(Thranduil)
Strong Spirit. That was what her name meant in Sindarin, and it was a befitting name. Thranduil strode into his private study, slipping the cloak off his shoulders and placing it on a rack that was placed by the entry-way, before coming to stand over a map that had been laid out on a table. He had looked over this map countless times, trying to figure out where his enemies hid. Tracing a line from Dol Guldor to the heart of his kingdom, before placing a finger on his other hand to the spot where Tauriel had said they had found Faervel. The spot that the Captain mentioned was nowhere near the line he had traced from Dol Guldor. Thranduil's mind tried to wrap around what was before his eyes. Never had the spiders passed into that section of his forest, yet today, that is what they had done. With a snarl, the king tore his hand from the map, pacing around the table. These creatures were wrecking more havoc and his elves could not stay ahead of them. He was sending out his son and Tauriel a lot more than he should be but if he did not, his enemies would be doing a lot more damage than they were already doing, and even that was hard to imagine.
With a sigh, the king moved around the table, opening a door that led to his adjacent sleeping quarters, complete with a good sized washroom, which he now entered, closing the door behind him. He needed a bath and to clear his head. So many things were going through his head. To trust the visitor, or not? The answer she had given to his question had not made sense. Never had he heard of spiders heading towards their origin, from so far off their normal paths. He needed to get this handled. His people were looking up to him, and he could not fail.
Slipping off his crown and placing it beside the shirt and pants he had taken off only moments ago, Thranduil slipped into the warm water, letting it soak over his weary limbs, easing his mind. Breathing in the steam, the king felt more relaxed than he had in what seemed like ages. Although, as relaxed as he may be, he could not get the picture of Faervel out of his mind. Her eyes, her smile; all reminding him of a past he could never forget and a new chapter in his future that he was not sure he was ready to start. Deciding he had been in long enough, as the perfectly smooth skin at the end of his fingers began to prune, Thranduil stepped up, grabbing a towel, wrapped it around his torso before grabbing his clothes and leaving the washroom. Minutes later, Thranduil was layered in a loose shirt and pants, still elegant although he would only be sleeping in them, not going to court. Before slipping beneath his silken covers, Thranduil went to stand by the window of his room. His sleeping quarters were at such an angle where he could just barely see the sky through the interwoven branches of the forest. Through the leaves, he could see a sprinkle of stars among a sky of twilight. It was a beautiful sight and the king always took a moment every night to just look and enjoy. He spent every waking moment giving orders, protecting his people, and doing the things a king did that he almost never slowed down to just enjoy the world around him. A cool breeze wafted through his window, brushing his skin and moving around his golden hair, drying each strand. With a sigh, Thranduil turned away from the stunning world outside his window, settling beneath comfortable sheets and staring up at the tangle of branches above his head that made up the ceiling to his quarters. It was a while before sleep claimed him, but it finally did and the great king of Mirkwood fell into a restless sleep.
(Faervel)
Faervel awoke with a start. Her heart was pounding, her breathing rapid. It took her mind a moment to adjust and fully remember where she was. Mirkwood, she reminded herself. She was safe. These nightmare plagued her almost every night. It was always the same one. Orcs, fire, and one lone figure who stood above the rest. His picture was always the clearest of all the images in her dreams. He was tall, stronger than the rest, and just as scarred and disfigured. Faervel seemed to be flying over the scene, but as she flew over the top of the lone orc, he looked up at her with a grin and an evil sparkle in his eye before growling into the sky. And that was always when she woke; the moment his yell reached her ears.
Faervel pressed her palm into her forehead, seeing if that would take some of the imagery away but she did not succeed. With a groan, she ran a hand through her blond hair, blinking herself to a state of full awareness. Faervel pushed herself up, setting her back against the pillow behind her. As if she knew when Faervel had awoken, Tauriel came around the curve of the curtain that separated Faervel from the rest of the world, carrying a tray with food on it, accompanied by a steaming cup of what she guessed to be tea. "You have awoken." Tauriel said, seeming surprised at that fact, setting down the tray in front of Faervel. Shaking the last pictures of her nightmare from her head, Faervel's attentions immediately went to the food. As if on cue, her stomach made the sound of a dying whale, and Faervel's face flushed hot pink. Faervel could not remember the last time she had had a warm meal, let alone been served.
Tauriel laughed, pulling up a chair to sit next to her. "There was not much I could grab, so I apologize. Usually, our guests first meal consists of something more than oatmeal, berries and tea." Tauriel said, giving a small smile. Faervel thanked her for the food, diving in. Faervel had never really been one for oatmeal, but the oats she placed in her mouth was like heaven on Earth. There was a mix of cinnamon's, and sugars, along with spices she could not recognize. Her eyes went wide and her gaze moved to Tauriel, who had taken a spot in a cushioned chair right next to her bed. "This is delicious!" She exclaimed, rather too enthusiastically. Tauriel smiled and gave Faervel an odd look. "Have you not tasted this sort of food before?" Tauriel inquired, eyebrows furrowing, a small smile on her face.
