Journey to Mirkwood

The journey was longer than any Eldarion had ever been on before, and tedious beyond belief. Unlike his father and the Fellowship who had journeyed south in secrecy twenty-five years ago, Eldarion and the rest of the representatives from Gondor and Rohan could now travel openly on newly built and fortified roads to the lands of his father's kingdom in the north. They had reached the foothills of the Misty Mountains the previous week and while he had marvelled at his first sight of them, they now held no appeal for him. All he could think of now was his first sighting of the vastness of Mirkwood. He was impatient to arrive.

They had set up camp along a small stream, and the usual precautions had been taken. A ring of fiery torches surrounded the camp and there was a guard every few feet. King Elessar was taking no chances with the two royals. For the past two months neither of them had been permitted to take so much as a step outside of Osgiliath, supposedly for their own protection, but Eldarion had soon tired of it. Reports of atrocities committed against his people by orcs all in search of him was almost too much to bear. He would have given in to temptation to ride out against them if not for Elboron. He and only he had been what had kept him calm. Their intense sessions in which they tried to explore their link and expand their abilities had grounded him sufficiently enough to be able to resist the urge to follow his reckless nature. But now was the time to act once more.

Eldarion sat on the banks of the small stream and dipped his hand into the cold waters, lost in thought. Flashes of memory came to him, soft and warm, welcoming and familiar. He immediately felt calmer. Was this the very stream which led out of Mirkwood? One that she had walked though?

"Thinking of her again?"

Eldarion scowled as Elboron approached from behind and seated himself at his side. "You're invading my privacy again, Elboron."

"You need to work on your barriers my friend," Elboron said shaking his head.

"My barriers are more than adequate," Eldarion grumbled. The two of them, deprived of their military duties for two months had spent almost every moment with each other under supervision trying to perfect their new mental abilities. They had made great progress, but slips still occurred in unguarded moments.

"You need to stop this, Eldarion," Elboron said. "Keep your barriers up at all times. Who knows what the Fëarnorians could do to our minds?"

Eldarion slapped his hand against the water in agitation. "I am not as good at focusing as you, Elboron."

"That has always been apparent" Elboron said shooting him an amused side-glance. "I suggest you practice more. The last thing you want Neniel to know as soon as you see her again is just how much time you've wasted thinking about her and mooning after her. It borders on obsession."

Elboron stood and turned away with a smirk, and Eldarion leapt to his feet to pursue him. "I am not obsessed with her!"

Elboron raised an eyebrow. "You're certainly doing a very fine impression of it."

"I worry about her," Eldarion gushed, feeling a heat rise to his face. "I've barely been able to sense her recently with all the work we've been doing on raising barriers."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Elboron said, still smirking. "Who knows what thoughts you'd be sending to each other?"

Eldarion felt his cheeks grow even hotter. "It isn't like that at all."

"You could have fooled me."

"Elboron," he said, seizing his friend's elbow and pulling him closer, one eye on the tents of the leaders nearby. "Things like that cannot be said. We are at war."

"Then stop thinking them," Elboron said with a laugh. "Or keep your barriers stronger as we've been practicing. Unless," he said pausing with a contemplative smile. "You want those barriers down. You want to feel her presence."

Eldarion looked away from his friend's teasing smile. He was right, partially at least. The past two months had passed with very little contact with Neniel, aside from the occasional brush of their thoughts while asleep. He had found himself living for these brief encounters. He missed the brightness of her thoughts, the sound of her laugh, his mind seemed empty without them. He could not fathom why they were gone. Was it the distance between them? The fact that he was gaining more control? Was she too weak? Was their bond not as strong as he had thought?

He felt weaker away from her, and despite the strength he gained from his link with Elboron there was something missing. Her absence was tangible. He longed to see her again, if even just to reassure himself that she had not been a dream, that she was alright. He wanted her safe, but all his attempts to reach her with his mind, to speak with her with his mind as he could now do so easily with Elboron had failed. He hoped it was simply inexperience that led to the failure, and not a lessening of their bond. He did not think he could bear that.

