Chapter 9
Grey Havens,
Canada.
He stood, dressed in gold-plated armor. Three banners were erected behind him, one of six-pointed star in the night, one of waves captured in the sphere and the last of an oak leaf caught in sunshine. He turned away, looking across the battlefield, to see an army dressed in black armor, with banners of black sable fluttering in the wind…
He opened, his wife cuddled in his arms. He was breathing heavily, and he tried slowly to ease himself out of the embrace.
"Thranduil?"
"Hush, go back to sleep."
"No, no, I am awake." Arodien rubbed her face and turned to him. "What is it?" She studied his face before saying. "You have had a vision."
"None of them make any sense." Thranduil said, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.
"They will make sense in time."
"Perhaps," Thranduil said wearily. "Sing me something."
Arodien settled her head on his shoulder, quiet for a while as she chose a song and started to sing softly. He listened to her, driving his visions away for the time being as his fingers absently stroked her hair. In a few minutes, he finally fell asleep.
oOo
Grey Havens,
Canada.
"Six shots out of seven," Jason remarked, looking impressed. "I am impressed."
Arodien smiled.
"Seventh miss could get her killed." Miranda said, coming up behind him.
"Not if her first six got 'imp in the head."
"It will still get her killed." Miranda said. She turned to the Queen, saying, "Again."
Arodien did not complain and took her place in shooting position.
"I need to take to you." Miranda hissed in Jason's ear. She grabbed his arm and tugged, pulling him away from where the Ellyth were practicing.
"What's on your mind?"
"We are being monitored." She hissed to him, eyes turning furtively to make sure they weren't being eavesdropped. "Our team in Rome had to move again for the second time this month."
"We move frequently-"
"Really? Our team in Wales had to move, our team in Paris had to move, and our team in LA had to move- someone is following us!"
Jason rubbed his eyes.
"Have we lost someone, or lost any information?"
"None."
"Tell all of them to keep an eye out." Jason said. "But as long as we are not getting attacks, everything will be fine."
"Do you want to have one of our teams killed before you take it into account?"
"That's not the idea." Jason said softly. "Continue on as if it was nothing. We might catch this mole that way." Understanding dawned on Miranda's face. "Where's Thranduil?"
"Gone. He went with Nimon to boreal forest." Miranda said.
"And you let him go!"
Miranda shot her brother a severe look.
"He is a King, Jason. He will be fine with his people. Get back to the Ellyth."
With that, Miranda exited the basement, digging her hands into her pockets. She turned to the control room when she heard a voice call behind her.
"Miranda?"
She turned to see a woman walk swiftly to catch up with her. She slowed down her pace.
"Yes, what is it?"
"That set of numbers you told me to look into-"
"Yes?"
"I found what they could be," The woman handed her a few papers, "Coordinates."
oOo
Kiev,
Ukraine.
"The Hell?" Dave muttered under his breath.
"What's wrong?" Hanon asked, sitting down beside him.
"I can't enter into the server." Dave explained, fingers still on the keyboard.
"I can't phone my wife." Dorián said from where he lay on the bed, one hand rubbing his eye and the other holding his phone. "It's blocked."
"They know we are here." Fion said, shaking his head.
"So what do we do?" Dave asked. Hanon considered for a moment.
"Can you still record the events and send them?" Hanon asked.
"I can, but I can only do enough before even that gets scrambled."
"Then we will use it sparingly." Hanon said, getting up. "We are moving forward."
"But that's suicide!" Dave protested.
"If we try to retreat now, they will have us killed. The only way to move is by moving forward. The least we can do is get into Pripyat and see what is going on in there." Hanon reasoned. "You will stay here. Do not leave the room for anything."
"It is a two and a half drive to Pripyat." Fion said, checking his watch. It's nearly night, so we should go now. If we take the advantage of the dark, we just might be able to get through the military checkpoints."
"You went to our contact."
"Yes," Fion gestured at the open duffel bags, containing night vision goggles, mottled green and brown combat suits, and weaponry. "Stealth is the only way to go. Camouflage will help and we have to take it easy. I hope you are well rested, Hanon."
