Hey y'all! Welcome back to the circus! I considered pumping the brakes a bit when it came to the plot and just letting the the characters rest, but I thought: "Naaaaaaaaah." There's still a lot left unresolved from the last arc, and if I go too easy it'll feel boring. I don't just want "Oh, they're alive, they're going to kill Morien, Galadriel is coming omg she'll be so impressed with the Unseen blah blah blah..." That would be too boring to write. Remember, you should enjoy your hobbies. That's why it's a hobby, and not a job.
You thought it escalated quickly before? Oh baby, y'all have no idea how fast these girls can take it from 0 to 100.
Please review!
Clowns that only let you know
Where you let your senses go
Clowns all around you
It's a cross I need to bear
All this black and cruel despair
This is an emergency
Don't you hide your eyes from me
Open them and see me now
Can you see me now?
"Clowns"
-t.A.T.u.
Megan
Megan hurried beside Chardonnay as Neithan led her back towards the ruined fortress. "What did you find?" Chardonnay asked, but Neithan only shook his head. "I cannot speak of it here," he said lowly. "But you are urgently needed at once, Nienniel. Lore-Seer, stay put."
"Nah," Megan said, and followed them.
Around them other Elves waved and bowed their heads to them, and Megan nodded back as much as she could while she struggled to keep up with Neithan and Chardonnay. She envied Chardonnay's power to heal. Megan could still feel the remnants of death inside of her; her lungs were already burning, and she was struggling to keep her lunch down. Megan stuttered to a stop and held her hand over her beating heart. She wished briefly that Tauriel was with them, but Chardonnay had been adamant that Tauriel go see the Healers and rest after their luncheon. Tauriel was visibly exhausted and still limping a bit from her fight with the Orcs. At first, she insisted that she stay with them no matter what, and it was only when Chyann had insisted the same that Tauriel finally submitted and departed.
While the four of them really did want Tauriel to take care of herself, they had sent her away because they had wanted to see Morien alone. Tauriel had supported them at every turn, yes, but this was something they felt the need to deal with themselves. Well, Thranduil was there, too, but he had just as much beef with Morien as them.
Chardonnay tugged against Neithan and said, "Megan, are you okay?"
Megan gave her a look that plainly said What the fuck do you think?
Chardonnay frowned. "Maybe you should go lie down. You don't feel so good."
Megan shook her head. "Like Hell," she wheezed, "I will. I need to see this. Neithan didn't get a very good look of that thing, but I got a picture of it. I can help this guy, too."
Neithan shushed her. He came close and bent low towards her. "No one must know before Our King has decided how to proceed." He frowned. "What do you mean I did not get a good look?"
Megan ignored him. She nodded at Chardonnay. "Give me a boost, and I'll be fine." Chardonnay looked reluctant. "It won't last long, and you might just crash...but okay."
Chardonnay came and hugged Megan tightly, and Megan could feel the surge of healing energy touch every inch of her. A bolt of energy stronger than 12 ounces of espresso coursed through her, too, and Megan shook herself. "Damn," she blinked. "I needed that." Her stomach settled after a moment, and she wondered if she had eaten too much. Probably so, but fuck it, she had died and come back to life, so it was a cheat day if there ever was one.
Neithan looked between the two of them and frowned. "Very well," he said through his perfect white teeth, "Come along, then. Angambar has been hard-pressed to keep the beast contained."
Chardonnay frowned at Neithan as he commandeered a horse and cart from a worker clearing snow. Megan jumped into the back and swiped off the thin layer of ice on the floor of the cart and crouched there. "Hop in," she held her hand out to Chardonnay, who accepted it and clambered on. Megan briefly felt very proud of her own nimbleness and thought of all the ice-covered trees she had nearly fallen from to gain it. Neithan piled blankets and canvas and even rope into the bed with them, and he took up the reins of the horse and they were off.
The growing camp sped by as the horse picked up pace, and Megan held tight to the side of the cart as it rocked on the uneven ground. She remembered all the hayrides from elementary school and wondered if they had always felt this fast. Then she recalled that she hadn't been in a car for over six months. A vice gripped her heart as she thought of all the songs on the radio she would never hear again, that she would never get her own driver's license. Her nose stung with cold and the hint of tears, but she shoved down the impulse to cry over spilled milk.
