Chapter 21
Redwood Forest,
United Kingdom,
They watched Smaug burn down London on TV.
The skies were red with flames, and the buildings burned. The flames bent with the wind. The buildings that Smaug had left behind were crushed when landed upon them. One thing Thranduil noticed, Smaug was being careful of leaving no survivors.
"There was no way they could have survived." Legolas said.
"And we would have died with them if we tried to help." Oropher said. But Thranduil shook his head.
"That is still no excuse. There were still families there." Thranduil said, sighing.
"I can only imagine the terror." Legolas said quietly.
"If it helps," Oropher said. "Dragon fires always leads to a quick death. Most of the people did not even have a second to think."
"It doesn't help." Thranduil said. "It doesn't."
"Are you sure you can work without a problem?" Thorontur said.
"Work is work," Thranduil said. "My feelings don't matter."
Thranduil's mood turned out to be blacker than he thought it would be. He turned out to be a bit irksome. Finally, he decided a bit of different scenery would do him good. He went to the lowermost Levels, to the indoor practicing chambers. The path led him to a fence that overlooked the practicing chambers.
Thranduil looked over the fence, watching the Ellyth go through various positions in sync with one another. Their hair was braided back in multiple braids, and they were fully dressed in combat suits of mottled brown and green.
"They show a lot of promise." Oropher said, coming to stand beside his son. "Some of them I am considering to place in our ranks. Alfirinil, the Elleth standing in the second row closest to you," Thranduil spotted an Elleth with light brown hair and tall and willowy figure. "She is a nimble runner, and her friend there with her showed unexpected strength."
"I will consider placing female soldiers in our regular army."
"If you accept, then our army will increase."
"How many fully armed, and not counting the female soldiers trained or training?" Thranduil asked.
"Over thirty thousand strong," Oropher said. "They are fully armed, full-equipped and ready for battle."
"Thirty thousand strong will never even break the lines of Enemy ranks." Thranduil said.
"The Valar will find a way." Oropher said.
"Will they?" Thranduil asked dryly, "Because we need to pick up a pace in developing a strong army."
"I have faith." Oropher simply said. Silence fell as they watched the trainees repeat the positions in a chorus, executing it together. Male instructors ambled along, rapping them in correction with a slim stick.
"Do you think there are any survivors?" Thranduil asked. "In London?"
Oropher sighed.
"I honestly do not think so." He said. "Smaug wanted to send a message. Dale had survivors, because Smaug only needed to make sure no one dared to attack him. Survivors didn't matter then. But if London is to be a stronghold for the Enemy, they had to make sure there was no one left alive."
oOo
Alqualondë,
Aman,
The scent of fresh air and salt from the Sea soothed Olwë.
"Are your people ready?" Manwë asked.
"We are," Olwë answered. His voice took on a sad, quiet tone ever since his wife was killed. "But we will not leave until the last of the Elves left the cities. Only then we will take our own ships."
"Your people are among the bravest."
Olwë inclined his head in a sophisticated manner to accept the compliment.
"How many ships have you left for us, the Valar?"
"Three thousand, like you asked." Olwë's brow furrowed. "But I do not know why you asked me for it."
"Lórien intends to use them."
"The Door of Night is almost completely broke. Whatever the plans, he must do it quickly."
"The Lord of Dreams has something in mind."
"Yes. I hope there is a plan." Olwë said doubtfully.
Manwë quirked a smile.
"We always have a plan. And this one, no one would be expecting."
oOo
Redwood Forest,
United Kingdom,
"You gave us a very warm welcome." Celegorm said when they met at the doors of Thranduil's Halls. He was dressed in light blue combat suits, like the Hunters.
"I can be nice when I want to." Thranduil said. He glanced at the Hunters behind Celegorm. "You have come heavily armed. I do hope you do not intend to take my city because your brother helped design it." Celegorm gave a hearty laugh.
"Keep your city," Celegorm said. "My work is already a lot as it is." He recognized Glandír among the Hunters. He jerked his chin towards him.
"What has happened to Monique?"
"I thought you might ask." Celegorm said. He gestured at a nearby Hunter who offered him a tablet. "We got what we wanted from her."