"I'll catch what is left of my sleep in the car."
"This is crazy." Dave protested.
"Just do your job." Hanon said, closing the bags.
"Car is already here." Fion said, checking his phone. "If we leave now, we could still do this."
"Now or never," Dorián said, yawning as he stretched on the bed before getting up.
"You will have to go alone in the end," Hanon warned. Dorián was well known for able to sneak into enemy territory for information. He had done it many times for Dol Guldur.
"It won't be a problem. We will stay in touch."
They got ready within a half hour before taking up their duffle bags and moving for the door. Before leaving, Hanon placed a gun beside Dave and thumped his back.
"Just in case," He explained. Whistling, the former Head Commander of Rangers exited the room.
Dave stared at the gun before muttering under his breath. He dug into his pocket for his phone and dialed a number.
"Dave?"
"Alice, please tell me you have good news." He said wearily.
"What happened?"
"These Silvan elves are truly insane! They did not seem so disturbed that we lost contact with our base-"
"You- WHAT?"
"They just left right now!"
He heard a long groan on the other side. "Well, I can't blame them- they must have spent so much time making plans on the spot back in Mirkwood-"
"And now they are tramping off to Pripyat like the Fellowship planned!"
"They-Dave-" He could hear the exasperation dripping from her voice. "Hold on. These idiots will get themselves killed someday. I am going to make the call and we will see what happens then."
"How do you think the King is going to take this?"
"Well, he threw a vase in fury when he heard of his brother's name appearing in the second victim's case-" Alice's voice was disturbingly (and very faux) cheery, before sobering. "I have no idea. Just… try to stay alive, would you? Elves are made of tougher stuff."
"I hope so."
oOo
NYC,
New York.
"Silver Star Line," Riley read out. "It is founded and controlled by a man by the name of Antoine Armistead." He glanced at the photo of Círdan, with dark silver hair and trimmed beard, dressed in a dashing suit of black and white. "He is quite popular in France for his works. He has passenger ships as well as cargo freights. But he is a recluse; barely comes out of his mansion in outskirts of La Rochelle."
"And he has agreed to speak to us on Kraft and this 'wife'."
He picked up the lid of the laptop resting on the captain's desk and they waited for the call. Soon enough, Shaw accepted one.
A stylish 'man' came into view, sitting on a lavish chair with ornate armrests. The 'man' was dressed in white pants and coat, his sky blue shirt peeking through the buttoned coat. His gold and navy blue tie was tucked inside, silver hair slicked back. He sat serenely, fingers laced on his lap.
"Mr. Armistead," Captain Shaw said. "Good afternoon. We are thankful that you took the time to speak to us in your busy schedule."
A smile tugged Círdan's lips.
"It is not a problem, mademoiselle." The 'man' said charmingly. He spoke with a faint French accent.
"I understand that you own both passenger ships as well as cargo freights."
"Indeed I do."
"Have you escorted a woman by the name of Arianna Kraft a month back?" She looked down at the record and read out the date.
"I am a busy man, Madam." The 'man' said. "Many people use the services my ships provide."
Shaw's lips twitched, and then Círdan's did the same. Had he said that he had not known her, out of all his passengers, it would have meant that the founder of Silver star Line knew the woman and was hiding something. She tried another tactic.
"Then we would like to have access to your records of the ships that entered NYC a month back." Círdan tilted his head to a side.
"My dear, I value the privacy of my passengers." Círdan said evenly. "I had assumed as the Homicide Department of NYC reaching out to me, was that I was being informed of something far serious. But details of my passenger will not be given out for whatever trivial reason." Círdan continued, cutting off Shaw as she opened her mouth. "I believe I have spoken enough." Círdan said, sitting forward. "If you wish to ask further questions, you may do so through my attorney."
"But-" Riley started but the call broke off. He growled and then bit off with a curse.
"We will not find anything else from that end." Shaw said quietly.
