Southern boundary of Forochel. April 2, SA 542
ELROND squinted, trying to see through the fog. There was a chill in the air as if temperature plummeted. Everything around him was blanketed in a swirling mist, like tendrils of breath on a wintry day. Elrond shivered as the icy wind nipped at his exposed skin.
"Thranduil? Mistress Eryn?" Elrond turned a full circle where he stood, but all around him was the same gray nothingness.
In front of him, something twinkled like a star. Lured by the light, Elrond went closer and touched where a stray light bounced off into a silver rainbow. It was cold and hard. A slab of ice. A wall of ice stood before him.
As if his touch raised a wind, the fog withdrew. Elrond tensed. Something terrible was happening.
A steel song rang through the chamber, making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on their ends. Elrond's senses blared a warning. A deathly aura of blood thirst emanated from behind him. Someone was behind him, and that person wanted his blood.
Holding his breath as his senses raw and alert, Elrond silently grabbed the hilt of his sword as he glanced at the ice wall which was clear as a mirror.
Behind him stood a shadow, a tall warrior with a naked blade in his hand. A column of light shone behind the warrior and his face was in the shadows. Elrond could not see the face, but a sudden dread seized him. The warrior picked up his sword leveling it in a ready position to strike. A wind stirred and splayed the warrior's long hair.
It was pale crimson.
Elrond turned around, his heart thundering in his breast.
"Thranduil?"
But there was no one there. His stomach churned as ice slithered down his back. Elrond turned back to the ice wall.
The wall was full of light, so bright, Elrond turned away when someone's hand landed on Elrond's shoulder. The touch was warm and familiar. The Half-elven relaxed as he turned back to the wall, squinting to see when he heard the Captain of the Silmacil's lilting voice which rang like a clear echo in Elrond's head: See with your heart, Elrond. Trust your senses.
Feeling the warmth of Astalder's hand, Elrond turned around, his throat tightening as his eyes misted. But the person who stood there was not Astalder.
A beam of light came from the above and fell behind the rose-colored hair, illuminating the light reddish tint. His face was in the shadows, but Elrond could not mistake him.
"Thranduil." Elrond stepped forward when the Sinda raised his sword. He held a white sword that shone like a blade made of light.
Thranduil's eyes were emotionless and cold. Elrond was reminded of the day they first met at the Grey Havens centuries ago. He stepped back but found himself standing at the edge of a stone island. It stood floating on a river of molten rocks.
"I will not fight you. We are brothers, you and I." Elrond said and lowered a hand which he had not known held a sword identical to the one Thranduil held in his hand.
The Sinda leveled his sword, jumped forward, closing the distance between them. Seeing the attack coming, Elrond held up his sword for a block. Their swords clashed, but the clang barely registered before Thranduil's sword slid across. Sidestepping, Thranduil lunged, his sword penetrating Elrond's heart. The Half-elven gasped, eyes wide as pain shot through him.
Thranduil drove the sword further, shortening their distance. Elrond grabbed Thranduil's neck as the Half-elven fell, a golden collar in his hand.
The Half-elven gasped at the pain that ripped through him. But what hurt was not the physical pain.
"Elrond?"
Why was this happening? He did not understand. Elrond looked up into the bright, blue-green eyes. He had never doubted, never thought Thranduil would hurt him.
"Why?" Elrond grabbed the front of Thranduil's tunic and pulled him closer. He looked into the Sinda's unusually colored eyes. But, in Thranduil's bright eyes, there was no trace of the murderous aura Elrond had felt, no threat that had pierced his heart. Only concern came from the frowning face.
"Why what? Are you all right? What's wrong? Is the pain too much?" Thranduil pulled away, then helped Elrond up into a sitting position.
Elrond swallowed. He looked about him. There was no ice and no fog.
Was it a dream? The Half-elven shivered remembering the feel of the cold steel penetrating him. It seemed so real. Was it a foresight? He could never tell which of his dreams foretold and which didn't. And if it was, how could it be true? Why would Thranduil try to kill him?
The Half-elven looked beyond Thranduil's shoulder where the rest of the Elven warriors, some still lying on the furs attended by Eryn and an old woman wearing a coat of wolf fur. The woman was wrinkled with wiry gray hair interspersed with animal bones. Elrond vaguely remembered Thranduil telling him that she was a healer to the Skin-changers.