"And what happened to her after that?"
"We had her memories wiped. We gave her a new identity, a new life and we have her well-protected."
"And how do you remove their memories?"
"Drug therapy." Celegorm said. "We induce them in a highly suggestive state and we feed them a completely different life."
"And you let them go?"
"We keep an eye on them in their regular lives." Celegorm said. "She is going to be fine. Oh and there is someone who wanted to come along."
He gestured over his shoulder, and Thranduil noticed that one of the Hunters, much shorter and less muscled than the rest, was a mortal Woman.
"Kate," Thranduil said in surprise.
Kate had changed over almost two years since he last saw her. She was more muscled than before. Her skin was tanned light gold and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail. She had a large grin, with dimples on either side. He had never noticed the dimples. Kate had more nervous smiles before they left her with the Hunters.
"Hir nin," she answered, inclining her head. Thranduil laughed.
"You are teaching her Sindarin," he accused Celegorm. To Kate, he said, "You need to work more on the pronunciation. Come, my son will be very happy to meet you."
"We have refreshments waiting for you. And then we can go back to business." Thorontur said.
"Just a little bit of refreshments," Celegorm said. He looked grave now. "You know why I am here. And will need to go quickly."
After a quick bite to eat, Celegorm hinted that he wished to speak to Thranduil alone. Thranduil led him to a parlour where they could speak freely. Celegorm was carrying a slim and long black case in his hands, offered by a Hunter before the door closed behind him. As soon as they settled, Celegorm told him what they learned from Monique.
"Belladonna," Thranduil said thoughtfully. "It is some form of poisonous flower, isn't it?"
"Nightshade," Celegorm said. "Sweet, attractive but lethal."
"I see." Thranduil said. "What my daughter by marriage noted and what you have found might be the same thing?"
"What do you mean?"
Thranduil told him about Életh's captivity, and her information.
"The problem is we cannot find out which assets and where they are. And United Kingdom is thrown in disarray. The entire Royal Family is dead, along with the entire government staff that mattered. UK is running around with its head severed." Celegorm said, shaking his head. "Thranduil, I hope you realize you are on your own in this land." Thranduil only laughed.
"I was alone in Eryn Lasgalen as well," Thranduil said dryly. "Support was hard to come by even then. I will be fine."
Celegorm studied him for a long while, his face completely expressionless.
"I have something for you." Celegorm said finally. He held up the long case.
"Really?" Thranduil asked warily.
"It is a gift from Amrod."
Thranduil raised a brow.
"You give me too many gifts," he said in a neutral voice. "One would think that you are trying to win me over."
"That is precisely what we are doing." Celegorm answered. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. It was something that made Thranduil wary of the Fëanorians.
"That is what makes me worry." Thranduil murmured. Celegorm offered him the case.
"I promise you will not regret it." Celegorm said. Thranduil looked at Celegorm, staring into his pale grey eyes, before finally opening the case.
A long sword lay on a light green velvet cloth.
Thranduil's fingers lightly traced the hilt before grasping it. He raised the sword, enjoying the trusty weight before using his other hand to hold the scabbard. The sword unsheathed with a pleasing whistle. The blade was sharp, and there were swirls of greyish blue in the metal. It was a wondrous make, and he knew instinctively the blade will never dull nor break under any duress. The hilt fitted perfectly in his grasp, and so did the length. Its weight was perfect, allowing him to shift it in hand to hand, or to use a shield if he wanted to. Thranduil never liked shields. He felt that they were unnecessary weight to carry.
"How did he know?"
"Amrod always had a good eye for measurements." Celegorm said. "Curufin is the better one, though, among all of us. What would you like to name it?" Celegorm asked. Thranduil looked at the sword. Then his lips curved into a smile.
"Hirvegil," Thranduil said finally.
Celegorm raised both his brows at that.
"That is calling for suicide."
"Well, I don't think so. After all, I was trained half the time with your brother."
At that, Celegorm only smiled broadly.
"I told Maedhros not to expect you to follow his footsteps." Celegorm said. "You have this… defiance to you. It becomes you, and it is largely unexpected. You simply run your own way."