She peeked over at Chardonnay who, like her, was also gripping the cart side for dear life. "You never got into that driver's ed class, did you?" Megan shouted over the creak and rattle of the cart. Chardonnay shook her head mutely. Her eyes were fixed on the ugly broken fortress looming ahead of them. Banners of the Elvenking waved from the ramparts, now, where before Morien had stood with his army of Dark Elves and Orcs. Megan could still see Chyann approaching that fortress, and eventually making her way into the heart...and rising...
And falling.
Megan swallowed thickly as the memory of that horrible alcove where they had attempted Necromancy swelled up. She remembered the pain of the Nether Blade spell, the stillness of her friend, and her own death. Sweat, despite the cold, beaded on Megan's face, and her hands started shaking. She reached out to Chardonnay again for comfort, but Cici's eyes were closed, and she bent close to the wall of the cart.
Megan could see Chardonnay's memories over her own, and while Megan thought her anxiety was bad, Chardonnay's was almost worse. Chyann's death was replaying in Chardonnay's memories and overlapped with Megan's. Megan felt a madness swell up in her and she thought she was going to scream.
Megan slapped herself. Hard. As Neithan looked over his shoulder at them, Megan slapped her other cheek just to even out the color.
Her face stung, but it worked. Megan focused on the present, and the pain, to get out of her own head and Chardonnay's, whose attention she had also diverted. "What'd you do that for?" Chardonnay shouted over the clatter of wheels. Megan ignored the question and shouted back, "I know what happened in there sucked, but it's over now, Char. It's okay!"
Chardonnay shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. Neithan was obviously listening very closely, and Megan thought she detected a tightness to his shoulders. Guilt, then. Good.
Megan frowned sympathetically at her friend. Megan understood how much the past could hurt. But unlike all the time Megan had between her own personal traumas of childhood and now, everything they felt right then looking at Dol Guldur was new. It was raw, and it hurt. They were afraid. Megan hoped that they would never have to see the ugly fortress again-they needed space to get over what had happened there.
If they ever could.
Neithan called over his shoulder. "The King has gone to collect your sisters, they will join us soon. But I must warn you: this creature is wild and dangerous."
Megan could see the flashes of the 'creature' in his mind. It was a short, wiry figure. Lots of hair, and his nails were overgrown and broken. They had almost clawed out Neithan's eyes before it fled, and was pursued by Angambar, who ordered Neithan to bring the Unseen there at once!
Megan took the image of the person to the Pit and tried, again, to track into this figure's memories, and know his nature, but Shadows obscured her Post-vision. That meant that whatever past this guy had was hidden even from himself. Megan snarled quietly to herself. Sauron may have been banished, but a lot of his magic still bound what he had touched.
"Light up," Megan jerked her face at Chardonnay, who nodded. They had reached the bridge that connected the fortress to the woodlands, and Megan looked for where Gilomil's blood stained the stones and snow. It was still there, streaked brown instead of the bright red it once was.
Megan stared at the blood; now that the revenge fest was over, she looked back on all the savagery she had committed with a sense of disconnect. She never wanted to forget, though, neither the fury nor the vague horror she now felt. She wanted to remember this moment where she looked down at the blood her enemies without the haze of fury in her mind and realized the cost of killing: as beautiful as it was while in the haze, it was ugly when out of it, even when it was been deserved.
Neithan drove the cart through the now-open doors of Dol Guldur, and Megan was relieved that she saw many other Elves laboring to clear the fortress. Haphazard piles of Orcs contrasted sharply to the neat lines of fallen Elves whose faces were now covered with their cloaks. Megan wondered if they had covered her face while she'd been dead and was oddly wistful for it.
Often during the misery that was Middle School she had wondered if any of the people who had been mean to her would cry if Megan had suddenly died. Before her depression had been diagnosed and managed with medication, and before she had found her sister, she had seriously considered suicide many times. She had thought about her funeral ad nauseam, and obsessed about flower arrangements, photos she would have wanted on display, and even once or twice written out instructions for how she wanted it to go. After all these years, they hadn't really changed:
Casket: Open, and a Catholic service.
Flowers: Sunflowers, her favorite.
Song: Danny Boy, the classic version.
Keynote speaker: Adam West. If not, then her Kindergarten teacher would do.
The only thing Megan wanted added to her funeral now was a twerk-off over her grave, but she doubted Elves could pop those flat butts for her to save their immortal lives.
