Forochel. April 7, SA 542

THRANDUIL prayed. To his mother. To Elbereth. To Manwe. To Eru. Anyone who would listen.

Please, let Elrond have faith in me. Trust me. Even if for this one time. Please.

To ask for trust, for faith, when you know you have not earned it seemed reprehensible to say the least. But he could not think about that now. No matter which path he took, all of them required trust. He needed to trust in Elrond's faith in him. His absolute trust. Because to everyone else's eyes, everything he planned to do would make him look guilty.

Once Sauron left him alone, Thranduil had carefully examined the black sword. It was superbly constructed with unmatched skill. He did not find anything to fault, but Sauron gave this to him. And Thranduil did not trust anything the evil Maia gave, neither his words nor the so called 'gift'.

He could not move out of the small space Sauron had placed him, on top of one of the stone towers. An invisible wall surrounded him. To calm his nerves, Thranduil went over the words of the bargain.

He had added only two pitfalls, one to benefit him and the other to benefit Sauron. As Gilmagor said, too much roses make suspicious person to doubt and too little thorns will not be enough protection. The balance was crucial, especially because all the advantage belonged to the enemy. There was no guarantee he would accept Thranduil's carefully chosen words unless there were roses enough to make Sauron feel he was in control. Otherwise, there was no reason for him to accept. The fact that Sauron underestimated him was the only advantage Thranduil had, and he planned to exploit it as much as he could.

Thranduil did not doubt Sauron allowed him to word the bargain because the Maia believed he would emerge the victor no matter the outcome.

Perhaps Sauron believed Thranduil would not win against Elrond. When Sauron was at Lindon, Elrond's knowledge of Noldorin technique had been far superior to his, and if they were to duel then, Thranduil knew there would have been only a slight chance, if any at all, against Elrond and his sword.

But that was four centuries ago.

Elrond excelled in many subjects from history to healing. While Thranduil felt he was good only as a warrior, Elrond did practically everything better than most people. He had a vast knowledge of lore and was an excellent orator and linguist. He spoke all different dialects and knew all known languages. He was loved by healers to lore masters to councilors. But Elrond did not love swords beyond the artistry of its make. He kept his skills polished. He was one of the better swordsmen in Lindon, but Elrond had no enthusiasm for the art as he had in other subjects.

Unlike Elrond, Thranduil spent all his free time honing his skills and practicing all known techniques. He felt it was the only thing he was good at, only thing he felt he excelled above others. And really, if you were to be good at it, anything less than the best was not enough.

Perhaps that was why when Gilmagor offered to teach him his double-wielding technique, Thranduil had gratefully accepted. They never spoke about it; they both understood that the matter was between them although Thranduil knew Elrond knew. His friend never asked, so he never found the need to discuss it. And this unspoken agreement suited him. His father had taught him never to show all his claws. And honestly, it was a struggle to balance his desire to show off his new skills and the desire to keep it to himself. But over the years he found a wicked delight in routing those Noldorin warriors who wanted to 'teach him a lesson,' even if those fights were privately held. The satisfaction of seeing the surprise in their eyes as they realized they could not beat him will never cease to amuse him.

Thranduil weighed the sword in his hand. He was certain he could win, but the trick was not in winning; it was in foiling whatever evil plan that damnable Maia had in mind.

A strike to the chest, just enough to meet the bargain, would require precise control. Sauron would know that if he were to command Thranduil to kill, he would fight the command. The hesitation would be enough for Elrond to avoid the strike or make the counterstrike. That was one possibility to ensure Thranduil lost, but the Sinda was certain that Sauron did not want that.

In order to make Elrond win, Sauron had to bet on Elrond willing to kill Thranduil. Sauron would know the likelihood of that happening was slim. Even if Elrond did, the outcome would be no different than if the Maia killed them himself. No. From what he knew of Sauron, the Deceiver was much more subtle than that. Sauron's object in seeing them duel was not in killing them. It was about control, a perverse pleasure in seeing them suffer. And perhaps doing further harm to all his Elven kin.