Elboron's smile had vanished, and he reached out his hand to rest on Eldarion's shoulder, Eldarion's thoughts written across his face. "Do not worry, mellon nín,"he said with his mind. "Soon all four of us will be together and we will have a chance to solve this mystery once and for all."

Eldarion managed a weak smile and also reached out his hand. As close as they had always been, this bond had only served to make them even closer, if such a thing was possible. Always a brother to him, Elboron was now more like an extension of his own soul, so attuned were they. This thought reached Elboron, and he grinned and returned the sentiment. Words were little needed for them now.

A clanging bell roused them from their conversation, and every muscle in his body tensed as he heard yells and shouts from the darkened woods all around them. He reached for his sword and sprang into action, immediately bolting towards his father's tent in the centre of the encampment.

It was apparent however as soon as he reached the king's tent that they were not being attacked. No orcs were in the encampment, not that they could have withstood the bright lights, but instead the area before the king's tent was filled with what looked like dozens of children, all wearing mail and clasping bows and arrows to their chests as they milled around in confusion. His father stood outside his tent and was deep in conversation with one of the new arrivals, stooping slightly as he listened intently. It wasn't until Eldarion and Elboron grew closer that he began to realise that these were not children. The one talking to his father turned his head towards him, and he saw the face, though unbearded and fresh, was not that of a child. Nor were the prominently hairy feet which protruded until his mail.

Eldarion stopped in awe for a moment. Hobbits. Never before had he seen so many in one place before. Sam's rather large family had been the extent of his dealings with the Halflings of the North on their rare visits to Gondor. He found himself staring openly at the gathering, heeding not how rude he must appear. He noticed some of the others had also emerged from their tents to gaze at the sight before them. King Éomer's jaw had dropped, wide eyes fixed on these diminutive fighters. The chief hobbit however seemed to disregard all scrutiny, and had resumed his dialogue with the king, curly head bobbing in earnest.

As Eldarion stepped closer he was able to hear the conversation.

"- crossing the Brandywine almost every evening," the hobbit said, wringing his hands. "We can't do much to repel them, my lord. There aren't enough Shirrifs, and we're no warriors as you know. What you see here are volunteers. Never since Sharkey's time have we had to defend our borders like this. We need help. We're desperate."

"You shall have it," Elessar said, resting a hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "I have not forgotten the debt I owe to the Shire. I shall send for reinforcements from Arnor to patrol your borders. They shall offer training to your wardens if you wish it. I will not abandon my northern subjects."

The hobbit seemed to shrink in relief, and a smile spread across his wide face, making him seem more like the jolly hobbits Eldarion was accustomed to. "We never had any doubt," he said. "The Mayor, Master and Thain all speak so highly of you."

"As I do of them," the king said, smiling. "Rest assured, help will come for you. I would come myself if not for my mission in Mirkwood."

"Our leaders have already left to meet you there, my lord," the hobbit said. "We guarded them to the entrance of Mirkwood itself where they were met by the elves and escorted to the king. We were on our way back when we realised you were here."

"You came a long way to protect them," Elessar said to them, a tone of admiration in his voice. "The journey over the Misty Mountains is no simple feat."

"We are hobbits, my lord," the chief said solemnly. "We don't shy away from what must be done."

Elboron's father had also come forward now. "Did you not seek aid from Annúminas for the attacks?"

"Yes, but it had not arrived by the time we left," the hobbit said. "The Men in the North Kingdom are also being attacked, and they have been preoccupied."

King Elessar stood to his full height then and his face was thunderous. A few of the hobbits took a few steps back, but the chief stood his ground. "I will not have my northern soldiers differentiate between my subjects," he said firmly. "The Shire, for all its autonomy, lies under my protection. What would possess them to ignore the plight of the hobbits so?"

"You yourself forbade Big Folk from entering the Shire, my lord," the chief said. "For our own protection, and there are none that doubt the wisdom of that decision as it's given us leave to live our lives in peace and go about managing our own affairs as we always have. But it has also meant that some of your men (not all though, I assure you) feel we are too far removed from them, and not true subjects of the king."

