Southern edge of Greenwood Forest. October 4, SA 721

OROPHER arrived at the edge of the southern tip of the forest on the fifth day since leaving Amon Lanc by limiting the number of warriors accompanying him to the fastest eight.

The sun began its slow descent into the west as Doron led them, following the trail the hunters left him. The trail led to a cluster of bedrocks where a large dry bed of boulders cut through the forest, opening the forest into wide woodland interspersed with beeches and oaks.

As Oropher had expected, the men had moved their camp further south since Doron first came to Amon Lanc. But as they approached the dry bed, a hunter dropped from a tree in front of them. When Oropher recognized him, the Sinda got off his horse.

"Hail, Lord Oropher. I not expect to you come yourself though glad I am to see you." A grim-faced Elf said. He was clad in a hunter's green and brown leathers. Unlike most Silvans who had dark or brown hair, this Elf had dark hair mixed with strands of white which made him stood out from others.

"Chieftain Mellontaur, well met. May the stars shine on you and your people."

Oropher and Mellontaur touched their foreheads in proper Silvan fashion.

Greenwood was a vast forest where many Silvans roamed freely. Most of them belonged to one of the twelve large settlements sprinkled throughout the forest. Lorinand was the thirteenth and the only one across the River Anduin.

Oropher and his Sindar who settled atop Amon Lanc comprised the fourteenth settlement inside the Greenwood. Mellontaur was chief of a small village located nearest to Oropher.

"I grateful that you brought aid," Mellontaur smiled.

"I live in this forest, too. If there are armed men who threaten other Elves, then they are my enemy as well."

Mellontaur bent his head. Then he looked at the eight Sindarin warriors behind Oropher. He frowned, and his eyes questioned. But instead of saying anything further, Mellontaur climbed a tall beech tree by the dry bed and gestured for Oropher to follow.

When they reached a high enough point to look down at the entire length of the dry bed, Mellontaur pointed.

Ahead of them, great boulders rose in several clusters of tall towers. Behind them, makeshift tents were set up, hidden from the view of the forest floor. Oropher frowned when he found the number of tents more numerous than he had originally expected.

A thick cluster of trees ended at the mouth of the dry bed which cut across east to west. All around the wide dry bed, small trickles of water left shallow pools which the men were using as their source of water. To the south, the trees thinned as the woodland opened into rolling hills with a cluster of groves full of beeches and oaks.

Oropher clamped down his back teeth when he saw that an entire line of trees nearest to the campsite was cut down haphazardly. Using the wood, Men had built stockades facing the line of trees on the north side. The posts of the stockade were woven with tree branches. From a distance, the branches would have made the sharpened posts look as if they were trees. Inside the stockade, and all about the camp, tree trunks, stripped of branches, lay piled on the ground like a half wall.

"Were you aware of these many men inside the forest?"

Mellontaur shook his head. "Not until I saw them with my eyes. I knew not that they building things. My people kept mostly to the inner portion of the forest."

Oropher scanned the scene before him.

"I thought there were only fifteen of them?" Oropher took another count. "I am seeing at least thirty… make that thirty-two," Oropher said, noticing the two men standing guard on the top of the tallest rocks which stood like sentinels behind the camp. The columns of rocks were close to two stories high.

"Nay. The correct count thirty-five. We found five at the camp. Another ten men joined them two days ago, coming from the east. Then, yesterday, five men came from the south with those wooden cages." Mellontaur pointed to two large carts. "Besides those two lookouts, they have three others walking around the outer perimeter of the camp. Those ten men who came later, they had two prisoners with them, barefooted. But they had capes thrown over the heads and the body of the prisoners. I could not tell who or what they are, but I think they our kin. Men not so surefooted."

"Did you see where they keep their prisoners? Did you check them?"

"There." Mellontaur pointed to what looked to be a large clump of low-growing trees or tall bushes at first sight, but at the height he was in, Oropher saw it was a wall of tall wooden posts set in the ground with sharpened ends and covered with tree branches on the three sides facing outward.

