Road to Taurobel. March 26, SA 542
THRANDUIL pulled over once the trees obscured the sight of the fort.
"Why are we stopping?" Elrond, who was following close behind, moved his horse to Thranduil's side.
"Go back, Elrond. Any further and this will be more than insubordination. This can become… ugly for both of you." And Thranduil did not want that. He knew what Gil-galad meant to Elrond. And even if that was not so, their duty demanded obedience to the king. For Gil-galad, it would be one thing for him to disobey, but another when it was Elrond. "Let it be enough that you helped me. Why did you anyway?"
"You were alone and in need."
Thranduil's heart contracted, and he sucked in a quick breath as Elrond's answer stung his eyes and nose.
Elrond smiled brilliantly. "And the king, he is more generous of heart than you think. Let's go." Elrond turned, but Thranduil held onto Elrond's rein.
"Thank you, Elrond, but this is enough. Go back."
Elrond turned, his gray eyes calm as steel. There was Elwing in those evening-gray eyes, and Thranduil realized nothing he could say would change the Half-elven's mind.
"Don't blame me later."
"I already blame you." Elrond snickered.
Thranduil's lips quivered.
"All right then, stubborn ass."
Once they were far enough from the fort to be seen, they flew over the path before them. They didn't bother trying to hide their tracks. Speed was of an essence, and both knew that any pursuer on their tail would know that they would have gone to Taurobel.
Thranduil whispered to his horse, begging and asking it not to stop, although he knew horses wouldn't be able to maintain their speed for long. But, if he could, he wanted to place as much distance as he could before the Silmacils were on their tail.
And those two Silmacils were not ones to trifle with, Thranduil knew the moment he saw them. So, he gave up his first plan of convincing the Royal Guards to allow him some air. He knew all of them and Thranduil was confident he could convince them to let him out on the battlements.
The fort stood at the junction where the two arms of the river met. Coming down from the mountains, the currents of the waters were rough and swift. And the tower which opened to the battlements was tall. They would not expect him to jump from that height of the battlements into the churning river. But Thranduil had done worse and survived. And Aron's life was at stake. He would have jumped into the river of fire if it meant there was even a slight chance he could escape.
Thranduil slowed the pace when he heard the horse complain between his rough breath.
"Fine. Fine. We'll take a rest," he said to the horse. He needed to stop now anyhow. He tried to ignore it, but the itch that started soon after they left the fort had begun to burn.
Thranduil veered off from the road then slowed to head into the edge of the forest where he knew there was a small brook that ran down from the nearby hill to join the river.
"What are you doing?" Elrond slowed and moved closer. The sun was rising, and the forest was a faint green of budding leaves. "We should slow, but we cannot stop. We need to get much distance as possible." Elrond breathed hard just as his horse did.
"It is usually you who insist we need to let the horses rest." Thranduil chuckled.
"We usually don't have a pair of Silmacils coming after us."
Thranduil jumped off the horse when he spotted the shallow brook.
"Our horses are angry with us as is, and I have to get this helmet off. I can't take it anymore."
Thranduil ripped the helmet off his head, threw it on the ground before he dunked his head in the stream. It was itching and burning like ants crawling all over it.
When he lifted his head out of the water, Thranduil found drops of dark blue water stain his hands. He grabbed his hair. His silvery gold locks had turned bright blue.
"Elrond?"
Thranduil turned and found Elrond stepping backward. The Half-elven blinked rapidly. The look on the face of Elrond said enough.
"What did you do? Why is my hair blue?"
"Ah, as you know, I am not very good with herbs and potions. And I was in a hurry. When I was mixing them, they looked black."
"Elrond Earendilion!"
The Half-elven laughed nervously. "We don't have much time. We have to find Aron, don't we? And really, the color shouldn't last. It will fade soon." Elrond looked around. "Oh, look. Lemon drops." Elrond pointed to a dying clump of a thorn bush.
Bright yellow berries, wrinkled and shriveled, clung to the dry stalks. "These have acidic qualities, I believe. As you know I am just learning about the herbs and plants. This could neutralize the bright color." Elrond gathered the berries and mashed them between his palms.
"You see all the yellow pigment? It will bring it back to its original color or at the least make it golden again."
"Are you sure?"
"No, but it can't be worse, right? Now bend over."
