Roewen had not planned to slip away. She had been just as shocked as everyone else when she had seen Thranduil collapse and she had frozen in the spot until the healer had declared it was nothing but exhaustion that had caused the King to crumble. A weight had lifted from her shoulders, a weight so great she was still surprised she had not burst into tears right away. However, as she had followed the guards carrying the stretcher, she had caught sight of the stairs leading down towards the dungeons in the far corner of the ginormous cave. A single light had been hanging there in the archway leading deeper into the mountain, calling out to her. And the female archer had not hesitated when she had slipped away.
Her at first determined steps quickly slowed with each stair she descended. She was grateful that none of the guards standing in small even areas to the sides of the staircase were bothering her, no one asking her if she was alright. Still, she felt their watchful eyes on her but she did not mind, on the contrary, without their silent reassurance that she was not alone, she would have long ago stopped in the middle of the stairs.
The sound of water grew louder with each reluctant step down. Roewen's lungs felt constricted and her hair suddenly felt as if it was all over the place, sticking to her forehead, to her neck and to her collar bones. She pulled it back but still felt the tickling of her scalp that only intensified with each passing second. Brushing her hands against her leather trousers, she whispered to herself that she knew what she was about to see and reminded herself that Alcanor was dead.
Still, it felt as if someone had punched her in the gut one she was able to see under the floor of the upper storey, still standing on the stairs, looking over the loud underground stream saddled only by the arched bridge. The cell was only separated from the small walkway by iron Bars, allowing her to look through and to see the slim form of an elf held behind. The silver hair of her beloved sparkled in the light of the cavern like the water in the stream. He was still for now, not having realised he was not alone, lying flat on his back on the narrow pallet.
Roewen let out a quiet sob, the sound unheard even by elven ears due to the loud thundering of the river. The orc still looked like her fiancée. He looked like him so much. Casually lying on the pallet, one leg dangling over the edge, the other propped up, long arms folded across the once muscular chest.
Pulling herself together, she straightened her shoulders, dried her face and continued down the stairs. She lost sight of Orc-Alcanor when she continued down, following the wide path to the bridge before crossing it. Then, it was with great inner reluctance that she continued but her steps echoed strongly from the stone floor.
For the first few seconds, her presence went unnoticed by the beast that rested inside the cell. Only deep growls proved that this was no elf no more. Then, as if he had smelled her, the orc turned his head. Glowing red eyes met Roewen's. With a lurch, orc-Alcanor leapt from the pallet, jumping to the bars. He spat and growled, primal sounds unbecoming for an elven throat. The fair skin was discoloured from numerous bruises, the white of his eyes blood-shot, his tongue held a purple tinge. And the words he used, the words were the worst. For the language that spilled over his lips was the dark tongue of Mordor, each sound promising pain.
Roewen reeled back. Not able to endure the face of her beloved as changed as it was, she fled the dungeons.
After Elrond had spoken to the first guard crossing his way and had relayed Thranduil's order to search for Roewen, he had proceeded to ask where his sons and Glorfindel were. He was quickly told that they were with Erestor and the healer smiled relieved. Knowing his sons and friend in good hands, the healer had no qualms to head back to the private part of the healing ward. Thranduil was still sitting by Legolas' bedside. The silver white hair fell over the King's shoulders, not even brushed back. Blue eyes were transfixed on the sleeping elf, an almost crazy glint to them.
When Elrond closed the door behind him, Thranduil stiffened and turned around. Then he slowly stood, his eyes now focused on the Noldo and on him alone. The healer calmly met the predatory gaze, unwilling to back down. Should the other leader request he leave, he would refuse. He wanted to keep an eye on both Legolas and Eyaenne and all of Thranduil's other children. He did not trust the King overly far with his children, despite having seen the deep love he held for them.
"Thank you, Lord Elrond," Thranduil's words surprised him and the Sinda bowed stiffly. His voice was scruffier than normal and the thanks heartfelt.
"I did what I could." The dark-haired elf felt hope rise in him. The taller of the two continued to stare before he nodded absentmindly.
"What about his shoulder?" He asked after a long silence only filled with the breathing of five sleeping elves and the wind whispering as it washed along the rock face of the mountain fortress.
Elrond frowned as he thought about it. He stepped closer to Legolas and looked down at his shoulder, reluctant to wake him with prodding touches.
"I have performed a second surgery but it was without much success. Everything was as it should be but his joints were in the wrong place, just slightly so, and I could not push them into their proper position. However, on his way here, he picked up the bow to defend Captain Methelion. In doing so, he must have rightened his shoulder himself. His shoulder started swelling but I was able to treat it. I would like to do some tests and he should refrain from any heavy work in near future but I believe he might be able to regain full use, despite my fears of the opposite," Elrond mused.
