Chapter 9:

The next couple days were uneventful considering all the events that had occurred in that past weeks. No Grey Fells attacked, no bloodthirsty dragon hunters materialized in our path, and no insane presences reappeared either. Each night the rangers would set up camp and, after eating, they would spar. The elves would pair off with the men, to my surprise, except for a few men who would pair off with one another when there weren't enough elven partners. Apparently the elves, having centuries to perfect their skills instead of decades, were more skilled fighters than most men.

Telumë almost wished she were a human; the fighting seemed very interesting.

Every other night, Legolas and Aragorn would pair off with each other and spar on the edge of whatever clearing they had chosen to spend the night in. The two were brilliant warriors. Telumë would perch on the edge of the circle that had been carved out and would watch them with those brilliant green eyes, studying their techniques and footwork. Legolas had suggested trying to spar with her—using sticks or blunt weapons rather than sharp ones—, but the dragon had refused. She didn't want to hurt anyone by mistake.

The surroundings dampened the dragon's spirit to say the least. The trees grew very close together, allowing barely any light in. Although, as several of the wood-elves told her during their journey, the forest had changed very much in the fifty short years since the death of their previous king. Apparently while he reigned, giant spiders wandered the woods freely. The captain of the guard, Tauriel—Legolas stiffened when he heard her name—had tried to rid the woods of them but had been unable to because of Thranduil's selfish nature, at least until Maladernil became king. Now the spiders were gone and the giant webs taken down. At one point the group passed through a great green and gold clearing and the elves laughed and sang about Greenwood the Great and its return to its former glory. There were several spots similar to this, some more brilliant and some less, but all beautiful in their own ways. The majority of the trek, however, was spent in near darkness, and the damp and gloom weighed heavily on all their hearts.

After several days of travel, the Dúnedain and Telumë reached the edge of the heart of Mirkwood. Here the trees were thinner, the sunlight richer. Trees soared to the heavens, their white bark and bright leaves glowing in comparison to the eternal twilight they had left behind. The elves stayed close to Telumë, making it clear to any who might see her that she was of no danger. The dragoness, having seen the elves shoot in the dusk before the men slept, knew that there was no shielding herself from any arrows that might come her way. The elves trained from near birth with weapons, their favorite being the bow. If the elves decided she was a threat, there was no chance for her; elves were excellent shots.

"Legolas! Where have you been?" A dark haired elf wearing a white-gold crown and cloak of the same colour over a dark tunic, breeches, and boots emerged from the gates. His bright eyes glimmered in the light of the setting sun, and he spread his arms wide to the large group. He and Legolas embraced, both smiling, but the dragon could see the pain behind both their smiles.

"I am as well as can be expected," Legolas replied. Telumë cocked her head to one side. She could understand Legolas. He wasn't speaking Westron or her own language, so he must be speaking elvish. It made sense that she could understand him based on the connection she had inadvertently established, but why could she understand this elf as well. "Brother, has there been any word of her?" So the king was Legolas's brother. She should have known, based on the story she had heard a few mornings past. She just hadn't thought about it. But then why could she understand his brother?

The king's face fell. "Nothing. Not so much as a whisper. But we will not give up hope. I am certain that word of her will come soon." Legolas nodded somewhat doubtfully, but then thought of his own sister. Maladernil seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Aeyera once disappeared for twenty years and then was found. The same could happen for Kiyera."

"Eru, I hope not," Legolas snapped, paling considerably. "Our sister was tortured for every second she was in that place, or have you forgotten?"

The king's face could have been carved out of stone. His green eyes flashed angrily. "I will never forget. I promised her the same thing you did, Legolas. We both failed her, more than once."

Legolas's shoulders slumped, and the two brothers stood in silence for a few moments before pulling back. The king looked out over the other Dúnedain, a slight smile returning to his face. "My friends—" he scanned the group of mixed elves and men before his eyes alighted on a most unusual sight. Aragorn, who, according to his sister, would someday become a great king, stood directly beside a small, white dragon. Its head was about even with the young prince's, and it stretched out nearly ten feet from its chest to tip of its tail. It was pure white and had bright, bright green eyes that stared intently into his. He froze, staring back at it.

