Chapter 10:
Every being in the room stiffened. All sound ceased as elf and man alike stared wordlessly at the young messenger. The stillness, although it seemed to last for hours, lasted only for a moment before the sound of metal smacking against stone rang through the room. Legolas was on his feet, striding towards his brother and the young elf beside him. He had knocked his goblet off the table in his haste to stand, and its contents had spilled and stained the floor red. He moved until he was directly beside his brother, and the king threw out his arm, hitting the prince across the chest in order to hold him back.
"Whom do you speak of?" Legolas asked through gritted teeth. His mind had blanked. He was uncharacteristically angry, and he wondered if this scout was lying or if he was speaking of the missing princess.
The scout trembled under the prince's smoldering glare. "The daughter of Princess Aeyera, Kiyera of Erebor, she has been found. At least, that is what I was told."
"Rise," Maladernil hastily commanded, noting that the scout remained on his knees. As he scrambled to his feet, the king noticed the travel stains upon his clothing. "Amron, from where do you come?"
"The Field of Celebrant, my Lord," Amron answered hastily. Color had begun to fill his cheeks once more. Maladernil nodded. The Fields were several days' ride from the heart of Mirkwood, if one was not galloping at full speed, and Anorien was half a fortnight more to the south, very near to Mordor.
"And who delivered this news to you?" Maladernil asked. Legolas stood, fists clenched, staring between the elf and his brother. If his niece had been found, then they could waste no time here; they must go at once.
"Tauriel, my Liege," Amron replied. Legolas stiffened a second time, and Gwenithil's eyes darted to rest upon the prince. Telumë noticed this and eyed the prince carefully. "She would have come here herself, but she had been riding for nearly a fortnight to reach us and could barely stand. I came in her stead."
Maladernil nodded. "You have done well." He glanced around the room as if realizing for the first time where he was. He beckoned to his brother, and Telumë followed after the prince as he left the room. None dared stop her, and they moved into the same empty room she had seen the day before. She, the brothers, and Amron were all who remained there. "Now tell me exactly what she told you."
Amron did. He was exhausted and in some state of shock, but he managed to tell the king all that he knew. The scouts in Anorien had seen a small, dark haired figure and gone to see what it was. They had discovered a young, green-eyed figure with slightly pointed ears. She had been frightened and had not spoken a word to anyone. Her clothes were torn and bloody, her bones visible through her skin. Tauriel, who had visited Erebor often in past years, had seen the girl and had recognized her immediately. She left her soldiers with orders to protect the girl with their lives and had departed at once for the nearest outpost; a fortnight's ride away.
By the end of his story, Legolas was leaning upon Telumë for support, and Maladernil was standing motionless in the center of the room.
"She's alive," Legolas whispered. Telumë could feel him shaking against her. His skin had gone stark white, and the sweat on his forehead shone in the torchlight. "Maladernil, she's alive."
The king nodded dumbly. Amron stood between the brothers, looking back and forth between the two of them. Maladernil stared straight ahead and ended up staring straight into Telumë's eyes. She held his gaze with her own, watching a flicker of recognition bloom within his gaze. After a moment, the king shook off the daze that had gripped him and turned away from the young dragoness.
He clapped his hand on the messenger's shoulder. "Thank you, Amron. Go now and rest, you have earned it. But first, go to the stables and tell them to prepare three horses. Quickly."
The elf nodded and flew from the room. "Legolas, come. Gather your things and have Aragorn do the same."
The prince blinked and shook his head a bit. A feeling of dread had swept over him, although he couldn't understand why. He should be overjoyed, but he wasn't. He was terrified.
Maladernil turned to Telumë. Her wing still was wrapped in bandages, but according to his brother, she had been injured weeks ago. Hopefully with a bit of help, she would be able to fly soon. "Telumë, come with me."
The trio parted ways, and Maladernil led Telumë to another part of the palace where a dark haired healer waited. Maladernil glanced at her. "Heal her wing, please," he commanded. "We leave in minutes." She immediately crossed to the dragoness and began murmuring words in a nearly forgotten tongue. "Catch up to us," Maladernil told Telumë. He then left, leaving her to the healer.
The dragon settled down, fighting to ignore the tingling pain in her wing as the she-elf unwrapped the wound. The elf's hands hovered above her wing, not touching it, and then took hold of a wet plant and pressed it to the injury. Her voice lifted, and Telumë growled, gritting her teeth together. The healer never faltered in her chant, and within half an hour, she withdrew her hands. Her appearance was haggard and drained, but her lips turned up into a smile at the sight of the little dragon stretching her wings and flapping them happily.
Telumë turned round in joy, a dragonish grin spreading across her scaly face. Her wing was healed. "Thank you," she told the healer, moving towards the balcony. The she-elf nodded her head and watched in amazement as the dragon bounded off the railing and soared upward into the great black expanse above the earth.
