Chapter 7: Hartwood Arrow

Thieves, Murderers, and Rapists

The band of six soon became the band of nine and then a dozen. Each morning Ilsenia would stay at the camp with Jon, Tyrion, and the two Lannister bannermen. Benjen would venture into the passing villages, gathering the latest recruits for the Night's Watch. Meager farm boys of Jon's age stumble in ropes like prisoners, only for the First Ranger to free them as they sit by the shared fires. Tyrion's eyes keep record of the 'latest and greatest' that the Night's Watch will soon have to offer to protect the seven realms from the darkest of dangers. A smile widens as he watches Jon's doubtful assessment of those who come to share his camp, then he brings his focus back to the borrowed book from Maester Luwin's library, 'The Longest Winter'. The thought that these men would give up their ability to lay with another woman, hold titles, and venture free from the soon approaching frozen wasteland is beyond him. Chuckling to himself, 'I will have to make sure to not get caught murdering or stealing'.

"Not impressed by your new brothers?" Tyrion pokes at Jon. The latest installment of the Night's Watch were a band of rapers. He wonders if Jon is embarrassed that they are not the same as him, misunderstood bastards. "Luckily, you are able to discard your family for a new one." Jon looks back at his Uncle so calmly sharing the same fire with men who would try dishonor a maiden in one moment if they were armed. "Why do you read so much?" He then switches his mind back to the dwarf who is eagerly trying to raise his feathers. There the two brought light into their dim histories, sharing wine, witty jabs, and mockingly compose impressions of the new recruits. 'We all must do our part for our families' honor' continues to swim in Jon's head with the red southern wine. 'Tyrion reads to become a wiser opponent. What will be my gift to my brothers at Castle Black? How will I honor my Uncle so that he will boast about it to my father upon his next visit to Winterfell?'

Now a little more tossed than he has been in a long time, Jon rises as stoically as possible before the Lannister Lord and turns. Passing the men as he heads to a solo tree, he overhears their shared gossip of Ilsenia. "Have you ever seen a silver haired bitch like that? I wonder if the hair matches down there." The bearded meathead as Tyrion and Jon have labeled him continues to press on his curiosity of how between her legs would feel and if she was a foreign cunt from the South. Guardedly Jon finishes his business and returns to Ilsenia's camp near his Uncle. "I don't think you should be going anywhere without someone being near you if you know what I mean", Jon leans in. Ilsenia smiles and then looks back from where Jon had come, "are you suggesting that YOU should follow me and guard me while I relieve myself? This would not be a problem if you two would return me my things that your father refused to give back upon my departure." Benjen chuckles, "You'll get them when you walk back through the wall from where you came. You'll need them if you ever try to set foot back in Westeros. You're fortunate enough to not be tied up and gagged. Jon speaks for you and you have been plenty civil with me, but it in no way means I'm going to arm you when I have so many to look after. You don't see me giving blades to these blokes."

"Agreed. Well then, Jon, it looks as though you will indeed have to escort me to a private area so that I can do as nature calls". Ilsenia gathering her cloak around her stands before the both of them and begins walking past the men further into the wooded area. Jon glances at Benjen and his uncle nods back. Stomping past the men, two were missing from the circle. "Where'r the others?" Jon looks at the more honest looking of the bunch, "they went to piss," they muttered looking down away from his stare. Jon looks up and notices that Ilsenia is far from his watch and his knowledge of the other men's whereabouts is dimmer than tar. He quickens his pace into the woods to find the two circling Ilsenia as her back is to a tree. One of them had their hand upon her throat, but she seemed not to struggle and in no duress.

Without question, Jon runs to shove meathead to the side, dropping them both to the ground. Straddling the braggart, Jon pulls his glove to brandish a bare fist to the man's head. As the two tossle on the ground, the skinnier one is trying to wrap his arms around Ilsenia. Her strength is that of a dark elf, not that of her mate's but stronger than a common man. She easily broke free of the skinny one's bond to turn and knee him in the groin. With twine she has been keeping since Winterfell, she knees him again on the ground to get him onto his stomach. There, in a brief moment, his arms were behind his back and tied tightly. She then progresses to aid Jon with the heavier man by grabbing one of his hands and breaking his two smaller fingers. A yell in agony arises and Jon knocks him to the ground. With blood and spit falling from his mouth, "I'll kill you and this bitch when I have a chance boy."

