Forest outside East Fort. March 25, SA 542.
THRANDUIL OROPHERION watched the king's horse take a wide turn, skirting near the edge of the forest. The East Fort, standing like a sentinel at the junction where the eastern and western arms of the River Lune met, cast a long shadow over the forest as the sun moved west toward the Blue Mountains.
The Royal Guards were keeping their distance but stayed close to the king should he need a hand, not that Gil-galad ever needed a hand. The king was more than capable of protecting himself, and there were powerful lords around him. But Thranduil was the Captain of the Royal Guards and the king's life was his responsibility. To think it would be his duty to make sure the King of Noldor was safe, life was strange, indeed.
A movement caught his eyes as Thranduil looked up. Far north of the East Fort, there was a horse running at an impossible speed along the river.
A messenger from the Taurobel? The village north of the East Fort was the only settlement outside the boundary of the river, as far as Thranduil knew. It was almost a full day's ride from the fort and an hour's ride from where Durion who came to Lindon accompanying the messengers from Thranduil's father settled a few decades ago.
Seeing how fast he was traveling, the rider would arrive at the fort by the time sun sets. It couldn't be anything important, though, if they didn't send a bird or a boat down the river, both of which were quicker than a horse.
Thranduil glanced at the tall pine standing a few feet from the birch tree where he was surveying the area. Elrond should be up there, keeping a wary eye over everything. These days, Lord Gilmagor was the commander of the King's Army in name only. He still kept the title, but it was Elrond who performed the duty. If the rider was coming to the East Fort and the matter dealt with the safety of the people, it fell under Elrond's jurisdiction. But these days, nothing worth noting happened.
With a yawn, Thranduil stepped down to a lower branch when something shimmered and flashed pale at the edge of Thranduil's vision. The Sinda turned and scrutinized the woods about him. They were approaching the last days of Stirring and the woods were awakening from their winter slumber. Someone was moving through the trees on his left. A rider on a white horse.
Something about the way the rider moved made Thranduil climbed down. It wasn't just that the rider was far from the hunting party. She was moving painfully slowly, looking about her as if she was lost.
"Lady Lalaithwen," Thranduil called out when the horse came near. He jumped down onto the ground. He preferred not to involve himself with her, but she is the king's cousin and thus fell under his obligation.
"Thranduil, you are here. Will you help me, captain?" Lalaithwen pulled her horse to a stop.
"Is something the matter? Why are you lagging so far behind others?"
Lalaithwen reached out her hand, and Thranduil helped her down from the horse.
"Where are your escorts?" Thranduil looked about him. He didn't see anyone near.
"I think I hurt myself." She pulled out one of her gloves and offered her hand.
"It looks fine," Thranduil said and looked up from where he was bent over her hand. "Elrond is…" He didn't get to finish when she fell forward and her lips crushed his.
He stopped breathing. The sound of the surrounding woods faded, and the scent of lilacs and spring flowers filled his senses. Something sweet, a taste of honeyed wine, melted into his mouth. The warm flowery scent was intoxicating, as was the taste of wine on his lips, and for a moment, he was lost in them, his mind foggy as if sudden mists covered the shapes of the surrounding forest. Soft arms encircled his neck, and a weight fell against him.
A sharp pain pulsed through his arm. The mists about him thinned as if stray wind stirred his mind awake.
He wrenched himself away, but it was too late. Her eyes were laughing with mischief as a peal of laughter escaped her lips.
"Got you," she said with a wicked smile, pointing to her lips which were red and puffed. She held up a palm, then added two more fingers with the other hand. She smocked her lips, then with a wink jumped back onto her horse. Leaving a trill of laughter in the winds, she was gone.
For a moment, Thranduil stood still, struck dumb by what happened.
"Dammit! I can't believe I fell for that." Thranduil turned to the tree behind him and knocked his head against it. The tree laughed.
"Shut up."
Women were a menace, especially that Noldorin woman. Thranduil raked his hands over his head when he heard a sound. He turned to find Elrond looking at him with a shake of his head.
"Don't say it," Thranduil warned.
"Fool." Elrond snorted as he crossed his arms. "That's what? Sixth or seventh time in a century? Maybe nothing of note from others, but for you who do not miss anything? You are losing ground, my friend."
"What? Are you keeping score?"
"Well, beside gold, my new bow is at stake. Erfaron has been eying it for his young son. I might have to order a new one. Ai, I could already see Cellon gloating."
"What is this? Betting on my plight?"
"Stop being dramatic, Thranduil." Elrond clucked his tongue. "Why don't you give up? You know it is useless to resist."
"She is Belegor's sister. Worse, Lammaeg's daughter."
"Both of which you knew when you kissed her back."
"You think I meant to do it? It's… it's her enchantment."