Telumë strained her wings to beat harder and faster, propelling herself forward, higher and higher. The stars grew brighter and closer as the air grew colder, and she reveled in it. This marvelous feeling of freedom, of flying—nothing compared to it. She opened wide her maw and released a piercing shriek that echoed across the earth below.
Men, dwarves, and elves alike craned their necks to stare into the sky as a dragon's shriek pierced the stillness of the night, but were unable to spot anything out of the ordinary. All the same, they gathered their children and spouses closer, keeping one eye on the stars. At the kingdom of Erebor, the smithies were awakened, and before dawn the forges were lit and weapons were being forged in defense of the mountain.
Telumë knew none of this. She hurtled towards the stars, light shining in her eyes. She never wanted to come down. Finally, when she had flown so high that she could see much of Mirkwood spread out below her, she began to glide, moving in a slow circle. The thin membrane of her wings held her aloft, full of air, and the wind pushed her still higher. A lake shimmered under the stars, spread out like a blanket to her left, and a mountain gleamed at its northernmost tip. She hung suspended in the dark, staring down at the earth, and marveled that something so fragile such as wings could keep her aloft. Her legs and tail hung down, reaching down towards the earth. Her gaze followed them, and she caught sight of little lights shining in the woods below her, heading away from the palace at a rapid pace. Legolas.
She had to go; she had to follow him, and as much as she loathed to leave the sky, she also looked forward to testing the limits of her newly healed wing. With one last longing glance at the stars, she pulled her wings in close to her body, allowing herself to drop like a stone. She angled herself downward, and within moments she was speeding towards the earth like an arrow. The wind whistled by her, and thick protective lenses covered her eyes. Her legs and tail seemed grafted to her sides. Every second she fell faster, and she let lose another shriek as she plummeted towards the ground.
It was not until she was dangerously close to the treetops did she pull out of her dive. She let out one final scream of victory and threw her wings out. They unfurled rapidly, filling with air, and she swooped upwards, soaring in a loop before settling in the treetops. She panted, flanks heaving, but a wide, toothy grin stretched across her face. She craned her neck down, peering through the eaves at the elves and man riding beneath her. Because of the thickness of the branches, she was unable to reach her companions, and so she took to the air again, flying after them.
It was not until the following morning that the three mortals reached the edge of the forest. Telumë soared above them, keeping a watchful eye on the plains surrounding them. A river flowed several leagues away, but nothing notable was seen. She swooped down and landed beside the others, eyeing the nervous horses irritably as they shied away from her, eyes rolling.
Legolas nodded absently, staring into the south. "It is good to see you, Telumë."
"How far away is she?" The dragoness asked. Perhaps if she flew ahead she could reach the girl and bring her to the others.
"Just under fortnight's ride," Maladernil said softly.
"We are wasting time," Legolas snapped, urging his mount forward.
Telumë moved to intercept him, her expression stony. She sensed something off about him, something she couldn't quite explain. "Legolas—"
"Move aside," the elf growled. Telumë eyed the prince warily. She knew how torn up he was over the disappearance of his niece, but he also knew he was being irrational about it all. He had looked ready to strangle the guard the night before, he had left without her, and now he was leaving his brother's kingdom without a ruler for what Telumë knew would amount to nearly a month.
"Legolas," Telumë spoke in her own tongue, her voice a jarring growl that each member of the company could feel within their chests. "Calm yourself. You are not in your right mind."
The elf glared at the dragon but said nothing and pushed onward, riding around her. "We're wasting time," he called back over his shoulder. The others looked at each other helplessly.
"What of you?" the dragoness inquired of the king. "Why are you not flying towards Anorien with all the haste you can muster?"
The elf shifted on his mount, his fair brow creased. It was a moment before he responded. "I want to see my niece safe more than anything, but a feeling of unease grows within me," he confessed. The dragon and ranger watched him carefully. "It began the moment you stepped foot within my halls, Telumë, and it grows stronger with each passing moment."
The dragon in question blinked and straightened, ruffling her wings. "I do not understand."
The Elvenking shook his head. "Neither do I. I do not think you are the cause of it, however. My brother was with you when you entered the kingdom, and he is acting unlike himself. Perhaps he is the source of my unease."
Legolas was already half a mile away. The trio followed, the mortals on horseback and the dragon in the air. They rode for days, only stopping to allow the horses to rest and be watered. The night before they reached the Fields of Celebrant, they were forced to halt. Telumë had flown for two days and nights without rest, and the strain on her newly healed wing had caused it to buckle. She had nearly fallen out of the sky, and so the trio had grudgingly decided to rest for the night.
The area surrounding the Fields was flat and covered with grass. From the air, Telumë had seen several creeks and ponds but no large bodies of water, and no people, human or otherwise. Keeping this in mind, they built a small fire in one of the hollows. Night fell, and soon all manner of bugs were singing in the grass. Maladernil tended to Telumë's wing while Aragorn stoked the fire, and all eyes continuously glanced over at the prince who paced just outside the firelight.
"He is worried," the dragoness commented softly. Tension radiated off him, and the dragon couldn't help but wonder if he was above leaving in the middle of the night.
