Forest north of River Limlint October 19, SA 721
THRANDUIL tensed. His hand slid down to the hilt of the sword by his left waist as he watched the grove of trees down the forest floor. They had just emerged from the thick of the ancient forest into less dense, wooded grassland. Where he stood, rocky terrain of rocks and fallen trees, the land sloped sharply downward into another thick cluster of dense forest.
"Something worries you?" Aron moved his horse next to him and whispered when Thranduil, who was ahead of the company, pulled over.
"There are people there. In the canopy of those oak trees down there. Four of them." Careful not to point, Thranduil turned his head, stopping his head toward the group of trees in question. He stopped just briefly enough before continuing to turn his head around to the other side. He knew Aron would understand where to look.
"I see nothing. Danger?"
"Can't say."
Trees around him didn't sound alarmed, but until he went closer to the mouth of the forest, Thranduil could not hear the whispers of the trees there. He only felt four figures within those threes, but he did not know how many others could be hidden among the trees until he entered the forest. And it may be too late then.
They were only six. All of them were experienced warriors, but that did not mean they could survive any type of attack or take a risk and enter a place not knowing who and how many there were.
"Could be the Ents. Lots of them love the forests around here." Durion moved his horse next to Aron.
Thranduil scowled, remembering the encounter with Fangorn and his wife two days back. He didn't mind Fimbrethil with whom he got along as well as can be, but the head tree herder had been craggy as the mountains.
"I wouldn't worry. There are no known settlements around here," Durion continued. "Men remain mostly to the north, near the Grey Mountains or east of the Greenwood Forest. As for the Orcs, we have cleared the north with those Silmacils less than two centuries ago. If you feel anyone, it is probably the wandering Silvans. Most of them stay near their villages, but some elflings are adventurous and will roam far and wide in all the forests here."
"Adventurous elfling? Hmm," Aron flashed a smile. "It sounds like someone I know."
Ignoring Aron, Thranduil listened as he scanned the darkening sky. The birds chirped, and the critters scurried about without a worry in their steps. Maybe it was nothing to worry about except that another day was passing. They had been traveling for over two weeks now.
"It could also be our welcoming party."
"Are we near enough to Lorinand now?" Aron, who seemed to have read his mind, asked Durion.
"Another two or three days, I think."
"I thought it would only take two weeks of travel?" Thranduil did not want to complain, but he was so close, yet so far. After traveling for over a half year, he just wanted to be done with moving from one camp to another. He supposed he had gotten soft after near six centuries at Lindon.
"I said we could make it to Calenardhon in a week."
"Calenardhon is halfway to Lorinand, you said."
"It is, but the road to the gap was smooth, while this side of the gap is a thick forest. And trust me, Thranduil. We traveled here at the speed of lightning. It usually takes about a month of travel from one side of the mountain to the other unless you take that Dwarven pass. The last time I came this way, it was toward the end of Fading and there was no undergrowth in this forest to hinder me. And I admit I didn't expect the tree bridge to rot and disappear. It was only a decade or so ago." Durion shrugged.
"It takes less than a year for fallen trees to rot and become unusable, Durion."
"I am a warrior, not a forester." Durion grinned as if it was no problem at all.
Thranduil bit down a growl and turned away. He wanted to shake the Sindarin warrior or shout at the top of his lung. Aron padded Thranduil's arm as if to calm him.
Thranduil and the company of five warriors had ridden south upon leaving Celeborn's camp. As Durion said, it had been a smooth ride through the green and fertile land which opened into gentle hillsides.
But once they passed Calenardhon, they came face to face with a forest with such thick growth they could not enter it with their horses. What was worse, the river coming down from the Misty Mountains was swift and carved deeply into the earth, making it impossible to cross it with the horses.
Durion led them further south to the part of the ravine that was supposed to have a tree fallen over it, but there was no trace of the tree except a young tree growing among the skeleton remains of the old one on the other side of the river. That had forced them to backtrack to the north to skirt tightly to the feet of the mountains on foot, leading their horses, cutting down the dying underbrush of the forest to get through. It slowed them down by several days, but it allowed them to cross the river near its source, where it was a mere stream over the rocky terrain of the forest.
"You want me to go ahead first and see what happens? I am sure they are a welcoming party or some elflings looking for a place to camp for the night."