Eldarion saw a glint of anger in his father's eye. No one could ever doubt the fierce love and loyalty King Elessar had for his subjects, and in particular those of the North, with whom he had been raised and spent his youth. Nor could they question his undying commitment to the hobbits of the Shire, many of whom were his close personal friends and advisors. Eldarion had been too young at the time, but he had heard tales of dissatisfaction in the southern kingdom at Elessar's involvement in the North and his attempts to restore the northern kingdom in the early years of his reign. There had been many on both sides who had wished to remain separate, and the union of the Gondorians, Arnorians and Halflings within that kingdom had not been entirely smooth. It appeared that this time of crises was opening up old wounds.

"I will not allow such traitorous talk in my kingdom," he announced, voice steely. "The hobbits have no role in this war and I will not allow them to suffer needlessly when I owe them so much. Aid will be given to you. I will make sure of it."

The hobbits issued several exhausted cheers and bright grins came upon their youthful faces. They gradually filtered away through the crowds of gaping soldiers, following their leader to another part of the camp, no doubt in search of some food and well-deserved rest. Eldarion's father spoke briefly to Faramir, who nodded and strode off, probably to organise sending a royal missive to the king's court at Annúminas. Elboron glanced once at Eldarion and followed his father eagerly. Eldarion could not help but chuckle as he sensed Elboron's thoughts; the young man had always been so fascinated by hobbits. Having so many of them here in camp was no doubt something of a dream come true for him. It wasn't surprising really; if not for the bravery of two halflings, neither of his parents would have survived the War of the Ring.

Advisors departed, Eldarion approached his father, hesitating as he saw the simmering rage in the lines of his face. He looked up as Eldarion approached, and the rage died down, replaced by weariness.

"Perhaps I should have spent more time here in the northern kingdom," he said heavily, surprising Eldarion with his forthrightness. "Arnor lived so long without a king, surviving on its own and protecting its own. It was foolish to believe the transition would be seamless."

"Not foolish," Eldarion interjected. "The Reunification has been a success, father. Peace and order was restored, and a few teething problems over the years are nothing compared to the benefits that have been received. Where once was lawlessness, now is justice and liberty. You took an abandoned people and made them family once more. You cannot blame yourself for this. You have the loyalty of these people. They know you will not abandon them."

His father looked at him a long while, as Eldarion shifted weight from foot to foot under his intense scrutiny. Eventually, the king smiled.

"You have learned much, my son," he said. "You understand more than what many give you credit for, including myself at times." He tilted his head to one side. "It will fall upon you one day to lead this kingdom, yet this is the first time you have visited it. What think you of it?"

"I have not seen much of it," Eldarion admitted. He looked around, though the darkness prevented him seeing anything beyond the fiery ring in which the camp was enclosed. "It is wilder than I imagined, and colder. Of its people I can say little, other than they seem a hardy folk, much accustomed to their independence, which is hardly surprising. I would like to know more of it."

"And I would like to teach you," his father said, a twinkle in his eye. "The land of my birth is very dear to me. It is here I was raised, where my people roamed, where I became a man and learned of my destiny, where I fell in love … yes, it is dear indeed. It is entirely unlike the kingdom you know down south. In time, I will bring you here more often, and we can journey the wilds together, from the Fords of Bruinen and the Trollshaws, to the Barrow Downs and Bree (where the barman still calls me Strider). I will show you the valley of Imladris where I was raised and the borders of the Shire where dwell the truest of all folk. You will see the land of your ancestors."

Eldarion grinned and felt a fluttering of excitement in his chest, all thought of the Fëarnorians temporarily forgotten. "I would like that."

"Then it is agreed," his father said, his face now lighter. "It is time you knew more of your future northern subjects. I was not far off the age you are now when I went south for the first time. Now you shall track my steps in reverse."

Eldarion nodded, but despite his curiosity and desire to learn more, a misgiving had crept into his heart. Track my steps, he had said. Doubt gnawed at him. Following his father's example had never seemed so intimidating before. Before now, all his focus had ever been on Gondor, his home. But his father's kingdom, his own future kingdom, was far larger than that. How was he to rule over a people he barely knew? This land was his father's home, how could he hope to emulate the love and understanding he had of this place? For the first time he really began to consider what it had been like for his father to take up his throne in Minas Tirith. Had he been as intimidated? But, he reminded himself, his father had spent decades roaming the lands of the South and fighting with its armies to acquaint himself with it. Was that what he needed to do? If so, did he have time? With times so uncertain, if he were to become king in a year, a month, a week … what would he do?

