Here you will find a compilation of one-shots revolving around my story "Strange Gifts: Book 1 & 2"

Please see the original story to help make better sense of what's happening here. I will add stories when inspiration hits or perhaps get a special request.

Thank you to a fellow reader for encouraging me to publish these.

- Saddlesore

- Nathanar's Conviction -

In addition to chapter 27

He stood ramrod straight; spine stiff and jaw set. His heart raced with trepidation as his eyes stared forward, boring a hole into the stone wall across the room. He failed, he knew that. It wasn't hard to tell. Whatever punishment was about to be handed to him was one he would accept humbly.

Next to him, Maethor shifted just the slightest but then resumed his statuesque pose. He should not be here; neither should Horthor, whom stood on Maethor's opposite side. Neither ellyn moved after that as they waited for the King. The anxiety could be felt throughout the room, and the two guards that stood behind the three of them neither spoke nor moved; the only sound coming from the five souls breathing. He knew the two soldiers behind them; had known them and fought alongside them for many years. Now, they were no longer in the same position nor the same side.

Nathanar was sure if you listened close enough one could easily hear his heart hammering in his chest. It pounded in his ears like a war drum. The time it took for the King to arrive went by unbearably slow; as if days were passing instead of mere minutes. His heart felt heavy and sorrowful. As he waited, his mind drifted.

Always had he looked up to his brother; the two of them practically inseparable even though there was a four hundred and seventy seven year gap between the two of them. Only prior to being summoned to the King's throne room had he held their mother as she wept over the body of her fallen son. His father was solemn and quiet; laying a steady hand on his wife's shoulder as he stared rigidly at the body of their eldest child. They wept until the tears came no more and only after kissing the forehead of his mother did Nathanar retreat to his own waiting family and hold his wife in the privacy of their home.

In her ear he spoke softly while soothing her sobs; allowing the guilt of his actions to flood his very soul. His reaction towards the death of his brother would certainly hold consequences. He knew that handling the she-elf the way he had would be punishable, and while he tried to sooth his wife's trembling frame he prayed that the Valar have forgiveness on him.

Now as he stood in the throne room, the weight of his actions bore down on him like a brick wall. He did not want to know just how bad his punishment would be, but at the same time he just wanted it over with. He deserved this, he knew that, but he prayed that the two guards next to him would be spared a heavy punishment.

Don't be ridiculous, he told himself. They watched and did nothing; they are just as guilty as I.

He sucked in a deep breath as quietly as possible and let it out slowly just as the familiar swish of the King's robes met his ears. Not only had he condemned himself to an unknown fate, but two of his fellow guards as well. Without moving, the three guards mentally prepared themselves for what was to come; whatever that may be.

As King Thranduil stepped up to the dais before them, his eyes barely swept over the three guards that stood awaiting their conviction. His slowness at reporting to the throne room was intentional; meant to inflict more damage on top of what was to come.

Thranduil turned on his heel; the charcoal grey robes sifting behind him as he clasped his hands behind his back, and drew himself up. His eyes caught the twitch of a cheek muscle in Maethor but otherwise the guards stood stone still. Pleased to see some sort of agony in their eyes, the King lifted his chin.

"I trust the three of you know why you have been summoned." The King did not expect them to respond, nor were they allowed to. Their answers were evident enough in their eyes and their jaws stayed firmly shut.

He took to walking around the platform slowly, deliberately adding to the edge and tension already lingering on the three souls that stood waiting for his decision. He could practically smell their anxiety. He took neither pleasure nor enjoyment in what he was about to do, but the severity of the case at hand was one he never imagined would ever come into play. It was his job to ensure it never happened again for the sake of the Woodland Realm.

"Maethor, tell me, what is the name of the elleth in which you were entrusted to retrieve from her quarters?" asked the King as he walked slowly behind the five guards present. He saw the middle guard's shoulders rise slightly and his fingers twitched by his side.

"Lady Shyloh, my Lord," he answered immediately.

"Wrong," replied the King, then turned his attention to the next guard.

"Horthor, tell me, what is the name of the elleth in which you were entrusted to retrieve from her quarters?" The King watched his response carefully as he rounded their right side and came into their line of view. The hesitation on the ellon's face was evident as he struggled with the question. His lips parted but no words escaped. "You cannot answer?"

He stopped in front of them and then turned to the third guard, the one with whom his anger was directed at the most. He stood directly in front of the brown haired guard, and looked down his nose at him. Long had Nathanar been a respected member of the guard. The disappointment and anger, though it was stemmed at all three of the elves, was plain as day in the King's eyes.

"How about you, Nathanar?" asked the King in a gentle tone. "Care to share the name of the elleth you were not sent to retrieve?"

Nathanar took a deep breath. "No, my Lord."

The King tilted his head. "And why is that?"

"I could not give you her proper title, nor address her appropriately. I only know her by the name already provided."

"Clearly." The King walked around and stepped up to his side and leaned towards him. "Would you like me to answer for you?"

There was a pregnant pause as the King narrowed his eyes.

"Princess Shyloh; daughter of Atanalcar; fourth son of King Elros, first King of Númenor; brother of Lord Elrond of Rivendell; one of our most trusted allies," announced Thranduil; his voice echoing off the smooth rock walls of the throne room for everyone to hear.

If the guard's faces were pale earlier, it was nothing to how they looked now.

"Never have I been more ashamed of my guards' actions than I am at this moment in time. Your treatment of the Princess could not only damage the relationship we hold with Rivendell, but also with Lothlorien; a relationship we cannot afford to break. As punishment for your actions, the three of you are banished from the halls of the Woodland Realm for a sentence of five years. You will serve your five years tending to your new posts at the northern border. You will report to marchwarden Daugon in two days time, and are henceforth stripped of your current ranking. Upon the completion of five years, you will be removed from your post as guardsmen and assigned elsewhere as I see fit."

The hall remained quiet, and Thranduil's eyes swept over the faces of his three guards. The shame was evident in all three sets of eyes.

"Dismissed."

Flanked by the two waiting guards, Thranduil watched them leave then turned to the steps that led up to his throne. Where his son should have been standing remained empty and his temper soured. He would allow Nathanar to attend the funeral of his brother but no more. They would have enough time to pay their respects, gather the items they would need, and remove themselves from the halls.

The Prince's obvious absence within the Realm was disappointing. His eyes lingered on the spot Legolas would usually occupy and he narrowed his eyes.

He should have given them ten.