"We all are," Maladernil replied, running his hands over her wing and checking for tears or breaks in the membrane or bone. "But Legolas, I think, feels worse about this whole situation. He feels that it was his fault that Aeyera went missing in the first place, for one. For another, he was supposed to meet Kiyera and Kirin at the border of the Greenwood to escort them to Lothlórien. When they never arrived, he went looking for them, and he found the village, but… he still considers it his fault, even though there was nothing he could have done."
"There was much I could have done."
Telumë turned her head to watch the prince. She had forgotten his good hearing, as he must have forgotten about hers, and her heart grew heavy. He stared forlornly towards the southern horizon, fists clenched at his sides, and his body swayed slightly.
Maladernil shook his head but said nothing. Anything he said to comfort or scold his younger brother would only spark his anger and frustration, and so he stayed silent. In truth, Maladernil, although he knew his brother could not have done anything, blamed his brother slightly for the disappearance of his sister as well as her children. His brother had been the only one present, and it often was easier to blame another than to blame oneself.
Aragorn lay back on the grass by the fire, his arms crossed behind his head. The sky was alight with stars, and their light gave the camp a soft glow. He wanted to say something to his friend, to comfort him, but he didn't know how. On nights like these, he found himself dreaming of the Lady Arwen, who was even more beautiful than Lúthien of old. He sighed and stared up at the stars, longing to see her again. It had been many years since he had seen her face, and he had served the kings of Rohan and Gondor since he had last gazed upon her beauty.
"What will happen when you find her?" Telumë asked. Three pairs off eyes were drawn to her, each man broken out of his trance. "The lady Kiyera."
"We will bring her home," Maladernil answered, watching as the dragoness twisted her neck around to meet his eyes. "She has been away far too long."
"And… and what if it is not her?" The question had been nagging at her for quite a while. Something didn't seem right about the girl's appearance. If she every recovered her memory, she would most certainly wish to return home, wherever it was, especially if she had a family. She had gone to great lengths to preserve the lives of her companions, always worrying about them. Shouldn't the Lady have come with Tauriel to see her family once more? Or at least asked about the wellbeing of her brother and parents? She didn't dare voice these thoughts aloud, however, for Legolas had stalked towards the fire, a furious expression on his face. He began to speak, practically spitting his answer, but she ignored him, knowing his words would anger her. As she did, she understood something. He needed this. He needed this girl to be his sister like she needed air to breath. He was clutching at this piece of information like a drowning man would clutch at a piece of straw, and to see her friend in such a state made her heard ache. He finished speaking, his bright eyes appearing almost dull, and turned away before heading outside the firelight. Both Aragorn and Maladernil wore pained expressions, and Aragorn rolled over onto his side, facing away from the fire, and fell asleep.
Telumë sighed, and several sparks flew from her nostrils. Maladernil glanced down at her, slight amusement in his gaze. He knew the dragoness hadn't been listening—just as well, since he had insulted her at least once—but needed her to hear his own opinion on the matter. "He needs it to be her," he whispered.
The dragon nodded her great head. "I gathered that," she murmured.
"And yet you were not listening to a word my brother said," the king accused lightly. He laughed softly as her eyes darted back to rest upon him. "I do not blame you. But know that he needs this. He needs it to be her, and so do I. I need this to be my sister."
"And if it's not?" Telumë pressed. Had none of them thought of the possibility that it was the wrong girl? All of them seemed intent on avoiding the question; that was for certain.
"Then we keep looking," he breathed, suddenly looking very old and very tired. "But I believe that it is her. Tauriel confirmed it, and if she remains with the patrol, then she can report to me on the morrow. Until then, we must pray that it is her, and that she will be safe."
Telumë wasn't sure, but she thought she heard an unspoken phrase circle around the camp as surely as if all the members had whispered it aloud. Unlike Aeyera: unlike her mother. Telumë knew the story. She knew the princess had disappeared for twenty years, being tortured for every moment of all of them. She knew the torment had extended for centuries after, darkness plaguing her mind. She knew that everyone here fears for the girl and prayed to the Valar that she had been spared such a fate.
Telumë moved until the tall grass covered her almost completely. Her wing was fine, apparently; it only needed a bit of rest. Maladernil moved to lean against the dragon's side and remained there, staring into the fire. Legolas's silhouette guarded the border of the camp. Finally, Telumë drifted off into a troubled sleep, and within moments a dream as real as any she had ever felt took hold of her mind.
Sorry for the long wait; the reviews didn't come in as quickly as I thought they would (But thank you to everyone who reviewed! Remember, it generally takes at least 3 reviews for me to update!), and I had a bit of writers block on this last chapter. I fixed it! Plus, college applications have to get done, so… yeah. I'm not doing this for popularity (as some people seem to think) but rather because they encourage me and keep me going. When I don't get reviews, I often feel like no one appreciates my writing, so I don't write :/ sad truth. Anyway, I'm glad I get enough reviews to update again! (currently at 24 reviews, by the way)