Hello readers, please forgive me for the delay. I shall up date twice as penance for your wait! 3 Thank you for the reviews, we have not officially passed the half way mark!
The Year 1900: Following the Death of Daerons Son
She had not spoken in all the day's that they had traveled. Following the battle in the southern woods, the company had journeyed northwards to the mountains at great haste, seeking to be with their kin once more. Now the army of elves marched down the stone tunnel towards the second set of gates that led to the heart of Thranduils Kingdom. The warriors were muddied, and bruised, and worse for wear than when they left their city, but they were met with joy as they came to the great hills at the base of the mountain halls. There were fierce embraces as they met their families, and little worry for the smell or the dirt that the troops carried with them. Wives cleaned faces of their husbands, and mothers kissed the cheeks of sons, and fathers held daughters tightly in their arms.
But, Unede did not stop to greet her Aunt Inidis, and waived away Miriels attentions as she continued down the road. Leaving her Aunt alone with her Uncle in the fray as she pushed forward through the throng and towards the mountain halls. Miriel followed swiftly and fought through the crowd seeing in her cousins eyes a deep unease
"Unede are you well? The cavalry has suffered it is said." Miriel asked as she meet her cousins' quick steps. But the elf ignored the elleth's words and continued forward with little more than a sideways glance.
"Legolas." Miriel said falling back to meet him. "Where are you going with such haste? What has happened?"
"Nothing good." Ingwe said catching up to the group. "Her marchwarden was slain, and she hasn't spoken in days. There is an ill will about her."
"What do you mean an ill will? A tragedy most certainly it is but what could bring forth this mood?" Miriel glanced at her cousin and reached for her hand but Unede did not take it, and sent a fiery glance towards the elf.
"It is not for us Miriel." Legolas said and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You must still your lips, for this is not yours to bear."
Miriel stopped walking, but Legolas and Ingwe continued on behind the Captain at a brisk walk leaving her alone and confused in the bustle of the city.
At long last they came to the doors of the Kings study high in the mountain halls. Unede stopped in front of the carved oak doors and watched the guards, but Legolas shook his head and they remained still. She gathered herself and placed her hands on the door. She heaved a deep breath, feeling the anger and grief that Daerons words had brought her. She let the emotion flow through her and feel her veins with fire and pushed the doors open before her to meet the one responsible for Duilins death.
Thranduil watched her there in the doorway shrouded in shadow and distain. The air in the room rippled with her foul mood and her eyes were dark with hate. The King had never seen her so after a loss of life, and she heaved a breath in disgust before she marched to his desk. Legolas closed the doors gingerly and stood by them in silence as they waited for the lady to speak.
"What order have you given that spares my head?" She spat as leaned across the desk and sneered at the King. He watched her for a moment and saw the sadness that lingered there behind her indignant spirit.
"Do you not wish to be alive?" The King lay down his quill.
"I want to know why my warden lays still in the earth and I stand before you having made an enemy of our kin."
The King stood from his table and drew closer to his captain, but she backed away.
"Duilin is dead, and his blood is on my hands. What orders did you give?" She raised her voice.
"I did what I thought best." He said quietly to her.
"What you thought was best? How many have died in my place? How many were slain in my stead? What evil is this that you have brought upon me?" She cried out and ran her hands through her hair and paced the room as her eyes welled with hot tears of anger and grief.
"All of your warden's knew the risk when they were promoted, and Duilin is the first to die for his word." The King said calmly and poured a heady wine into a brass cup.
Unede sat heavily into a chair and let out a great sob into her hands. Her agony came in waves and and trails of dirt dripped from her chin. Legolas came to her side placed a hand on her back, and looked desperately at his father, silently he begged the King for some words to ease her fea.
But the King did not bring them words of comfort.
"What is it that you would have me do Unede? I gave the order that you should be spared and protected because your life serves a greater purpose than some son of a horseman."
"That does not mean that he is worth less than I. You have doomed Duilin to death, and you have doomed my fea. How long now shall I walk in the halls of Mandos? I shall die at Saurons hand and never return to Middle Earth. Your order was naught but the fourth kinslaying for my royal house. You have cursed me."
"Silence." The King demanded "Duilin upheld his oath to me, just as your Father did to mine. You think I am King by might and deeds Itarilde? I am King by blood and bone and death of eldar. I am King of caves and borne of slaughter. I am not proud, but we are noble, and you will bear the burden just as all who came before you have. It is a hard lesson, and now you have learnt it child."
He offered her the cup, and sat in the chair next to her.
"Drink child." He whispered to her and placed a hand gently on her back. But she turned her head away from him. "Drink and sit with me a while." She took the cup and drank with the King in silence.
"It isn't fair." Her voice cracked as she spoke, and she wetted it with more wine.
"Nothing about our lives is fair." Thranduil said. "I pay for the sin's of my Father each day, and you for the sins of the Noldor. Though alas, we are the leaders of the woodland folk, is there any price you would not pay for their continued safety?"
"I would pay with my life."
"And so would many others, and it has come to pass that one has. But you cannot, not yet."
Tears spilled from Unede's eyes again, and she let out soft sobs and spoke out "I have not felt such grief in all of this age. I did not ask for this life or this burden. I am not strong enough for this service."
"And yet the Valar do their deeds through you and have gifted you with visions of great tasks to carry out. And so, you must be strong enough. You asked to serve me, and I allowed it, but I set forth conditions."
"And Legolas," she said. "You have these conditions for him? For your son?"
Thranduil looked to his son, and the Prince gave a solemn nod but could not meet her eye in the dim light, for he was to ashamed.
"Daeron will always think me an enemy to his house." She said emptying her cup.
"Then so it must be, you cannot quell the grief in his heart, and it is not your place. Nor was it my place to soothe your mothers mourning heart, or to ask the forgiveness of the houses of Finarfin and Fingolfin for the death of your father and the sins of mine."
"Yet it burdens you." She whispered looking up at him through blurry eyes. The King could not look at her, she watched him blink away a swift tear and give a curt nod.
"Such is the weight of my crown." He said at last.
She nodded at the Kings words and found suddenly that more wine had been added to her chalice, and she drained it again.
"Your wounded Unede." Legolas said sitting down next to her and moving her hair away from her shoulder where the cracked blood of a wound covered her sword arm and chest. "I will call for a healer to come here so that you may recover and find rest away from prying eyes."
But the captain shook her head and dried her face on her sleeves.
"No." she muttered. "I'll not be seen till all other's have been treated. My wound does not fester nor pain me greatly."
They were silent for a while as they drank and ate. But in the solemn quiet Unede felt a great unease come upon her fea, and a cold came to her hands and she could not quell the unease in her bones. The spirit spread to her heart, and she knew then that the death of Daeron's son would haunt her and bring her strife for many decades more. No, she thought, this was not the end to the madness that plagues the soul of that elf, his spite for her would not be quelled by time alone.
"I think, my King." She spoke at long last. "That it would be wise to keep Daeron close to you, for my heart trusts him not, and I fear our quarrel has only begun."
And the men nodded at her words, as more wood was added to the fire and the curtains were drawn closed and night came onto the kingdom.