The Wall

The snow came calling to the party of misfits, and nobles. The wind carries a sharp and bitter level of resentment to those who do not call the north home. Tyrion pulls his cloak closer and his bannermen tighten their helmets to keep any and all heat from escaping. Jon has known the cold and all that comes with it. He had barely survived the last winter when he was just a boy. Now, he is dedicating his life to the frozen mistress that stretches her arms from one side of Westeros to the other. The snow sticks to the ground and small flurries blow around the horses as they near a high hill. There in their sights is the Wall that everyone knows about and speaks of, but never have they seen the enormity of the structure. It dwarves Castle Black to the size of a beggar's hut. The smoke from the chimneys surrender to the height of the Builder's Wall, never making it to the guard points up top.

The Ranger approaches with great pride and appreciation in the colossal structure and turns to look at the gaping mouths of his nephew, the Lannister Lord, the new recruits, and surprisingly, the girl. "Welcome," Stark smiled at them. The Ranger could piss on King's Landing from atop of the wall if the castle stood at the base. What he would give for all the Lords and Ladies to see what keeps them safe and warm in their homes every night. Collecting his mare, he begins the cantor down to the gates while the rest still gawk at the wonder.

Ilsenia had never seen anything like the wall. The gates to Mordor were a close second, but a far second at best. The magic in this structure radiated in the wind and she felt every fragment in it feeding her spirit once again. This is no ordinary fortification made by common men. This, this was a collaborative effort like so many kingdoms she has graced in Middle Earth. These are the gates that will lead her home. Waking from her dream of returning to her husband, she clasps her necklace and relaxes, then too prompts her horse to make haste behind Benjen.

The Swan's Castle

Legolas of Mirkwood, ruling Prince to the last of his people who have not sailed westward, battles over and over through his mind how he will find his wife, daughter, and avenge any dark deed put upon them. The smell of the ocean bay fills the winds thicker and thicker as he sprints the remaining grassy range of Dol Amroth's kingdom. His long bow with his wife's hair braided tightly to make the strongest string is fastened to his back; his long elven daggers, sheathed behind as well to aid in his speed; all are ready for whatever comes upon him. The arrows, Ilsenia had made for him before the Battle of Tribes in Minas Tirith. Only a few remain. They will not miss their marks. In a calming effect, he brings his right hand to his chest to feel his marriage pendent, a green and silver leaf coupled with an onyx and silver falcon feather. He has had this piece for two centuries and 5. Never has it been far from his body, and he looks forward to seeing its mate soon.

The eastern gates are formidable but none like the western gates of the city that has long fought off raiders and creatures of the deep. They will be expecting him and he shall not disappointment them. 'It is easier to go through the front door than climb through the window,' Mithrandir once told him in his younger years. Those are some of the fondest memories Legolas possesses. The grand battles with his truest friends, the King of all Gondor and the Druid of Lothlorien, the Great Wizard, and his late lover, Gimli. He had promised him once that they would sail to the undying lands, but his love for Ilsenia kept him from boarding the vessel with the dwarf. The love triangle was a challenge and was once a diamond. Ilsenia too had a dwarven lover, a century before then but close to Gimli's family, nonetheless. The stubbornness of dwarves always confirmed elven assumptions on the lifestyles of Durin's folk. Thorin and Gimli broke those conventional labels and melded well with Ilsenia and Legolas.

Thorin was a brute, selfish, and one-sided in Legolas' experience, but his wife was the dwarf's brightest star that guided him to reason and compassion. In his dying words, he had called her his only Arkenstone he would ever need. The mortal passing of the great King of the Lonely Mountain broke Ilsenia for six decades. Legolas could not comfort her on her journey back to Lothlorien, and chose to continue to the last realms of the Dunedain. The family of Dain, wound themselves deeply into the elves he cared for. Kili, nephew to the Dwarf King had stolen the heart of the beautiful wild ranger Tauriel and broke it upon his death. Then a wave of disgust rushed over him thinking of Tauriel. Shortly after the passing of Kili, his father charismatically persuaded her to return with him to Mirkwood, then seduced and married her. His adolescent infatuation became his second mother. He never returned to the Northern Woodland Kingdom again.