"I have heard that before." Thranduil said, thinking about Galadriel. "I am not sure if that is a compliment though."
"It makes you dangerous, if that helps." Celegorm said. "And I just hope I stay in your good side." Thranduil said nothing in reply, and Celegorm expected none. "So who is in the mood of going to London?" Celegorm asked, mock brightly. Then his smile disappeared. "Get ready. It will not be a pleasant scene."
oOo
London,
United Kingdom,
The stench of burned flesh and smoke hit him first as he stepped down from the hovercraft's raft. Then he looked up.
The image was forever seared in his mind. The fires were still burning on some buildings, and the air above them was full of black smoke. The stench of decay and death choked him, twisting his insides. Thranduil had seen a lot of death on the battlefield, and he had witnessed the destruction of Lake-town after Smaug's fury, but here in London, a home of over eight million people, was nothing compared to it. Most of the buildings were charred and burned to the ground and the ones that remained standing were mostly rubble, with the intact walls creaking and groaning. The city was ghostly and eerie.
"It makes me sick." Glandír said. "They didn't deserve this."
Thranduil stepped forward.
"Keep your launchers ready." Celegorm told his Hunters.
"Launchers?" Thranduil asked, glancing at the Noldo. Celegorm nodded and lifted the weapon up for Thranduil to see. It was large, with handles for both hands and heavy by the looks of it.
"Launchers," Celegorm affirmed. "It has explosive ammunition. It has a chance of working against dragons."
"But you are not sure?"
Celegorm only smiled.
"Wonderful," Thranduil muttered. He took in a deep breath and took firm steps towards the beginning of the city.
The rubble shifted over his feet. Ash lifted at the disturbance he was causing.
"This is a military checkpoint," Glandír said. Then he corrected himself, "Was." Thranduil could see he was right. The metal of barricades had burned to a smooth, bubble-ridden mass. He could see remnants of electronics. One of the Hunters gave a loud cry and everyone turned instinctively. The Hunter was a Vanya, with a look of horror fixed on his face. He stooped and then held up something for others to see.
Thranduil's stomach churned when he saw the skull in the Hunter's hands. Skin and flesh was completely burnt off, and a part of it was broken off.
"A dragon's fire burns everything." Celegorm said, breaking the tense silence. "That one is lucky." He said, gesturing at the human skull. "Most of the skeletons will be nothing but ash."
Bile rose in Thranduil's throat from the thought but he forced it down.
"Let's keep moving." Thranduil's voice was harsh to his ears as well.
Silence was the loudest noise in London. The bustling streets were full of skeletal remains and ash that none of them wanted to think about. They stepped about gingerly, scanning the area around them. The winds whistled around the ruins of buildings. There was nothing left. Thranduil's foot stepped on something curiously soft and he looked down with dread. His foot moved away, revealing a doll's remains… and bits of bones beside it. Thranduil stepped back hastily, bumping into Celegorm.
"What is it?" Celegorm asked quickly, and then he looked down. His face twisted in grief. "A child," he said, bending down and touching the remains with a brush of his fingers. "Poor child," he murmured, before addressing Thranduil. "I have a daughter, you know. She has grown now, but she loved dolls. I cannot imagine her in this place." Celegorm looked about, no doubt imagining the city to be his own, to have his own family in the ashes. Thranduil did not need to imagine it. It was a fear that was inside him from the day he became a king on the battlefield after his father's death.
They walked on in silence in rough ranks.
"I don't like this." Thranduil said. "Smaug likes to make a point but he likes other things. He likes to conquer. He would have stayed here."
"Which begs the question; where is he?" Celegorm said, training his launcher around as he scanned the buildings.
"Oh I wouldn't think that he is too far from here." Thranduil said. "I just think he is taking a while to make an appearance." He looked up at the sky, still dark from all the smoke and ash suspended in the air. "Have you battled dragons in the past?"
"Yes," Celegorm said. "And I lost many of my hard-trained soldiers to them."
"Have you met any that you found minded their own business?"
"Are you asking me if there are dragons out there with good hearts?" Celegorm sounded amused.