But Megan knew that the Elves had honored as well as they could with how they knew her. They had wrapped her in the clothes she had felt strongest in and laid next to her sisters. Megan wondered what Thranduil had intended to do with their bodies after the vigil. If she had the option, then she wanted to be set on fire, like Darth Vader.
Maybe she could still write out a will, in case she died again.
Neithan reigned in the horses and commanded them to dismount. Megan and Chardonnay grabbed armfuls of the blankets and ropes and jumped out of the cart bed on stiff legs. Megan's ankle popped, but she shook it off and followed Neithan, who approached an Elf guarding the exit.
"Anything?" he asked, and the guard shook his head. "Angambar has barricaded the creature two levels up," the guard replied. "Be swift, my friend. My ladies," he bowed his head to them, and Megan stared at him.
"Aren't we gonna wait for Chyann?" Chardonnay asked, but Neithan shook his head. "She is coming soon. We must act quickly-we do not know how close he is to death."
"Roger that. Lead the way, Neithan," Chardonnay was gripping her blankets tight. Neithan turned on his heel and strode away to the stairs, and Cici followed, but Megan spoke slowly to the guard. "That person is in a lot of pain. He's not some dumb animal. Don't ever call him a creature again, do you understand me?"
Megan knew that politically she was Galdor's heir, but the title was informal, and her more stable claim to bossing this guy around was her sister's position as the King's Councilor, so her own power was limited. But this didn't have to do with power, for her. This was about decency. The Elf lowered his eyes, and she could see herself through his eyes. She looked badass in her Scout's gear and circlet. She could sense his embarrassment, and, satisfied, she turned to follow Neithan and Chardonnay.
Thranduil
He still could not believe that she was there. Alyx was warm and glowing under the golden circlet made just for her, and he could hear her heart beating. She gasped as Taurhir leaped high over a fallen tree laying across their path, and he held her close as the Elk's stride evened out once more. As she rocked hard against him, he allowed himself to breath in her scent and to feel a small moment of joy before he hid his heart from her.
"You know," he said to her as the cantering became smooth as water, "I do believe this is the first time you have been awake to ride him."
"Really?" she asked and paused a moment. "I think you're right. I do remember a bit from the Battle Under the Solstice after...you know... but I think your Elk was the last thing I remember before I blacked out."
Thranduil's heart ached to remember that ride, and the most recent one. He nodded down to her. "I carried you from that fortress upon Taurhir," he said quietly. "I am sure he is glad to bear you alive and well, now."
"...You did?" she twisted in her seat towards him, and Thranduil made as if to dam up his heart again, but seeing her look, he allowed himself to show her his sorrow and the depth his grief had reached at her death. She gave him a sad smile and leaned against him. "Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
I did not do enough, and you and your sisters suffered and perished for it, Thranduil thought, and he swore to do better by her forever to pay for his inaction. "You may ride him as often as you wish," he promised, and was rewarded with an excited smile.
"Really? Whenever I want?"
"Yes," he replied. "I can teach you to handle him. He is quite gentle."
"Even for his size?" she smiled, and Thranduil chuckled. "Especially for his size."
He heard a minute throat-clearing behind them and glanced over at her friend. He saw Chyann scowling at him, and a small smile touched his lips. Thranduil, with a sense of recklessness, cupped Alyx's stomach as he heeled Taurhir faster. It was in part practical. Alyx was in a dress not meant for riding; to keep her legs warm in the frigid air she rode side-saddle before him with both her cloak and his draped across her, and her seat was unstable. If Chyann meant to punch him for it, he would welcome her attempt.
He could feel Alyx inhale sharply as the fortress came into view. "You still haven't told us why we're going back in there," Alyx said, and while Thranduil guessed that she could See what was within the fortress, he knew that Chyann was in the dark. He looked over to Fire-Born as she came beside them when the path widened enough for two beasts to pass. "There is someone in the fortress I suspect may have great significance," Thranduil said. "From the description given to me by Neithan, it is a Dwarf, and he is feral."
"Sauron must have corrupted him," Chyann said, nodding grimly at the shape of her death place. "Asshole." It seemed to be her favorite word for anything she didn't like.
"Indeed," Thranduil agreed. "Asshole."
Chyann looked at him in amazement, and he shrugged. If that gains me some favor, so be it. He did not want to overly displease her. He thought she just might throw Alyx over her shoulder and run, and he did not want that.
Alyx said, "I never sensed anything other than the Dark Ones before Bard came to the fortress. If he was there, he was hiding from everyone."
