Chapter 14: T.A. 2790 – He thought much, but said little

His return caused what he had expected and what he needed less within this moment, even though he was prepared for it: A stir!

It took less than a felt split second and half of his realm knew that he was back.

Expectant looks followed him, when he jumped off his horse, fondling its soft nostril, before he left the reins to his equerry: "Mae carnen, Mellon nin! Hannon le!*"

It took him some effort to choke a sigh when he saw his son approaching, the captain of the guard close on his heels, but all he did was giving his equerry a nod that he'd take care of the tired horse and that it got fed and watered.

Thranduil straightened and turned round to brace himself for what would wait for him. He knew, both would want him to answer countless questions and he knew also that he wouldn't be able, or better that he wouldn't be willing, to answer them all.

His son, Legolas, hinted a bow. A slight smile was on his lips when he said: "Mae tollen na mar, adar nin!**"

He returned the smile and the slight bow and replied: "It's good to be back!"

That was all they'd learn about the reason for his absence for the moment. Letting go of the hood and unwrapping himself from out of the heavy woollen cape, Thranduil headed straight for his chambers, very well aware that him still looking like a ranger of the north gave new nourishment for speculations and confused stares.

Exchanging a quick look, his son and the captain of his guard decided that this would not do to satisfy their thirst for knowledge and so they followed him.

"Father! Wait!"

"Not now!"

"You've been away for months and if not for Elrond's message telling us that you're doing well, there would not have been the slightest hint where you had vanished to."

"Not. Now", Thranduil replied again, still hurrying through the corridors.

"Don't you think, an explanation would be appropriate?"

At this, Thranduil stopped, turned on his heels and beheld his son, frowning, an eyebrow cocked, marginally surprised by this unexpected persistence: "Legolas, you'll learn about everything: The purpose of my journey, the reason for my absence and the reason for my wish to seek the counsel and advice of Lord Elrond. Just. Not. Now!"

There was something within his gaze, which told the prince that it would not be wise to insist on an answer and so Legolas held the captain of the guard back, while his father slammed the door to his private chambers shut.

*'Well done, my friend! Thank you!'

**'Welcome home, father!'

Thranduil leaned back against the door. He inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes. The silence was welcome as was the being alone and he would grant himself this moment of rest, thought and meditation. Of course, he understood why his son was that impatient and why his people longed for an explanation for his long absence, but what could he tell them...?

The truth was that there had been no reason important enough to justify his travels. What he had found near the old fortress of Dol Guldur, he had already known before and also what the answer of Elrond Peredhel would have been.

So, why this journey?

Why staying away from his duties and his kin and his halls for six months?

For sure not to convince himself of things he already knew.

He lifted his gaze and met the mirror on the opposite wall. For a split second it felt as if a stranger was looking at him. There was nothing regal about him within this moment.

The one staring at him from out of the mirror was a son of Men: Tall, strong, a warrior, a ranger; the face handsome, tanned and weathered; the hair dark and shoulder-length, the eyes of a stormy grey. His clothes looked worn and carried the dust of months...

He had chosen this illusion, this cover, carefully and nonetheless there was enough of his true self hidden underneath its layers, but first and foremost, it had to serve only one purpose: To keep himself safe.

'And to offer you the possibility to talk to those stubborn dwarves...'

Was there a silent voice nagging somewhere inside his head?

And if, why was it nagging?

Was it not what it was all about?

Since Sauron had been defeated, a lifetime ago, in fact, many lifetimes ago if seen through the eyes of the mortal, they always had a watchful eye on what was going on in the south. They all knew, the Dark Lord had just been defeated not destroyed, and they all knew, he'd rise again. What they did not know was, when this day would come.

Thranduil had no doubt, that there was more about the shadow that had driven his people out of his father's halls in Amon Lanc and he would swear that this Necromancer was more than only a sorcerer who tried himself in black magic.

Too close lay his kingdom near the outskirts of Mordor that he'd not be alert, too deep ran the scars he had suffered during the battle at the end of the bygone age, that he'd not eye the goings-on in Dol Guldur with worry and distrust.

And nonetheless he knew: The levity, his father had acted with against the orders of the High-King, would always have the rulers of the other elven realms watch him with suspicion. He was the son of Oropher, hotheaded and capricious.

He smiled.

Did they really think he wasn't aware what they told each other about him and all his kin?

Did they really think, he wasn't aware that they called him and his people less wise and more dangerous?

How could they not be like that – living on the doorstep of Mordor?

He had another look into the mirror and the image of the ranger started to blur. When he blinked again, he was all himself again. All himself...

