At long last, my dear readers, we finally come to this long waited chapter :) I hope it is all that you hoped it would be!

For silverarrow: Yes you said it perfectly! I story is just one big cliff hanger! Man I am so mean ;) I do find a way to ruin every characters life and make my readers suffer at the same time! It is rough going; I know. Thank you so so much for the kind review mellon nín! It gave a much needed smile!

Für Nymiriel: Hallo mellon nín! Ich war so glücklich, deine freundlichen Worte zu lesen! Vielen Dank :D Yes Rívorn is the traitor! I am so sorry that you have had to wait to in agony for such a long time!

And the biggest THANK YOU I can write to my beta elvenmaia. You are a true gem mellon nín!

Out of Mirkwood

Scribbles-on-Parchment

October 3, 2020


Chapter 61 – The First Meeting

Thranduil's sword glinted in the dim rays of sunlight that managed to escape the thick foliage that lay overhead. The flecks of black blood that covered the sharp silver metal of the formidable weapon paid tribute to the number of yrch that had fallen prey to it.

The elven king paused for a brief moment as he slew the last orch that had attacked him. His chest was heaving as he glanced around at the battle that still raged around him. Dead yrch lay scattered around on the damp, leaf covered earth of the small clearing they had been ambushed in. The creatures had all been slain either by arrows or by the skilled sword strokes from the hands of his soldiers. However, there too lay many elven bodies mingled in with that of the yrch. Red blood mixed with black on the brown leaves.

While there were still fewer dead ellyn then he had expected it no less grieved the heart of the elven king greatly . No immortal blood should have been spilled at all; these eldar were not meant to have been slain in battle but to have lived long lives in peace. The Sinda whispered a soft farewell to the dead ellyn before turning his mind back to the battle around him as several yrch charged at him.

That morning, after leaving Kélion in control of the protection of the palace, Thranduil had led the patrol along the southernmost edge of the forest that still lay in the barrier, or was supposed to. The fact that an yrch scouting party had gotten through made him believe that the elven magic that had protected them for so long had already fallen. They would be defenseless to any attack now or to the prying eyes of any outsiders that wandered too far into the woods. Thranduil still felt a great amount of frustration about this. He was the king and his duty was first and foremost to protect his people. What kind of leader had not the strength enough to do this?

The elven king delivered a fatal wound to the chest of an orch who had attacked him from behind even as these questions flooded his mind with hopeless messages. He shook his head. No, he refused to think of this now. He needed to focus.

The very air and trees all around them seemed thick and it felt as if every painful breath was full of evil. How had the Greenwood fallen into such a state as this? This is exactly what he had feared; it was all he could do now but to pray that this battle would not end in their bloodshed and ruin.

Thranduil's blade flashed again as it slashed the neck of another unfortunate creature who strayed too close. A second later the now dead orch joined many of its comrades on the forest floor. All around him the Sinda could hear the shrieks and wails as yrch fell, but he also heard clear elven voices that cried out in pain and echoed around him. His people were fighting for their lives and many were not winning the battle. There was no end in sight.


"Hîr nín," Êmand's voice cut through the sound of war, "There are too many of them. We need to fall back or there will soon be none of us left."

Thranduil glanced at the Silvan's worried and blood splattered face. This reminded him too much of how his kingdom had been destroyed in the first place. Had it not started exactly like this? If they were to retreat now, then would the yrch not just follow them back to the palace as they had before? No, retreat was not an option.

"We could band with Kélion's group and hold them off at the gates. We are too exposed here and more keep coming. We are all going to di..."

Êmand's voice cut off as he plunged his sword into the stomach of a charging orch.

"No," the king's voice came out as a low growl, "I will not let us surrender to such evil. They cannot be allowed to find the palace. I will not allow them to destroy us as they did before."

"Then we shall all die," Êmand's voice was matter of fact.

"We shall die together mellon nín; but there is no shame in dying to protect your people. Kélion will understand this in time," he cast a glance at a great group of yrch that had just arrived in the clearing, "Those foul creatures are the reason my wife and Legolas are dead. I shall not allow them to take my eldest son away from me too. They shall never find the palace."

Êmand opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut again as the Sinda charged into the great group of yrch, a deadly fire burning in his eyes. The Silvan let out a loud curse before running after the ellon. Valar forbid that Thranduil should die while he was still alive to protect him. He may have failed Legolas, but he would not fail the king. In an instant both of the eldar were swallowed up in the mass of yrch bodies.

Thranduil slashed out at everything that came into reach of his long blade. All he could think about was the burned body of Legolas. These creatures were the reason his youngest son was dead. Orch fell all around him, yet many more were there to take its place. It was a losing battle and he was painfully aware of it. Behind him, the Sinda could hear Êmand calling out frantically to him, but the shouts of the evil creatures around him made it impossible to make out the exact words.

It was not long before Thranduil sword strokes began to slow as the toll of the battle began to catch up with his body. Soon not even the adrenaline that coursed through him was enough to stop the slight trembling in his knees. His body was beginning to fail him.