It was made in such a way that anyone seeing the camp from outside could not see the inner stockade built there. And even at his height, because of the number of tree branches woven into the posts, he could not see within the enclosure. That these men took such precautions only made Oropher worry further.

"The hunter they took from us, and the two prisoners who came later, all placed in there. We think they have Doron's son there as well although we not certain. I tried, but we could not get close enough to look. They have guards at the door moving all the time back and forth. And besides the guards, there are always men about the camp. When we first saw them, before they joined their base camp, I try to bargain with them, but they attacked us. Our arrows glanced off their iron armors. So, I called a retreat. I not want to risk any more of my hunters." Mellontaur's face darkened. "I never see Men wearing such armor before."

The Silvan chief's eyes glanced over Oropher's steel scale armor. Oropher was certain that Mellontaur probably never saw metal armor until he and his Sindar came to Greenwood.

"By retreating when you did, you saved the lives of your hunters. And their lives come first. I am glad you came to me. These are not the woodsmen. Nor are they mere hunters pursuing some animals of the forest."

"Aye, that certain. After our last clash, I think they thought we gave up. I not think it was wise to fight them before. But now that I see their base camp, I should have attacked them before they arrived here. We had a better chance then. Now…" Mellontaur sighed. "My hunters not equipped to handle men like these. I sent Doron to you because you not only the nearest settlement from us but also because I knew you have warriors who could fight them."

Oropher nodded and turned back to the camp to scrutinize the men.

The men sat around three campfires in groups of roughly ten to twelve men, spread around the camp with the hidden stockade as the center. Their iron armor was crude but strong, a thick slab of metal linked with chains.

Beside their thick armor, their leader was a man who knew how to use geography to his advantage. They placed their campsite with the tallest rocks protecting their backs and the boulders of the dry bed shielding them in the front. By camping behind the boulders, passersby from the forest could not see them. It was not until you climbed a tree and purposefully looked toward the east that you realized the campsite was there.

On top of the outcrop of rocks, two lookouts were stationed, one at each end with horns around their necks. From up there, they would have an open line of sight of anyone who approached their camp, giving them enough time to rouse everyone.

These men were organized and prepared. There was no uniformity to their armors, weapons, or even on the types of men, at least not enough to assume they were under service to some warlord, yet it was too large a number to be mere bandits or poachers.

About half of the men were swarthy and stocky, reminding Oropher of the Halethrim he had met at the Forest of Brethil. But the ones he had met were honorable and would not think of harming anyone who did not bother them. While they had similar features of Halethrim, these men at the campsite were bulkier, with tufts of dark hair that stuck out like porcupine needles on top of their heads. One exception was a huge warrior who had no hair at all. The other half had pale skin with dirty flax-colored hair braided into long and messy strands behind their heads. Most of them had scars on their faces and arms. And by the ease with which they moved, Oropher could tell they were battle-hardened, far from the men of the hills and woods Oropher had occasionally encountered during the time he roamed Eriador.

"Have you sent for aid from any other settlements?"

Mellontaur flushed. "Nay. It's the days of Fading. Most hunters, as in my village, are away hunting and preparing for winter. I could only gather five hunters of my own. I could not leave our village unprotected, not with what happened. And the other settlements too far away. I hoped you bring enough warriors. These men no woodsmen, I fear."

"No, they are not. Unfortunately, I expected no more than fifteen men. I brought only eight warriors with me." Oropher bit down the regret. What was done was done.

"Only eight?" Mellontaur looked crestfallen. "No more of them join you?"

"No. I could send someone, but that would take another ten days for them to arrive."

"But, we don't have ten days, my lord. By the look of preparation I saw, they plan to move the prisoners soon. Perhaps even early as tomorrow. And beyond those outcrops of rocks, the trees thin and open to a woodland. We will be exposed. My hunters not trained to fight in the open." Mellontaur frowned, worry clear in his demeanor. "I had hoped to outnumber them so that we could bargain with them."