"They let elflings roam on their own?" Aron asked.
"Well, not their parents, but you know how young ones are." Durion gave him a knowing look.
"String your bows," Thranduil said. "We will separate into three groups, just in case. If we are still three days away, it is less likely they are a welcoming party. Durion, with me." Thranduil gestured to Aron to skirt to the right side while signaling the other two to the left.
Thranduil strung his bow and kept it in front of him as they approached the group of oak trees he had been eyeing.
"You worry too much, Thranduil. There is no need for vigilance. Before we introduced them to the spears and the swords, the Silvans only had their light bows and short daggers. They never needed any arms because they only dealt with beasts to hunt until the Orcs came down from the mountains. And even that stopped after we dealt with them two centuries ago. Most of the villages don't even have guards. Only hunters."
"It doesn't hurt to be careful." Thranduil kept his eyes on the oak trees.
When they moved closer, but still some distance away from the grove of the oaks, Thranduil heard singing mingled with the sound of laughter.
"What did I tell you," Durion beamed at Thranduil when suddenly the singing stopped.
"Thranduil!" Someone poked his face out amongst the golden leaves, then waved wildly. "You are here." The trees danced as a figure jumped down onto the ground and ran towards them.
It was a youth, perhaps five or so centuries old. He waived as he ran, his face shining with joy. Three more figures jumped down from the other trees and followed the first one. Those three were familiar, ones Thranduil had trained with as a youth. One of them was one-eyed. Thranduil's heart jumped, recognizing the familiar warrior.
"That is Tatharion, isn't it? But who is that youth? I don't remember him. How does he know me?" Thranduil whispered to Durion.
His friend laughed out aloud. "That is Galion. He has been waiting for you like a baby chick waits for a worm from its mother's beak."
By the time Durion finished explaining, Galion reached them.
Thranduil jumped off his horse.
"Galion?"
"Yes! Yes! You remember me." With eyes shining full bright, the young Elf grinned widely. He was no longer a child that Thranduil remembered. Long-limbed, with deep brown hair like the fertile earth and laughing gray eyes, the youth before him shone bright with unhidden joy on his face. He differed greatly from the grieving child Thranduil saw last.
"Of course I remember you. I just did not expect you to be so grown up."
"And you," Galion gazed up at him, then scanned him up and down. "Something about you looks different, although I recognized you right away."
"How can anyone mistake him, with those coloring of his," Durion chuckled next to him.
Thranduil greeted Tatharion and the other Sindarin warriors. It was as if they never parted. As they greeted each other, the other two groups of warriors rode over and joined them.
"Hail, Galion! It is you, isn't it?" Aron said as he jumped off his horse. "Glad are we to see your smiling face. We were beginning to wonder if Durion knew where he was going."
Galion's eyes never left Thranduil the whole while Durion and Aron greeted the others.
"We set up a camp not too far from here. We have provisions." Tatharion gestured toward the forest, and all moved together without missing a beat in their movements.
"Is my father here?" Once the noise of the greetings calmed, Thranduil asked as his heart pumped wildly. Of course, he was here. It was ridiculous to even ask.
But the smile faded from the faces of the warriors, even Galion. The sudden silence among them was enough of an answer. Thranduil took in a breath to contain the searing disappointment. As glad as he was to see them, he did not travel half a year across the wide Eriador to be welcomed only by a few of the warriors he trained with. Thranduil had not expected a large welcome, but he had expected to see at least his father and Glineth, perhaps even Lord Istuion and Lord Seledhel and Captain Himion. Had none of them cared whether or not he returned?
"Your father is delayed," Tatharion said. "Lord Oropher could not come because something came up in the forest. Some intruders."
Thranduil almost stopped walking. He knew duty meant everything to his father but had his father not missed him the way he did? The past four yeni, almost six centuries of absence, meant nothing to him?
"The morning we left Amon Lanc to come to Lorinand, a hunter came asking for help. His son went missing," Galion said.
"So, he left with him to search for the Elf's son instead of coming here to see his own? Of course, why am I even surprised." Thranduil's chest clenched.
It was unbecoming. He was no longer a child. These things should not matter. It shouldn't. So why did his heart hurt so much?
"He must have determined the incident serious enough because he had been looking forward to this day for a long time." Tatharion looked around at the other warriors. They nodded back in agreement.