"I will go and see if there are any more leads." Riley said, straightening.
"Wait."
Riley looked back at Shaw, eyes questioning. The Captain sighed before saying, "There is something you should know about Kraft." She opened a drawer and dipped her hand into it, pulling out a file. "I had a security background check done on him-"
"You what?" Riley interrupted, eyes glittering in anger. "Kraft's clean-I know he is!"
"I had to do it-"
"Why?" Riley asked, fury mounting into the large detective. "Because you think he was bombed because he was messed up? Because he got mixed up into something? I am the one who gets mixed up into something. You have my file!"
"There was nothing." Shaw said over his rant, firmly. She held up the file. "He is not only clean but his documents are fake."
Riley stared at her, stunned.
"No-"
"Riley, Lee Kraft doesn't exist."
"Yes, he does. He was my partner! He was one of your best men!"
"And I checked everywhere. I checked with the feds and others- they did not know him either by the name or his face."
"No, it can't be true."
"I am sorry." Shaw got up from her chair, planting her fingers on the desk's surface. "I am calling off the search for him." Riley turned sharply at the news.
"You can't. He is still out there!"
"I will not have my people searching for a ghost or an alias-"
"He was no ghost!"
"I know." Shaw said quietly. "But he was not the man we knew either. I am calling it off. I do not want to hear another word about Kraft from you."
Riley looked into the unrelenting eyes of the Captain, before turning and stomping out of the room. He took deep, calming breaths outside, then he vowed he would keep looking.
oOo
Valmar,
Aman.
"You cannot deny that the Door is crumbling." Oromë ground out.
"I am not saying it isn't." Manwë replied calmly. The King was standing with in robes of silver, blue and grey, a crown resting upon his head. He held his staff in his hand, and his black hair was cut short to his shoulders and with light golden eyes.
"Then we have to tell others!"
"No, we do not. At the moment, I do not see it as a problem."
"Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn have already seen it-"
"They should not have."
"You can't hide this."
"I am not going to." Manwë got up from his throne. "Leave this. We will not speak of it any longer."
Manwë turned and went through a smaller corridor, returning to his living quarters.
"Are you insane?" Oromë stormed, following Manwë out of the throne room.
"Questioning my insanity will not make your position any better- nor will I reconsider your 'request'."
"I am not requesting." Oromë snarled. Manwë said nothing, causing the Forester to boil inwardly in his fury. He followed him into a sitting room. Varda was sitting in a corner, looking out of the window. Manwë sat down on a comfortable chair, looking up at Oromë.
"The answer is no," Manwë said.
"Thranduil hates being left in the dark." Oromë said.
"He will stay in the dark until I say otherwise." Manwë said evenly, eyes hard.
"And this is why he has difficulty trusting us!" Oromë said, waving a hand outward in frustration. "He has to know. It is his right!"
"His right is to know just enough for him to do his job, which I am finding from my birds is not yet related to his Ring," Manwë tilted his head in a bird-like fashion, "which, I must say, he is not focusing on."
"It is a lot for him to take in." Oromë said.
"Indeed," Manwë said. The two words suggested much. Oromë bristled.
"You know he is capable for the position, if you would just inform him of what he has to face and what is expected of him-"
"No."
"Manwë-"
"I said no."
"Fine!" Oromë roared. The earth trembled and the plants reacted violently to his sudden flare of temper.
"Oromë," Varda said softly. The Forester took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself and turned away.
"Your word before you leave," Oromë's hand stopped at the door handle. "That you will not inform Thranduil of this."
Oromë stiffened and then turned around, face pulled in a tight calm.
"I swear not to inform the King of this."
With that, he left.
oOo
Mindon Eldaliéva,
Tirion,
Aman.
"I have already said no." Ingwë said, turning his head towards her and her husband. His fair hair shifted as he did, dressed in shades of brown. Galadriel stiffened.
"You might have to give some form of aid. You have to tighten the security."
"I refuse to do so when there is still peace in Aman."