"Maybe," Thranduil knew he sounded foolish. But he was allowed to hope.
"I do not really know." Celegorm said. "Morgoth liked to toy with me and my brothers. He made sure his dragons stayed clear of us. He didn't want the fun to end too quickly." He sounded disgusted.
Thranduil was about to reply when they heard the winds pick up, ruffling their hair and clothes.
"Smaug's here." Thranduil said.
They heard a roar and the entire group looked up.
"Ready your guns!" Celegorm said. They looked up and saw the dragon come closer. Thranduil saw he was coming closer and closer with a few blinks of an eye. Smaug landed none too gently over the ground. Thranduil momentarily lost his footing, and so did the others. Smaug was eager, Thranduil thought. The dragon was usually more graceful than this. He turned around in a circle.
"LOOK OUT!"
The shout did not stop Smaug's tail rippling through the air towards them. Thranduil felt the force of the tail hit him hard, making him fly backwards. He slammed against a wall, and slid to the ground. The wall behind him crumbled a bit behind him. He heard a sharp cry and he looked up in a daze. Celegorm was on his back, helpless, Smaug's claw pressing hard on his chest. The other Hunters were scattered, all of them prostrating on the ground. None of them could protect their leader. Thranduil got up, one hand going to his other hand, the Ring of Storm warming on his finger. The clouds were gathering, making the dark sky still darker.
"Smaug!" Thranduil shouted. "I see you have lost none of that charm of yours. Killing innocents must have made you feel so powerful."
"Stop talking, Thranduil." Smaug said smoothly, still looking down at Celegorm. The Elf's face was white. He was hurt. "I am curious about this Elf." The dragon breathed out, tendrils of smoke coming from his nostrils.
"Let him go!" Glandír and other Hunters were on their feet, launchers in their hands.
Smaug, much to Thranduil's surprise, actually obeyed.
Celegorm crawled back, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily. Smaug's neck wound about him like a snake.
"So," Smaug said silkily. "Your Hunters have nerve. Those launchers will be nothing to me."
"Those spies are very good in passing information." Glandír called out. "Mind giving their names for us? I like to recruit them again."
"A part of the fun between Good and Evil is that it is not easy to win over either." Smaug said smoothly. "No, I will not."
Suddenly, Smaug's claw pressed down on Celegorm's chest. The Elf was breathing in difficulty.
"Call them off," Smaug hissed, "Or you die." Smaug's head loomed closer to Celegorm's face, and Thranduil could see the wisps of smoke coming from his nostrils. Finally Celegorm gestured with two fingers raised of his one hand. The Elves slowly lowered their weapons.
"Excellent," Smaug said. He raised his limb and settled his claw right beside Celegorm's figure. Celegorm was not out of danger yet. "I just wanted to know." His tongue flicked over his teeth every now and then, "Who exactly the Hunter is among the Elves." Celegorm tried to move out of Smaug's grip but he gave a loud hiss when the dragon pressed down his claw over his chest. "Do not move, there is a good chap." Smaug said. Celegorm's hair had darkened in dirty gold-black in the ashes and debris on the ground below him.
"Did I meet up the mark?" Celegorm asked Smaug, grunting.
"I do not know." Smaug said, tilting his head a little. "You are said to be the Master of Beast. But how can someone as small and insignificant be so powerful as to control beasts?" Smaug asked.
"I can be very persuasive." Celegorm said.
Smaug gave a chuckle. It was high-pitched, which told him that the dragon was truly amused.
"And do you think you can persuade me?"
"Careful. I just might turn you to my side.
The corners of Smaug's mouth pulled back in a sickly grin.
"Good," he rumbled. "We will meet again, Fëanorian." With his large wings widening, Smaug pressed his body over the ground before leaping into the sky. He flapped away, before letting his body glide. Thranduil watched it warily, until the dragon disappeared into the clouds. All of them raced to Celegorm's aid.
"Celegorm, where are you hurt?" Glandír asked.
"My ribs," Celegorm gasped. "They hurt."
"Can you move?"
Celegorm groaned and got up with some help.
"I am fine." Celegorm said. "Treat me back in the craft. Thranduil, give me your arm, will you?"
