Greg: Thanks mate! There is always a lot of scene setting with sequels, and especially for this story as it was such a sprawling plot! There is even more of it in this chapter, especially with respect to Hwindo's family situation. Hope you enjoy it!
Violet: got it, thanks for pointing that out! And I am so glad to see you back :) Glad you are enjoying the story so far although a lot of it is still scene-setting and reminders from The Silvan.
Chapter two: Dream No More
It was cold and he reached for the edges of his bedroll, wondering why the fire had been allowed to die, for here in the wild places of the wood, it was rarely good practice to slumber in the darkness. Only he wasn't lying upon the wet forest floor out in the Mirkwood but in a king-sized bed in the comfort of his own rooms in the Fortress.
Turning upon his back he groaned and then blinked until the room came into focus. Someone sat at his side and he jerked so violently that the visitor flinched, and then swallowed dryly as a curved dagger tickled the soft skin that separated the sharp blade from his jugular vein.
The frozen elf was a Noldo with hair as black as liquid onyx, and eyes that shone light grey, sparkling with intelligence, wisdom, and the promise of dry humour. This was Rafnohtar the Winged Warrior, once known to Hwindo as Elladan Elrondion.
Hwindo was about to open his mouth, but Elladan was already speaking quietly, his eyes following the blade as it moved away from him.
"You had us worried, Hwindo. I, Idhrenohtar and Ram en' in the Eastern patrol, and Rhrawthir, Lindohtar, Glamohtar and Koron en' in the Western patrol. We sent letters with our internal messengers, pleaded information from our superiors who would often times laugh at our anguish - Galadan was our go-between and through him, we learned of your progress, tracked your movements and counted the days before you would return to the safer parts of the forest. Alas they kept you away from us, held you under the mantle of darkness for four years and I ask you now; the truth mind," he emphasised, the sparkle of a challenge in his noble eyes as he lent forward, "Are you well?"
Legolas stared back at his friend, considering what to say, or indeed what not to. Sitting up and stilling his hammering chest, his back protested the movement, and then his tormented shoulder. He groaned as his head pulsed in a deep ache, a remnant of his recent mishap with a Uruk Hai and Elladan sighed dramatically.
"Well, that was most illustrative, Hwindo," he said, the solemn moment gone and so he leaned further forward and focussed on the many scars that littered his friend's torso. "How many times have you been shot you twit?" he asked peskily, his jaw working itself as he spotted at least three arrow scars.
"Four or five, perhaps - it is an archer's lot, Elladan, this you know."
"Still," tutted the warrior-healer. "You need some recuperation - has Llyniel set you a programme?"
"There has been no time. I arrived yesterday afternoon. I bathed, ate and slept, and now I am here, talking to you."
"Then come," ordered Rafno as he made to stand. "Your family is anxious to see you."
"I can't. I must report to Captain Dunorel. "No doubt they will expected me to attend the king's table, but I can't, Elladan, not until I have centred myself," he said almost pleadingly, before his face hardened once more. "I have no wish for small talk…" he finished abruptly.
"I do not think they will allow you to escape them, Legolas. You have been missed. I know for a fact they have not come to you already only because the king asked it of them, but they will not be held at bay for long."
A tight smile was Legolas' only answer and Elladan rather thought his friend did not believe him. He had finally accepted and been accepted by his family just before his posting in the South and although they had made great progress, there had been no time to consolidate their relationships, no time for Legolas to really understand what it was to have a family, siblings.
Another groan brought Elladan back from his wanderings and he watched as his friend rose slowly from his bed and dressed absent-mindedly in his spare uniform and then began to braid his hair. He looked atrocious; his face was pale and drawn and faint bruises marred the otherwise porcelain skin. Elladan wondered how many times he had been clobbered about the head, shot and generally beaten upon for his movements were slow and painful. Yet he knew his friend would not appreciate his concern and so he masked it, only half heartedly however, for he knew Hwindo understood the nature of his irony.
"Stop fretting, Hwindo - you are as handsome as ever," he said with a smirk on his face, but Legolas did not answer, instead turning from his sickly reflexion and slapping Elladan brotherly upon the back.