Next to the old woman, Eryn was bent over Gwinion who had sustained severe cuts across his chest and abdomen. The lack of armor had cost him.
Elrond winced at the sharp pain in his chest. He grabbed where the pain slowly dulled into a throb.
"Does it still hurt?" Thranduil's eyes were clouded. And Elrond could feel the worry in them. Elrond swallowed the knot in his throat.
"Thranduil, will you promise me something?"
When he had the Sinda's attention, Elrond looked into Thranduil's eyes. "Stay near me. Do not leave my side."
If his dream was telling him something that is to come, perhaps it could be changed. Maglor had said futures were never certain. He used to comfort him with those words when Elrond woke up with dreams that were too real, the kind of dreams that tended to come true.
"You will be fine, Elrond. It was only the Orc poison that had you knocked out. Your body was not used to it. Thoron cleansed the wound fast enough that you should be your normal self by end of the day."
"Please, Thranduil. Promise me. Do not go off on your own."
Thranduil stepped back, frown deepened on his face when he turned and called out. "Thoron!" Then, he offered Elrond a wooden bowl. "Here, drink this." Thranduil pressed a bowl into his lips. Elrond pushed it away and grabbed Thranduil's arm.
"I am your friend, your brother. Your kin. We are a family. Will you remember that? No matter what happens?"
"What the hell is this about?" Thranduil stood up when Thoron and Baldor joined them.
"How are you feeling, Elrond?" Thoron took the space Thranduil vacated. The Silmacil lifted the leaves bound around Elrond's chest just below his armpit.
"How did I come here?" Elrond remembered riding on the back of an enormous bear with Thranduil's arms around him. He remembered the rocky canyon they passed and the torches that lit a wide cavern. "I remember that old woman next to Mistress Eryn, and you and Thranduil speaking to a big man, you giving me a drink, then nothing after that."
"While we were talking to Bodvar's father, you passed out. The arrow, the one that landed on the gap in your armor, was poisoned. Your body had a bit of a reaction. How is it that you weren't wearing a ring mail under the plates?"
"The other two were in leather and I was in plate. We were running through the mountainside."
"And you thought it was worth skipping the ring mail to keep yourself lighter." Thoron's gray eyes were stern.
"The king needs to make you a mithril mail, my lad." Baldor who had come over to look said. He turned to Thranduil who crouched on top of a rock near Elrond's bedroll. "What did I tell you. It was a minor wound. No need there was to worry." Baldor put his hand over Thranduil's shoulder. "You frightened this Sinda to death when you passed out."
"I wasn't worried," Thranduil said nonchalantly, shrugging off Baldor's hand.
"Of course, and I am the Dark Lord," Baldor laughed. The jovial Silmacil turned to Elrond. "He sat and watched you sleep for the past day and a half."
"He didn't just sleep. He also had a fever. I was just making sure." Thranduil glowered at the Silmacil, but Baldor grinned wider.
"The Orc poison is terrible when you are not used to it." Thoron took out a small bottle from his pocket and added a drop into the bowl of water Thranduil had given Elrond earlier. "Once your body gets used to it, it hinders with your recovery but is not life-threatening. Drink once more for good measure."
"How is your leg?" Elrond asked, remembering the sword cut Thranduil received from one of the Orcs.
"Healing," Thranduil said. "It wouldn't stop me."
"Unfortunately," Thoron said beneath his breath, near Elrond's ear.
"Well, we survived," Elrond said, forcing a smile. There was a moment as the sun went down that Elrond thought they would all die there at the glade. But with the arrival of the bear warriors, the surviving Orcs had turned tail and dispersed into the twilight.
"Barely," Thranduil scoffed.
"At least, all of us made it out alive. I feared we will lose some of us," Thoron said, looking around the cave at the others.
Elrond glanced at Gwinion. After the battle, he had been barely alive.
"How is he doing?" Elrond nodded toward the young Sindarin soldier.
"Mistress Eryn stitched him up. Bless her steady hands." Baldor nodded, more grave now. "We almost thought we will lose him, but he is tougher than he looked. Huit, that is that strange old woman next to Mistress Eryn," Baldor lowered his voice as if he didn't want to be heard. "She seems to know something about herbs and plants. But, I don't think they know a lot about healing."