Thranduil took the hint and helped him. Sure enough, Celegorm whispered in his ear, "I wasn't expecting this."
"What I want to know is why he let you go," Thranduil mused. Celegorm's fair skin was now returning to its normal colour.
"Because he was curious," Celegorm said. "I am a plaything to him. And he needs a plaything to keep him amused."
They heard a rumble among clouds and steady rain started. The sky, although dark, looked cleaner. It made small puddles on the ground, and the stench of death vanished in the fresh scent of rain.
"You are doing this." Celegorm said.
"No, I just helped the nearby clouds move along."
"I thought working with the elements made you dangerously tired," Celegorm said in his ear.
"It does." Thranduil answered. He looked up, letting the raindrops wash over his face. "But this time, I am working with the weather. And this city needs cleansing, if only for a little while."
"It lightens my heart somewhat. It makes my grief lesser."
Thranduil was not sure, but he tasted a little bit of salt among the raindrops.
oOo
California,
America,
Dorián lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his tent. He did not want to move. His wife's ring rested on the hollow of his throat, and it was cold, but he did not want to reach up and settled it away.
He did as Legolas had told him to. He talked to his reinforcement when he had to and he dutifully checked in when he was told to. He was not the type to follow instructions to the letter, but he was afraid that if he made one mistake, the King would call him to come back, or worse, strip him of his rank. He did not want that to happen. Empty hands made him think about his dead wife. And that was more torturous to his mind. He sighed and held up the flash drive in his hand and studied it. He caught up with the lead, which turned out to be a group of American soldiers, with links to the Enemy. The flash drive would play in their favour. He hoped, at least.
Dorián sighed and sat up. He took his laptop and switched it on. He might as well get some work done. He sank his head in his hands while he waited for the laptop to switch on. Arodis was always on his mind, every day. Guilt consumed him, thinking about how he had left the love of his life behind to die alone. To save his own skin, Dorián thought bitterly. He shook his head as if to remove his dark thoughts and looked up.
The screen was not the familiar one. Instead there were series of alphabets in multiple rows over the screen.
He frowned, looking at the alphabets running over the screen. His first instinct told him his laptop had been hacked, but then he noticed that some of the letters were differed. In the corner of uppermost right, he saw that one letter changed so fast that it may seem like multiple letters running over and over, but it was just a single Sindarin letter, that blinked in and out so rapidly that it seemed to be English letters instead of one Sindarin letter. And the letter translated to an 'A'.
Arodis.
This was Arodis' signature, whenever she hacked into a system. And she also used it to give information. He knew the code to clear the software. His trembling fingers flew over the keyboard as he entered the code and then looked up the screen. Files opened up for him. He furrowed his brow. He went through them. Arodis must have gotten these files from the Enemy and sent it to him. He hadn't worked with a laptop since she had died. That must be why he missed this. He went through the contents of one file.
"Belladonna," he murmured. "Nuclear assets," then he remembered. Életh was the one who mentioned it to them first. Now he knew what the plan was.
"Bless you, Arodis," he whispered.
oOo
Hovercraft,
Skies,
Celegorm lay on his back, his shirt crumpled beside him. Glandír was studying an X-Ray in a corner.
"Two ribs with hairline fractures," One of the Hunters told Celegorm. "The dragon didn't break you too badly." Celegorm gave a laugh and then winced. "We will bind you up." The Hunter said. "It will heal in a few days."
"He let me off easy." Celegorm said. "I thought I was going to be burned to crisp back there."
"You just might have." Thranduil said, thinking about his vision about Celegorm. What had changed fate? The way Celegorm handled it? The depth of Smaug's curiosity? The fact that he had not told Celegorm what he saw?
Celegorm raised himself in a sitting position and allowed the healer to bind his chest.
"Well, at least I am not carrying your ashes back to your brothers in a disposable dining box." Glandír said, coming to stand in front of Celegorm, his hands on his waist. "You look pretty much unscathed."
They were greeted with exclamations of relief back in Thranduil's Halls. Arodien hugged him tightly, and Nemireth even tighter.