Hesitantly, he reached out and his hand touched his cheek while he stared at the face the mirror showed him. His own eyes glanced back at him now, pierced him, telling him, that he would never be able to forget what was hidden underneath the illusion of his outward beauty...

Dragonfire they had named it, because, although no dragon had been involved, the impact of its flames had caused the same damage: Flesh and blood got melted from bones and left scars too terrible to ever heal entirely. He felt those scars under his touch – as if they were pulsating, as if they were still burning, as if they led an own life deep under his skin.

Thranduil turned away from the mirror and from the horror the images the pure crystal showed to him would raise from his memories.

He dropped the ranger's cape to the floor where he stood and filled a goblet with some heavy Dorwinion, but the wine tasted stale and thick today and it was not able to turn his thoughts away from his journey and towards a more pleasant aim.

There had only been a few moments during his long life, so far, where he had ever felt the urge to rest, but he'd not deny it to both, his body and his mind, this time.

It had been a welcomed experience to travel unburdened and in disguise – that was what he had to confess to himself with a smile – and it had been much easier to gather all the information he had wanted to learn about.

Admittedly, the ranger from the north had engendered less mistrust within the world of men, than his real self would ever have been able to avoid, and his Master Othar had even been allowed to talk to the dwarves where he, the elvenking, would have failed ruefully.

It had just been when he had reached the valley of Imladris, that his disguise had caused confusion amongst Lord Elrond's kin.

I was not, that the elves of Rivendell were hostile against strangers, quite the contrary, but even to them it was not common that one of the first born would choose a cover for his travels.

And so, Elrond and his counsellors had been even more surprised when they had not just to recognize that it was Thranduil Oropherion who was hidden behind the stranger, but that he also had a rather uncommon business to discuss with them. One they had not been prepared for.

Handing him a goblet of wine, Elrond went over to his writing desk. Concern got shown upon his sharp chiselled features wherein the heritage of both, elves and men, got mirrored, and wearing a thoughtfully furrowed brow, as he did within this moment, let him appear even more human than elvish at times – although it had been ages ago since he had chosen the elvish part of his blood over the human part.

Thranduil beheld the rooms, the Lord of Imladris inhabited, and it was obvious that, although they undoubtedly had things in common, the differences between them prevailed.

As much as Elrond felt bound to the world they had chosen to live in, as much he also felt the call of the sea and the longing for Valinor – even more so as he hoped to be reunited with his beloved wife one day. But as much as this desire might have been in his heart, for the time being, his concern belonged to the world they lived in and to his duties in the service of all the free people of Middle Earth.

It was not unknown to the elvenking, that Elrond, aside others, was a member of the White Council. They were bound together by the worry about Sauron's return and what they found out about the goings-on in Dol Guldur proved them to be right: There was good reason for concern.

Thranduil never understood why he got excluded from this Council of the Wise, although it was Greenwood, the home of his people, the shadow from the south had turned into a sick forest, a place infested by spiders and goblins, but he kept his thoughts hidden.

The Woodland Realm never had great dealings with the other elven realms and this was how he would keep it. His kin would endure the shadow and if isolation was the price he'd have to pay for it, he'd pay it – and this visit with Elrond was not about him and his kin anyway.

Not this time...

"Seldom, it happens that Thranduil, son of Oropher, leaves his halls in the great forest to pay attention to the world outside." Elrond beheld the king who looked...odd...dressed like a ranger from the north: "What leads the king of the Woodland Realm that far west? It must be something of importance that made you cross the Hithaeglir; all alone and without an escort."

Thranduil had a draft of wine before he replied: "No Dorwinion, but of good taste, nonetheless." Elrond gave him a nod and he went on while his hand slipped over the skilfully crafted cover of one of the countless books lying on the nearby writing desk and while he admired a richly adorned map pinned to the wall: "It is true! What I have to discuss with you allows no delay."

His gaze was stern and by no means distracted any longer when he added: "War is ahead and if we won't find a way to prevent it, it might affect all of us like fire when it catches dried wood and turns it into a storm."

"War?" Elrond lifted an eyebrow and for a split second it appeared as if he was surprised: "It did not come to me by now that either elves or men prepare for war."

"I'm not talking about elves or men." Thranduil spun the goblet slowly in his hands: "King Thrain sent word to the leaders of all seven clans to prepare for war against the orcs."

"The dwarves? What business has Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, with the dwarves of Erebor?"

"You surely received note that King Thror got slain in Hadhodrond. Orcs from Gundabad hold the ancient caverns of Moria now and they let Thrain and his kin know that no dwarf ever will return to their halls. Thrain's answer was the gathering of the clans."

