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Now to the story


Idhthrael rode with all haste across the plains hoping to reach Greenwood before a week had passed. She had arranged with Lord Elrond that her belongings would be sent to the Elvenking's halls only after she had been granted permission to stay. The Wood Elves had grown wary of strangers, and Idhthrael hoped that she would be given entry before it was too late for the injured elf. In truth, Lord Elrond's words had shaken her. Old memories came back to haunt her mind and again he prayed that they would leave. Images of – no. She refused to think about it.

"Noro lim, Arien, noro lim," she murmured to her horse as the sun dipped below the horizon.


Legolas felt sick. It had been a week since he had left the palace. The spiders had been defeated, yet the price was heavy. A third of his contingent were lying bloody upon the ground, and while he had been prepared for death, nothing could ever prepare him for this. To see friends and comrades slaughtered is never something you become used to.

"How many of you can still ride?" he asked. Several hands were raised, but none had come out unscathed. Legolas himself was sporting a gash in his abdomen which he had so far managed to hide from Erthor. "Those who cannot ride, ride with those who can." For a second he paused, eyes darkening. "Leave the dead. If fate smiles upon us, we may bring them back for a proper burial. For now, we must leave quickly."

"Legolas!" Erthor called out as he approached the Prince. "Legolas you are pale."

"I am fine," he insisted.

"Your father told me when I became your second that I should never believe you when you say that," came the retort.

"Ah, but my father is not here. And there are those who must come before me." He glanced quickly around the clearing and said, "Nerdanel, can you ride?" The nearby elleth who was struggling to stand shook her head miserably. Legolas deftly left Erthor to help her mount his horse. "You do not mind riding with me, my lady?" he asked softly.

Behind him he heard Erthor snort. No lady minded riding with him, in fact, it was their dream. He usually would have teased Legolas for it, but he held himself in check. Now was not the time.

They now rode back to the palace, Erthor eyeing the Prince suspiciously. He should never have let him ride alone with an injured elf, but he understood. The circumstances were dire. When they got back to the palace, however, Erthor would drag Legolas by his pointy ears to the healing halls. Legolas hid his wounds very well, and Erthor had learned to see through the façade of strength Legolas always tried to maintain. The darkness of his blue eyes, the slight crease on his forehead, the way he winced imperceptibly as Nerdanel held onto his abdomen for support. There was no doubt that Legolas was injured.

For Legolas, the ride back to the palace was utter agony. He knew how much an injured abdomen hurt, how much blood loss it took to make him this dizzy, but the facts didn't line up. There was something more to this. His neck itched, and as he reached back to scratch it, he felt it. Two puncture wounds. Ai, Elbereth! he cursed. A spider bite. Did the Valar really hate him that much? He urged his horse to go faster even as his vision began to blur. Holding onto the last tatters of consciousness, Legolas saw the palace gates, saw his father standing inside the palace. He let himself feel relief coursing through his body. They were safe. He had brought them back home.

With that thought, he let go, the world around him fading into black.

Thranduil was just finished seeing to a visitor from Imladris when he saw horses galloping at breakneck speed towards the gates. Legolas. He walked as fast as possible while still appearing dignified, feeling the dark foreboding that had been on the edge of his mind returning. He saw as Legolas' horse rushed in, saw his son's eyes slide back into his head, body slackening. He saw Erthor vaulting off his horse, catching Legolas before he fell to the ground, even as he himself ran to do the same.

With dread, Thranduil shifted back Legolas' hair to reveal the back of his neck, and sure enough, there were marks. "Healers!" he shouted at the stunned guards. "Send for them now! Bring stretchers, we must move them inside," snapped Thranduil, every inch a formidable King.

But when the guards had moved to do his bidding, Erthor saw the shoulders slump, the hardness of Thranduil's eyes faded. "Hold on, ion nin. Don't leave me." Then the King lifted his son from Erthor's hold and carried Legolas into the healing wards himself as he prayed to the Valar.


Earlier that day…

Idhthrael slowed down her horse, Arien, as she saw the looming trees of Greenwood. The air was thick with a sense of dread, and the trees sang a sorrowful song. Fiddling with the pendant on her neck, she hoped that she was not too late.