"He could not send someone else? When did he stop trusting the ability of Captain Himion?"
Aron padded Thranduil's back. "We have been traveling for many days and we are tired," he said to Tatharion. "Let's talk when we are all settled, shall we? We all could use some rest."
"We have food from Glineth," Galion piped in. "A whole lot of food."
"Blessed is the Lady of the Stars for giving us Glineth. We are starving. Lead us on, Galion." Aron pulled Thranduil forward, and they all walked together as the sun moved over to the west of the Misty Mountains.
The gray dusk settled among the trees, raising a dark wall of the night around the campsite as the ten Elves sat around the fire.
Galion passed around the poached apples in elderberry syrup and blocks of acorn jellies spiked with liquor and wrapped in tree leaves. Thranduil took a bite of the jelly, smelling the nutty sweetness, tasting the slight kick of the liquor at it went down his throat. It was just a simple bite of the familiar food, but as the bite went down, he found himself overwhelmed. He felt like a child as his throat tightened and eyes blurred. He had missed the taste, missed the warmth of Glineth's cooking and her embrace. They still had a day or more to go, but he felt as if he was home at last.
If only, his father was here.
The overwhelming emotion surprised him, making it difficult for him to take another bite. Thranduil looked up to see Aron wiping away the tears. He wasn't the only one feeling stupidly sentimental, it seemed. Aron looked up, then smiled awkwardly.
Durion piled more jelly onto Thranduil and Aron's plate.
"Eat up! No one but Glineth remembers now how to make it taste like the old days. No one." The firelight glimmered in Durion's eyes.
No one needed to say. They all remembered the sweet taste and the scent of the sunlit days and the moonlit nights at the Forest of Neldoreth where the beech trees were golden and the laughter was silver and true. The moon had been full, bright and burnished, and the nights fragrant, enchanted and safe. Would those times ever come again?
"How long were you waiting for us?" Aron asked, watching Tatharion take out a small harp and strum it.
"We just arrived," said Tatharion. "We didn't think you would arrive so soon."
"We didn't expect you for another three or four days." Galion put a pot of water on the fire and added something from a small pouch he carried at his waist. A scent of chamomile and mint filled the campsite. "King Amdir has his hunters watching the path alongside the Celebrant, but Glineth was making so much fuss we decided to come out all the way here to wait for you."
"You see?" Durion padded Galion's back enthusiastically. "We are actually early. You tell it to Thranduil, Galion. He is cranky because he thinks we are taking much longer than should be. Either that or he is just upset over our encounter with the tree herder."
"Is Master Fangorn still upset over that incident?" Tatharion grinned.
"What incident?" Galion asked.
"Your hero, Galion, had many misadventures as a youth. And Master Fangorn, despite all the respect the tree herder has for Thranduil's mother and father, has some grudge against their precious son…."
"How about that tea," Aron cut in, slapping Durion's back not so gently.
That did not daunt Durion at all, however. He went on to talk about the scorching of the forest. "Why was Fangorn back in these forests? I thought he spends his winters at Eriador." Durion turned to Galion.
"The Entwives staying at their gardens this winter." Galion poured the tea for everyone. "The tree herder here to talk to Emel Galen (Green Mother), I think."
"Green Mother?" Thranduil was curious. "Is that Fangorn's mother? I thought he was the eldest of his kind?"
"No, not the Ent's mother." Galion laughed. "She heart of Greenwood."
"What? I don't understand."
"It is a tree, Thranduil. A mother of all trees," Durion said. "It is at the heart of Greenwood forest, at the Dark Mountains. It is considered a hallowed place by the Silvans."
"I heard that Ents go there every so often to speak to the Green Mother," Galion said.
"What do a tree herder and a tree have to talk to each other about?" Durion shook his head.
"Trees have their own problems, I suppose," Aron said.
"I didn't even know trees could talk." Durion chuckled. "It must be a long conversation. You had to see how long Fangorn talked. I almost fell off my horse listening to him go on and on."
"Do people go missing in this forest often?" Thranduil, who had remained silent until now, asked.
"Sometimes elflings go missing for few days, but that is nothing new. The young ones here are wild." Tatharion glanced at Galion.
"Not that they are wild, it is just that they are curious and adventurous. Nothing much happens in the forest." Galion shrugged.