"Legolas?"

His brother glanced over at the king and then to Telumë, suddenly understanding. He had grown so used to her that seeing a dragon standing in the midst of a crowd did not bother him in the slightest, though it was clear that it bothered the king.

Telumë watched him carefully, waiting to see what he did. He hadn't ordered anyone to shoot her, which was better than what could be said about what most others would have done. Her race—dragons—were, besides orcs and goblins, the most hated of all other races. The elves seemed the most likely to question before attacking.

"Maladernil, this is Telumë. We found her up above Mirkwood. A group of men attacked her before we found her and tracked her. They attacked again right after we found her and injured her wing. They cut fully through the bone, but she… she killed the man who did it. It turns out that the men who attacked her had been carving a path through the woodsmen's villages. Brother… whole villages were slaughtered. Women, children… everyone, Maladernil."

The king had turned away from his brother and now turned back, his hands white and shaking. The woodsmen were under his protection, and for this to have gone unnoticed for so long… "Send out a patrol," he called to one of the guards. "Find these men!"

"You can't."

Every head turned to Telumë, every pair of eyes focused on her. The guard froze, and Maladernil frowned. "And why ever not?"

The dragon ducked her head, her glowing green eyes staring at the ground. She wasn't sure how she felt about killing those men. They were murderers. They killed children for sport. And yet… she had taken their lives without a second thought. "Because they're dead. I killed them. Well, some of them."

"Why?" The king watched her closely. He had seen several dragons in his time; Smaug wasn't nearly as terrible as the others. This one, however… seemed kind. She certainly seemed remorseful.

"They deserved it," she answered automatically. The king frowned, but she didn't retract her statement. "I didn't know why, but I do now. They were murderers. They killed children."

Maladernil nodded. He understood, but at the same time he wondered… was she safe? The Dúnedain certainly seemed to trust her, and none of them were fools. "Are they all gone?"

Aragorn answered. He could sense the king's uncertainty regarding the dragon. "We do not know. Telumë saved our lives, Your Highness, but a few men escaped. She saved your brother, Maladernil."

The king nodded, pursing his lips. Legolas watched his brother carefully. He did not seem pleased with the news that some of the men had escaped, but he also seemed more comfortable with the idea of Telumë. The king crossed over to the dragon and placed a hand on her snout. She stared into his eyes calmly, her own wide and innocent. "Thank you for saving my brother's life," he told her softly. She nodded once, blinking slowly in response. Her bright green eyes glowed in the dusk. He turned back to the others. "Rooms have been prepared for you. Come in and rest, please."

Maladernil and Legolas led the rest of the Dúnedain forward towards the Elvenking's halls, and Telumë walked directly behind them. The king seemed to want others to know that she was not a threat, thus putting her directly behind him. She was able to listen to the brothers' conversation as they walked, and the topic interested her immensely.

"There is something I must speak to you about," the elder said softly.

Legolas glanced over at his brother, brow furrowed. It was rare that his brother spoke with such intensity, such worry. "What is it?"

"Aeyera. Our father. I have long wondered why it was that he treated her the way he did. You remember our own childhoods, do you not?"

"I remember mine," Legolas replied. "I was happy, as were you, and Father and Mother loved each other and us very much."

"What changed, then?" Maladernil wondered aloud. Legolas knew that his brother already knew the answer. "Several hundred years later, a daughter is born. Do you remember that day, little brother? I do. Our father was not overjoyed like he had been on the day of your birth; I remember yours very well. No, he was distant. He loved our mother still, but he never wanted Aeyera. I saw how he treated her as a child, never giving her any grace for her mistakes as he did ours. After our mother died, he grew to hate her."

"I remember," Legolas murmured, his heard aching at the reminder of his mother's death. He wished he had done more to save her.