"I have missed you," he said quietly with a tight smile. Aye he understood, mused Elladan, and appreciated the diversion. Yet that did not stop him from looking at Legolas appraisingly when his friend was distracted.
"What will Dunorel say, I wonder," began Elladan, steering their stilted words to other questions that would, perhaps, help Legolas to better orientate himself, to pull his mind away from what had obviously been a difficult four years of duty.
"I think it will be a performance report," he murmured.
"And what will he say?" asked Elladan as he fussed with one of the buckles at Legolas' shoulder.
"I know he is happy with my work, he said so yesterday."
"That is good. Just one more year and they will surely promote you, Legolas. Your dream is not far away any more," he said as he finished and slapped Hwindo on the back.
"Aye. Perhaps they will keep me here at the fortress for the rest of that time - show me the other side of being a captain - the protocols and the paperwork," he said with a scowl of disgust.
"Whatever," said Elladan, waving his hand in the air. "At least we will see each other more often, should that be the case."
"Aye - that is true," said Legolas as they both left his appointed rooms. "And what of you and Maeneth - have I missed anything?" he asked innocently.
"Not much. I am a Noldorin coward, my friend, but aye she is lovely your sister!" he exclaimed and Legolas smiled warmly for the first time. "And of The Company?" he asked softly.
"They arrived late last night and I wager they are still resting. I do not think they know we are here."
Legolas stopped mid stride, a smile spreading on his face yet he did not turn to face Elladan as he spoke.
"After my meeting with Dunorel, I must see my father. There are issues I must address, Elladan, things that cannot wait."
Elladan simply nodded his understanding, unwilling to enter that conversation at this point, it would do his friend no good, indeed, if he was not mistaken, he was already fretting over it. He had refused to attend breakfast with his family but at least he would not put off seeing the king.
"I will find The Company, later, brief them if you wish," offered Elladan.
"Yes - good, thank you, Rafno. Make them understand," he said of a sudden, turning to look at Elladan squarely. There was an apology in his eyes and Elladan placed a calming hand on his vambrace.
"I will. You have more important issues to attend to now, Hwindo. They will understand - this you know."
Legolas simply nodded as they finally walked into the morning gloom and strode across the mighty courtyard, under the scrutiny of warriors and civilians alike. There were no more stones, no more lewd comments and insults as there had been before his incursion into the South. Only curiosity lay in wake of that hatred, that and a growing sense of excitement and respect. Yet Legolas did not seem to register it at all, his mind set on the task before him - absent to all else, it seemed to Elladan.
A little boy waved at him excitedly and Hwindo saluted solemnly, albeit there was a slight, mischievous grin on his face and the child squealed as he tried to return the salute, much to his mother's amusement.
"You would make a good father," said Elladan quietly with a smirk.
"Don't even think about it," growled Legolas and Elladan snorted, but then soon sobered as the quiet, introspective mood appeared once more.
"I will take a walk, Elladan; sit in silence for a while amidst the trees before duty calls once more."
Elladan watched Hwindo through slanted eyes, searching for the truth and finding it. The trees in the South must not have been friendly, and Rafno would have missed communing with them, would have missed the peace he knew they gave him and so, with a curt nod he smiled.
"Then sit and daydream the morning away; speak with the trees if you must but rest," he emphasized, satisfied when his friend met his gaze and nodded. Elladan read the words beneath, though, the ones only his expression hinted at. He was nervous, not for what Dunorel would say perhaps, but for what he himself had to say.
"I will find you later and report on The Company's status," he said, glad when a genuine smile blossomed upon the extraordinary face.
"Elladan."
"Yes."
"I missed you."
His own lips stretched into a sparing smile, and then he watched as Legolas walked down the stone path. He was fast becoming an icon to the younger warriors, and had already earned the confidence of his elders. The last few years had not broken him and yet Elladan was not fooled; they had changed him profoundly, and he had yet to decide if that change was for good or for bad.
He would return to the fortress now, and fulfil his promise to Thranduil and his children. He would report to them, ease their minds as much as he realistically could for they had agreed to heed him in this one thing, yet a pang of sadness hit him for how could he tell them, that Legolas regarded them as a duty, one that weighed him down. He would not, of course, but the knowledge was not welcome. He knew Legolas needed time and space to recuperate and however much they wanted to get closer to him now that he was finally home, the stress that would come of it must only be assumed on Legolas' terms. In return for their patience, they had wrought from Elladan the promise to keep them informed, and to do for their brother what they were, as yet, not close enough to achieve.