They were reaching the foot of the hill with which to climb to the fortress, and Thranduil spoke to Chyann again. "Chardonnay has been collected by Neithan. We shall try to tend him. Chyann, be prepared to restrain him. You shall not break him, is that clear?"
"Only if he tries to break me," Chyann muttered, and Thranduil leveled her with a firm stare. He recalled giving Legolas such looks when he was a child, and the effect did not seem to be lost with time. "I trust you will not harm him."
"Fine," Chyann snapped, and color rose in her cheeks. "I'll be careful. Okay?"
Thranduil was satisfied for the moment, but Alyx was still quiet in front of him. Normally she would have said something to her sister-in-arms, but she was oddly pensive. "What is it, my friend?" he asked her quietly. "You do not need to fear this poor creature. You will be safe. I will protect you."
"I know who he is." Alyx whispered. "I can sense your ideas for him."
Thranduil became very still as Taurhir ascended the hill and came up to the even ground. Alyx continued lowly so Chyann couldn't hear. "If you want us to help him, you'll let him become our charge. Every decision regarding him will belong to us."
Thranduil's jaw clenched. "This does not concern only my people, but many others. This will ripple throughout all Middle Earth's politics, and you do not have the experience to navigate them, nor deal with the Dwarves. I will give you anything that is in my power to grant, Alyx, but you do not know the burden and risk of what you are asking."
"Yes, I do," she said, and her voice was steel. He could see what it was that kept her alive all the while she was Morien's prisoner, and Thranduil respected it, though he doubted the words themselves. "I am not stupid. And I know for a fact the Dwarves of the Iron Hills hate the entire Woodland Realm; I remember that was one of Galdor's first lessons." Her voice trailed off, and he knew that she was aware of his death. He wondered if she had seen in while in the Halls of Mandos, and Thranduil was reminded of his grief at Galdor's death, and how much he owed to the Unseen.
She continued. "If you try to strong-arm them, they will retaliate. And it is in your power to grant; he was in your forest when you found him. You will be the hero not only for that, but also for not keeping him as a political prisoner in your halls and giving him to those who can best heal him." Alyx's voice washed over him in soothing waves. She painted a practical and a seductive picture, and he was hard-pressed to argue.
But still. Thranduil straightened his back and his sense of dignity returned, and yet remembered what he had just vowed to himself. The idea of control as King and his dislike for Dwarves warred with his sense of honor and love for the woman before him. He grasped ahold his will and prepared to say no. But a touch on his chest made him look down, foolishly, into her wide hazel eyes.
"Please," she whispered, and he was lost. With a defeated sigh, Thranduil abandoned his plans of blackmail and negotiations with Dain in the Iron Hills, or Thorin in Ered Luin. "Very well," he whispered. "If you four can help him, then he is your responsibility. If he dies in the Unseen's care, then you four will have to face all the fury of the Dwarves."
Alyx giggled at that and leaned against him, "Oh, you'd help us, and you know it, Thranduil."
Thranduil internally groaned at the fact that yes, indeed, he would always protect the Unseen, with or without his love for her, for all they had done for him and his people. She had sworn the Unseen would always aid his kingdom, so he was bound to the same oath by honor.
"And he won't die," she looked up towards the broken tops of the fire-stained towers. "But I think you'd better hurry, though. I can sense him getting anxious in there."
Ahead of them, so close to the fortress, Thranduil could hear the screams of Thráin, the son of Thrór. Gone was the recognizability of rational voice. Those screams were filled with all the anguish of torment, madness, and loss of a captive. Thranduil shuddered to hear it and knew then he would have made much the same noises had he been in the same situation.
"Chardonnay!" Chyann heeled her mount and shot past Taurhir, and Thranduil followed as closely as possible. As they passed the gates, Thranduil could see that Gandalf had come, as well.
"Thranduil! What is the meaning of this?!"
"Stay back, Mithrandir!" Thranduil called and dismounted. As he reached up for Alyx he saw that she had already slid down the other side of the saddle and was running behind Chyann. She unclasped her cloak and tossed it to a nearby soldier, who caught it with a blink, and she hiked her skirt up to her knees. She was a glowing white beacon in the dark fortress behind Chyann, who's green cloak flapped in the wind.
Chyann waited briefly for her friend to catch up, and they disappeared together up the twisted stairs towards where the sounds were coming from. "Let them work," Thranduil nodded. "They can help him."