Elrond dipped his hand into the water, then poured the yellow liquid onto his hair, but not even a moment passed when the Half-elven stopped with, "Ai, Elbereth!"
"What?"
But, Thranduil could not get up. Elrond pulled his head over to the water and dunk it, rubbing the hair vigorously with both his hands.
"What's happening?" Thranduil picked up his head once the pressure of Elrond's hands left.
Elrond grabbed the helmet, then moved over to the horses which were nudging each other after drinking water. "I think the horses are rested, don't you?"
Thranduil grabbed his wet locks, still dripping water. What he saw made his jaw drop.
"Elrond, why does my hair look red?" It wasn't red. Rather, it was pale crimson, the color of many wildflowers that bloom in the spring.
"It is too wet. Let it dry. Then, it may become paler and you wouldn't even notice it. I am sure… I think."
"Elrond!" Thranduil shot up from where he sat on his knees, wincing from the sudden shot of pain in his arm. He could choke the Half-elven, but as he looked up at Elrond, he saw what he dreaded.
Hurriedly, Thranduil grabbed the bow behind his back, threading the string at the same time.
"What are you doing?" Elrond wrenched the bow out of Thranduil's hands before he could let an arrow fly.
"Damn it, Elrond. That was a messenger bird from the fort."
"I know, but you can't kill it."
"I wasn't going to kill it, stupid. I was going to disorient it. They are onto us."
"Better move." Elrond flew onto his horse and Thranduil followed. "The bird will be at the village before us. They will expect us."
"We are not going to Taurobel." Thranduil adjusted the speed of the horse into a fast trot.
"What? Where are we going then? We have to track from where they started. We don't have the information the soldiers from the village have."
"I know. But Durion would have gone after Aron. I know it. He would expect me. He would have left me something. Besides, Erfaron's Elves will be waiting for us with the order from the fort to detain us. I am certain; aren't you?"
In order not to tire the horses over much, they had to keep their pace even. The woodland was open and the growth on the floor was at a minimum, but with trees fallen during the winter and the number of stones and rock on the floor of the forest, they could not gallop through it without harming the horses.
When they were near the village, Thranduil made a sharp right turn and headed into a pine forest.
"Should we not leave the horses here or let them go a different direction to distract the Silmacils?"
"I thought of that. But there will be someone from the village who would know the location of Durion's house. It is about an hour's ride from here. On foot, we may lose precious time. Besides, we will go through the pine forest. There should be piles of pine needles on the ground. It will be hard for them to track us without seeking someone from the village first."
At the edge of the forest, Thranduil let the horses go, telling them to travel further up north before turning back toward the village.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the floor of the forest.
"Secure your pack on your back." Thranduil slung his pack, securing his sword to it.
"Aren't we at the house yet? Where is the house?"
Thranduil pointed upward at the large pine tree next to him. In this part of the forest, the pine trees were thick, tall, and grew close together.
"You must be kidding." Elrond looked up at the tree with dismay.
Thranduil chuckled, knowing how much Elrond disliked climbing and tree-walking pine trees. Compared to the oaks and beech trees with big spreads and sturdy branches, pines tended to be straight with narrow spreading branches which made jumping from one to the other difficult.
When Thranduil reached the first sturdy branch, he waited for Elrond.
"Don't tell me we climbed this one for the sake of the Silmacils."
"I don't want to take any chances."
Elrond groaned.
They jumped over to the next few trees until Thranduil heard the sound of rushing water. When the scent of bluebells was in the air, Thranduil dropped down onto a small glade next to a shallow waterfall where tiny purple blooms carpeted the grassy floor.
The last remaining sunlight brightened the clearing with its golden light.
"Nice spot." Elrond nodded approval as he looked about him. "I still don't see the house."
Thranduil pointed to a large stump of a dead pine behind Elrond. Twice as tall as Elrond, the upper part of the pine tree broke off and lay next to it. At least, that is what it would look like to Elrond and anyone else who didn't know what to look for.
"Look at the light falling on the tree stump and focus out." Thranduil pulled Elrond to a position. "You'll see it if you know what to look for."
Elrond's eyes widened.
"It's the enchantment. Durion learned how to build wood houses from the Silvan elves. Their construction blends into the forest. Quite interesting, don't you think?"