They would be though, soon enough, wagered Elladan, for they had come a long, long way. All that was needed was respectful distance for a few days until his friend was strong enough to push forward. Only then could he start to see them as a lifeline, unconditional support, a rock on which he could stand - one he had never had, one he did not, as yet, comprehend.
ALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALAL
Gra'don buckled his leather armour over his hairless chest and then tied his cloak around his neck. Slipping his shining sword into its harness at his hip, he then placed a dagger at his trim waist and a bow over his broad shoulder. The mirror told him his hair was correctly plaited and that his attire was as perfect as it should be for general, for a Nim'uan.
Striding powerfully out of his quarters and into the dark halls beyond, he stood tall and imperious as the group of four Uruk Hai approached him and then bowed low. There was something in their eyes, a lingering sense of apprehension, and even as their leader spoke, the expression did not leave their grotesque faces - they were frightened, and yet they were Uruk Hai.
"Gra'don," said their captain respectfully, its voice deep and raspy. "We have important news from the borders of Lorien."
"Speak," came the deep, velvety smooth voice of the general. The contrast was a powerful one, as evident as the differences in their physique.
"One of your children has been spotted by their border guard. They did not understand."
"What happened?"
"A small group escaped our ambush. They will have reported to their superiors."
"While it is just one, they will assume it is simply an oddity. They will have no reason to believe that there are more," said Gra'don, as if he spoke to a child, and the beady eyes of the Uruk stared back at him, unwilling to argue the point it seemed, or perhaps incapable of following its leader's superior reasoning.
Soon enough, Gra'don gave them leave, his shrewd eyes registering their relief that he had not been angered, had not been forced to discipline them. It had been inevitable from the very beginning of their plan. You could not hide such striking features for long - the Nim'uan half-breeds were too beautiful, too different to go unnoticed for much longer and yet - Turning, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. His uruks should not have allowed any to live - it was inconvenient for the Nim'uan to be discovered now - it was too early, there were things still to be done. He would send a message to his brother, warn him to step up their preparations lest the elves begin to search for them. They must be ready before that could happen - one more year, that was all they needed and the elves that inhabited Arcane Land would stand no chance against the combined might of the Nim'uan, Uruk and Orcs for they were no longer leaderless and scattered, but united; three races under one leader, one Emperor.
In his quarters once more, he sat and stared at his face. He was beautiful, he thought to himself and then a long, elegant hand reached out and brushed over the polished surface. He frowned for incomprehension was back and he could not understand. He was a warrior, born of Uruk Hai, it was his nature to kill blindly, without thought and yet - He himself did not want to die, for if he did, it would be the end of this beauty, the end of his own thoughts and experiences, the end of himself, Gra'don. In this one thing he would renege his Uruk Hai heritage, he would strive to preserve his life and not give it willingly as he asked of others, demanded of them for they were not Nim'uan, how could they possibly understand?.
He breathed out heavily and stood once more. He would take the land he had found for himself and his kin, kill all who stood in his way, even the elves of Arcane Land, even the most beautiful ones. They were no match for him and his children for no warrior, be he human or elven, could ever out master a Nim'uan in warfare.
His head cocked acutely to one side and he wondered, did his brother Saz'nar, General of Moria, have such thoughts as these?
ALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA
"Lieutenant," said Dunorel, standing at his table and gesturing for Legolas to sit, which he did, first with a formal salute, and then a lingering gaze upon his captain, for the elf was pale and drawn - he looked just as bad as Legolas felt, he thought.
And then, to his surprise, Dunorel laughed. It utterly changed the captain's face and Legolas was struck by the idea that this was a different elf, one he had never met.
"I know what you are thinking," said Dunorel, holding up a hand for silence. "We are all in a sorry state, are we not?" he smiled now, waiting for Legolas to speak.
"I was thinking you look as bad as I feel…" he said somewhat ruefully, in awe still at the light-hearted mood he had not once seen in his captain during their four-year campaign, until now.