"I know that voice," Gandalf approached him slowly, staring up to where Thráin still moaned. "I cannot believe he is still alive. I had given him up for dead."
"What do you intend to do now, Mithrandir?" Thranduil asked. "Now that you know he lives."
"Thorin must know." Gandalf said. Thranduil did not doubt his resolution and knew Gandalf would see it done. "He has never stopped searching for his father. He has the right to know."
"I will not admit his people into my realm," Thranduil warned. "I will not allow him to accuse me of kidnapping and torturing his father and bringing a Dwarvish host upon us. I have just won peace; I do not intend to allow my people to bleed needlessly, again."
"Then he will not," Gandalf promised. "I can explain everything to him; Thorin can be reasoned with. If you will just-"
Thranduil cut him off: "I will be leaving Thráin in the hands of the Unseen. Speak with them on the matter."
Gandalf stared in mute surprise at him, and a calculating light gleamed in his eyes. "I did not think you would be so wise to let him go, my Lord," the wizard said, "I am glad to hear that." Thranduil narrowed his eyes. "I did not do it for him."
Neithan came and bowed to him, and Thranduil asked if Chardonnay was with Thráin. Neithan replied, "She is, my King, and Lore-Seer is with her. She refused to be left behind."
"Of course, she did," Thranduil sighed. The more he thought about it, though, the more he realized Lore-Seer might just help as much as Nienniel in reclaiming what sanity was left in the Dwarf. The screams raised to a crescendo around them, and Gandalf made to follow the Unseen, but Thranduil held out his arm.
"My Lord," Gandalf plead, but Thranduil raised his hand to forestall him. Silence fell. "Listen," he said. Thranduil strained his ears and looked up towards the Unseen had disappeared to, but no new sounds erupted from the tower.
"I hear nothing," Gandalf said, and the two exchanged a glance.
Gandalf ran past his arm and Thranduil followed. Up they went, twisting around the evil spikes that protruded into the path, and for once in his life Thranduil wished to be a touch smaller. Gandalf was remarkably less graceful than himself, though, and his shoulders continuously banged against the putrid walls as he avoided the cruel points. His ragged grey raiment still occasionally snagged, and once he even cursed as a point scraped across his face and caught a knot of the old Wizard's hair. Gandalf lurched to a stop, and for the tightness of the space, he could not move his arm to reach the hair. "Would you mind...?"
Thranduil sliced the knotted bit away with a flick of his sword. A moment passed when Gandalf sighed and nodded his thanks.
Thranduil could hear soft crying ahead of them, and he silently urged Gandalf to move on, and the Old Wizard did. Gandalf went forward a few more halls, and rounded a corner, and there they were. The abandoned room was a mess; the blankets and canvas and were thrown about willy-nilly, some streaked with dust and mud, and others ripped to shreds. The ropes were yet still coiled, though. Thranduil was stopped in his tracks as he beheld Thráin.
Gone was the proud warrior first line to inherit his father's throne. By many accounts, Thráin has not been handsome with his scarred and tattooed face and greying beard, but he had always been fearsome, and Thranduil had always respected him for not falling to the same Dragon-sickness his father had. Now even his strength was gone: Thráin was shriveled with hunger and pain, his once-lengthy beard shorn close and baring skin pitted with disease and old wounds. Thranduil could see that Thráin was dressed in filthy rags that were obviously Orc cast-offs where the blanket did not cover him.
But his eyes were still fierce as ever. While the deep scars of torment were still simmering within his eyes, they were as sane and sharp as they once were in Erebor. The Dwarf's tears were ebbing, and his eyes were searching the Unseen's faces where they knelt around him.
A sweeping glance told him that none of them were hurt, and he was deeply thankful. Each of the girls had their hands laid upon him in some way. Oddly enough, Thráin rested on Megan's lap and she was stroking the wild mane of unkempt knots at the top of his head. Lore-Seer wept openly, and Thranduil was startled to see such raw grief. He had seen Megan sarcastic, tired, eloquent, angry, and pensive, but rarely had he ever seen her so moved to sorrow.
Chardonnay had her hand upon Thráin's sunken cheek, and as Thranduil watched healthy color was slowly returning to the old Dwarf. A gentle smile touched her lips, and Thranduil was glad to see her growing confidence in her own power.
Chyann sat on Thráin's other side with her legs stretched out in front of her. With a gentleness Thranduil had never seen in her before, she cradled his hand in both of her own and seemed to be encouraging his grip.