Faervel smiled and shook her head before taking another bite and swallowing quickly. "I have had this type of food before, yes, but never has it tasted so...divine." She explained, pausing until she found the right word to describe the decadence she was currently eating. Faervel looked up from her bowl and found Tauriel still giving her an odd look, the hint of a smile in her eyes. Faervel chuckled and set down the utensil currently occupying her hands. Leaning back in the bed, Faervel cocked her head to the side, trying to figure her out the red-headed companion sitting before her.
"Why is it that the Captain of the Guard is bringing me breakfast this morning? What is the reasoning behind this visit?" Faervel inquired, intrigue written in her features. Faervel found herself curious, because she was not expecting to receive any visitors, let alone have one of the most important person in the kingdom bringing her breakfast. Tauriel shifted around in her chair, just proving to Faervel that there were questions the Captain wished to ask. "Why is it you wanted to visit Mirkwood? I am sure you have heard of all the horrid things that occupy this forest?" Tauriel asked. Faervel smiled slightly and sat up a bit. "Yes, I have heard of the darkness that occupies parts of the forest. But I have also heard of the hospitality of the Elves that live here. I am a traveler, I travel wherever my feet wish to take me. I had never been in the forests of my kin in Mirkwood, so here I am. Although, I did not expect to have my leg broken in the process, nor did I expect to be attacked by spiders or saved by your prince." Faervel murmured.
And it was true. Never, in all the scenarios that she ran through her head, did she imagine she would end up in the situation she was in currently. She had been here a little over a day and she was already restless. She wanted to walk around and see the wonderful kingdom she had entered. Lauralin had said yesterday that Faervel was free to try moving about on day three. One more day, that was all she had.
"Tell me about your travels." Tauriel asked suddenly, bringing Faervel out of her thoughts. Sitting up, Faervel gave her a small smile. "What would you like to hear of?" She inquired. Tauriel thought for a moment. The she-elf had been to so few places in her life, she wanted to hear of everything all at once. "Tell me of the Hobbits. I have met only one and they seem like interesting creatures."
Faervel smiled as memories of Hobbiton flashed forward in her mind. She had visited the Hobbits on many occasions and she learned something new about them every single time. Over the many years of her travels, they continued to surprise and amaze her.
"Where do I begin? Let me start at the beginning. My first visit to the Shire." And so, Fearvel began her story, the Captain listening like a wide-eyed child.
(Thranduil)
The King awoke to a loud knocking on his door. He hated being awoken in such a manner and the entirety of the Realm knew to never wake him unless Mirkwood was under attack, he or his son were in danger, or someone was dying. The elf on the other side of his door had better have something good to inform him of, or he would be on night duty for the next month. Groaning inwardly, the King shifted the covers of his bed aside and placed his feet on the cold ground, a shiver passing through his body. Standing up, Thranduil quickly covered the distance between his bed and the door, opening the wooden barrier and his gaze fell upon that of one of the guards charged with keeping watch over the royal family. Idhrenion was his name, if the King could remember correctly. He really did have to learn all the names of his guards.
Idhrenion seemed flustered, as if he had run from a great distance with some important note to tell him of. "What is it that has you waking me up at such an early hour of the day, Idhrenion?" Thranduil said, a little to sharply. Stuttering, the guard tried to collect himself. "Y-your son wishes to see you, Lord Thranduil." The elf finally said. Thranduil grounded his teeth together, pondering what his son was doing up this early, as well as what could be so important that his son could not take care of it himself. "Tell my son that I will meet him at the gates in ten minutes." Thranduil said, closing the door before Idhrenion could utter a reply.
Striding over to his closet, Thranduil stripped out of his sleepwear and in moments, had on his grey cloak and black boots. Buttoning the final clasp on his boot, the King stood up again to his full height. Running a hand quickly through his slightly tangled hair, he straightened out every loose strand, before grabbing his autumn crown from the shelf just above where he stood, placing it gently on his head. In the moments before he left his bed chambers, Thranduil grabbed the three rings he kept on his fingers and slipped them on as he departed from his rooms.
Striding quickly down the hallways of his Kingdom, his fingers absentmindedly twisted around the ring currently residing on the forefinger of his right hand. A gift from Elena, the late Queen of Mirkwood, in the last months before her death in childbirth. He never went anywhere without it; if he did, he always went back and got it, no matter how far away he was. In the entirety of their bond together, Elena had given him two of the greatest gifts he could have ever asked for: herself and a son, whom he loved dearly. Now he had a simple ring and a son who reminded him of Elena every day. And now, lying in his infirmary was an elleth who could not look more like Elena if she tried.
Arriving at the gates exactly ten minutes after Idhrenion had awoken him, as promised, he was met by Legolas. "Mae govannen, Legolas. Where is your Captain of the Guard?" Thranduil inquired, coming to stand before his son, unable to find the red-headed elleth. "Suilad, Adar. I have been unable to find her, but there is something you must see nonetheless." Legolas said gesturing for Thranduil to follow him. Following his son outside to where their steeds were waiting, Thranduil quickly mounted his Elk, Gerald, and turned to race after his son, who had already disappeared down the pathway leading away from the palace gates.