"Aye well, that would be my fault would it not," he prompted.
"It is the enemy's fault, Captain. I am honoured to have served beneath you."
Dunorel held his silence for a while as he looked at the one who had been his lieutenant for the past four years, the most extraordinary warrior he had ever served with.
"I tried to break you," he began as he leaned forward, elbows upon his desk, eyes glittering in deep wisdom and experience. "I pushed you to your physical limits, I tested your emotional responses, I tried your strategy even in the face of duress. I did everything I could to crack your resolve, to tax your body so that you would fail - I wanted to see how far I could push you…"
Legolas listened respectfully, for this he had known. He had never taken it personally.
"And yet you did not - I - could not. Where are your limits, Lieutenant? What does it take to break you?" he asked as he sat back now, his eyes shining with the hope of an answer; and Legolas gave him one.
"Death, Captain. It will take my death…" he said seriously.
"Yes," said Dunorel slowly, "yes I believe that is so.
"Captain…" began Legolas softly, "has Commander General Celegon spoken to you of - of my status?" he asked, his eyes firmly anchored on the captain's.
Dunorel peered back at him, for longer than was comfortable before he finally spoke and when he did, it was quietly. "He has told me you are *Beriannon, yes."
Legolas processed that information for a moment before continuing. "Does anyone else know?" he ventured.
"They do now. The entire Inner Circle has been informed …"
Legolas' nostrils flared and panic clambered at the doors of his mind. Dunorel must have seen it though for he was soon speaking once more.
"There was much debate, but none of it in any way comparable to the trials we put you through. You were accepted then - we will not go back on that. Your status is a military secret, save for the knowledge your family has, and of course Lord Elrond. We will not speak of it…." assured Dunorel.
Legolas allowed himself the luxury of exhaling noisily.
"You are relieved?" asked Dunorel rhetorically.
"Yes," smiled Legolas. "You cannot know how much, Captain…"
"Legolas- there is undoubtedly much to discuss, but I will not mince words with you. You are everything we thought you would be, and you will be everything we imagined you to be…"
"You are content then, with my performance in the field?" he asked hopefully.
Dunorel looked back at him disbelievingly.
"I submitted my report to the Inner Circle yesterday no sooner we arrived. They have unanimously accepted to execute my recommendations, effective immediately."
"I am staying home for the last year then?" ventured Legolas, thinking he had been right, they would let him rest for a while perhaps.
"No, not that."
Legolas sighed. "Alright, I understand, I know we are hard-pressed; it was selfish of me to assume…"
"Legolas…"
"Captain," murmured Hwindo, realising he had been on the verge of babbling.
"My recommendation was to promote to you the status of Captain."
A strange tingling sensation ran the entire length of his body and he felt his finer hairs stand on end. His body reacted to the captain's words but his mind fumbled with their meaning…
There was complete silence in the room then as he simply sat there, frozen - silent and dazed. He did not even realise when the door opened and Huron, Turion and Thoron entered, and then Celegon himself, Commander General of the Greenwood.
"Legolas…" came Dunorel's authoritative voice.
"I don't know if I have…"
"You have understood - Captain," whispered Dunorel fiercely, who could only watch in awe as the warrior grappled with the words - as if he dared not believe them - for what it would do to him should he have misunderstood.
"Legolas. Believe it - as of now, you are Captain Legolas of His Majesty's Woodland Militia. The entire Inner Circle says it is so."
Legolas stood slowly, his eyes wide and his face blank. Turning his back on his captain he only now realised the presence of the others who looked on with soft smiles upon their faces, all except one - he stared back with a look of such utter determination, bright, intense grey eyes that screamed that this was Lainion's find, that he had known, that the Avari had always believed, that this was inevitable and that he was proud - Turion.
With a stumbling gait, Legolas approached the first commander he had ever had and embraced him fiercely, and Turion, proud Sindarin captain, smiled as his mind conjured the image of his friend. Lainion stood there in his mind's eye, smiling back at him. But then the smile faltered and he spoke. "Guard him well…". Turion scowled at the wiles of his own mind, wondering why that thought had come to him so graphically. As luck would have it though, Celegon was speaking.