"Fear not, Mellontaur. The odd is not that terrible. Their numbers are not so great that lack of skills would not matter. Besides, one can gain an upper hand in other ways than just by numbers."

Outnumbered as he was, fighting them was not what worried Oropher. He wanted to know why the men were here and who were those prisoners? And why were the prisoners hidden from the onlookers? And those armors they wore, those looked to him like the work of Orc smiths. They were crude but strong enough to render the light Silvan arrows useless. They were used to hunting animals, not fighting men in armor.

Oropher turned toward the west. He had hoped to clear this matter quickly and return. Thranduil was expected to arrive at Lorinand in a matter of days.

Thranduil.

Longing for his son reached out like talons of an eagle, clawing at Oropher's heart. Oropher took in a quick breath. What would his son think when he finds, after months of travel, that his father had not come to greet him? His throat thickened. Would his son regret coming back to him? Oropher shook his head. This was not the time to think about that. The matter at hand required all his attention now.

He slid down the tree, then called the twins.

"Cendir, Enthir."

"Sir!" Two of his eight warriors stepped forward.

"I want to know everything about them. Their names if possible, especially the name of their leader, the type of weapons, their equipment. I do not want to be surprised. And who the prisoners are, and if a key is required to open where they are held, who has it. Wait until it gets dark enough for the men to need light."

"Sir!" Like shadows, the two warriors disappeared.

"We tried to get to that enclosure," Mellontaur said. "But, too many guards. Almost impossible to get too close without being noticed."

"Men are not as night-eyed as Orcs are. We will wait until it gets a little darker. Until then, we will wait for some information before forming a plan. The more outnumbered we are, the more crucial it becomes for us to know exactly who our enemy is."

"Your Elves understand the Mannish language? Only the hunter they captured among my Elves could understand them. He from Dorwinion."

"Many of my warriors are trained in various languages. The twins more so than others. And we have dealt with Men before."

Oropher grimaced, remembering the less than pleasant encounters he had with Men when he first entered Eriador. Not all had been hostile, but many were. He didn't blame them. He was wary of strangers himself. But some Men had been evil. A whole village of them had tried to sell Thranduil to a slave trader. For gold. And his son was a mere youth at the time. Who does that to the young ones?

"As to their eyes," Oropher pointed to the two lookouts stationed on the top of the rocks. "Can your hunters muster some disturbance to gather their interest without garnering too much attention?"

"What do you have in mind? The area around their camp too open for us to approach without their notice. And to shoot them within the lines of trees, the camp too distant. At that distance, the reach of our bows less accurate. And we do not wish to hurt them if we can avoid it. Men fragile and their spirits depart easily when injured."

"Neither do I wish to hurt them unnecessarily."

Oropher did not like men, but they were also the children of Eru. Other than the Orcs, it was not the way of his people to kill, unless it was unavoidable.

"I was thinking more in the line of having some animals running loose on their camp. Some diversion without letting them know they are being watched. I want their attention focused on the southern side of their camp."

"That, I can manage." Mellontaur nodded. Taking his hunters, the Silvan chief disappeared toward the south of the dry bed.

Oropher glanced in the direction of the campsite. As the night deepened, the area behind the rocks glowed with firelight. He peered at the darkening sky. The moon should rise in about four hours. Enough time for the twins and to plan their next move. As he was thinking so, he heard a squeal and grunting of a wild hog from the southern side of the campsite.

Oropher climbed the tree again for a look.

With a squeak and frantic growling, the largest hog Oropher had seen jumped out of the southern boundary of the forest, running headlong into the pile of wooden logs near the camp. The men who were sitting around the campfire shot up from their seats, each holding an ax or a spear. The two lookouts rushed to the edge of their rocky tower and leaned down for a look as men poured out trying to catch the hog which turned then ran back into the forest.

Oropher watched and smiled as he spotted the two shadows slip unnoticed into the camp and disappear among the bushes and boulders near the tents.

"He is quick," Himion, who had followed Oropher up the tree, spoke.