The gates of Dol Amroth great and intricately designed with silver swans and elven ships tower above the lanky blonde Prince. The common entrance to Dol Amroth is open within the right portal. There, a guard equal to Legolas' height and twice the breadth waits with a spear and shield. His right leg slightly behind the left reveals his anticipation for the elf's possible melee with him. On the other side of the entryway, two Black Swan knights, armored from head to toe stand ready with long swords. Straight-faced, the Prince gestures, "I am here to speak with the prince, and to return with my wife and daughter." The two knights step forward, side-by-side with the city guard, smiling, "Yer wife's dead, so don't be expecting to be walking out with her. The Silver Swan is waiting for your words and surrender. We are directed to escort you and not harm you for your daughter's sake; however, if you choose to be hostile, we have been granted permission to amend those orders."

Knowing the city quite well from his visits as ambassador of Ithilien, Legolas took know time 'walking through the front door' and skewering the guard and two knights with their own blades. The guard continuing to rithe and shake with his own spear cleanly penetrating through his chest, gurgled one last gasp and gesturing toward the alarm near the entryway. The two knights ascend toward Legolas from both sides, swinging their blades above and below the elf in hopes to catch him either way. The six-foot 5 bowman leaps almost his height's measure above the two blades and clamms down to disarm them both. Their strength is no match for this veteran fighter. With little struggle, Legolas crushes their wrists, causing them to yell in agony and drop their swords. As they drop, the elf catches them and punctures their skulls with the Amrothian metal. The bodies drop immediately, limp and lifeless.

Other soldiers hear the screams from the civilians who witness the sheer rage of the noble guardians of the realm. Some still in shock, and others in disbelief, only cries escape the fearful humans. "Forgive me Mithrandir, but now I must access a window", Legolas bounds for the Prince's Court. The palace that overlooks the vast and wealthy bay is prepared for the lone elf. It was Legolas' strategy to come at the castle from behind, scaling the seawall, but the view of his beautiful daughter upon the steps of the court, paralyzes him. Lesiery's lavender eyes and fair skin mirror his own. Her short slender body, silver hair, and facial features mirror her mother's. Her figured walk ascends the long marble steps in a gown native only to the seamstresses of the Silver Swan. No appearance of distress is present on her as she nears her father. A soft smile reveals on her face, "father, I am here and I am fine. Please, harness your blades and speak with my love, the Prince."

'My LOVE?!' The words stab the proud father so deeply. Never had she spoken affectionate words of this man that she has know very little. Desperate to see Ilsenia somewhere in the crowd approaching at the top of the steps with the Prince in hopes this is all some bizarre vision. 'I must have lost consciousness in the plains when the stallion bucked me off". The elf staggers back with a whirl of confusion and betrayal present upon his face. "Lord Greenleaf, I pray that you listen to your daughter, my intended. Soon we will be family and ward over the last magic lands of Middle Earth. The gates of Arman are no longer open to our kind and we must bring order and safety to those who hold greater power over men. Please, come." A slender and aristocratic man approaches Lesiery and extends a hand out toward Legolas. His face is calm and positive with fake promise.

Legolas has no trust in the twisted waterfowl. He grabs his bow and pulls the obsidian arrow from the quiver, knocking it back as far as the beautiful bowstring permits. The arrow releases as another pierces through his chest from behind. The white shafted arrow with a ruby head extends past his leather armor. His eyes recognize the Hartwood arrow, very few in existence, and meant only to kill elves. Springing from the ruby, wooded vines enwrap his torso and climb to his neck in rapid succession. Legolas, falls to his knees and turns to see who the true puppeteers are in this guise. Their shadows approach his enraged and tangled body. Soon, he is no more and a beautiful broad Direwood tree is pressing its roots into the ivory stones of the Prince's Court.