He and Aron had helped Durion build it. It was the first time he had built anything with his own hands. Aron and he had gathered the woods and dug up the clay from the stream. Durion put the materials together, weaving the spell he had learned from the Wood-elves.
Thranduil had planned to bring Elrond here one day. The Half-elven had met Durion when he first came to Lindon, but it was a cursory meeting with the Council as a part of the envoy from his father. Durion had gone back to his father and returned two decades ago to settle here for the time being.
"Three of us built it ourselves." Thranduil puffed out his chest.
"You helped in building that?"
"Yes, I did." Thranduil beamed. "See that pitched roof? I installed that."
"I didn't know you have a skill in building, Thranduil. I thought you mostly wrecked them."
"Ha, ha! You are so funny, El—" Thranduil stopped, and pulled out his bow. Elrond, being quick, took out his sword also and looked at Thranduil with a frown.
Thranduil lowered his voice.
"I saw a shadow. Someone is inside. If it was Durion, he would not have hidden from me." Thranduil pointed to the back of the building. "Another door at the back."
Once Elrond disappeared to the back of the building, Thranduil placed his back to the wall next to the front door of the house, a thick pine bark reinforced with pine plank. Thranduil placed his ear against the wall and listened. It was silent. And yet, he detected a presence.
Placing his dagger within easy reach, Thranduil kicked down the door with his bow at ready.
Inside was softly lit with the fading sunlight from above, but a shadow darted into the back room. Definitely not Durion. But not an Orc either.
"Come out!" Thranduil stashed the bow behind him and took out his dagger at ready.
The shadow stepped out with a bow threaded with an arrow, ready to be released. It was a Green she-elf in her brown leather armor and short bow. Thranduil put away his dagger, but the bow in her hand remained taut and ready.
"What? You are going to shoot an Elf?" Thranduil spoke in Silvan tongue.
"You no Elf. Why your head crimson?" She replied in Sindarin.
"When did having a red hair made an Elf into an enemy?"
"I know what my kins look like. No Elf I know has a crimson hair and that color eyes. You changeling, not Elf. I'm not fooled."
Thranduil felt his left arm twitch as a pain shot through it. "Drop your bow, damn you. Or you won't like what I'll do next."
The woman stepped back but aimed her bow straight at Thranduil's heart.
"Excuse the strange colors, mistress." Elrond stepped out of an open door to Thranduil's right. "He can be an ass at times, but he is an Elf, all right. More so than I am."
The huntress moved her bow to Elrond but slackened the hold.
Thranduil tapped his foot. He cranked his neck to one side and wondered whether he should wrench that bow away from her. The Half-Elven sheathed his sword and raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
"We are wearing the King's uniform." Elrond smiled as he pointed to his then glanced at Thranduil's gray leathers. "Well, at least, I am.
"Armor can be stolen," she said, but she dropped her bow.
"We are looking for Durion," said Elrond as Thranduil glared at the Green Elf.
"What do you want with him?" she asked. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"
"Your house?" Thranduil frowned. "This is Durion's house. Aron and I helped him build it."
The woman cocked her head, then scrutinized him up and down.
"You Thranduil? Lord Oropher's son?"
"Who is asking?" Thranduil regarded the tiny, muscular woman. While tall for one of the Nandor, she barely reached Thranduil's shoulder.
"Eryn, daughter of Tathar and wife of Durion."
Thranduil could not help his jaw drop to the ground. It had been less than a decade since he last saw Durion. Could things have changed so much in a decade?
And as far as he knew, Durion liked delicate women. But the woman in front of him was anything but. Her dark brown hair was braided tightly against her head into two long braids down her back. Each warrior braid was tied with leather strings and adorned with soft feathers of young birds.
Her armor was similar to what Beril wore, but while Beril had willowy and delicate features, there was nothing delicate about Eryn. Her bare upper arms were corded with muscle, and it was apparent she was battle-hardened. In fact, unlike Beril who had been a young elf born in this Age, Eryn was as old as Thranduil, perhaps even older by a few decades.
"Congratulations!" Elrond smiled widely. "I met Durion a century ago, and he was not bonded then. I did not know he was married." Elrond shot Thranduil a look. "You never told me he got married."
"Durion said you will come. He said you have a hair like golden moonlight. He should have said hair like the flowers." The she-elf looked at him, grinning, her eyes twinkling with obvious amusement.
Thranduil narrowed his eyes.