That did not appease his heart. Thranduil looked down at his cup of tea. If the youth going missing was common, why did his father went himself to look for the missing person?
"The matter wasn't just about the Silvan and his missing child," Tatharion looked up and met Thranduil's eyes. "It dealt with the intruders into the forest."
"What intruders?"
"The hunter said there were men, heavily armed and armored."
"Men come into this area?" Thranduil asked, watching Durion's face stiffen. "I thought men stayed away from the forest? What were the other hunters doing? Who did my father take with him?"
"Did he take the twins?" Durion asked suddenly.
Thranduil met Durion's eyes. The worry in his gray eyes confirmed what Thranduil feared. There was only one set of twins Thranduil knew, Ethir and Cendir. And if his father took them, that meant the incident was of a serious kind. The twins were the remnant of the specially trained warriors akin to Noldor's Silmacils. Durion's father was one of them.
Perhaps there was a reason his father could not be here.
"I thought there was peace in these forests?"
"It is peaceful here," Tatharion said.
"This problem, we had not before," Galion said. "But whatever it is, Lord Oropher will make sure it taken care of. He there, then there no worry. The Silvans who live near us know that."
Thranduil was glad to hear that his father had earned the trust of the Silvans. But then, the Silvans had welcomed his father and agreed to allow the Sindar to move into their territory. These people had been generous and welcoming, at least that was what Thranduil was told.
The last time he was here, Thranduil had not been allowed outside their camp. Once they came down the mountain, they had camped where the two rivers coming down from the Misty Mountains meet, just inside the line of trees where the forest began. His father took only Lord Amdir, Councilor Seledhel, Captain Himion, and the twins deeper into the forest. His father had decided too many armed Elves suddenly showing up would cause alarm, and he had not wanted the Silvans to think they were threatening them.
Even after everything was settled with the Silvans, and the rest of the warriors were invited into the villages, Thranduil had been ordered to remain in their campsite. As much as he disliked it, Thranduil was used to being hidden away. His mother often stayed inside the innermost chamber of Menegroth with Thranduil whenever anyone from outside the girdle visited, especially the Noldor.
As the stars came out, Tatharion sang in their old tongue of Doriath. It seemed even Galion had learned the song as everyone joined in the song in praise of the Lady.
Thranduil prayed as he sang. Please watch over him. At every place he considered home, Thranduil had lost someone he loved. He prayed this was not one of those places.
Lorinand. October 21, SA 721
"OROPHER, you go."
"You are the king, Amdir."
"But they invited you, not me."
"Lord Mellontaur invited me. No one else. And this is a matter that should be addressed by a king. It deals with the safety of the people in the forest."
"But the matter is dealt with. No losses and no injuries."
"What if they return, Amdir? And we do not know why the Silvans were taken? And there is that matter of the two Elves the men took before we got there."
It was only after questioning the kidnapped elflings that they found the men had taken two Elves out of the forest before coming after the two young ones. The elflings said they were out hunting when they saw the men drag the other two Elves.
"Do you know the identity of those two who were taken?"
"No. Lord Mellontaur said he will send words to the other villages to see if anyone is missing. The two young ones we found were from a village near the western border of the forest. They were not expected back in their village for another month. The same may be the case for those two who were taken. Whoever ordered this, they knew enough about the life of the Wood-elves."
"Could men be so different from us? Maybe they assumed because it is a hunting season."
"Perhaps. But this person named Dernwulf, he seemed to know a lot about the Wood-elves. Ethir heard the exchanges two brothers made talking about Dernwulf. He seemed to know a lot. Too much for a mortal."
"You don't think…"
"I can't say anything at the moment. Just a feeling. But you should not take this matter lightly, Amdir. Gather the chieftains. Talk with them."
Amdir sighed. "I don't have any power over them, Oropher. It is bad enough that some of them resent our presence here. I will not go over there and tell them what to do."
"Let them know that this is a matter of their safety. Talk to Lord Laegir. Get him on your side. Most of them will listen to him even if they are against you. If they see that you have Laegir's confidence, they may be open to listening to you."
Amdir got up. He raked the side of his head. "He and I hardly talk. Why can't you just go over there and tell them what happened and ask what they want to do about it? You are good at making them listen to you. If not, then have Istuion's daughter talk to her husband. He can then convince his father…"
"The point is not who talks to Lord Laegir. Rather, it is that you should address the chieftains as the king of the realm. This matter concerns all of them."
