MAIRON smiled. There was always some doubt, but things have worked out so much better than he had hoped.
"Thranduil and I have been waiting for you."
"What have you done to Thranduil?" Elrond took out his sword. The mix-breed tried to sound normal, but Mairon noticed Elrond's face was rigid and devoid of blood.
"I have done nothing to him. He has only answered my command just as Rusco did." Mairon stretched out his hand. "Rusco, come and kneel before me."
Like a good wolf, the former Silmacil moved over to Mairon's side and kneeled, his head bent. Thankfully, there was no resistance nor the hesitance that he had shown when commanded to kill that Skin-changer.
Mairon had tightened Rusco's gold collar, the one he wore under his cape, cutting off his breath, letting the Silmacil warrior claw for breath.
How dare he to refuse to execute my command?
That hesitation had allowed that damnable bear to escape. He had used pain effectively to punish, but it seemed pain had less effect on Rusco as time went on. In the use of his tongue, Rusco was obedient, but when it came to the use of his sword, the Silmacil still hesitated to follow orders. He might have to recalibrate Rusco's gold collar.
"You do see now, how obedient my slave is?" Mairon petted Rusco's head.
The look of outrage on Elrond was priceless. It eased his anger at the failed attempt to subjugate that bear chief. Men were easy to influence, but Mairon had not expected the fire to affect the effectiveness of his collar.
It didn't matter, though. Skuld had been eager to seize power. And the promise of wealth and the opportunity to take Bjorn's granddaughter for his own were all it took to convince Skuld to betray his own chief and to attack the Black Bears. There had been no need for Mairon to expend any dragon blood or a gold collar.
"What have you done to Rusco? He is a Silmacil. He couldn't…what have you done to him?"
"Why would you think that I needed to do anything to make Rusco and Thranduil work for me?"
"Thranduil?" Elrond's face crumpled. It was so easy to read this mix-breed. "You didn't know? Both Rusco and Thranduil belong to me."
Elrond shook his head, slowly at first, then firmly. "I don't believe you. You are a liar!"
"Is Rusco not at my feet? What would you say if I can make Thranduil stab you in the heart? Will you believe me then?
"He will never hurt me."
"Ah, you naïve, trusting fool. You may trust him, but does he trust you? Has he allowed you the glimpse of his heart and soul? Words are easy to say, but the acts are something else. Oh, I am sure you have. You are like the sky; one only needs to look up to know its condition. But Thranduil, he is earth. You never know exactly what you are stepping on, even when you think you do."
"I know him better than you." Elrond's strained words came through his clenched teeth.
Seeing the trace of pain reflected in Elrond's eyes, Mairon knew he had hit the right spot. His long experience with both the greater and lesser beings had taught him the fragility of trust, that it takes forever to build, but only a moment to destroy.
"Do you now? Then, I suppose he told you that he drank Uluch's blood?"
Elrond's face crumpled, his eyes wide, the brows furrowed.
"Ah, he did not tell you, did he?"
Mairon was guessing, but he was almost certain that Thranduil had not shared much of himself with Elrond. The Sinda knew betrayal. And for the betrayed, trust was too bitter, too painful because to be betrayed again would hurt too much. It was better to keep things in and never share what was in the heart.
"Back in that Dwarven ruin, he drank the dragon's blood. She controls him, and I control her. You know what that means, don't you, Elrond? I wonder what else he has not told you?"
"You are lying. I will not listen to any of your lies, you monster."
"Believe what you will, then, boy. You could ask Thranduil yourself. But I suppose it is a hard thing for someone like you who grew to love your abductors, the killers of your mother and her people."
"Do not talk about them. You know nothing of them."
"Oh, I must disagree, you naïve boy. I know Maedhros very well, in fact. You have known him about what? Just over a decade? I have known him personally for near three decades. While he was at Angband, we had been marvelous friends, he and I. I know everything about him, from the frizzy tips of his auburn hair to his very toes." Mairon smiled darkly. "Stubborn, he was. But in the end, he delivered."