"What else has Durion said about our friend here?" Elrond smiled weakly.
"That he looks like Araw, bites like Morgoth, and talks like Mandos."
"What did he mean by talking like Mandos?" Elrond glanced at Thranduil.
"He doesn't." The she-elf laughed out aloud.
Thranduil could feel heat pump through his veins.
"Settle down, Thranduil," Elrond cooed next to him, patting Thranduil's back. "There's nothing untrue in what Durion said." Elrond grinned ear to ear.
"How do I know you are telling the truth?" Thranduil could tell, as with all Elves that she was married by the gleam in her eyes, but that didn't mean she was bonded to Durion.
"He said you'll question my words." She pulled out a chain from inside her armor. On a gold chain, there hung a familiar signet ring, an ax head on a handle of budding Oak branch. Durion's family ring. Now that he was the sole survivor of his family, the ring that had once belonged to Mablung now belonged to him. Thranduil knew Durion would never willingly part with that ring.
"Where's Durion?"
"Gone to rescue his friend."
"Did he leave something for me?"
"Yes. Me!" The woman smiled brightly.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." The woman turned then picked up a traveling pack. "I thought you come in the morning when the soldiers come. I ask and they said you not coming. Durion said to wait for you no matter what I hear, so I waited." The woman picked up a forest green cape hanging on a wall. "Let's go."
"Wait." Elrond blocked the woman. "The night will be here soon. Isn't it better to wait until the morning?"
"We are already more than a day behind my husband. And I fear the Orcs were in a hurry."
"You were tracking with him?" Thranduil asked.
"I was with Durion when he left yesterday, as soon as one of the soldiers left for the fort. I accompanied him all the way to the edge of the forest when he sent me back to wait for you. He said he'll leave me a mark to follow from there."
Thranduil glanced at Elrond. "Let's go then."
"Wait. We should reassess and think about…."
"No time, Elrond. We'll do that as we move."
"But, Baldor and Thoron…"
"If we keep moving and stay ahead of them, they will not catch up to us. And I cannot see why they would stop us once we catch up to the Orcs."
"But it will be dark soon and this is a forest. I know we are at the end of Stirring and there is not much undergrowth, but we could easily get ourselves lost once the darkness sets in."
"We have about two hours before the sunsets and four hours until it becomes too dark for us to see." Eryn shrugged. "I would rather we go as far as we can." The Green Elf threw Thranduil a filled leather pouch. "I only expected you," she turned to Elrond, "but not you. You are?"
"Ah, excuse me for forgetting to introduce myself. I am Elrond, son of Earendil."
The Green-elf raised her eyebrows. "I didn't know Durion had such esteemed friend among his acquaintances."
Thranduil rolled his eyes, noticing how her voice turned more respectful.
"Let's go then. We need to gain as much ground as we can." Thranduil turned to go when Elrond pulled him aside.
"We can't just take her with us, Thranduil," he whispered.
Thranduil glanced at Eryn who was filling another leather pouch with supplies.
"She tracked these Orcs which means we need not go back to the village for the tracks. She would save us a lot of time."
"Thranduil, she is your friend's mate. This is a dangerous mission. Do you really want to risk her safety? These are Orcs that we have to deal with."
"If you didn't notice, she is not one of our ladies who are protected from violence. I wager she has seen more battles than you, Elrond. In any case, we could use a good archer. There are no better archers in the world than the Green Elves. Even Beleg's master was one of the Nandor."
Elrond pressed his lips together into a thin line.
"Besides, if Baldor and Thoron are on our tail, it is best that we keep moving. They are only about two hours behind us."
"We going?" When she was done packing another leather pouch, Eryn handed it to Elrond and picked up her pack again.
"Come on, Elrond." Thranduil slapped Elrond's arm. "We need all the help we can get."
If truth be told, Thranduil would rather that he was on his own. Even Elrond sometimes felt like extra weight. Too many times Elrond nagged needlessly, but he trusted the Half-elven with his life. The woman, however, Thranduil knew nothing about her. And trust didn't come easily for him. But Aron needed him to be practical now.
Once they were out in the open, the woman took to a run. She was like a young deer and sprinted at incredible speed up and down the hill, through the forest, and down the valley.
"Ai, Belegaer, she is not human." Elrond huffed as he grabbed Thranduil's offered hand after running up a steep mountainside.