"You are the youngest captain in history, as far as we know," he said as he clapped Legolas upon the shoulder, "and we are proud you are of The Greenwood."
"I do not know what to say," said Legolas dumbly, and Turion smiled at him.
"Then say nothing at all. Enjoy the moment Legolas for you will be out in the field soon enough…"
Hwindo nodded, and then smiled as the knowledge finally took hold and he allowed himself to believe it. Yet he reined in his steadily growing euphoria - there would be time enough for that. Right now, he needed to to reveal his purpose, the one Yavanna had charged him with.
"I must speak with you, Commander; there is still something you do not know…" said Legolas.
Celegon's eyes darted to Turion and then Thoron, before returning to Legolas. "Should I sit down?" he asked ironically.
Legolas allowed himself a rueful smile. "Perhaps," he said, sitting when Celegon gestured to a chair before the table.
"I am all ears…." said the commander.
ALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALALA
"He is simply tired and sore, my King. There are no major injuries, just lingering aches and pains."
"And of his mind?" asked the king, sitting forward with his elbows upon the table.
"I wager he has seen much these past four years. He is somewhat quiet, unwilling to engage in smalltalk. He is not quite 'here', if you get my meaning, my Lord."
"Oh I do. I served in the South, many years ago, and although it was not so bad back then, I still remember…
"When will we see him, do you think?" asked Maeneth, her face hopeful, and Elladan wanted to melt where he sat.
"I cannot say, my Lady," he said carefully, but with an indulgent smile. "The problem for many returning warriors seems to be the inability to focus their attention, the apparent absurdity of speaking of the lighter, more frivolous things in life when all they have done for the last few years is kill and watch as others are slaughtered…"
"Well when you put it like that," said Handir with a frown.
"There is no other way to put it, my Prince. It will pass and he will become more adept at dealing with it. It is times like these when I wish his relationship with his family had had more time to develop. He still does not seem to understand how it works…" said Elladan, as if he were speaking to himself.
"We can hardly be surprised by that," said the king softly.
"Indeed," said Rinion. "I say we just leave him be - there is no point in pressing the matter," said the Crown Prince as he sipped on his wine, apparently unconcerned; yet any who knew him well would claim that was simply a facade - a false wall of indifference beneath which beat the heart of a protective, older brother.
"And yet I cannot help but think that it is we who should show him how a family works, the comfort to be had," said Maeneth. "In this he is not skilled for life has not taught him, but we can," she said, her eyes set and determined.
Elladan smiled at the lovely princess, lost himself in her frosty blue eyes and only Rinion's harsh call snapped him out of his dream-like state.
Handir snorted and Thranduil's eyes rolled to the ceiling in exasperation.
Ripping his eyes away from the one elf who could reduce him to a gibbering idiot, he bowed and took his leave, walking somewhat absent-mindedly towards his own rooms. However, his eyes focussed involuntarily on an elf that was approaching in the opposite direction. It was clear to Elladan that he would not stop and indeed he was glad of that, yet it was the expression the Sinda wore on his face. His brow was deeply furrowed and his mouth turned down at the corners. It was the face of one who suffers, the face of one who is angry and confused - Barathon, son of Bandorion.
As they passed each other, Barathon's eyes latched onto Elladan and as they did, his forehead smoothed out and his eyes slanted. There was recognition in them, and hatred, thought Rafno, not for who he himself was but for who his friend was, his affinity with Legolas.
There had been no forgiveness then, he realised. Barathon had not forgotten the Baudh Gwaith, when Legolas and Thranduil had killed his father before his very eyes, condemning him to the life of an outcast - avoided and ignored for no one seemed to know how to deal with him, how to approach him, indeed Barathon did nothing to encourage anything different. He kept the company of Brethil, son of Draugole of the Norhad clan - the Norhad clan, remembered Elladan, those responsible for the death of Legolas' mother.
It bode ill and a cold shiver ran the length of his spine. He would speak to Legolas as soon as he was able for perhaps he should have a care - Elladan did not trust Barathon at all, for his father had suddenly tipped and lost his mind and who was to say his son would not do likewise, that perhaps there was some, inherent madness laying at bay, that would explode without prior warning and bring tragedy in its wake.