"They are good with animals." Oropher turned to Himion. "What do you think? Do you think we can manage?"

"No frontal attack. The odds are not favorable. But we could, perhaps, surprise them in their sleep."

Oropher shook his head slowly. "These men are seasoned warriors. Probably light sleepers, too. The hunters are excellent archers but useless in the melee with warriors such as these men. Not that they are not fierce warriors, but the hunters are not used to fighting men like them. That leaves nine of us against their thirty-five. Not a good odd. Not at all. We can be easily overwhelmed with that many against us. And the arrows of the Silvans would not help."

"If only we could paralyze them, sweep in before they can react…"

"Yes. Brilliant, Himion." Oropher's heart soared. "The Thunder and Lightning."

Himion shook his head. "Oropher, these men are not faint of heart. They will not be easily intimidated. It would require an overwhelming show of force for that. But we are only nine and six hunters."

"We don't need to be in great numbers, Himion. We just need to make them believe we are. But first, let's see what information the twins bring."

It was not until the night deepened and the stars shone brightly on the dark sky that the twins returned.

"The leader's name is Grimshod. He is that big man, the one with no hair on his head," Cendir said, then turned to his brother.

"The cage holds four prisoners: one hunter and three elflings. They look barely past their majority. All Silvans."

"They took children?" Mellontaur clenched his teeth, his eyes spewing fire.

Doron grabbed Enthir. "One of them Gelen?"

"I do not know. The prisoners were gagged and bound. And the cage was locked. But I found that the key is with their leader. He keeps a ring of keys tied to his belt."

Oropher inhaled sharply to keep down his own anger. For his people, killing one's kin was the worst deed an Elf could commit against another Elf. Harming children came immediately second.

"What else?"

"All of them wore an iron armor except for several archers with hunter bows. They wore hardened leather. The armors looked very much like the ones Orcs favor. Thick and cumbersome but very effective against the light arrows of the Silvans. About a third of them carried axes, rest had spears, iron-tipped. There were about five with long spears and they looked proficient in them."

"They mentioned any lord, king, or some sort of leader?"

"No, sir. I believe they are mercenaries. Someone is paying them gold for each Elf they bring."

"Any idea who or why?" Mellontaur asked.

Cendir shook his head. "Their dialect was difficult to understand. All I could gather was that some men were eager to abduct more Elves."

"'Some' men?" Oropher wondered if there was a division among the men. If so, he could use that.

"Half of the men were eager to be gone while the other half wanted something more." Cendir turned to his brother as if to seek affirmation.

Enthir nodded. "One, in particular, a man named Grimwine, seemed eager to leave the woods. He and the bald-head argued privately."

"About?"

"I could not understand clearly. They used some words which were foreign to me. But I gathered that he feared they were too exposed. He wanted to leave early, now in fact, rather than wait until the daylight."

Oropher frowned. That wouldn't do. They weren't ready yet.

"But, they are not," Enthir added. "Grimshod laughed and said…" Enthir glanced at the Silvans. Oropher nodded for him to go on. "That the Wood-elves are scattered and weak, that with the armor and the weapons available to them, the Silvans had no chance against them." Enthir stopped and clenched his fists before glancing at the Silvans again. "He said he doesn't want to leave until he could have some Elven maids."

"Indeed?" Oropher bit back a curse. "Perhaps it is time we show them the error of their believes."

"What your plan, lord?" Mellontaur asked, his eyes hard.

"Thunder and Lightning."

"My lord?"

"Rapid dominance, Lord Mellontaur. Rapid dominance."

It wasn't enough that these men were defeated and those who were taken were freed. Oropher wanted to make sure this did not happen again.

Halethrim—People of the House of Haleth, the second house of the Edain. King Thingol granted them the Forest of Brethil which was located west of Doriath and outside of Melian's girdle. Unlike other Houses, they had women warriors.

Thunder and Lightning—is my version of Shock and Awe (using overwhelming power and display of force to paralyze the enemy's perception thus rendering them powerless to fight back). More about this next week.