"Excuses. Excuses." Elrond shook his head again. "Why encourage her, then?"
"Encourage? Me?"
"Telling her you don't want her is as same as challenging her."
"Who told you that is what I said to her? How do you even know about that? And for your information, I just said nothing can happen between us. That's all."
"What is the difference? Did you not think she would take that as a challenge?"
Thranduil shrugged.
"Then, you are a bigger fool than I thought you were." Elrond snorted.
"What am I to do?"
"Are you asking me for help?" Elrond's eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Never mind."
"Should I find some reliable jewel-smith for you?"
"Orc you."
Thranduil stomped away, ignoring the chuckle coming from the Half-Elven.
As soon as he returned to his quarters, Thranduil packed his bag. He was officially off duty as of this evening. He had planned to leave for Durion's house in the morning, but he wanted to be gone. There would be dancing tonight, and he was certain Lalaithwen would want him to dance with her. And there was no way for him to reject her without it being taken as an insult. And Thranduil wasn't stupid enough to do that in front of the King, her father and her brother.
"How did she even know I was up in that tree?"
Thranduil stuffed his traveling pack. Then he remembered Erfaron asking him about his schedule this morning. He knew exactly where Thranduil planned to station himself during the hunt. Thranduil shook his head. Erfaron commanded the East Fort. He was probably asking about it as the commander, to be sure where everybody was. Wasn't he?
"That Orc!"
Searing flames ravaged his left arm. Thranduil hissed as he dropped the item he was holding. Clenching his teeth, the Sinda squeezed his arm as if to choke the pain out of him.
For the past six months, the pain he thought he no longer had to worry about had returned. At first it was a burning stab that came suddenly and disappeared as fast. But, steadily, it increased to a point the pain made it difficult to breathe.
Thranduil Oroperion!
Thranduil shook his head hard. The sound was ringing in his head. Someone was calling him. It wasn't the voice of the dragon as he remembered it. But someone called to him as she had done, back in that accursed ruin.
"Get out of my head," Thranduil growled as he closed himself further.
The call diminished into a whisper before it disappeared. Thranduil let out a long breath, then breathed in as the pain calmed.
Thranduil massaged his arm as he looked out the window to breathe in the cool air. The last rays of the dying sunlight diluted the slate gray of the fort's walls into deep red.
He may have to tell Mistress Taurien. He had thought the pain had gone away for good. Almost four centuries had passed since that incident at the Dwarven ruin. Thranduil had not had the pain since his trip with Elrond into Eriador. It was as if all the pain and the shadows were thrown in and the door locked. Thranduil had felt as if he was renewed.
However, six months ago, the pain returned. And it seemed to get worse with time. Thranduil groaned. If Lassiel was here, he could quietly ask her for some medicine without anyone's knowledge, but she was at Forlindon, as far west from the East Fort as possible.
Thranduil wondered if he should change his plans and travel with the king to the Grey Havens where this year's New Year celebration will take place. The king planned to spend the rest of the year at the Grey Havens until the Meeting of the Council.
The past four centuries had been peaceful and the Council didn't see a reason to gather too often. Now, they only met for a month in Autumn. Most of the councilors remained at Forlindon, but the few closest to the king gathered here to hunt together prior to the New Year, the reason Lord Cirdan, along with Lammaeg and Celebrimbor, was here at the fort.
The pain pulsed again. Thranduil rubbed at his arm furiously until it calmed again. Either he had to change his plan or ask Master Nestadion for some medicine, and that, he was loath to do. Thranduil did not want to alert the king's physician of his condition.
Thranduil stuffed the last item into his pack and headed to the stable. He was to meet Aron at Durion's place. Durion said he had a surprise to share with them. Perhaps it was time he told someone about the dragon blood. He knew he could trust both Aron and Durion. They were Thranarin's sworn brothers. Thranduil knew they would die for him if there was ever such a need.
As Thranduil greeted his horse, a rider burst into the courtyard. He wore the silver and white of Lord Cirdan's colors.
The Elf shouted at the groom as soon as he pulled his horse to a stop. "Where's Lord Cirdan? Where's the king?"
The horse's gray fur was shiny and drenched in sweat, its breath fiery and rough like the screeching of that mad troll whose backside had been on fire. Thranduil frowned. He was guilty of occasionally driving his horses to a near exhaustion, but never intentionally. No Elf would.
Thranduil scrutinized the rider. He was fully armed and the gray cape he wore were dusty and sprinkled with… Thranduil opened his eyes wide. Black blood.
"What happened?" Thranduil approached the warrior. When the rider picked up his head, Thranduil recognized the face. He was an officer under Aron.
"Officer Harnen, didn't you accompany Commander Aron to Taurobel? Something happened?"