Alyx held her hand to Thráin's other cheek and was whispering to him. She wept like her sister, and Thranduil heard her say 'Thorin' a few times.
Thráin was bathed in the Light of their eyes, and so he seemed to nearly be blinded to what lay beyond the four young women surrounding him. Gandalf took a shuddering inhalation, though, and Thráin began visibly straining to see who made that sound.
"Who is there," Thráin rasped, "I know that sound..."
"Hush..." Alyx whispered, "it's alright, it's Gandalf. He is here, and you're safe, now. Sauron is gone for now."
"We're going to help you," Megan swore through her tears, and she scrubbed at her face. "I know just who to ask."
Thráin was drifting off to sleep. "That's right," Chardonnay murmured, "just rest. We're here, and we're going to help you..."
"You'll see your child again, soon," Alyx said, and Thráin finally closed his eyes.
"Wait..." whispered Chyann as Thráin finally fell asleep, "what's with his hand? Yeah, right there..."
"It's an old wound," Chardonnay said as she lifted the hand that Chyann wasn't holding. Gandalf knelt beside Nienniel and took the hand. He swallowed and laid Thráin's hand back over his gently rising and falling chest. "His ring... One of the Seven... It is gone..."
Thranduil felt a chill take him, and it did not cease as he cautiously approached. He knelt beside Far-Seer. He made as if to draw his cloak over her shoulders, but Alyx stood abruptly and walked to retrieve her own cloak from the same Elf soldier whom she had tossed it to. She did not look at him, and Thranduil looked away. Chyann was watching him carefully, and a stone of knowing weighed heavily in his chest.
Megan's eyes glowed with the Past as she held Thráin's head in her lap. "Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky. Seven for the Dwarf lords in their halls of stone. Nine, for Mortal Men doomed to die. One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne..."
"Oh, Gods," Alyx whispered as she rejoined them. "Sauron's collecting those rings, isn't he? But what good are they, when he doesn't have his own Ring?"
"All the Rings are bound with strength to govern their respective races," Gandalf said, "they cannot restore his form, but they can greatly increase his power and influence. He helped make the Rings of Men and Dwarves."
"The Wraiths that were here," Alyx said, and her eyes became haunted as she spoke. "Those were the ones who accepted the Nine."
"Yeah," Megan said. "They got greedy."
"And the Dwarves as well," said Thranduil, looking down at Thráin's sleeping face. He stood. "The Seven brought wealth and prosperity, but gold-sickness was awakened as well. It is why there is no longer a King Under the Mountain, and Dale no longer stands. It is why the Dragon now rests in the ancestral home of the Line of Durin."
Megan looked up at him darkly. "Also, because you refused to help them. Why does that sound familiar?"
Thranduil stiffened. Alyx looked at him, and he feared that her good opinion of him was deteriorating as they stood there.
It was Chyann who came to his rescue. "That was a long time ago, and he's making up for it now. Right?" She nodded at him, but he could not meet those stalwart emerald eyes. He was ashamed, he was tired, and most of all he was hopeless. Is there nothing I can do right, he wondered, that can possibly redeem what I have done wrong?
No, it was likely he could not.
Chardonnay said, "Let's talk about this later. Thráin needs rest, and I want to get some real food in him. I'm freaking tired," she sighed, and staggered to her knees. She accepted Alyx's hand up, and the two held each other as Chyann knelt to lift Thráin's emaciated body. Megan raised her arms to help, but she remained on the ground. She blinked blearily, and Gandalf put his hand on her shoulder. "Megan? What is it?"
Megan fell into Gandalf's shoulder, and Alyx gasped. "Megan!"
Chardonnay huffed in annoyance. "I told her she was gonna collapse. She never listens to anyone."
"True," Chyann muttered, and she left the chamber. With her newly returned strength she bore the Dwarf with little effort as one would bear a kitten. Alyx and Gandalf together roused Megan, and they helped her to her feet. "Bedtime when we get back to camp," Alyx swore, and Megan nodded. "I feel sick," she whimpered, and sagged against her sister.
"Don't you dare puke on me," Alyx warned as they went past him. She tilted Megan towards Gandalf. "I love this dress."