"Look around you, Ingwë." Galadriel spoke. Her voice seemed even but her face was pleading. "We have elves disappearing. The Maia have revolted. How much more should happen until you realize there is a war coming?"
The Vanya descended from his throne, one step at a time. Galadriel swallowed and kept her head raised high. Celeborn watched silently. Ingwë came to her, studying her face. Then he leant forward.
"You are far too like the Noldorin," he whispered in her ear. "I wonder, at times, if you even have the heart from your maternal side, grandniece."
"At least I am not blinded." She hissed back, before stepping away. Here in Aman, she had shed the sorrow and the grief she once felt in Arda as the years passed and her burden of her Ring made her weary. And now she was young once more, the beauty of her hair gone well past her knees, her face and arms pale, untouched by time, and she was once again her younger self. Her defiance and her independence had not changed, melded perfectly with her noble bearing. She drew herself to full height.
"Do not blame us, when war reaches your doorstep." She turned, her purple dress whirling about her. Celeborn had watched the exchange silently, followed his wife out the door, accepting his sword he had given to the door warden and fitting it back into his belt.
"Galadriel," he murmured, when they returned to their rooms. His wife was breathing heavily in shock and betrayal. "Galadriel," he said more loudly, taking her shoulders and turning her towards him. "Calm yourself."
"I have seen things-"
"Things? What things?"
"Don't! I wish not to speak of it."
"Alatáriel," he said, making her laugh and shake her head. Beautiful names had no place in times of unrest and fear! But he took her hands into his hands.
"Do not worry." Celeborn said, taking her face in both his hands. She rested her forehead against his. "All will be well."
She sighed, breathing more evenly, and her arms dropped, fingers grazing against the sword of her husband.
oOo
Boreal Forest,
Canada.
"This is so beautiful!" Thranduil breathed. He was looking upon the forest Legolas spoke they used for training. The conifers stretched out in front of him, their branches light brown and their needles a vivid green. He could smell the fresh earth and it was beckoning to him. How long has it been since he last stepped into a forest with the freedom as an elf and not as a supposed mortal? Too long, he assumed, since he had left Aman.
"Isn't it?" Nimon answered, grinning. "Come, Sire. We should go." They moved slowly, crouched to the ground.
"Is that a wire fence?"
"An electric one," Nimon pressed the button on the ear piece he was wearing. "Chase, run the footage now and deactivate the fence. Yeah, I know I have only a minute to get through!" He removed his finger from his earpiece. "Come, let us go. We have only one minute for us, so that we pass through the fence and enter the forest."
Thranduil and Nimon remained crouched. They heard a buzz as the wire deactivated and Nimon commanded him to move. They moved quickly, swiftly bending the wires to pass through it and then ducked safely into the forest with the wire buzzing alive once again behind them.
"They put that there a year back." Nimon explained. "We used to pass into the forest and they caught wind of it."
"You could use another route to get in."
"Oh, but it is so much fun, Sire, to annoy them."
"I see Rangers have not lost their sense of humor." Thranduil said dryly and the two shared a grin.
"Come, it will be nearly an hour walk before we get to our shelter. Just enjoy the scenery."
There was much to enjoy, he saw. The grass beneath his feet was light and springy, and he heard the soft, scattered songs of the woodland birds, less than usual as Nimon explained.
"These forests are nearly full when the spring comes. They are popular breeding grounds at that time of the year." They came across a few descending slopes which they slid down to. Nearly an hour later, Nimon began to search the ground.
"You do not know where the shelter is."
"It is far too well hidden for my liking but it is what it is." The former Commander said. Then he knelt and embedded his knife into the soil.
"Ah, there we are." Nimon pulled out the knife. His fingers searched through the soil until he grabbed a rope knot and tugged.
"Very typical," Thranduil said, as the trap door opened. "It seems similar to the ones you Rangers used back in our forest."
"Old-fashioned shelters are harder to detect or to find."
Nimon eased himself into the hole before letting go. He heard a dull thud.
"Come on, Sire."