Mairon almost laughed out loud at the look on Elrond of confusion and doubt warring with his desire to believe and trust. The fool.
"I will not listen to your lies."
"As you wish. It would be a tragedy for you to learn that your so-called adopted father delivered the twins, your uncles, the last direct heirs to Thingol Greycloak, to our hands."
"Lies!"
"Ah, yes. Your king's library has it that Celegorm's warriors left your uncles in the Orc-infested forest to die and that Maedhros tried to find them. I wonder who told the writer that? One of the Feanorians? Not any Sindar. I doubt any surviving Sindar would have told him that. Have you never wondered why we did not try to attack them when Maedhros and his brothers attacked Doriath? You learned strategy under Gilmagor so you should know Feanorians were at their weakest just after their attack at Menegroth. Yet, we did not do anything when it was a chance for us to destroy them. You never wondered why? Or questioned why Celegorm's warriors, the bloodthirsty killers who murdered women and children, abandoned the king's heirs in a forest instead of killing them? You think it was just a sudden emergence of mercy or twisted cruelty? Have you ever given thought to how a whole army of skilled warriors could not find two young children who were abandoned just a moment ago in the woods?"
"Maedhros is not like that!" Elrond shook his head, his eyes burning like two logs on a fire. "He didn't know about it. He didn't. And he tried to find them."
"Of course, of course. He was only the lord of the most efficient and strongest Elven army on Middle-earth. How could he have possibly known that some of the warriors dragged away the princes, the ones he could have exchanged for the jewel he wanted so badly. Makes a lot of sense, indeed."
"You slanderous, lying fiend!" With an earsplitting battle cry, Elrond struck. With unthinkable speed, Rusco parried. The swords trembled, pushing against each other.
Mairon swallowed a sigh of relief, glad that the first thing he had instilled into Rusco's mind was his safety. The Silmacil warrior was to guard him and obey him above all else. Mairon did not fear most swords, but many Noldorin swords and some of the Dwarven-made swords cast with Elven spells were dangerous to his physical form. And Mairon had forgotten Elrond's strength of will and had allowed the mixed blood to stand too close to him.
"Rusco, out of my way!" Elrond hissed as he struggled against the strength of the Silmacil warrior. Their swords screamed as they fought for dominance over each other, then with a final thrust, they jumped back.
Rusco landed back in front of Mairon.
"You can leave me now, Rusco."
Elrond had been too close and his movement too sudden, but he won't be surprised again.
"Go! Take care of those two Silmacils. No mistake this time." Mairon clenched his hand into a fist to tighten the gold collar as a reminder.
Rusco grabbed his collar, teeth clenched. When Mairon let go, he bowed, flew up onto a ridge to one side of the chamber and disappeared.
"What did you do to him? Is that how you control him, with the collar?"
"Oh, you mean that gold accessory? Just a mark to let others see the special favor I have bestowed on them. I do not want my Orcs treating them like a common soldier. They are my prized servants, after all."
Elrond's eyes slanted upward, his eyes flaming as he leveled his sword.
"Was it something I said?" Mairon let his lips curl up, careful to keep enough distance away from the Half-elven.
"I will not hear your slander. No amount of lies you spew, I will heed. I know Thranduil. I know his heart."
"Yes, you trust blindly like a child who believes everything he is told. No wonder Thranduil does not trust you. Perhaps you do not know Thranduil as well as you think, son of Earendil. But come. You will ask him yourself."
ELROND blinked and the room changed, or the walls swung. He could not tell what exactly happened, but he was in a different chamber. The ice wall that stood before him had disappeared, or that was how it seemed to Elrond. That vile servant of Morgoth stepped back into the wall of fogs and now everything was covered in the mist.
The Half-elven looked about him. The thick fog made it impossible to gauge the size of the space, and there was an odd silence about the chamber.
And where did Rusco go? Elrond knew Sauron meant Thoron and Baldor when he told Rusco to take care of the 'two Silmacils.' The Half-elven took a quick breath. He won't think about them. Thoron and Baldor were formidable warriors. They were more experienced than Elrond and Thranduil combined. He will trust that they will take care of themselves.