"Baldor." Thoron shook his head, pursing his lips.
"He is still not awake?"
"Huit gave him something." Thoron pointed to Thranduil. "He said it was something to keep the young lad asleep. It is better that way. The cuts he sustained were deep. The mending spells are painful for such wounds."
Elrond knew about the mending spells. And knew how even after Gwinion recovers, the scars will remain for several months before they fully disappear.
"We must thank the little mistress for her speediness. I thought help would not arrive until the dawn when all of us are dead or too wearied to fight." Baldor said.
Thranduil got up from where he crouched, drawing Elrond's attention. The Sinda was looking elsewhere. It was Bodvar, his one arm in a sling. Unlike the Elven warriors who were already mending, the sword scar on Bodvar's face looked raw and swollen although it was sewn up with expert hands.
"Little mistress sewed him up nicely, I would say." Baldor pounded Thoron's back. "Your mending spells have done wonders. I didn't know it would work on the bears." Baldor raised his hand in greeting, and Bodvar, grinning wide returned it with his unbound hand. Then he began to gesture, talking in his unfamiliar tongue.
"His father invites all of us to sit with him at tonight's feast," Thranduil said.
"We will be honored to sit with him," Thoron said, glancing at Baldor and Elrond who nodded back. Except for Gwinion, most of the soldiers were well enough to sit up although some wouldn't be able to walk far.
"He wants to show me something. I'll be back." With that Thranduil limped after Bodvar.
"What do you think they are talking about," Baldor said thumbing toward Thranduil as the Sinda left the cave.
"I can't make out anything they say." Thoron shook his head. "Can you?"
Elrond tilted his head. "I will have to listen to them talk some more. Perhaps there are some discernible patterns." Elrond glanced at the Green Elf several strides away from them. "Mistress Eryn seems to work well with Huit."
"I don't know how she communicates with the bear-woman. These people have very limited knowledge of healing. How do you explain to them that it is not the song itself that is doing the mending? They don't seem to realize it is not the words that we sing, but the inner light that we channel with it that gives the power to heal."
"That is a difficult concept for others who don't know us, Thoron. And, I dare say some things don't require much talk, isn't that so, Elrond?" Baldor grinned.
"And that bear-woman looks at me with suspicion."
"If she is, it's because you look at her and her people with judgment," Eryn came over to them and checked Elrond's binding. "They primitive, it's true, but that doesn't mean they cannot feel."
Elrond had a distinct impression she wasn't just talking about the Skin-changers.
"They helped us when they didn't have to." Eryn said.
"Perhaps. It seems so, but I find myself question why they sent only eight of their Men when you must have told them how many Orcs there were."
Eryn's face darkened. "Maybe they not understand me. At least, they were ready, and we were able to come quickly."
"That part is even harder to understand for me. You said the warriors were ready. How did they know? And why the Orcs suddenly left upon your arrival?" Thoron crossed his arms in front of him. "They clearly outnumbered us, yet the moment they heard the bears coming, they ran away. I found that rather too convenient. Orcs see well in the dark, and it was twilight. They would have known the number of bears coming towards them. And I still wonder why Bodvar came to help you."
"Their attention was focused on us. Perhaps they didn't have the chance to see clearly, only heard them coming. Mistress Eryn scared away other Orcs for a time by pretending reinforcements had arrived to help us." Elrond threw off the bedroll by his feet.
He felt a need to get out of the cave and into the open air. The dark dream came back and made his stomach turn. Were these Skin-changers friends or enemies? Elrond hated the nagging suspicion brimming in his mind. Did these people, who seemed like saviors, had ulterior motives? Elrond did not want to believe that. Somehow believing that meant that the dream will come true, that Thranduil could attack him. With deadly intent. But that can't be true. He won't believe it.
"Ai, come, Thoron. They sent eight powerful warriors. I am sure Orcs knew not to attack them needlessly. They had to keep some back to protect their village. I don't see anything wrong with that." Baldor helped Elrond stand.
The cave was bright from the sunlight falling through a jagged opening high above the ceiling in the center of the cave. But Elrond needed to breath outside air.
"How about that dissension among their men?" Thoron seemed unwilling to let it go as Elrond moved toward the entrance of the cave.