The shelter was similar like the ones they had in Eryn Lasgelen even in the interior, except for the modern lighting and sniper rifles instead of bows and arrows. He saw a few beds bunks against the walls, and cooling boxes holding water and food supplies.
"How do you practice?"
"We can't hunt game, so we practice on targets which we do not know and are set by others."
"And that works?"
"Pretty much."
"Where is everyone?"
"Out in the forest. We will meet soon."
They both shouldered backpacks full of food supplies, and Nimon grabbed his sniper rifle off his bunk bed and went up the ladder. They walked a great length, chattering all the while.
He drew in a sharp breath when a bullet whizzed past him, embedding safely in the soil. He pulled out his gun and directed it towards the general view where the bullet may have come in.
"Pity," Legolas drawled, dropping to the ground. "I missed."
"You were aiming for your father!"
"Nope. I was aiming for the small stone."
He turned his head and saw the bullet had embedded barely a centimeter from a stone, barely visible in the grass.
"Pity indeed." Thranduil mused, thinking how disastrous the shot would have been if it had been a real target..
"Do you think we can build our city here?" Legolas asked, looking up in admiration of the trees. But Thranduil shook his head.
"Men will never allow us to either build or live in peace, and if forest is overtaken by birds, then even more so. We will have to look elsewhere."
"Pity," Legolas murmured.
"The branches aren't strong enough to make houses either." Nimon said, slowing down to match their pace. "We can't build talans up here.
They walked a little further before coming to one of the larger streams. Thranduil went to it and admired the deep, untainted blue of the water before returning and helping them with taking out the food. It was light but wholesome, bread, fruits, and cheese together.
~Who are you?~
Thranduil nearly jumped at the child-like voice inside his head. He quickly erected up his mind defenses, before getting up from his seat. He looked up at a tree, touching its bark.
~Did you just speak to me?~
~Are you nice?~
Thranduil loosened a laugh.
"You didn't tell me you taught the trees here to speak." Thranduil accused, running his hand lightly on the tree's bark. The voices were young, not old and seasoned like the trees of Eryn Lasgelen once possessed.
"We wanted it to be a surprise."
Thranduil looked up at the tree in wonderment, unable to suppress the joy picking its head up in his chest, and not wanting to.
"It had been so long…" He murmured.
~You didn't tell me who you are.~ The tree accused, voice petulant and sulky.
~My name is Thranduil Oropherion.~ He said politely, attempting to console it.
~Oropherion? Is that the tree your seed fell from?~
~You… could put it like that.~ Thranduil smirked inwardly at the description. ~My tree's name was Oropher, actually.~
~Then why did you say Oropherion?~ Thranduil rubbed his head wearily. He had forgotten what young trees were like when they first learned to speak.
~Now, now,~ Legolas' voice filled his mind, chiding the tree. ~Leave him be. We do not annoy our guests.~
~Sorry,~ The tree mumbled, withdrawing into itself. The branches shifted, dropping cones on the ground.
"They are very young." Thranduil remarked.
"Too young," Nimon answered. "You should hear them chattering for hours on end. They are completely different from the trees of Aman, aren't they?
Thranduil wandered back to the streams, sitting down on the bank, the tips of his shoes touching the water.
"You look happy under the shades of the trees."
He stiffened. He turned his head to see the Vala stand behind him, his light armor shining dully over his body; his quiver and his bow were visible on his back, a long single knife hanging from his belt.
"You look different." Thranduil said turning back to face the vast water body.
"I look more like myself."
"You look ancient." Thranduil said. Oromë chuckled. He heard the soil sink under boots and Tauron said beside him. The Vala took in a deep breath.
"I am happy." Thranduil said, lips curling into a smile.
"You belong to your people, and you belong to the trees."
"Indeed."
They sat quietly for a while, enjoying the silence. Then he turned to see Tauron. The Forester looked weary, as if he was carrying a great burden. He was frowning.
"Are you well?"
"Hmm? Yes, I am well."
"Something is worrying you." Thranduil observed.