Now that he thought of it, even before they entered the cave, he should have caught the lie. Rusco said he was here five days ago but Sadron came early afternoon today, that he had taken his pack so that he had no medicine or food for five days. The inconsistency should have warned him.
I should have known, Elrond berated himself, but he thought Rusco misspoke, that Sadron took his pack earlier. Now that he thought about it, that did not make sense either. Elrond realized that he must have filled in the inconsistencies and didn't pay attention because it was Rusco, one of the Silmacils, who said it. Likewise, he had dismissed the unease he felt the moment he was examining Rusco's wound because he had assumed it was a concern for Thoron.
This was the exact thing Lord Gilmagor had warned him about when they were talking about weaknesses.
Elrond inhaled a long breath and allowed his senses to feel all around. Lord Gilmagor's words rushed into his mind.
You have senses that are sharper and clearer than most, but you do not use them out of fear that you will overstep other's boundary. Don't be afraid to use your gift, Elrond. It was given to you for a reason. Do not fear your gift. What is important is that you use it responsibly.
Elrond let his senses reach out through the fog.
He would not listen to this deceiver, this Maia who weaves lies like webs of a spider, this servant of Melkor.
Using his senses, Elrond found that he was in a chamber where the wall behind him was made of stone covered in ice. And somewhere in front of him, there was an ice block. Despite the chill, there was warm air radiating from the area in front of him. This room was warmer, not as cold as the chambers he had passed.
Snap! Snap!
A loud sound of a snapping of fingers made Elrond look up. A sudden wind rose and the fog receded just enough to reveal two tall columns, one of the rocks and the other of ice.
On the tallest column, a pile of rocks three stories high, Sauron sat on a throne of fire which cast a reddish light onto the chamber. The second column had a rock base but was thickly covered in solid ice. On top of the ice base, two large ice blocks sat. And behind the column with the ice blocks was a pool of lava. Next to it were a stone table and various tools a blacksmith would have. It looked to be a forge of sorts.
It was strange to see a pool of lava so close to a room full of ice.
"Let us begin, shall we?" The treacherous Maia smiled, his eyes gleaming.
"What are you planning now, Deceiver?"
"Oh, you will see it soon enough."
Sauron raised his hands as he sang a song in words that Elrond could not understand. The ground trembled as a deep groove formed at the lip of the lava pool, circled the base of the ice column, then formed a deep depression all around where Elrond stood, carving a fifteen feet wide circle around Elrond and one small ice lump. As the channel formed, the lava from the pool flowed into it.
Elrond swallowed. His chest tightened as if a boulder pressed down on it. It looked exactly like the circular stage of stone he saw in his dream.
Please, Elbereth. Please, Elrond prayed. Don't let it be true. Elrond looked about him, terrified he will glimpse the pale crimson head.
"Thranduil Oropherion! He is all yours." Sauron called out. Out of the fog, a figure jumped down onto the stone island, furthest from where Elrond stood. He landed his one knee on the ground. His head bent. The pale crimson of his hair looked deep red under Sauron's firelight.
Elrond felt as if they were underwater, in the lake under the King's Tower. Every movement seemed as if it slowed, taking hundreds of years. He could hardly breathe as if all air was sucked out of his lungs.
Thranduil got up, his every motion painfully slow. He wore the same gray leather armor Elrond saw him last, except around his neck, there was that golden collar he had seen in his dream.
Elrond's eyes misted. The pain in his heart made each breath difficult. Elrond tightened his hold on his sword. He wanted to ask why but his lips would not move. Elrond shook his head. Slowly at first, then resolutely.
"No," he managed to say. "I won't believe it. I won't. I will not fight you." Elrond threw his blade. It flew over the expanse of the stage and fell into the lava.
Elrond looked at Thranduil. The Sinda's face was a stone, cold, unchanging, and unreadable.
"I will not fight you. If you have truly lied to me all these years, then kill me and be done with it. But I won't believe it. I know you, Thranduil. This is not you. Do not let that servant of Morgoth deceive you, Thranduil. You can fight this."