As panic began to rise in his breast, a soothing presence entered his mind. For a moment, he believed it was Neniel, but as the presence grew stronger, he recognised the timbre of Elboron's thoughts.

"Do not worry, Eldarion," he said, and the young prince could almost picture the reassuring smile on his friend's face. "You will have plenty of opportunity to get to know this kingdom. You have been prepared for this all your life. Your father will help you, and so will I. I will always be at your side." Elboron was silent for a moment as Eldarion silently thanked him, and then he added something else with a barely suppressed smirk in his mental voice. "And besides, if you play your cards right, you may also have a certain northern princess by your side as well."

Eldarion flushed and rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he mumbled, and then started as he realised he had spoken aloud and his father was staring at him with wide eyes. He gasped and covered his mouth. "Sorry! That- that wasn't meant for you!"

His father raised his eyebrows, but Eldarion could see he was suppressing an amused smile. "Elboron?" he asked, but did not wait for an answer. "I do not know why you are asking your future Steward to 'shut up' but I can hazard a guess that once again the both of you are engaging in conversations entirely inappropriate. Where once these conversations were conducted in whispers during meetings or in furtive notes in the schoolroom, they are now apparently far more refined in their transmission."

"I'm sorry, father," Eldarion said, but saw his father was now openly laughing.

"Too often we of the older generations forgets what it was to be young," he said. "I am glad to see that your friendship with Elboron is as strong as ever. It will do you both good in the future." His father grew serious. "But I must ask you to take care. I do not like the thought of you making such slips, being unable to tell in which voice you are speaking or to whom. And I must insist you keep your barriers raised when in conversation with me. As much as I trust Elboron, there are certain conversations between a king and his heir that must remain private."

"Of course, father," Eldarion said, bowing his head, feeling utterly humiliated at being told off like a child. He was hardly making a good impression on his father with the new abilities he had been working so hard on.

His father nodded and looked out across the surrounding wilderland. "We should be in sight of Mirkwood tomorrow," he said, eyes fixed on a black spot far in the distance. "From there it will not be long before we are in the halls of the Elvenking. Perhaps there we might find the answers we seek."

Eldarion said nothing to this, but bowed and strolled away, leaving his father in silent contemplation. Mirkwood was so close now, and with it, perhaps the solution to all their problems. And she would be there …

"Don't even think about it," Eldarion shot out, before Elboron could say anything. "It isn't what you think."

Elboron dutifully remained silent, but his thoughts were unmistakable in their disbelief and amusement. Eldarion blocked them off mercilessly, and filled his mind with other thoughts. The memory of her, the sound of her laugh …

Whether he got answers or not, he knew Mirkwood would bring him the relief he sought.

The elf surveyed them with a sharp glance reminiscent of a fox, eyes narrowed and his long thin fingers playing with his bowstring. His face was set in a grim determination and his body was tense. Eldarion tried not to show his impatience, but he could not help tapping his fingers on his bracers. The sole elf watchman could not possibly suspect them all of being orc spies, he knew full well who they were and knew that they were expected. So why be so frustratingly pedantic?

The borders of Mirkwood had been looming on the horizon for the last two days and now that they were in the eaves of the forest itself, Eldarion could not restrain his excitement. Even the closeness of the trees and the gloomy light beyond the trunks could not dampen his spirit. Mirkwood was as foreboding as he had always heard and more, yet he was itching to be beneath its leaves. To stroll through the trees, smell the forest, feel the softness and life around him … all that Neniel had shared with him. She had lit a fire within him to see this place as she saw it. He was desperate to walk where she had walked. And this stupid elf was preventing that.