A deep, shaky sigh was heard but when the healer turned, the elf behind him seemed as stoic as he had known him to be.
"Thank you," the King repeated and in its implicitness his words rang honest and true.
Elrond watched the slim warrior King as he walked down the small aisle between the beds, checking on his children. On his way, he collected empty mugs from their bedside tables. He raised one to smell on its contents.
"Did you give them those?" He then questioned and turned around to raise an eyebrow to the healer. The Noldo's brow furrowed before he denied.
"What is it?" He could not help but ask.
"Sleeping draught. They will be asleep for almost the entire day if they drank an entire mug full," Thranduil answered. He stopped before Eyaenne's bed, mugs in hand, and looked down on the two figures peacefully asleep. He then went in the back of the room and placed the cups on the table before he returned to one of the empty beds. Quickly taking the warm duvet of the bed, he proceeded to turn around and spread the blanket over the sleeping couple. Elrond could not help but watch the elf as he tugged the blanket underneath them and then straightened, brushing lose strands of hair behind a pointy ear. He wore a strange expression while he looked down.
"They grow up quickly, don't they?" Elrond mused.
Before Thranduil could reply, the door was opened. Blue eyes narrowed while at the same time, the thin elf straightened and lifted his chin just an inch to give his stature more confidence. It was somewhat inspiring to see Thranduil shift into this proud position and despite the soft tunic Elrond had dressed him in, the elf did no longer seem to be a patient, though the Noldo knew clearly how wrong that appearance was.
A warrior stood in the door, an anxious expression on her fair face. Her eyes quickly hushed over the rows of beds and Elrond, curiosity clear but hidden in her eyes, before they settled on the ruler of Mirkwood who stood at the foot of Eyaenne's bed.
"Hir-nin," she said, lowering her voice so to not disturb anyone. "We need you."
Elrond was about to open his mouth and tell the she-elf her King was not available when Thranduil spoke up. "Give me five minutes."
The healer turned around. He angrily stared at the elf before him who now moved towards the front.
"You are not seriously leaving?" The Noldo requested to know in hushed tone. Meanwhile, the elf with the silvery blond hair opened the large wardrobe and Elrond could see several sets of different clothing inside.
"I am," Thranduil gave back and vanished into the bathroom with an elegant robe, a dark tunic and a matching set of trousers.
Elrond would have had no qualms to walk straight after his patient but the door was locked from the inside before he could reach it. Fuming, the healer started pacing. His thoughts were so jumbled up, he could not even comprehend them himself. It just … it all was so … why? … he could not … his children needed him! And that damnable stubborn king was barely capable of standing unaided!
Before he could even attempt to open the knots in his thoughts, the bathroom door opened and the Sinda stepped out, now dressed in royal clothing.
"Take care of them for me," he demanded with aloof voice and stepped towards the door.
"Thranduil!" Elrond bellowed as quietly as he could, angry on behalf of the King's children peacefully sleeping in their beds, not knowing they were once again abandoned. He stepped up to the slim elf whose bony body was once again hidden underneath thick layers of heavy fabric. "You can't leave. Your children are more important than this!" The healer hissed, his kind eyes sparkling up like lightning bolts in a terrible storm.
Thranduil stopped at the Noldo's words. He turned and his sorrowful eyes glanced over his beautiful children. The pain clawed in his chest like a caged animal. But when he turned back to face the other Lord, his features betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil.
"No. They are not," the father spoke coldly. He turned before Elrond fully digested the words, his cape billowing behind him with the sharp movement. And then, Thranduil quietly opened the door and slipped through, leaving the private part of the hospital wing. The dark-haired healer never saw the tears that were angrily wiped away. Instead, Elrond could just stare after the elf. Turning back around, the normally so stoic elf lord cursed softly underneath his breath. How should he explain that Thranduil had left?
The Sinda squared his shoulders and strode through the healing ward towards the door at the end. He was the King. His people needed him. His children were save and sound but his people were out there, dying, fighting. It was his duty to serve them. He might carry a crown upon his noble brow but truth be told he was a slave to his own people. Yet, it hurt. It hurt to see the accusation in Elrond's eyes, it hurt to know he was unable to both be a good father and a good King. He was unable to make the ends meet, no matter how hard he tried. And he knew. Valar, he knew. But his people came first. They always had to come first.
"Hir-nin!", a guard hurried towards him.
"What happened?", Thranduil asked.
"The trees, my King, they are so happy. They give us a strength we have not known in years. The patrols are moving south. They are pushing back the border."
"Who gave the order to that?" The King demanded to know angrily, fearing that many of his soldiers would die in the Darkness that had almost taken his son from him. His pace quickened as he hurried down to the throne room where he knew his advisors to wait for him.