Baldor and Thoron followed Elrond as Eryn held up Elrond's elbow as if to render some strength when he stopped walking. Elrond felt light-headed.
"Slow steps," Eryn said. "The poison is out, but you still mending."
As Elrond moved closer to the entrance, he heard a sound of water gurgling mingled with laughter. Outside, the late morning sunlight threw golden ripples on a wide and shallow river that ran just outside the cave.
There were children, wearing wolf fur coats and barefooted, laughing and playing beside the river. Across the river, in a wide clearing, several mounds clustered together in clumps. Grasses grew over the mounds and despite it being the start of the spring, they were still brown. In between the mounds, there were people chopping woods, some hanging wet clothes on a rope tied to a tree, some feeding the animals kept in an area closed off with wooden fences. Beyond the mounds, a cluster of spruces stood like a wall on a rough, barren terrain covered in snow.
"What are those mounds?" Elrond asked, feeling the eyes of the children and adults alike who stopped from their activities to stare at them.
"That's their homes." Eryn grimaced. "They dug a pit and covered it with branches and mud. They use the cave as their stronghold."
Just then two black birds dark as shadow croaked. On one of the pines, they sat.
Baldor's hand reached over to his bow, but Thoron stopped him.
"Remember, they don't want us shooting the crows. Thranduil said these people think they are messengers of gods. That is another reason I don't trust them."
"They not crows," Eryn said. "They ravens. My people sometimes use them as messenger birds. They very intelligent. You can even teach them to talk."
"How can you tell the difference?" Elrond squinted up at the tree.
"Ravens are larger, glossier, and have a wedge-shaped tail. And they not easily influenced by the call of the shadows."
Just then Huit came over and gestured toward Eryn. The Green Elf left with the woman.
"I still don't like them," Thoron said, his eyes wary as he watched the ravens take flight. They soared high above, circling the village.
"We shouldn't be too hasty," Elrond said. "We must remember that Bodvar came to help us. If it wasn't for him, I don't know if four of us could have managed."
Back at the glade, with most of the soldiers wounded and exhausted, it had left only the five of them, the two Silmacils, Elrond and Thranduil and Bodvar, to fight against the coming horde.
"Bodvar is a fierce fighter in his bear form, but I must admit, if you and Thranduil did not come up with using that tree trunk, we might not have lasted that long," Baldor said.
In the beginning, the five of them had managed while the wounded soldiers controlled the crowd with their arrows, preventing the Orcs from swarming them. But once the arrows were gone, the horde that had kept distance rushed them. Thranduil had picked up the white tree trunk by their feet and used it as a shield and as a weight to ram down the rows of Orcs. Then Bodvar swiped the trunk with his powerful paw to the other side for Thoron and Baldor who would ram down the Orcs on their side while Elrond and Thranduil cut down the fallen Orcs.
"I say, we were quite a team, two of you and two of us," Baldor said as he padded Elrond's back playfully. "I knew you two trained together, but that bear, I didn't think he would fall into our rhythm so readily. Quite a formidable warrior, that bear. And, you and Thranduil. I saw that move of yours at the glade, the way you cut between those iron plates."
"That was only an Orc armor. Theirs have many gaps between the iron plates. You haven't seen Belegor and Thranduil cut through ours. I can't do that."
Unlike Orc armors, Elven armors didn't have noticeable gaps except those temporary ones that occur with certain movements of the body.
"It's difficult, even with the arrows although one got me. But with swords, you need speed and precision to cut between our armor plates, but those two could."
"Ah, yes. I have seen those two at practice. I would have been impressed if the move had not been so risky and reckless. One wrong move and they could have killed their opponents instead of just giving them a scare. It is not that you are not capable, Elrond, just that your mind is averse to taking such unnecessary risks. You are undoubtedly skilled with your blade. I wouldn't have minded having both of you join our brotherhood." Baldor said.
"We wanted to." Elrond smiled remembering the argument he had with Gil-galad. "But we were not allowed."
"That is understandable," Thoron said. "We don't accept royalty or the firstborns who may need to have an heir. It isn't only about skill. The Brotherhood of the White Sword is open only to those who have no obligations to family or kin. We cannot afford attachments."
"Elrond, I understand," said Baldor. "He is next in line after Lord Celebrimbor, but we could have accepted Thranduil. That lad is a handful, I'll admit. But we could have used someone like him. The way his head turns at a time of urgency, he would have fit well with us."