Thranduil glanced at Eryn who waited for them at the apex of the hilltop. He was used to running through the forest and valleys, but even he had a hard time keeping up with the Green Elf.
"I thought King's soldiers are mighty warriors." Eryn's eyes were laughing.
"Noldor are skilled swordsmen, but their training does not involve running up and down a mountainside. They have horses for that. Besides, Elrond is wearing plate armor, unlike us." Thranduil looked down at the woman, disliking the laughter in her voice.
"Well, there are no horses here." The woman snickered before she turned and pointed to a valley below where the woodland ended.
A flat plain spread wide before a sparse forest of pines and spruce dotted over rougher and higher terrain. "That is where I left Durion."
With the sun behind the Blue Mountains on their backs, it was already hard to see, but Thranduil estimated at least another good three hours on foot. He glanced at Elrond who was clearly exhausted. And, he was tired, too.
"Soon, it will be too dark." Elrond stepped next to Thranduil and looked down. "We need to find a place to rest."
The woman nodded. "Perhaps somewhere to rest down there before it gets too dark to see." She pointed to the valley. "Among the grass?"
"I rather stay here in the high ground. It is easier to defend if we were to be attacked." Thranduil looked around.
They were standing on a large smooth rock. Nearby, there was no growth. Only several large boulders, half-buried on the ground, stood around it. If there's a threat, it would have to come from below, and they could use those boulders as a shield.
Elrond took a seat on the rock. "Hopefully, the Orcs are too busy being chased to think about attacking."
"Do you cook?" Eryn sat down next to Elrond and handed Elrond a pan. "We may not get a chance to eat anything warm for a while."
"Why can't you cook?" Thranduil snatched the pan and handed it back to Eryn. Durion probably already told her that he was a terrible cook, Thranduil gathered by how she didn't ask him.
"Well, do the women of Sindar and Noldor cook?" Eryn asked.
Thranduil knew what she was asking. Normally, women baked and men cooked. Mostly. But, at the barracks at the White City, the main cook had been an elderly female.
"Durion cooks at my house." Eryn shrugged.
"Well, I am not Durion and neither is Elrond."
"I don't mind," Elrond said taking the pan from Eryn's hand. "I love to cook."
"We shouldn't use fire or light anyhow. It would be like announcing our presence to everyone else out there." Thranduil scanned the dark valley below. Everything was quiet, not a sound could be heard.
The night fell like a mist down the valley, sweeping the trees and blotting out all the colors. It was as if there was no one in the world except the three of them.
The sky filled with thousands of stars. They didn't know who started first, but they sang, softly at first, but as the night deepened and the silver twinkle of the stars glittered, their song rose fiercely in the dark, intermingled into one melody, in three different Elven tongues, Silvan, Sindarin and Quenya, but one music and in one heart. They sang to Elbereth, the giver of the light and the listener of their woes.
And Thranduil prayed that he will find Aron alive.
Mablung (Sindarin, heavy hand)—Captain of Doriath under King Thingol. He is one of two (other being Beleg) most well known Sindarin warriors from Doriath. He died at Menegroth defending the treasury (which contained the Silmaril Luthien brought) when the Dwarves attacked and sack the city. In my story, he is Durion's uncle (more about that later)
Beleg (Sindarin, mighty)—captain and march warden of Doriath along with Mablung. He is known for his unmatched skill in archery. He was killed by Turin unwittingly while trying to rescue Turin from the Orcs. Read more about him from Children of Hurin.
Araw (Sindarin, Orome)—Huntsman of the Valar. It was he who discovered the Elves first in the Middle-earth and told the Valar of them. He also led them to the West. He loves horses, hounds and all trees and flowers, and is known for his terrible wrath. He is referred also as Tauron, Lord of the Forest.
Morgoth (Sindarin, Black Foe)—Refers to Melkor, the first Dark Lord and Sauron's chosen master.
Mandos (Quenya, Castle of Custody)—refers to Namo, the Doomsman of the Valar who keeps the souls of the dead.
Beril—my OC from Part 1 of the story, Green Elf, spouse of Astarno, a Noldorin warrior and a follower of Maedhros.
Elbereth (Sindarin, star queen)—refers to Varda, the queen of the Valar and wife of Manwe, the most beloved of all the Valar by the Elves.