"No-one did. The Captains acted on their own. They are pushing the border back further and further. The trees carry the message of their advance."
Thranduil stopped, looking at the elf beside him. "All the Captains?" He asked with inner dread.
"Most of them, my Lord. They have abandoned their posts to head south."
The King broke into a sprint, praying the dizziness away that threatened him. He knew why his advisors had sent for him. If the Captains had left their positions, that left hundreds of villages unguarded. Not to mention the injured and dead that would come in the charge south. He needed to take control and it needed to happen know. All thoughts of his children had left his mind. He knew them in the palace so he did not even have to worry about their safety and that of their patrols. However, it also meant they were not present to order the captains who had gone south to fight. He dearly hoped that at least some of them had kept their mind amid the daze of happiness the trees were causing amongst his ranks.
"They are outside at the tree line, my King. The trees are telling us what is happening. We have Jeras try to define the positions of all patrols in our Kingdom and Terion trying to draw a picture of how far our troops have gotten south."
Thranduil forwent the throne room, hurrying over the airy pathways towards the giant greens doors that stood wide open. He had to stop here, leaning against the doors.
"My Lord? Are you well?" The elf by his side asked. Thranduil could not see her anymore. His vision had blackened dangerously, his body aching. Also, he knew he had paled, he could feel the coldness of his cheeks.
"I am fine," he spoke anyway, his voice soft but emotionless. Turning his head away from the other elf's voice, he blinked furiously until his vision returned to normal.
Pushing away from the doors, he walked over the bridge, slowly though. A glance sideways proofed the female guard stayed one step behind him, keeping her keen eyes on him, her hands half raised as if preparing to catch him should he fall.
He made it over the bridge without a further problem. There were tables standing under the trees, the table tops aslope due to the uneven ground. Large maps were weighed down with small weights, dozens of tiny tin figures placed on top with even more standing by the side. Each figure representing a Captain with his patrol. Stepping closer, Thranduil's sharp eyes flittered over the beautiful map. Like all his maps, it had been crafted by Soread. The maps were copies of the original version the cartographer had drawn hundreds of years ago when the southern border had been a lot further away. But the copy as well was made by Soread's hand and so it was his elegant signature written in small letters. Thranduil brushed over the ink of the name before he focused on the figures and listened to what his advisors had to say. Reaching out, the King placed a hand against the trunk of the nearest tree, immediately hearing the tree's voice in his head, answering the questions he silently posed.
Elrond had wanted to stay in the healing ward until the children woke. Worried how he should explain their father's absence, he had not found anything to occupy his mind with. Due to the utter lack of books in the room, he could not even attempt to pass the time reading either.
He had been sent out by Feras only an hour after Thranduil's departure. The Mirkwood healer had not given Elrond an alternative, ordering him out of the healing ward though not without words of thanks. Normally, the Noldo lord would have been affronted by the blasé with which the Silvan spoke. However, spending time especially with Princess Eyaenne gave him enough understanding of the people of this forest to know the healer had not even meant disrespect and had simply wanted his healing ward back and his patients back under his care instead of leaving them to the healing ruler of a foreign realm that had been thought of as unimportant at best and as enemies at worst by the general population of Mirkwood.
Elrond had been shown to the rooms provided to him and had soon found his sons and Glorfindel in the presence of Erestor. The chief of his household managed to distract Elrond of his worries about the King's children while he told some of the things he experienced while he had been in Mirkwood. He did not give away much about the Princes or even the King himself while in the company of the balrog slayer and the twins. In the privacy of Elrond's room, however, the healer brought up the many lines on the Sinda's arms and Erestor gravely told about what he had found out about the elf concerning his health.
By the time their discussion had finished, it was dark night and despite his wishes to check on Legolas and Eyaenne, Elrond decided to remain in his rooms, unsure about how well-received his night-wanderings to the private Royal Healing Ward would be by any guards.
I know. More of a filler chapter. We will get back on more important issues with the next chapter
Anything besides the obvious (Legolas finding out Alcanor is sorta alive and Alcanor's fate, the future interactions between the two realms) you wish / hope to read in the upcoming chapters? Anything I should really clear up before the end?
Please review!
Guest#1: Sorry for the long wait. I had this half-ready for weeks and just did not find the muse to finish the chapter. There will be some interactions between Elrond and Thranduil in the next chapter
Guest#2: I know
Esther: I usually try to respond to every review I receive ;) A bit of Alcanor in this chapter but we haven't seen him for a while
rivertheparrot: That is good to hear. I wasn't quite sure but it just flowed while I wrote that part. And I must admit: I myself love it
Thistle1000: Thank you for such a lovely long review! Love those! I have made up my mind about Alcanor's fate and will try to deliver it well.