He was speaking to his father in rapid Sindarin, gesticulating wildly as he glowered at the Company behind the king. It was evident he objected to the size of the contingent, and to be fair, he was right to. It seemed half of the southern kingdom was here. In addition to himself and his father, there was Elboron and his parents, King Éomer and two of his advisors, Elladan and Elrohir, Prince Imrahil and his advisors, Bergil and Beregond and a military detachment from Gondor and Rohan. All this in addition to all the hobbits, dwarves and men probably already inside of Mirkwood for the Council and it was easy to see why the watchman was annoyed.

Eventually however, something his father said seemed to sway him and he stepped back to allow the Company to enter the forest. Immediately, dozens more elves emerged from the shadows like silent watchers ready to escort them, all armed to the teeth. It appeared the solitary and apparently outmatched watchman was a deliberate ploy to gain strategical advantage.

Stepping beneath the canopy was as if stepping into another world entirely, a world from another age that existed only in memory or the lost songs from across the sea. The trees were old, their limbs gnarled and twisted, looming high above their heads, yet they seemed to be bursting with life. A quiet energy ran through them, sleeping, watching them, almost sinister in their thoughts. Their shadows pressed heavily down upon the Company and made it so that they felt to be struggling for air. Not a sound could they hear, no birds, no animals, just the heaviness that surrounded them which closed off their ears to all but the sound of their own breathing. Even the conversation of their Company stopped; none felt comfortable speaking above a whisper.

The dim light took much time to become accustomed to, and even Eldarion's elf sight, inherited from his mother, found it difficult. The darkness was oppressive in its intensity. Even the leaves seemed to be black. This blackness lay profoundly heavy on the hearts of the Company , who, forced to travel in single file by the narrowness of the path, sank into a depressive mood. On occasion a solitary beam of light would bravely penetrate the gloom and fall upon the thin path and lighten their hearts, but occurrences were few and far between.

Eldarion tightened his grip on his reins and looked straight ahead at the back of the man in front of him to avoid looking at those joyless shadows. He felt another presence in his mind, gently knocking against his barriers. Recognising Elboron, he lowered them slightly to allow him admission.

"I thought the darkness had been lifted from Mirkwood?" his friend asked. "Is it not now called Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Green Leaves? I had heard it had once again become the Greenwood of old".

"So had I," Eldarion said back, peering into the murk and shuddering internally. "This is not how I imagined it. Neniel … she spoke of such beauty in this forest."

"What can have happened?" Elboron asked, curious enough not to tease Eldarion as he usually did about the elf maiden.

Eldarion turned in his saddle to exchange a look with Elboron, riding about ten places behind him. The other man was barely visible in the darkness. Eldarion spurred his horse forward and brought it with difficulty in step with his father's, picking his way carefully on the narrow path. His father turned to him expectantly, a greenish tinge to his face which reflected the green glow engulfing the trees beyond the path.

"Elboron and I are wondering," he began, not bothering to try and conceal their mental conversation, "was not the darkness supposed to have lifted from this wood after the fall of Sauron?"

"It was," his father replied, eyebrow only slightly twitching at Elboron's name. "These woods became as fair and as green as they had been before the building of Dol Guldur in the south. All the foulness that had once been present was vanished. Yet such a darkness must leave a stain, and such stains are not easily removed. The woods are fairer closer to the Elvenking's halls, and the fairness expands year by year. Yet even here it is much improved. The foul creatures that once lived here are gone, the pollution of the water, air and earth is gone. It may be hard to believe for one such as you who has only known a world of light and beauty, but these woods are much revived."

"It is hard to believe," Eldarion agreed, looking around. "It makes me appreciate the more what we have to lose if this war goes ill. Shadow corrupts entirely, it is not easily vanquished. I see all the more need to eliminate this new threat before it fully takes hold."

"I am glad you realise that," his father said. "When I walked this path as a youth, I could see no end to the evil that lined its route. Even now, dark though it is, hope still lingers under its boughs and grows stronger by the day. We are here to fight for that hope. Middle-Earth will never fall under shadow again."

"Not while the Elves remain," Eldarion said. "They fought hard to protect this forest and love it dearly. Neniel spoke of this place with such adoration that I cannot believe they would ever let it fall once again. Whenever she thought of this place … her mind was filled with such joy and fervour that I confess I much desired to see it. It is a passionate devotion"

His father cast him a strange look and turned to face him fully. "Is Elboron still listening?" he asked, eyes flicking back to the following Company.