Most likely, Sauron would wait for the moment Thranduil struck Elrond. It would only take one push at the right moment to plunge the sword deeper. It would be so easy for the Maia when he controlled Thranduil's body. No matter what Thranduil willed, the momentum will plunge the sword deeper. Then, Sauron would get what he wanted. Elrond dead, Sauron would release Gilmagor and Aron, not to keep his word, but so that they could relay what had happened. Thranduil would be labeled a traitor and a killer. And that would affect his father and his people. The impact of that will be far reaching. Even if the Noldor did not execute him for Elrond's death, Thranduil knew he would not be able to live with it. He might win the bargain, but Sauron would be the victor. That cannot happen. Thranduil swore he would not let that happen.

Inhaling a long breath, Thranduil stilled the furious beat of his heart. He needed to focus. He needed every ounce of discipline, strength and skill he possessed, every claw that he had hidden.

But how did Sauron obtain control of him? He hated to admit it, but knew it had something to do with the dragon blood, perhaps with the gold collar that Bodvar gave him. Thranduil tried to remove it, but he could not do it. Something prevented him from ripping the thing off his neck. He guessed that the gold accessory somehow amplified the effect of the dragon blood.

He shuddered remembering the command that startled and terrified him because it was the voice that called to him for the past few months. The fact that he could not disobey, that his body moved despite his will to stop it, horrified him.

When Sauron called him onto the stage, the first thing Thranduil did was to test his muscles as he stepped into that circular stage lit crimson with the Dark Maia's fires. He could use every part of his body except his tongue. His tongue was numb as if he held a large pebble in his mouth. Thranduil understood Sauron was reminding him who really was in control.

Facing Elrond, Thranduil waited for the Half-elven to scan him with his senses. He dared not open himself or to reach out to Elrond for fear that Sauron would take advantage of his open mind. Even now, he could feel Sauron's presence, like fiery fingers, testing the lock, groping for the weakness in his mind. So, Thranduil waited for Elrond to spread his senses to reach out to him. Their bond was strong, and Elrond could read him without him opening too much of his mind.

But Elrond did not send out the feelers. And the doubt ever clouded Thranduil. He trusted Elrond's strength of will and his constancy, but Elrond did not always trust him, not that he could fault his friend. Elrond was always the one lecturing about Thranduil not listening to him, not thinking clearly.

Thranduil shivered. Perhaps Elrond was right. Perhaps he was overthinking everything. He tended to be reckless at times. Was he placing everyone in jeopardy by what he planned? Thranduil took in a quick breath. He cannot doubt himself. He was on intractable ground. What did Lord Gilmagor say? When in enemy territory, on intractable ground, you keep moving. He had assessed his enemy, himself, and the many different path ahead. Danger was everywhere. There was no going back or second guessing himself. Only forward.

Thranduil ran forward.

He had marked the spot on Elrond's chest plate. By using the half-swording technique before picking up the second sword, he had marked the exact spot on Elrond's chest while also testing Sauron's control. If the Necromancer forced him to put more force in the thrust, his hand nearest to the tip of the blade prevented any deeper penetration. If Sauron was an expert on swordsmanship, he would know that half-swording was used for accuracy and to strengthen the thrust when fighting those in a plate armor, but he would also notice Thranduil's hand on the tip of the blade. He was taking a risk but hoped Gilmagor would see the change in his technique and warn Elrond. That would appease Sauron, but there was also the danger of making Elrond doubt him further. But it was a risk he had to take. The Noldorin plate armors were decorated with artful designs such that when combined with speed, it made it difficult for enemies to strike with accuracy certain vulnerable spots. Marking it made certain Thranduil would not miss. And he would not have a second chance. Neither Sauron nor Elrond would allow it.

As Thranduil expected, Gilmagor noticed the move right away. Thranduil heard him warning Elrond. Gilmagor alone would have understood what he meant to do when he punctured Elrond's plate armor, especially when he followed it through with the double-wielding move. Even if the Lord Commander had given him the benefit of the doubt, Thranduil following the puncturing of the armor with this move would have told the elder Elf that he was serious about inflicting a deadly cut. The only defense to the move was to retreat, but Elrond was standing near the edge. He could not retreat.

When he felt the feelers from Elrond reach out, Thranduil moved. This had to be timed perfectly or everything was lost. And everything, absolutely everything, depended on their trust of each other.

Look up, Elrond.

He dared not say anymore lest Sauron broke into his mind or hear the words exchanged. He needed the time to complete the move first before Sauron intervened. Thranduil's left arm moved to block Elrond's sword, and his right cut one, quick sweep.