About five minutes later, Thranduil came upon his son who had stopped his own young Elk, deemed the name Gallan, both of whom had their attentions occupied by an emblem that had been carved into the tree they currently stood in front of. When Thranduil's eyes rested upon the mark that had been carved into the tree, his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.
On the tree was a mark that Thranduil had hoped to never again see in his lifetime. A circle, with eight arrows carved outward from the center; it was the Mark of Murzog. Many lifetimes ago, in the early parts of the Second Age of the Sun, when Thranduil had been a young elfling, his father had gone of to the War against Sauron, never to return. The Battle of Dagorlad was what threw Thranduil's life into chaos early on, taking the life of his father, making him the one to start leading his people. He had always been told that the Mirkwood Elves had charged early, without the orders of Gil-Galad, and had been overwhelmed. For years, Thranduil ran every possible scenario through his head but in none of them, did he see his father's life taken by a meager orc. It was these questions that brought Murzog to his attention. He had heard of the legendary Orc commander, but they had only been tales. Now he knew how his father had perished; at the hands of Murzog. But the Orc had disappeared into the shadows at the end of the battle, once Sauron had been defeated, assumed to be dead. Yet here he was, spiting Thranduil in his own realm. Another problem added to his plate. With a grimace, Thranduil turned Gerald back towards the heart of his Kingdom. He had an elleth to speak to.
(Faervel)
"The pumpkin was this big, I swear by the Valar." Faervel said, spreading out her arms as far as they could go, laughing. She was currently in the process of telling Tauriel of her time in the Shire during the Harvest Festivals, where she had seen crops grown to unimaginable sizes. Her time in the Shire during that time was one of her favorite memories of her travels. She was just about to continue her stories, when a commotion outside the Healing Halls stopped the words in her mouth. There were muffled voices, followed by the sound of cloth against stone before Thranduil and his son came into view. Tauriel immediately stood up, giving a small bow to both the King and the Prince, before taking a step back. Thranduil gave the Captain a look that said he would be speaking to her later. Turning his icy gaze to her, Thranduil took a piece of paper and placed it on the bed before her. When Faervel saw the drawing on the page, she flinched and averted her gaze. "Man cenich?" Thranduil asked, pressing the piece of paper forward. "An ngell nin, take it away, hir vuin." Farvel whispered, her gaze still averted down.
On that paper was the mark that had been on the helmets of the Orcs who had slaughtered her parents so many centuries ago. The Mark of Murzog. She could never forget such a mark, although rumors had reached her ears that Murzog had indeed died at the Battle of Dagorlad. It had saddened her that she could not have been to one to end his wretched existence. Yet, here the King had brought the Mark to the surface again. "This Mark was carved into a tree out in the forest. Do you know what it is?" Legolas asked, stepping forward to stand just behind his father. Faervel closed her eyes and nodded. "It is the Mark of Murzog. It is the mark of the creature whose followers killed my parents. Despite his demise in the Battle of Dagorlad, his followers lived on for centuries after, as I am sure you know, Lord Thranduil. It was those followers that my parents met in the Drimrill Dale. You and your kin were not the only one to lose someone to the clutches of Murzog." Faervel replied, finally lifting her gaze to meet Thranduil's piercing gaze.
In his eyes, she saw a flicker of something other than coldness. Remorse? Sadness? Regret? What emotion he had shown she could not tell for within a second, it was gone. "Goheno nin, hir nin. I spoke out of place." Faervel said, bowing her head slightly, asking for forgiveness. "U-moe edaved. Gerich naergon nin." The King said quietly bowing his head slightly before departing without another word. Legolas watched his father leave before turning to place his gaze on Faervel. "Garo aur. Have a good day, Faervel." And with that, a son followed after his father. Tauriel watched both of them leaved before turning back to Faervel. Before she could even get a word out of her mouth, Faervel put up a hand to stop Tauriel. "Go. You need to do your job and that does not consist of keeping me company." Faervel said with a small smile. At that, Tauriel nodded and took her leave. Before Tauriel completely disappeared, Faervel called out one last thing. "Could you bring a book the next time you come?"
Faervel heard Tauriel let out a laugh before Faervel lost sight of her. With a sigh, the she-elf settled back into her bed. Something rustled on her blankets, and her eyes shifted to the piece of paper that had been left behind. She could not, would not, believe he had returned. Murzog; a thing of nightmares. She had not ever seen him, and hoped she never had to. But everywhere she went, scary stories of Murzog's wrath were told around fires. If he was truly back, than no one was safe. Picking up the paper gently, Faervel eyed the Mark that had given so many people such terror. Without a moment's pause, she crumpled the paper and threw it on her tray of half eaten food.
Murzog could not truly be back….. Could he?
A/N: I have loved writing this story so far and I thank those who have favorited and followed it! I hope you enjoy this new chapter and please leave a review so I know how I am doing!