Eldarion frowned. "Not anymore," he said, after a moment or two as he noticed Elboron leave his mind discretely and raised his barriers fully once more. "What is it?"

"Have you been in contact with Princess Neniel since Osgiliath?" his father asked, eyes fixed on Eldarion's.

"No," Eldarion answered honestly. "I have not been able to sense her at all. Elboron and I believed it was due to the fact we have been more careful with our mental barriers. And also the distance between us."

"That same distance did not stop you sharing her thoughts when she was first captured," his father pointed out. "But now you are closer to her in leagues. Have you tried to contact her?"

Eldarion hesitated, not wishing to continue this conversation as it veered towards some uncertain ground. "Yes," he admitted. "But I have not been successful. We think it is because she is less practiced than we are at choosing how and when to be in contact. Elboron also thinks the fact we know each other so well is an aid."

"Then the two of you will teach her to do so when we arrive?"

"If you think it is best."

"I do," his father said stiffly, and Eldarion noticed a new line on his brow denoting that the king was troubled. "The sooner this link can be controlled, the better. I want all four of you, the boy included, to be able to shield your minds from invading thoughts and allow friendly ones to enter when needed." He pressed his lips together. "You have had no contact with her whatsoever then? No idle thoughts, no feelings, no dreams?"

Eldarion was pleased Elboron was now out of his mind, for he did not believe he could keep a straight face otherwise. How was he to answer this? How was he to tell his father that she was all he thought of, that he counted down the minutes until nightfall in hopes that their minds would brush in their sleep? That every little contact, no matter how small, was enough to fill his heart with joy? He did not think his father could understand that. He already thought so little of their mental link; how could he comprehend the sheer depths that it reached to, not only with Elboron, but with her too?

His father was waiting for an answer and Eldarion knew that he could not lie to him, not after all that had happened in recent months. Yet also he knew that to tell the truth would be to invite disapproval. Even Eldarion knew his thoughts about the princess were hardly appropriate.

"Nothing of consequence, father," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders, hoping the vague nature of his answer would be enough to serve both purposes. Yet the king was not convinced and knew fine well his son was skirting around the issue. He did not press the matter however, for which Eldarion was grateful. The two of them resumed their places in the silent convoy and Eldarion's mind was given over to thoughts of her once more. She was so near now …

One of the Elven escort walked by him then, and when Eldarion looked into his face he recognised it instantly. The elf's name was Cellinor and he had been a warden of the forest since the time of Oropher. He was an elf who loved to sing and played the lyre with the skill of a Vala. The elf moved on however, entirely oblivious to Eldarion's recognition, for of course, the elf did not know him at all. They had never met.

Neniel.

Eldarion closed his eyes and let himself be borne on towards her. She was so close to him he could almost imagine it was her that walked by his side. He opened his eyes and gazed into the murkiness that surrounded him, yet now he saw not only the darkness, but the life that existed there. He saw the delicacy of the vines that laced their way around the aged trunks in their search of the golden light far above; he saw the glittering of the leaves in the gloom, shiny and lustrous in their texture; he heard the scurrying of small animals, now so loud to him he was amazed he had missed it; he could smell the richness of the earth, teeming with shoots of fresh green leaves ready to grow even here in the darkest of places. The darkness was now no longer oppressive to him like a pit of the Enemy in deepest Mordor. Now it was as beautiful as the twilight on a warm summer's night, keeping all the world in a hush to prepare for the glory of morning. His eyes had been opened, and his heart was glad.

He could almost hear her voice in every growing thing, see her face emanating from the shade of the trees. She was here all around him, a very part of the forest that she loved.

"Come closer, son of Elessar," she was saying to him. "Hear the trees and the leaves. They are calling to you as I am. Hear them, and fear the darkness no more."

"I will,"he responded, closing his eyes, and opening his mind to the world around him. The forest was pulsating with vibrant life and he felt his spirits soar. The darkness was gone from around him. All there was in the world was growth and beauty. And she was right there with him. He itched to be beside her.

The journey to the Elvenking's halls could not end quickly enough.