"But some of them don't even like us."
"Doesn't matter. As their king, you must protect all of them, those who like us as well as those who don't."
Amdir seemed reluctant still.
"They are here," Glineth walked in, her steps light, excited. She beamed a smile before going back out again.
"About time," Amdir seemed relieved. "Let's welcome your son." He walked out before Oropher could say anything more. It was good, anyhow. The moment he heard Glineth's laughter and the cry of joy, Oropher knew Thranduil was here.
Suddenly, all the matters that dealt with the problems of the realm disappeared as if they never existed.
"Oropher, hurry!" Amdir shouted into the door.
Oropher stood up, but he could not move. His legs trembled as if all strength was gone out of them. His heart hammered. Taking a long breath in and out, he tried to calm it. Taking a lungful of air, Oropher took a step, but stood still when Thranduil strode in.
Everything faded into the background, the people and the noise. Oropher could see nothing and hear nothing except that in front of him, Thranduil stood, looking impossibly tall.
In the place of the youth he left behind, a young lord stood there, powerful, self-assured and somewhat at peace with himself. The light in his son's bright eyes that had been missing for a long time was back in those eyes again, the same eyes Oropher had feared to look upon after losing his beloved. Those eyes were the exact copy of hers, the same color and the shape. Perhaps not as gentle nor as wise, but her strength and her beauty shone in them like incomparable gems.
Oropher wanted to run to his son, wrap his child in his arms and cry out for the joy in his heart, but his feet buried themselves into the floor. His heart expanded painfully. He could not hear anything except the frantic beat of his own heart.
Thranduil looked up at him, hesitant and shy like a child, unsure of himself.
"Father?"
Oropher wanted to say something. Welcome him, tell him how much he missed him, but his tongue would not move. His throat closed, tightly and painfully, and he could not make a sound. Knowing he should say something, he opened his mouth, but only one word came.
"Son."
Thranduil hesitated again before he bowed low. "My lord, I have returned."
Oropher's throat thickened. His arms ached to hold his son, but he stood rooted where he stood.
"Welcome, my son." Oropher feared he would cry like a child, but he sounded calm in his ears despite his heart doing the wild dance of the Silvans. He was surprised he even managed the few words he uttered.
Hesitating, Thranduil stepped closer. He was so close that Oropher could smell the faint scent that wafted from his son. Thranduil smelled of a pine forest after a sweet summer rain. Oropher reached out a hand. He had meant only to pat his son's broad shoulder, but instead, his hand grabbed his son into his arms.
Thranduil's muscles tensed briefly before he melted into his embrace. The hot tears Oropher thought he could control rushed out of his eyes. Oropher buried his head into the crook of Thranduil's shoulder, grateful that his son wore leather armor and could not feel his tears soaking it.
"Do not leave my side ever again," the words slipped out of his trembling lips.
"Never." Thranduil whispered as he, too, buried his head. They stood like that for a long time.
Oropher pulled away to lay his forehead on Thranduil's head, his hand behind his son's head.
Keep calm. Keep calm, his reason whispered. The words, I've missed you, looped a thousand times in his mind before he could pull himself back to a reasonable composure.
"It's good to have you back."
"It is good to be back."
They looked at each other and smiled.
River Limlint (Sindarin, swift light)-Later renamed in Westron as River Limlight by Eotheod, ancestors of Rohirrim, the people of Rohan. The river flowed down from Misty Mountain through the northern Fangorn Forest to River Anduin.
Calendardhon (Sindarin, Green Province/Region)-This is the area later known as Rohan, given to Eotheod, a race of northmen who helped Gondor defeat the evil people who overran this land. Gondor gave the land to Eotheods in gratitude.
Lorinand (Nandorin, valley of gold)-refers to Lothlorien. This was its older name. Even older name is Lindorinand, Valley of Singing Gold.
Celebrant (Sindarin, Silverlode)-stream that ran from the Misty Mountains to Lothlorien. It meets with Nimrodel River into Anduin.
Tatharion-My OC character from Part 1, What It Means to be a King and from Where the River Ends. He was a member of the Royal Guards of Doriath, and later bodyguard to young Thranduil after the destruction of Doriath.