Clap, clap, clap.
At the sound of the thunderous clapping, Elrond looked up. Sauron leaned against his throne, clapping his hands.
"Very noble of you, Elrond, son of Earendil. So trusting and firm. I feared you would behave like this which is why I prepared this." Sauron pointed to the ice column with the ice blocks on top.
The lava had pooled below the ice column, melting the thick ice, revealing the stone beneath. The thick ice that had covered the stone was melting and as it melted, it became transparent. Elrond could see that the stone core of the column thinned as it went up. The further the column went, there was less stone and more ice so that the very top, which held the giant ice blocks, consisted only of ice.
Sauron whistled a tune, and another thin stream of lava added to the pool of lava. As the stone base heated, more ice began to melt. What was a slow drip down the stone base became a thin stream, falling onto the hot, bubbling lava underneath.
Elrond was about to question when the front side of the large ice cubes which faced Elrond shimmered, turning into bars. And through the ice bars, chained inside the blocks of ice were two familiar faces.
"Lord Gilmagor! Commander Aron!" Elrond called out, unable to keep his shock at seeing them imprisoned.
He had expected Aron to be captured, but Lord Gilmagor? Elornd had hoped whatever Rusco had said to him about capturing the Silmacils was a lie.
"Elrond, my young friend. The longer you stand around and not fight, more ice will melt. But for each strike you land on Thranduil, I will lessen the lava accumulating under the column. Like this." Sauron waved his hand and a thin stream of lava moved back into the pool next to the forge. "You need not trust me. You can check it each time you land a strike."
Thranduil turned and glared at Sauron who shrugged. "I never said there will be no time limits. I am a busy Maia. And everybody needs incentive. Truth be told, I don't have all day to sit and watch fights. Now, let's begin, shall we?" Sauron rubbed his hands together, his face full of smiles.
"Don't…let Sauron manipulate you. Don't listen to him, Elrond. Thranduil." Lord Gilmagor's voice was shaky as he called out. "You two should not fight."
"Thranduil, stop this," Aron called out. "You can't fight Elrond. Not because of us. Lord Gilmagor and I rather die than see you two fight each other."
Elrond looked up at Gilmagor then Aron.
"Do you not see what he is doing? He is trying to divide us," Elrond said as he took a step closer to Thranduil.
But the Sinda drew his sword. It was an unfamiliar sword, not the one Thranduil used at Lindon. It was black in color and the blade hummed when it cleared its sheath. By the look and sound of it, Elrond could tell it was no ordinary sword.
"You will fight me when I don't even have a weapon? Come, Thranduil. This is not you."
Wordlessly, Thranduil walked over to a tall clump of ice near the edge of the stage and struck. It cut through the thick clump of ice as if the blade cut through the water, revealing two identical swords buried in it. Unlike Thranduil's black sword, they glowed like beams of light. Thranduil threw one of the blades to Elrond. The Half-elven caught it. Seeing it close, he realized he had seen it before in his dream, but also in the hands of Lord Gilmagor.
Elrond looked up at Lord Gilmagor. The elder Elf's eyes misted.
"Flit! Flit! Time flits!" Sauron waved his hand.
A stream of lava flowed back into the bottom of the ice column.
"My patience is running thinner than the sheets of metal right now." Sauron stomped and the lava pooling below the ice column flared and bubbled. The stream of water from the melting ice became heavier, like a shower after snow. The lava hissed as water fell on it, creating a coil of steam.
Thranduil moved back and readied his sword. When Elrond picked up his sword and stood facing him, Thranduil struck. Elrond parried. They exchanged several cuts and parries, the swords blurring in front of them at the speed. They barely moved, other than their arms, each conserving their movements.
As Thranduil's sword parried Elrond's, the Half-elven stepped forward for a quick lunge cut to Thranduil's wrist. Elrond's sword slashed the leather vambrace on Thranduil's forearm, a split second before Thranduil retracted his arm. The vambrace broke and fell to the floor.
"One point to the Half-Elf!" Sauron clapped. He raised his hand, drawing a stream of lava away from the ice column. The melting slowed.