"Perhaps. We are, indeed, spread thin and no longer can afford to work in pairs except in rare instances, but this life is fraught with fire and blood. I would not recommend it to any young warrior in good conscience. Not when they could have a life in peace." Thoron looked away at the sky.
Elrond felt the sorrow about the Silmacil, silent ripples of grief that lapped at his skin. The Half-elven felt his throat tighten.
"Thranduil was not within the king's authority to allow him to join. He is Lord Oropher's only son, the only child remaining to the Sindarin lord." And the one on whom the king placed all his hopes for friendship and unity with Oropher and the rest of the Elves in the east, but Elrond did not say that out loud.
But with that thought, the dread he felt at awakening seized him. What he saw, if that happened, it wasn't just his life that was at stake. What happens between them could have a ripple effect on the relationship between the Noldor and the Sindar.
"What's wrong?" Thoron who turned to look at Elrond drew his brows together. "You look pale."
"It's nothing." Elrond looked around the mounds and the people. "Where does Thranduil keep his weapons and the armor?"
"You think he will try to leave on his own?" Thoron narrowed his eyes.
"Commander Aron is still out there."
Thoron turned to Baldor.
"The lad is limping. The wound in his leg is still mending. Come, now, Thoron. You said it would take at least another day for it to finish healing. Besides, how will he get to the glade to pick up the trail? He wouldn't try anything until he is better enough, would he?" Baldor met Elrond's eyes, then Thoron's. He threw his hands in the air. "Fine. Fine. I tell you, he is a handful, that one."
"He should be easy to find, with that strange color to his hair," Thoron called after Baldor as the Silmacil crossed the river.
"What happened to his hair? It wasn't like that before he left the fort."
Elrond shrugged, pulling at his front braid. "Ah, a disguise that went wrong?"
"And about that. You not only helped him but accompanied him. Why? Did you not think there was a reason the king and Lord Gilmagor wanted to take him to the Grey Havens?"
"I know Thranduil. He would have found a way to escape even without the help. If we block all roads and leave him only the steep and dangerous cliffs, he would have climbed down that precipice with bare hands rather than turn around."
"We had planned for it. Lord Gilmagor had soldiers watching the river. He thought the lad would be crazy enough to jump from the tower and failing that he may cast himself from the ship the moment the spell on the sail is cast. I doubted the lad had a death wish. I thought the Lord Commander was being overly cautious."
"He was not."
"More the reason you should have kept Thranduil with the king. Neither Lord Gilmagor nor I thought you would choose to help Thranduil over the king's command. We never doubted your loyalty to the king. At the least, we thought you would be wiser."
Elrond dropped his head, sorely chastened.
"There will be consequences, Elrond."
Elrond knew that already. Still, Thoron's words clove at him. They stood in silence for a while.
"There is something you need to know." Thoron leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You and Thranduil were being watched."
"What? By whom?"
"You were there, were you not? That foggy morning?"
Elrond could not meet Thoron's eyes.
"The crows, they are the eyes and the ears of Sauron. It is one of the reasons why we do not allow them in our cities."
"But why would he watch us?"
"I do not know. But whatever it is, it wouldn't be anything good."
"Now that you mention it, that Orc, he wanted to take Thranduil and me. He tried to bargain other's life for our capture."
Thoron's face darkened.
"We need to get you and Thranduil out of here. If not for your sakes, then for these people. If they are our friends, they will be in danger. If they are our foes, we are in danger."
Mithril (Sindarin. Gray glitter)—a soft and malleable silver metal which can be used in different alloys to make many different things, including armor that is extremely light and durable. Frodo wore a chain mail shirt made of mithril which even the force of troll's weapon could not pierce. It is also called "true silver" by men and Moria silver by Dwarves as Moria was the only known source of mithril in the Third Age. There are some speculations (not mentioned by Tolkien) that some of the famed Elven weapons were made of mithril, such as Gil-galad's spear, Aeglos, and Turgon's Glamdring, a sword Gandalf carried during the time of the War of the Rings in the Third Age.
A/N: Thank you everyone who showed interest in my story, especially all those who sent me comments, who favored and follow this story. Your continued interest is what keeps me writing. Thank you and have a safe and happy Thanksgiving. :)