Thranduil was glad to hear that and watched them leave. He waited with bated breath to see if she would look back at him. Just as he had given up and looked away, he felt eyes on him. Thranduil lifted his face immediately, only to catch her turning away. Her cheeks seemed pinker. He allowed himself a small secret smile. Perhaps she does not hate me for my past sins, after all. Thranduil lifted his hand to touch his chest where his heart beat in an uneven rhythm, and he wondered just how much longer she would linger in this accursed land with him before she flew away with her sisters to greater destinies. It seemed just as she returned that she was already slipping from his grasp.
As though she were mine to keep, Thranduil scoffed to himself. He had a kingdom, a son, and immortality, yet he wanted more.
"Dude," said Chardonnay's voice, and he twitched as, in truth, he had forgotten she was there. "So not gonna happen."
He froze. "Chyann has told you?"
"It's obvious," she said, but amended herself when his jaw tightened, "when you can sense heartbeats." She approached him. "You know, she was really worried about y'all even when we were all dead. In Valinor, she kept talking about how you missed us, and how much you have changed."
His heart swelled, but Chardonnay had not finished. "But Megan told us some dark shit that you've pulled before on the Dwarves. You have a lot to make up for."
"I know," he said. "And I will pay in blood for it, if I must."
Chardonnay held out a hand and pointed at him. "Is that because you feel bad for what happened to the Dwarves, or just to impress her?"
Thranduil gave no answer, and that was enough for Chardonnay, who huffed and crossed her arms over her light blue jacket. "We're not exactly Queen material, you know. Texas didn't exactly have royalty except on Fiesta. Don't make her grow up, got it?"
"With the paths you all have chosen," Thranduil replied dryly and he turned his back on her, "it is laughable for you to accuse me of driving you from childhood. Had I had my way, all four of you would have remained safe in the Palace while Morien floundered in the snow."
Chardonnay closed her mouth at that, and Thranduil began to exit the chamber. "Go back to camp and rest. Thráin shall be your responsibility, now."
He allowed Chardonnay to pass before him once she bestirred herself to leave, and he watched her carefully. Her posture was stiff, but she did not seem cold any longer, and she sniffed whenever he came too close. Good. He preferred that she be angry with him than afraid of the ruined fortress.
Down a few more floors they found more Elves clearing the halls of their dead and dragging Orcs away for burning. Chardonnay paused and gazed down at all those who had fallen, and Thranduil did the same. In the center of the ranks of Elves, he caught sight of a familiar head of black hair and sharp cheeks from under a Scout's cloak, and the blood beneath it told him how dire the wounds that killed the Huntsman were, and he turned Chardonnay away. He did not want her to see Glorindall's ruined body. She allowed him to steer her out with an odd display of passivity. He did not doubt that she was tired, and further along, he sent Angambar to see her to the cart with her sisters.
He watched from above as those caring for Thráin loaded into the cart and arranged themselves. Chardonnay crawled in, first, then Thráin, who leaned against Chyann in sleep, and Megan crawled up to sit on Chyann's other side. They covered him with blankets, and Gandalf knocked against the side of the cart with his staff to signal the guardsman to begin driving back to the camp, which was preparing to mobilize again already. Thranduil did not see Alyx in the cart.
He frowned and touched the cold stones as he leaned forward to search for her. Many a long moment passed before found her. She was speaking to an Elf with golden hair, draped in white lace and pearls. The hair color reminded him of his wife, and for a surreal moment he wondered if she had returned to life just to lay her claim upon him once more. But the fancy passed; the hair had a silver sheen to it that Elerian had lacked, and he realized that the Lady of the Golden Wood had come ahead of her army, and she was speaking with the representative of the Unseen.
He could not hear what it was that was being said between them, but he could not tear his gaze from the two. They made an odd pair, to say the least. Galadriel was tall and fair and golden, while Alyx was darker, and clothed in the deep purple cloak he had chosen for her wake. She was not as tall, but with the Light within her and having seen the Blessed Realm and returned from Death she seemed just as strong and eternal as the Lady. He felt a swell of pride along with trepidation grow in him as he watched his friend and councilor hold her own against the greatest Lady in Middle Earth.
Galadriel was reaching out to Alyx when suddenly she looked up and her piercing blue gaze found him. She could see his mind, Thranduil knew. The spell was broken, then, and he prepared to descend and speak with the Lady.
He imagined he had much to answer for, and best not to waste time.
Alrighty, guys, this is where I'll leave it off. Don't worry, the Unseen will be getting some sleep soon. :P
In case anyone had any questions regarding this chapter or those before, feel free to message me!
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