"Thranduil, you better do a better job, or you will end up losing. That would be a pity, would it not?" Sauron leaned down as if it was for Thranduil's ears only. "You ought to know that if you lose, everyone loses."
Thranduil's face did not change, but the air about him changed. A look of determination entered his eyes that chilled Elrond. He knew that look, the kind of look his friend had when he became ruthless. Elrond had seen it when Thranduil returned every cadet's pranks, when Gilmagor demanded the seemingly impossible tasks to be done, and when they faced enemies like the Orcs.
"What does he mean by that?" Elrond asked, but Thranduil did not reply. Instead, he changed his stance.
It was an unfamiliar stance. Elrond knew it somehow related to the Sindarin technique, something he had seen during the sword competitions held at the Midsummer Festivities.
But that technique was used with short swords, mostly using a pair of blades. The black sword Thranduil held was too long to be used for such a technique.
"What are you doing?" Elrond asked, but Thranduil stepped closer, making it difficult for Elrond to swing his sword. Elrond stepped back, breaking his stance at the unexpected advance.
Instead of the hilt, Thranduil grabbed the blade part of the sword, he flipped his sword and whacked Elrond with the pommel. The unexpected strike on the chest piece of his plate armor forced Elrond to retreat. Elrond jumped back, but realized he was at the edge of the stage when he felt the heat of the lava behind his heel.
The pommel flew at him again. Elrond parried the strike, but Thranduil pulled the sword closer, flipping to the tip of the blade and struck Elrond's chest, using the blade tip like a spear.
Elrond twisted away before the blade almost impaled him on the second thrust. He blocked the third thrust, then jumped up, flipping in the air above Thranduil to land on the middle of the circular stage.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Elrond turned to face Thranduil, pawing at his plate armor. There was a hole there.
"Thranduil, stop this now or there will be blood on your hands," Aron shouted through the ice bars. "Please, do not do this. Not for me. And certainly not for that evil creature."
"Point for the Sinda of Doriath," Sauron shouted with glee. "I should warn you, Elrond. Do not rely on that mithril mail you wear under your plate armor. The sword in Thranduil's hand is made from Eol's meteorite. It will cut through metal just as easily as it does ice and stone. Just thought you should know." Sauron laughed out loud. "But, do not worry. The sword in your hands, I found, is as deadly as the black blade I have given to Thranduil. You are not at any disadvantage, although I can't say that of those two." Sauron pointed to the column next to him.
Elrond looked up. The ice column was melting. The melted water that used to drip now looked like a small, halting waterfall. The ice on top of the column that held up two ice blocks thinned noticeably, water trickling down the stone column as the lava hissed like a venomous snake.
The water fell, hissed, and turned into a pale mist. It crept up the dark stone column like a snake.
Elrond swallowed the dread that coiled inside his stomach. Doubt nagged at the edges, melting away the certainly he had felt about Thranduil. He wanted to believe. But like the ice that slowly melted away under the heat of the lava, Elrond found the certainty of his beliefs dripping through his hands.
"Thranduil, listen. Listen to me. He is just trying to divide us. If we work together, we can defeat him. We can stop him. You and I, we are brothers. We are warrior companions. Thranduil. Please."
Thranduil did not slack in his attack, forcing Elrond to defend, parry, block. Jump back, slash right, then left. Elrond retreated where he could but knew it could not last forever. He was already getting tired while Thranduil seemed unaffected. But then, Elrond could never tell with Thranduil. It was so hard to read him.
"Come, come, Elves. Let's finish this, shall we?." Sauron snapped and the lava around the ice column flared again.
Most of the ice on the stone column melted, revealing a triangular-shaped stone on top. The top portion where the ice blocks sat was solid ice, but now it thinned into a sheet no thicker than couple feet in width. The walls of the blocks were cracking. And through the walls, Elrond could see that both Gilmagor and Aron wore a chain that held their feet together with a large weight holding them down. Once the ice melted away, they would fall. Even if they survived the fall, could they survive the lava?