"Do you remember when he banished me, brother?" Maladernil asked sharply. "I long wondered about why he would do such a thing. I often would question his authority, but I had always done so. Indeed, when I was young, he would encourage me to do so in order that I might one day be a wise king. But he banished me for it. He then banished our sister."

"But he did not do so until twenty years after her disappearance," Legolas broke in softly, remembering. He had tried to search for her, but his father would never allow him out of the kingdom. It was only after what Legolas now knew to be the time his sister was imprisoned in Dol Guldur that his father had declared her an exile.

"Yes. I have had time to explore this place since my coronation," Maladernil told Legolas. Several elves drew near to the group, eyeing the dragon with distrust. The king paused in his conversation. "This dragoness is under my protection," he told the elves, not unkindly. "Please show the Dúnedain to the chambers that have been prepared for them, and do not harm the dragon. Any who attempt to do so will answer to me."

The elves nodded and led the rangers away, all except Aragorn, who at Legolas's request remained with the brothers and Telumë.

When the king was sure that none were within earshot, he continued. "I found something within our father's chambers." The king led the other three into a large, empty room and shut the doors. "A palantír."

Legolas blinked, stunned. "What?"

"Thranduil was in possession of a palantír," Maladernil explained, growing urgent. He had discovered it only a year after his coronation. He knew what magical objects of this sort could do; they could twist the mind. He believed it to be the cause of Thranduil's hatred for his sister. "I found it some years ago and took it to the wizard Saruman. He told me that our father had been in contact with the Necromancer in Dol Guldur for some time. Apparently he had been using it to keep watch on our borders and had stumbled upon this darkness, which had taken hold of him."

"You gave it to the wizard?" Legolas asked, stunned. "If such a weapon were to be given into the wrong hands, then—"

The king held up a hand to silence the prince. "I watched him destroy it," he said sharply. "I am not so foolish as to allow a weapon like that to remain within my halls."

Telumë looked back and forth between the two brothers uneasily. Tension crackled between them. She did not know who this Saruman was, and she wondered how powerful he was. Maladernil seemed to trust him—he had entrusted him with an apparently very powerful and destructive weapon—but then, he didn't seem to think about his decisions for very long. After all, he had allowed a dragoness into his kingdom with hardly any consideration at all.

Legolas shook his head and let out a breath, seemingly trying to calm himself down. "You think that Father's use of the palantír turned him against our sister?" Legolas asked. "And against you?"

The king nodded. "I do. It is the only thing that makes sense. Think of it; our father always cared for us as children. Always took care of us and of Mother. But suddenly, he grows wary, angry, reckless, focusing only on protecting his own borders and hoarding as much treasure as possible, caring nothing for his family. He exiles his heir and his daughter. He knew when she escaped from that accursed place, Legolas. He only exiled her once he knew she would try to return home. He tortured her for information. He struck you. He fled in the midst of battle. He was willing to kill his daughter as well as a fellow king and his family. You knew Father as well as I. Does this sound like the man we knew for centuries growing up?"

Legolas shook his head. Maladernil was right. He had wondered for centuries what had changed about his father in the years before his death. For a long time he had assumed that it had something to do with the grief of losing his wife, and that he had blamed Aeyera for her death. But that didn't really make sense, Legolas realized, because he himself had been present as well. He should have been held responsible, not an elfling of six years. But all the same, it was Aeyera who was blamed, not Legolas. But why? Why would the Necromancer cause him to target the young princess?

The king sighed and pressed a hand to his temple. At that moment, he felt his age, something that had once been rare but now was quite common. He often prayed that he had made the right decision in giving the Palantír to Saruman. He did not doubt that the wizard had good intentions, but he wondered if he himself could have used the stone. He wondered if he could have used it to locate his missing niece. Maladernil quickly shook the thought from his mind. It had been decades since he had had the stone destroyed, and he knew that his sister would never forgive him if he used the stone and was harmed by it.