"Ah, Captain Thranduil," the warrior greeted with a salute, then dropped his eyes. There was something in the way he did it that bothered Thranduil.
"What is it? Something happened?"
The officer nodded. "We were attacked. I must see Lord Cirdan and the king right away, Sir."
"Come with me," Thranduil abandoned his horse and his pack and led Harnen to the king's chamber where he knew the lords were gathered for a drink before the start of the evening feast.
The Royal Guards were sprawled outside the chamber of the king, grouped around Belegor who had arrived yesterday to take over Thranduil's duties. They were laughing until they saw Thranduil. They straightened, returning to their posts.
"Oropherion. I thought you left already," Belegor said as he rose up from the seat carved under a window.
"We need to see the king."
Belegor opened his mouth to speak when he met Thranduil's eyes. Without another word, he turned then opened the door, following after Thranduil and Harnen.
In the chamber, Lord Lammaeg was talking to Lord Gilmagor and Celebrimbor while the king and Elrond were engaged with Lord Cirdan.
As soon as he saw Lord Cirdan, the officer kneeled, his head bent. Lord Cirdan frowned as he approached Harnen.
"Why are you here, Harnen? Shouldn't you be at Taurobel?"
The officer's head sank lower.
"I am sorry, my lord." Harnen's voice trembled.
Thranduil gritted his teeth when pain slashed through his arm. His heart boomed, and Thranduil clenched his fists to keep himself steady.
"We were attacked, my lord."
"Attacked? By what?" Cirdan asked. The king and Elrond turned, and Lord Gilmagor, Celebrimbor and Lammaeg moved closer to Harnen.
"Orcs. They came out of nowhere. Our visit to Taurobel was routine. We were just there to deliver supplies and everything went smoothly. The village was well-fortified. We did not suspect… did not expect." The officer dropped his head again.
"The villagers?" The king stepped forward. "What happened to the villagers there?"
"Villagers are fine, Sir. No casualties. They did not attack the village."
Everybody in the room let out a breath, except Thranduil. His eyes never left Harnen who tried to look anywhere but at him.
"Your warriors?" Cirdan frowned.
"Wounded, but alive. But one, the new one, Gwinion. He was…taken."
Silence filled the chamber.
"Taken? What do you mean 'taken'?" Celebrimbor asked. "Give us the details, soldier."
"I took three warriors with me to go across to the east side of the river. One of the night guards said someone cut the ropes anchoring the boats and they went missing. We thought it was the elflings in the village. They liked to play pranks. The forest across the river was quiet. We did not think…" Harnen shook his head. "We were laughing. Nothing ever happened there before. They came out of nowhere. So many of them. They grabbed Gwinion and me. We were overwhelmed. They just fell on top of us. They hoisted us up on their shoulders…"
"What happened to Commander Aron, Harnen?" It surprised Thranduil how calm his voice sounded.
Harnen looked away.
"Harnen?" Lord Cirdan's face paled.
"Why would Commander Aron be at Taurobel?" the king asked with a frown.
"He was off duty." Cirdan glanced at Thranduil. "He was to join Thranduil there. They were to meet an old friend." Lord Cirdan took in a sharp breath.
Thranduil felt Elrond move over to his side.
"There's more, isn't there?" Thranduil stepped closer to the Sindarin officer.
"Commander Aron had left the village earlier to see a friend nearby. But, he must have seen us or heard us. I was struggling to get free when Commander Aron was suddenly there. He cut down those creatures, the ones who grabbed me. But there were so many. They overwhelmed him, then carried him off. It was supposed to be me…"
The room darkened. Thranduil could not breathe.
Calendar-As before, the calendar will be in Shire format, but the Elven characters will speak of the seasons in Elvish calendar which is divided into 6 parts: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Fading, Winter and Stirring. Except for the Summer and Winter which are 72 days, rest of them are 54 days. First day of spring is Yestare which is the first day of the new year. In all my stories, Yestare is always April 1st.
Folindon (Sindarin, North Lindon)—Lindon north of the Gulf of Lune where most of the Noldor resided. Most Sindar resided in Harlindon, South Lindon.
For those who have forgotten or did not read Part 1, the list of OCs:
Gilmagor: Lord Commander of Gil-galad's army, renowned among the Noldor for his skill with arms and military tactics.
Lammaeg: Chief Coucilor and Gil-galad's maternal uncle. Belegor is his son who shares captaincy of the Royal Guards with Thranduil. Lady Lalaithwen is his daughter.
Aron: son of Lord Cirdan's niece. Grew up with Thranduil's brother, Thranarin, who died at Menegroth during the attack by the Noldor.
Lassiel, Mistress Taurien, and Nestadion are Noldorin healers under Gil-galad.
Erfaron and Cellon mentioned by Elrond were officers who trained with Elrond and Thranduil