"You have ten minutes or so, Thranduil Oropherion!" Sauron got up from his throne. "Even I cannot stop time." The dark Maia pointed to the cracks forming on the ice cubes. "I suggest you finish it or there will be nothing left to hold anyone accountable."
Thranduil slashed away Elrond's sword, then pulled back.
Breathing hard, Elrond stepped back, grateful for the break. They were evenly matched. Elrond could not land any further strike on Thranduil, and he managed to avoid taking any further strike from the Sinda.
Thranduil walked over to the remaining white sword. The blade was still stuck in the ground. The Sinda pulled out the sword, and held out two full length swords, one black and one white.
Elrond knew Gilmagor was teaching his double wielding skills to Thranduil, but his friend never talked about the lessons, and Elrond had not asked. It had been two centuries, but Elrond had never seen Thranduil wield two swords before.
When Thranduil laid the swords on their sides, one on top of the other, and took a position, Lord Gilmagor groaned.
"No, Thranduil. That is not meant to be used to kill, not one of our own. You can't. I won't allow it."
Thranduil did not glance back. He seemed to utterly ignore both Aron and Lord Gilmagor as if they did not exist.
"Why…" Elrond could not speak, he was too busy blocking. Thranduil moved the two swords in unison, sometimes twisting the two blades, other times sending a powerful swing that made Elrond stumble. The movement was faster, steadier and more deadly. If Elrond doubted Thranduil's intention to kill him, he could no longer doubt it. Sinda did not bother with landing any cuts; he aimed directly at Elrond's heart.
Thranduil moved his swords, one in front, the other pulled back.
Gilmagor groaned. "No!" The elder Elf raised himself up, forcing Elrond to glance up. "Elrond, you can't block that. He means to kill you. Use the King's Gambit."
"What?" Elrond did not want to believe it. But this was Gilmagor.
King's Gambit, the most deadly move, taught only to the king and his heirs, was a move invented by Gilmagor to be used as a last resort to eliminate an unavoidable threat. It required a lot of inner power, would endanger anyone near him, even allies, but it would also eliminate a great number of enemies in one sweep.
Elrond looked around. The blast would affect Gilmagor and Aron, and Sauron. Gilmagor and Aron's ice blocks would be thrown over the lava. If their ice prisons held, there may be a chance for them. As for Sauron, his tower of stone would fall. It most likely would not kill Sauron but the blast would be powerful enough to temporarily incapacitate him, giving Elrond enough time to escape. But, Thranduil. He would be in the direct line of the blast. There would be no chance of his friend surviving it. Thranduil was too close.
Elrond shook his head.
"That is an order, Elrond," Gilmagor shouted. "It is the wish of your king. You must survive. It is your duty."
Elrond sent out the feelers, reaching out to Thranduil. He knew Thranduil would feel them and repel them. He was the only Sinda Elrond knew besides the elders who could repel his feelers. Like fingers of mist, they reached out. Elrond needed to know.
All sound stopped. They were under the dark waters of the lake again. Elrond's breath roughened as he turned to Aron. The Sindarin commander bowed his head as if in defeat. Gilmagor's shouts muffled.
Thranduil moved.
Elrond breathed in and gathered his light, the move required to generate King's Gambit. What would only take a second stretched out as if everyone was moving slowly, as if all of them were underwater.
Elrond's feelers swept Thranduil. His friend did not repel them. Instead, Elrond felt his friend reaching out, allowing Elrond's senses to reach into his mind.
Look up, Elrond.
Elrond blinked, letting a tear escape as Thranduil's words rang in his mind.
Thranduil leaped, his sword, shining white like a beam of moonlight, aimed directly at his heart.
Look up? Have hope? Was Thranduil asking him to trust, to have faith?
A/N: There is a drawing by a reader that I wanted to include with this chapter, but I don't know how to do it here, so for those who want to see it, check it out at the AO3. Same author Id, Arinariel and work title, Gold Rings and Green Woods. The artist, featheredmoonwings, has an art site at Tumblr under the-red-butterflies. Big thanks to the artist.