"Of course, we came to know about Thror's death, but what business do the elves have in this? You know, we had no dealings with the Nogothrim for ages."

"This may apply for the valley of Imladris and the Golden Forest of Lorien, but you'll for sure remember, that Erebor and Dale were on friendly terms with my kin..."

"That is, I suppose, why they blame you for not having sent help when the dragon came?"

"Even a host of woodelves is not able to cover the distance between my halls and Erebor within one day. Whatever we were able to do, we did. Anything else was beyond our power."

"Thror was riven by greed. His vision was blurred by the riches he piled up. A great king brought low by his desires."

"It's not that elves cannot fall victim to greed as well. I know stories of old, where there got sung about some little flaws of ours, too." Thranduil smiled without letting the smile reach his eyes and he went on: "I admit, I'm fond of gems and jewels too. Who's not? But I think, that's not what I want to talk about. Greed has nothing to do with the foolishness Thrain is going to set in motion with his talk about war."

"Equal if Thrain, the son of Thror, will lead this war for greed or for revenge, it won't be in your power to prevent what will happen."

Thranduil turned round and faced his host a hint of disbelief mirrored in his eyes: "I got told many a times that I left Thror and his kin to die when the Lonely Mountain fell. The men of Dale and the dwarves of Erebor were allies of mine, regardless what may have led to the broken bonds of old. Equal how many forces Thrain will be able to gather, you know the orcs will outnumber them!"

Elrond kept silent for a while. He had not been prepared for such a disclosure, but as it seemed it was true and there was more of Oropher hidden inside the king of Mirkwood than the eye would see. He was of the same storminess and of the same passion as his father had been and the Lord of Rivendell feared he'd not only inherited his father's looks but also his father's impatience.

Before the continuous silence would turn to become awkward, Elrond began pacing his study, explaining to his guest: "These oircs from Gundabad, who claimed Moria, are most probably just a harbinger of what will wait for all of us in an upcoming near future. I won't deem it wise to act rashly as long as we don't know if Sauron has a part in their rise."

"So what is it, Elrond, the king's herald, suggests?"

"The Dark Lord has a watchful eye on us; on all of us."

Thranduil smirked at this: "It may have escaped your attention, Mellon nin, but the woodelves face the darkness and the evil, the shadow brought upon us, with every new day to come. And it's not only the foul smell of decay, which sickens the forest. Goblins and giant spiders, the spawn of Ungoliant, infest the woods. Those, who still live near the forest, have new names for it, and the thick air and the poisonous water even affect my people, not only the mortal. You and the White Council may wait for some more obvious signs, but to me it is obvious enough. Accept the truth, Elrond, what's going on in Mirkwood is not the work of a human sorcerer. And it is not by chance that Durin's folk got challenged at this point of time. Will you really sit and watch till you get a proof for Sauron's return? He's here already and you know that I'm telling the truth. I won't care if you deem it wise to act; rashly or not!"

"Thranduil! At the moment. there is nothing we can do to destroy Sauron. Not even the combined forces of dwarves, elves and men. All we can do, is keep him at bay and out of our realms, keep him unaware of what we know and of what we can do and what we can't. The war, Thrain will lead, is nothing of our concern. The dwarves will have war and there is nothing you can do to prevent it. I already told you so...and if you'd make a try, you'd have to do it without the blessings of Imladris and Lorien...!"

You'll have to do it without the blessings of Imladris and Lorien!

Thranduil let out an annoyed hiss. Of what use was all the wisdom of the Valar and all the knowledge they were blessed with, if they only used both for reacting instead of acting?

All of them just longed for the white shores of Valinor and for the green fields of the Undying Lands.

Why weren't they able to love this fragile world they lived in as much as they loved the memories of Valinor until they'd take leave one day, following the call of the west and the song of the sea?

This forest, sick or not, Greenwood or Mirkwood – this forest was his home. It was his home since his father led him and some of their kin here and he'd fight for it as Thrain would fight for Khazad-dum...at least that was what he wished to do...

He wiped a number of goblets from the small table standing at the wall and turned round pacing the room impatiently.

The truth was that, even if he would follow his wish to send help to support Thrain, he knew exactly that he'd never have enough warriors to ensure both: The support of the dwarven King and the safety of his own kingdom. Without the help of Imladris and Lorien he'd have nothing to offer to Thrain and his kin and the dwarves would not step back from their suicidal mission.

Fresh air soaked in through the wide open window and he felt his troubled mind calm down.

He'd have to calm down...

There was still one thing he had to do tonight: Legolas was still waiting for him to explain, why he had left and Thranduil knew, his son would not be amused when he'd learn about his reasons.