Collar. Thranduil hoped Elrond would understand what he was asking him to do.

Elrond's sword blocked the black sword on Thranduil's left. Just as Thranduil's sword struck, a single horizontal cut across Elrond's chest, Elrond looked directly into Thranduil's eyes.

I trust you. Elrond's thought flashed past Thranduil's mind, just a twinkle of a starlight, but Thranduil heard it clearly.

Elrond fell backward; Thranduil pulled his friend's falling body into his arms as Elrond wrenched the gold collar off Thranduil's neck.

It was as if the helmet that blocked his vision and stifled him was lifted off his face and he breathed clean, fresh air.

"Elrond?" His voice sounded scratch to his ears, and fear took hold of him.

Elrond smiled. "I'm ok," he said as he straightened, rubbing the chest piece of his armor which was cut clean through from the hole on his armor to the side. When he saw blood, Thranduil pulled apart the armor. A shallow red line on dark-haired chest. He released a breath that he had been holding.

"I can't say the same for them," Sauron's voice boomed from above. The part of the ice holding up the blocks of ice had weakened considerably and the blocks holding the two prisoners were tilting.

Thranduil turned to Elrond. No words were needed. The ice column was too tall for them to reach without the use of alapente.

Gathering their inner power, Thranduil and Elrond jumped, two streams of white light. Like synchronized birds, they flew, landed on the collapsing ice blocks. The moment it took to blink, Thranduil's sword cut through the chains. Elrond was already in front of him with Gilmagor in his arms.

Thranduil jumped off, throwing one sword to Aron. His feet almost touched the ground with Aron next to him when he felt the danger. He pushed Aron away from him just in time as a force pulled him back into the round stage.

"Thranduil!" Elrond and Aron called out, but the lava stream that surrounded the stage flared up into eight feet columns of fire blocking the sight of the other three from Thranduil. The fire crackled and burned, the din blocking out the voices of Elrond and Aron calling his name.

Sauron jumped down from the height of his throne and stepped lightly onto the round stage opposite Thranduil.

"I have underestimated you, Thranduil Oropherion. When did you change the sword? And that horizontal cut instead of the stab. Excellently done." Sauron clapped.

"You controlled my body. Even if you allowed the freedom of movement, I didn't know when you would force my hand. I wasn't going to take any chance of you interfering."

"Yes. Had you stabbed, it would have only taken a simple command for me to have you push that blade deeper. Pity. It would have made everything so much more fun."

"Keep your word, Maia. Or have you turned base?"

"No need for insults, boy. Do you see me stopping them? I am letting the other three live and leave here. They are free to leave without hindrance from my Orcs and I. And you don't deserve it, but out of generosity, I will offer it again. Serve me. I will make you stronger and more powerful than any Noldor."

Thranduil scoffed aloud. "Time for bargaining is over. I kept my side of the bargain, and Elrond is alive. Now, let me leave."

Sauron pulled up the corner of his lips. The look in the Deceiver's eyes chilled Thranduil.

"You received what I promised, the three of them may leave without interference from me and my Orcs, alive and well. But you," Sauron tilted his head. "I promised to allow to leave and return home, but I don't remember promising to let you leave here alive." The dark Maia stepped closer. "But then, you knew that, did you not? You knew I would reject your proposal unless there was a benefit to me. You placed those two obvious holes to bait me. I see that now. But why risk your life for others? Did you really think I would not have noticed? The others, they don't understand, but you do. You understand me. The fact that you survived to hold Uluch's blood in you says it all. There is more potential in you than I had once thought. Join me, Thranduil Oropherion. Serve me and I will share with you the vision of Melkor. Together, we can conquer this world. I may even give you a kingdom of your own."

"Conquer the world with Orcs? Even Morgoth failed to do that." Thranduil scoffed as he moved closer.

"Only to the Valar was my master defeated. There is no Valar here now. They don't care about the Middle-earth. And I have the Silmacils."

"Silmacils? Why would they follow you?" Thranduil gripped the hilts of the sword in his hand.

"I have my ways." Sauron stepped closer, only an arm's distance away. "Why be a dog to the Noldor, the ones who have destroyed your home? Why be the second best when I could make you greater, raise you above those lesser Elves. Join me and add your name to those who will be remembered."