Dawn playing in the lap of a golden-haired Rohirric Rider…
"Thranduil?"
"I apologize." He said, rubbing his forehead. "Headaches have become a bit common as of late."
"I cannot stay long." Tauron said, looking behind him for a moment before turning his attention to the King. "Time is moving fast. You have to know that. The Valar do not wish to tell me this to you or to anyone else, but all is not well in Aman."
"Tell me not that the conditions are worsening." Thranduil said, heart sinking. "What has happened of my parents? My grandson?"
"They are all well, for now." Tauron sighed. "A time will come when you will stand and you will find yourself with unexpected burden."
"What! What do you mean?"
"I cannot say anything more, Thranduil. Believe me that I would love to tell you more but I have been sworn into secrecy-" Tauron suddenly bit off with a curse, glancing at a bird that had its eyes uncannily trained on Oromë. "I have to go." He said abruptly, getting up. "We will meet again," he mouthed at the King. Thranduil knew why; all birds of the skies answered to Manwë. The Vala would know what Oromë had been up to.
"Take care of yourself and everything you love." Tauron said, patting Thranduil's shoulder.
"Wait," Thranduil said.
"I cannot."
"Yes, you can." He frowned, his grey eyes piercing the vivid green of the Vala. "You are growing weak. I can see it in you. Your hold on this world's forests are not what they once were, am I right? Something's happening- something that is leeching your powers."
Tauron turned his head away.
"Your eyes see much, Thranduil son of Oropher. Perhaps one would say, too much. Take care of that gift before it destroys you or the ones you love if you turn an ignorant eye to it."
Thranduil frowned.
oOo
Halls of Mandos
Aman,
He walked swiftly down the halls, his knee-length, and slit riding tunics swishing about him as he walked. The halls were silent. He turned a corner and then he saw her. The Weaver stood, facing an open window, her fingers clasped under the red sleeves, her black hair pulled in a simple braid. Sensing someone looking upon her, she turned and met his eyes and paled, before abruptly turning and walking away in great speed.
"Vairë!"
The Weaver hastened, picking up her skirts and rushing up the steps in her path.
"I will not relent until I get the answers I seek!"
"I cannot give you answers, Eärendilion!" She called over her shoulder. "Leave me be!"
"Then let me speak to a weaver in your company!"
"Nay! You will not approach her!"
She turned suddenly in a hallway decorated by long and beautiful tapestries. She drew herself to full height, her face expressionless. Elrond skidded to halt and drew in a sharp breath as the tapestries glowed, and the threads unraveled, crawling for him.
"Leave." She commanded. Elrond drew himself into full height as well, his face firm and his jaw set.
"I will not."
"You should not be here."
"The Halls of Mandos were never closed for the living of Aman. I am fine." Elrond said, taking a step forward. The threads wounded about his ankles, stopping his advance. Her eyes glittered in the gloom, obsidian in color.
"You are taking risks, son of Eärendil." She said. "Leave, before I ask my lord husband to do the honors of escorting you out."
Elrond gave a bark of laughter. "As if he would have the time! How many elves and men are dead, Vairë? How many dwarves are going to follow? The world is spinning and shaking until it breaks and the Valar are doing nothing but sitting and waiting for a disaster!"
Vairë stiffened. "You will not approach her." She said in finality. "Leave now, and keep some of your self-respect."
Elrond gripped the sword at his side until his knuckles became white.
"Fine," he said sharply. He turned on his heel, and took a few steps, not noticing the relief on the Weaver's face before stopping. Not turning his head, he said, "There is talk of an uprising in Tirion. I thought it best to let you know."
With that he turned away. Shaken, Vairë sunk in a chair decorating the corridor, placing her elbow on table, head sinking in her hand.
Author's Note:
List of Canonic charaters, items etc:
Vaire- She is the wife of Mandos and is known for making storied webs that decorated the halls of Mandos.
Ingwe- He is the King of the Vanyar, also known as 'King of Kings'.
Valmar- It is where the Valar and most of the Maia live.