"Halt! Who goes there?" a voice from the canopy called out to her.

"Suilad, mellon nin. Im Idhthrael Adramiriel o Eryn Galen."

"We have not heard the name Adramir since the days when the Queen graced these woods, and your name is unknown to us. State your business, and quickly, lest our patience grows thin and our wariness overcome us."

"Lord Elrond sent me. He had reason to believe that Greenwood is in need of help, and he thought it best to send one who was born in these lands," Idhthrael answered to the leaves, spotting the glint of an arrowhead.

"Prove that you mean no harm."

Carefully, Idhthrael unhooked the necklace she wore, and held it aloft for the hidden sentinels to see. "King Thranduil gave me this on the day I left these woods. A crystallised drop from the Enchanted River, given to guard me from grief. Lead me now to the King's halls, for a life hangs in the balance and I mean to save it."

Three elves landed on the forest floor, bowing to her. "My lady, forgive us the harsh words, for the world grows dark and we must be wary or we would die. Come, your horse must be tired. Use one of ours, and Talathion will guide you to the palace," said an aurburn haired elf. Beside him a dark haired elf smiled at Idhthrael. "I am Talathion, have no fear. Your horse will be taken care of. We have not heard of an injured elf, but if your words are true, we must ride with all haste."

"Indeed they are. Please, I cannot delay any longer."

"Then let us not, my lady," Talathion said, handing her the reins of a horse that had been hidden from sight.

Together they galloped through the forest, Idhthrael staying close to her guide, praying for her memories to stay far away from her. For the first time in centuries, she wished she had let the Enchanted River take away those times of tragedy.

"We are almost there, my lady!" shouted Talathion two hours later. Their horses were tiring, Idhthrael herself felt like collapsing from lack of rest in the past days. She kept going on until – there! – she spotted the magnificent gates.

Everything was a blur from then. Somehow she had gotten off her horse, gone through many winding corridors breathlessly, until Idhthrael found herself facing another set of breath-taking doors. She heard guards announcing her name, and the doors opened. At first, she had expected a throne room, but now she realised she was in the King's private study, for the hour was early, and the King had just risen.

"Your majesty," Idhthrael breathed out. "Forgive me for my abrupt arrival." She was struck by how powerful he looked, how ancient, dangerous and forbidding his sharp features were. And yet he was handsome too, she decided. Handsome, and… sad? There was an emptiness in those fearsome eyes now analysing her very being.

"How did Elrond know of our need? What business does he have with our realm?" Thranduil demanded, unwilling to barter pleasantries. He had not been untimely woken up by this lady's arrival because a dream, a nightmare, had kept him awake.

"He received word from your Healer, Iorveldir, your highness, asking for help."

"Did he? And why did he send you?" the King asked, his voice cutting the air.

"I was born here, I volunteered. He has trained me for centuries in the arts of healing, and I wished to return here so that I may help the kingdom where I came from."

"Perhaps. The elf who returned here a week ago has nearly passed into Mandos. Help, if you will, Idhthrael Adramiriel, though I advise you to leave when your work is done."

"For what reason, your majesty? I-I don't mean to question you, yet I would stay here if I could, where my skills are needed."

"The Wood Elves have never required help from the Noldor," Thranduil said dangerously, "but I will not let our pride doom us. I remember you, an elfling, so distraught that I gave you my blessing. A drop of water from the river my father enchanted. Have you used it yet?"

"No, my lord. I still wear it, and it gave me safe passage here."

"The world grows dark, Idhthrael, and many wars lie ahead of us. We must choose our battles wisely." Then Thranduil turned away from Idhthrael, walking to the balcony of the room eyes roaming the trees for a glimpse of something. Then he said, "Talathion, take her to the healing wards. Her skills will be needed soon."


Noro lim - ride hard

elleth - female elf

Suilad, mellon nin. Im Idhthrael Adramiriel o Eryn Galen - Greetings, my friend. I am Idhthrael daughter of Adramir of Greenwood the Great


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