"I don't want to be remembered, neither by you nor by anyone else." Thranduil struck, shortening the distance between them.

"Aaaaargh!" A force wrenched the black sword in his hand as blinding pain shot through Thranduil's arm. The sword clattered to the ground as Thranduil's knees hit the stone floor. He grabbed his arm that was aflame with burning, sizzling pain.

"Fool!" Sauron's eyes were veritable firestorm. "Did you really think someone with dragon blood in them could hurt me? I control the blood. Understand? I. Am. Your. Master. You cannot hurt me. Get that through your head, boy!" Sauron snatched Thranduil's hair in his hand and pulled him up from where he sat. "As long as Uluch's blood flows inside you, I control you, one way or other. It may take centuries perhaps, but mind my word, Thranduil Oropherion. As long as you breathe, that blood will be inside you. And you will serve me."

"I rather be with Mandos first," Thranduil growled through gritted teeth. The pain was searing and debilitating, tearing through his left arm from the tips of fingers to the shoulder.

"Well, then, boy. If it is death you wish, then death I will give." A fire ignited around Sauron. He grew in size, terrible and dark.

"Elbereth!"

A stream of light appeared above the rim of the fire columns, then with thunderous noise the stone column that had once held the ice blocks tumbled onto the column of fire and the lava stream surrounding the circular stage.

"Step away from him, you stain of Morgoth!" Gilmagor was no longer how Thranduil remembered him. The elder Elf seemed brighter, bigger, majestic and terrifying at the same time. Everywhere, he emitted white light and in his hands he held two swords blazing like the stars.

Sauron's face contorted, turning red. He threw Thranduil onto the floor.

"You dare to face me? A mere Elf?" Sauron sneered.

Thranduil tried to sit up when a hand reached for him, one on each of his arm. Thranduil look up to see Aron and Elrond. They took each of Thranduil's arms and dragged him away toward the bridge made by the collapsed stones when enormous energy pulsed. Aron and Elrond hoisted Thranduil up and ran over the bridge.

"Gilmagor. We have to go back for Gilmagor." Thranduil turned back and saw a stream of white light clash with the tower of flames.

Elrond looked over Thranduil's left arm which was visibly shaking. "Where are you hurt? What did he do?"

"The left arm. Nothing. It is calming now." Thranduil rubbed the arm as the pain slowly subsided.

"Where is the other sword you were holding?" Elrond asked as they turned and watched the columns of fire that circled the stone stage go out.

Instead of the fire circling the stage, a tower of fire encircled Sauron. Around it, stream of silver light crisscrossed Sauron's red fire. A sudden energy pulsed through the chamber, throwing off the white light. The three young Elves took cover as the ground trembled and rubble fell from overhead. Thranduil looked up just in time as Gilmagor's body flew over the lava stream and fell with a thud in front of them. Gilmagor coughed up blood, staining his tunic with more red.

"Why are you still here?" Gilmagor growled lifting his head from the ground. "Fly, you fools! That is an order."

Elrond ran over to the swordmaster when the tower of fire rose and landed on the stone tower holding Sauron's throne. Thunder rumbled from up above them.

"I was going to spare you, but I see you leave me no choice." Sauron sat down on his throne and raised his hand.

Thranduil looked around when the heavy footsteps shook the ground. A horde of Orcs entered the chamber, heavily armed and armored.

"I wanted to show you my gentler side, but you all just push and push." Sauron growled, a sound more a beast than human. "We could have worked together. Created beauty and majesty. Bring order and peace. But you just wouldn't cooperate. Well, you lowly creatures," Sauron leaned down from his throne. "Rest assured that I will achieve my goal. Even as we speak, more of my Orcs are coming to join me here. I wanted to spare that sapling of a king the burning down of his cities, but you have forced my hands." He turned to the Orcs. "Kill them!"

The Orcs took out their weapons. Gilmagor pushed himself off the ground, but the two swords fell off his hands. Thranduil could tell that Lord Gilmagor was on his last bit of strength. Thranduil glanced at Elrond. Pushing Gilmagor to Aron, Thranduil and Elrond each picked up one of Gilmagor's two swords. If they were going to die here, they were going to die fighting to their last breath.