"You are safe." His mother whispered to him. Thranduil rubbed the top part of her back in comfort. He wouldn't always be able to give this comfort to her.
"I think a good feast is in order!" Thranduil said at the top of his voice, raising laughter and shouts of approval. "My ladies," he bowed towards the Ellyth of his family, "I think the Kitchens should be told to ready a large feast."
"I will go and see to it." Életh said, smiling at her mother by marriage before turning on her heel and leaving. Thranduil's loud proclamation put everyone at ease.
At night, just before dinner time, Thranduil led Celegorm and Kate to a separate room.
"I have something for you." Thranduil said, leading the young woman to a short and slim table. A black case lay on top of it. Kate looked at it curiously. Thranduil opened the case and lifted Andúril carefully from the case.
"This belonged to your forefather, Isildur," Thranduil said. "And then it was inherited by your forefather, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," He offered it to Kate, hilt first. "Take it."
Kate started in surprise. "Me?" She asked, pointing at herself. "But-but-"
"You are Aragorn's descendent, it is yours by right." Thranduil said. Kate looked at him and then she glanced at Celegorm, as if for some guidance, but the Elf was completely expressionless. It was Kate's choice. Kate reached out, her tapering, but callused fingers gripping the hilt and she pulled it out. Andúril sang as it left its sheath and she held it up, the blade-point facing the ceiling. As soon as she did, Thranduil knew the sword was not for her. Her wrist wobbled, and the blade moved slowly to and fro. Kate also had the same thoughts.
"It is too heavy," Kate complained.
"That's not the only problem," Celegorm said. "The hilt is too big for you, and the sword is not built for your height. The style of swordplay we are teaching you do not suit this sword. It is not made for you." Kate looked disappointed as she carefully sheathed it and returned the blade to the case. "We will forge a sword for you." Celegorm said. "One that suits you perfectly."
"I know," Kate said. "It is just that this sword belonged to my forefathers. I just hoped to carry it. Makes a better song."
"Songs don't win wars." Thranduil said dryly. "And legendary blades are only legendary after they win wars. Your skills do. Focus on your training and you will be fine."
"Right." Kate smiled but Thranduil could see something was off. He did not know what. Then she looked away. Perhaps, Thranduil simply mistook her manner.
"Come," Celegorm said to Kate. "Go and practice before heading for bed."
"What about the blade?"
"You can keep it." Thranduil said. Kate shook her head.
"If I may, I think it should stay here."
"Then I will keep it here in safe-keeping." Thranduil said. Kate smiled at him.
"Thank you." Kate said, before excusing herself and leaving.
"You should go and rest as well." Thranduil said to Celegorm. "You look like you need it."
Celegorm gave a light sigh, and then rested his hand on his chest, no doubt over the hurt ribs.
"I think I will take your offer." He said dryly. "I need it. We will talk more in the morning." With a flick of his wrist in farewell, he left Thranduil alone in the room. Thranduil looked down at Andúril, shimmering in the light and just as sharp as it had been when it was first wielded by Aragorn.
"Pity," he murmured. "This is an able sword, and yet there is none to bear it."
People, dressed in white, fast asleep on beds of grass, with platters of food and flasks of drink on many tables…
Author's Note:
Translations:
Hirvegil- Sindarin for sword-master.
Hir nin- Sindarin for 'My Lord'
Concepts:
- On Kate: I am not the kind to drop random Elvish here and there. But Kate, being someone who had been introduced to the world of LOTR as the descendant of Aragorn, she obviously does not know how to speak Sindarin. On her training for two years, I am not the kind to believe someone can just suddenly develop muscle. I think that Kate is simply an average weighted woman. Not fat but not fit either.
- On the Elves: A lot of portrayals of Elves show them as beings that are not capable of making mistakes. They are these perfect forms of Men. But I disagree. I think the portrayal of Elves in the Silmarillion shows the fact that they are not perfect. My version of Elves reflect that part. They have all these varying decisions, varying emotions and preferences.
-On the War: Dagor Dagorath literally means 'Battle of Battles'. I want to touch every form of battle. Cold War, ambush, cyber-war etc. It has to be this jumbo pack of everything that makes a battle.