After nearly a minute, the king looked up. The white dragon was watching him intently as if she knew his thoughts, and he shifted slightly. The look she gave him was disconcerting and disapproving, and he wondered if she had guessed his doubts. He couldn't believe he had allowed a dragon into his kingdom. She seemed harmless, for now, but who knew what would happen if she grew agitated or threatened.

Telumë continued to watch the elf king carefully. Indeed, she could sense his doubts. She could not see his thoughts as she could sometimes see those of Legolas, but she could sense his misgivings about allowing her into his palace. She couldn't blame him. She knew the stories of her kin, despite not having ever met any—at least that she could remember. The king stared back for a moment before breaking the silence that had fallen like a stifling blanket over the room.

"Come," he said tiredly, beckoning them from the empty room and back into the hall. Their private conversation was now over. "You have had a long journey; tonight you will rest. Tomorrow we feast in honor of the return of the prince." He gave his younger brother a small smile. "And we welcome the Dúnedain as well." Aragorn inclined his head.

The princes were led to their rooms, and Telumë was escorted to the balcony outside of Legolas's. He had asked that she not be sent away (for hers and others' protection) and had her stay near him instead. She slept little, and the sleep she did have was strewn with muddled flashes and visions.

The following afternoon, Maladernil fetched the trio from their rooms, and they followed the king into the great hall. Very few elves were there, but a great table had been set up. Maladernil was seated at the head with Legolas on his right and Aragorn at his left. Telumë settled herself behind the elf prince and watched the elves move about with beautiful grace. The rest of the Dúnedain entered the room and took their seats, talking and laughing softly as they ate. Telumë was not hungry; she had eaten a deer the previous day and had no need to eat anything else. She noted with annoyance that many of the elves skirted around her without looking her in the eye, and she caught their whispers and glances as they glided in and out of the room.

She turned her attention to the trio at the head of the table. Legolas and Maladernil were reminiscing about old times when Mirkwood was known as Greenwood the Great, and Aragorn listened, enraptured by their tales. Telumë listened as well, curious. She recalled the bright patches amidst the dusky eaves she had discovered, and tried to picture a place where all the woods were like those small clearings: bright and green and beautiful, untouched by the darkness that haunts the world.
Soon, as wine was passed around and the atmosphere grew warm and homely, Maladernil began recounting the tale of Beren and Lúthien, of the mortal man and immortal elf who fell in love with each other. The king spoke of how the elf princess's father was horrified that she wished to wed a mortal and that he had Beren go and cut a Silmaril from the crown of Morgoth. Beren was captured, and Lúthien, knowing in her heart that he was shrouded in darkness, set out to find him. Find him she did, and she and her beloved acquired the Silmaril, but—

The king's story was cut short as the doors of the great hall burst open and a tall, silver haired elf flew into the room. His fair skin was as white as snow, and droplets of sweat gleamed on his face. The king stood, concerned, and the eyes of everyone in the room were drawn to the scout, who was bent over, panting. Whispers filled the room as elves and men alike turned to each other, brows furrowed. Telumë watched the elf, confused. She had never seen an elf that was tired; she assumed they all had boundless energy. Apparently she had been wrong.

The king strode over to the other elf until he stood directly before him. Telumë hadn't realized how tall he was; he stood at least a head taller than the other elf. "What is the matter?" Maladernil asked, his rich voice carrying through the room. He spoke in the common tongue so that all there might understand; apparently secrets were unheard of here.

The young elf caught his breath and knelt before his king. His body shook from exertion. "My lord, I have received word from our scouts in Anorien. Sire, they had me send for you at once. It is of greatest importance—"

Telumë watched the scout, concerned. He was stammering, shaking, and his eyes were wide. She had once seen a horse with the same expression. She had stumbled upon it some weeks before being attacked; she, being curious, had followed it. It had galloped like mad, struggling to flee from her. Its eyes had rolled back, its ears flattened against its skull, and foam had flecked its flanks. The elf wore the same panicked expression the horse had.

"Sire, they found her."