The yrch saw this too and increased their attack. Soon after, one managed to get through the king's defenses and strike a shallow cut to the side of the eldar's neck. Thranduil hissed, more in annoyance than pain and a second later the orch was howling holding a bleeding stump of where his hand used to be.

The yrch backed away for a second as if waiting to see what the elven king would do next when a great shout of many ellyn caused the foul creatures to look towards the trees at the far side of the clearing. Their grotesque bodies blocked Thranduil from seeing what had caught their attention, but he was grateful for it.

Had Kélion abandoned his post and come to his aid after all?

The eldar readied himself for another round of attacks, but to his surprise the yrch seemed to forget him and charge at another target. The Sinda was confused and watched dumbfounded as they cleared away around him. What in the Valars' name was going on? He had thought himself mere minutes away from death. Why had they suddenly abandoned their attack on him? Part of the ellon hoped that Kélion had in fact come.

As the bodies cleared away around him Thranduil glanced over at where the elven cry had come from. To his shock he saw a group of about twenty to thirty ellyn storming the battleground, all were clad in blue and grey. The king could not make out the leader as the ellon had already plunged into a large pack of yrch. Instead the Sinda's eyes came to rest on one of the last members of the party. Silver grey eyes met his and the king gasped in astonishment. It was a human.


Legolas was furious. He had heard the sounds of battle fill the air as his worst nightmare began to play out. The yrch were attacking the Greenwood. He cursed himself; he was too late.

It was all the young elf could do to keep from running straight into the fight, instead he had spoken with Elladan and Tamír. They had advised him to wait and see what lay ahead of them before charging aimlessly into a fight, yet they had also made it clear that they would follow him to battle if that was what it came to. The prince had reluctantly agreed with them but had drawn his bow nonetheless. If these evil creatures were attacking his home then he would not waste a second to attack.

The instant Legolas was close enough to see the dead elven bodies and see the yrch attacking and killing his people, something inside of him had snapped. The cry of fury that had left his lip had been fueled by great anger and wrath. He did not know if the others in the escort followed him but he did not care; not anymore.

As Legolas bore down on the yrch in front of him he gritted his teeth in preparation for what was to come. Several of the foul creatures fell before he reached them; his arrows buried deep in their chest. As the space between them had closed the Sinda had reached for his knives and descended on the evil creatures like a storm. To his surprise the yrch began to back away from him as if afraid. It was then that Legolas noticed that his inner light had suddenly flared giving him an ethereal glow. A second later he was engulfed in the black bodies.

The young prince cut through the yrch, his knives flashing, movements swift and graceful. The elfling had a passing thought that Êmand would have been proud that all his training had paid off, but all of this faded quickly from him mind as he caught sight of a familiar face.


Legolas's eyes widened as he caught sight of a certain Silvan elf fighting through the crowd of yrch bodies.

"Êmand!"

The prince's voice rang out over the sounds of battle and his mentor's head shot up. To Legolas's surprise Êmand's face instantly turned deathly pale and his sword faltered mid-stroke. This allowed the evil creatures around the ellon the opportunity they needed. Legolas yelled a warning as an orch prepared to cut the eldar in two having taken advantage of the Silvan's lack of awareness.

Without a second thought for his own safety the elfling dropped his knives and reached for his bow. The orch's sword stroke fell but never reached its intended target as Legolas's arrow found its mark in the creature's forehead. Êmand spun around as the green and gold fletched arrow sailed past his head. Seeing how close he had just come to death made the elf snap out of his daze and renew his attack on the yrch around him.

The young ellon sighed and quickly reached down to pick up his knives again. As his hands wrapped around the white oak handles a sharp pain suddenly tore through his shoulder, making him gasp. His trusted weapons dropped back to the ground as a numbing agony swept down the prince's left arm. Legolas glanced over in time to see the grinning face of the orch who had just stabbed his sword through his shoulder. A split second later the crude weapon was ripped out pulling a cry from Legolas with it.

The young prince gasped as he fell to his knees on the bloodied earth, waves of pain rolling over him. His eyesight had gone hazy and his limbs felt weak, but his mind was screaming at him to get up. Legolas caught sight of one of his daggers and reached for it. His blood-stained fingers wrapped around the handle once more, but he knew it was already too late. He could hear the faint whistle of a blade cutting through the air and Tamír yelling his name. Legolas closed his eyes and prepared himself for the orch to deal the final blow.

It never came.

Instead he saw the lifeless body of the creature fall to the ground beside him and a second later hands grabbed his face lifting it upward. Legolas blinked away the grey haze that had covered his vision and found himself staring into the face of his adar.

"Ion nín?" the Sinda's voice was shaking as he looked deeply into the elfling's eyes disregarding the battle that still raged around them, "Legolas is it really you? Tell me I am not dreaming."

Before the young prince could say anything in response, he found himself wrapped in the strong arms of his adar.


Elvish Translations:

yrch – orcs

orch – orc

hîr nín – my lord

mellon nín – my friend

adar – father

ion nín – my son