway, her light steps making one of the only few sounds in her bedroom. Her dark orange foxtail curled itself around her slim waist for warmth as she closed the door of her balcony.
"Laure?" A deep voice sounded from behind her, capturing her attention.
"Father." Laure smiled, recognizing that voice more than any in existence. She turned around and hugged Amros.
"What are you doing up at this time?" Amros asked, smoothing the stray pieces of dark mahogany hair out of his daughter's face.
"I couldn't sleep." Laure lied, shrugging in an attempt to seem casual.
"You are a horrible liar." Amros smiled at her, "What is on your mind?"
Laure sighed in defeat; she might as well just come right out and say it. There was no sense in beating around the bush. "Father, I don't want you to go to war in a week..." Laure replied, taking Amros' warm hands in hers and looking up into his steel grey eyes.
"You know I must, my jewel." Amros said softly, "As the Lord I must be there."
"Send someone else to command in your stead." Laure pleaded, "Do not go."
"What is bothering you, Laure?" Amros furrowed his eyebrows in concern; "You are not usually this foreboding."
"It doesn't really matter what's bothering me so don't worry," Laure replied, "Please... just don't ride to war next week."
"You are the youngest of my three children Laure," Amros countered sternly, "I will always worry for you more then Valandil and Artanis."
"I can hold up my own just as well as Valandil or Artanis, father." Laure frowned at him. "I'm not a child."
"You are my child." Amros reminded her with a fatherly smile.
"We're straying off topic." Laure smiled playfully, "Can you not go to war for me? I fear for your safety."
"It would be shameful if I backed down from Thranduil's challenge." Amros lifted Laure's chin up as he tried to make her understand. "A man's reputation is worth much these days."
"That is a foolish way to live." Laure pulled away from her father.
"I am deeply sorry, my jewel..." Amros turned towards the door. "The soldiers need me there." He sighed and left the room, softly closing the door behind him.
Laure frowned in displeasure at her father's words, not even for her would he not attend this one war out of many. The acid flames in her dark emerald eyes sparked with realization… she would have to do something to stop this war. She would not lose her father after losing her mother.
Laure smiled sadly at the memory of her beautiful mother even though she did not remember much. Her eyes becoming glossy with fresh tears; her mother, Eresse, died when she was the human equivalent to three years of age. The city they had lived in before the palace of Elvirin was built had been called Altarien. Its ruins didn't reside in the forest where Elvirin was located; it was in the mountains on the opposite side of the sea. The day it was overrun and burnt to the ground by the wood-elves was the day that Eresse died.
Laure sighed again before banishing the thoughts about her mother. She really needed to come up with something fast... Quickly her mind concluded that she would and could not tell her father of her intentions towards the war, it would be like having a death wish. Then her mind raced on, racking up possible solutions to the problem. If a truce was formed between both realms and the ownership of the land was shared or divided in half, whichever the two rulers preferred, then there would be no more war and no more loss of life.
But how to get the truce in place and before next week…
Laure sat down on her bed, her dark orange ears flattening against her head with intensive thought.
She realized that she was the only one that she could trust to propose a truce to King Thranduil of Mirkwood. There was one problem with that conclusion… Thranduil, being the arrogant and independent warlord that he was; he would not listen to the words of a woman from the opposing realm, let alone the youngest daughter of his nemesis. She would find herself hanged before she could even say 'truce'. Perhaps, though, Thranduil might listen to the Prince of War… Prince Valandil, mighty and feared for his capabilities; orange fur, dark green eyes, dark hair, and mighty sword.
"Citizens always did say that I turned out to look a lot like him… and Thranduil has never seen Valandil up close…" Laure whispered to herself, her eyes staring at an unmoving spot on the floor.
"Maybe… just maybe… the elves will mistake me for him."
Omigod that only took like three hours. Please review…
Lynx.