Greenwood Forest. June 4, SA 722
THRANDUIL leaned against a tree. He was tall enough that he didn't need to climb a tree like others in the grove to watch the minstrel.
The Elf's white hair looked golden under the warm lights of the flaming torches which were set up in a circle at the middle of the grove where the minstrel stood. Among the trees and the bushes, a swarm of fireflies shone like jewels, giving the grove and the trees that stood outside the grassy area an air of festivity and delight.
The Elf's sonorous voice filled the air and along with it, a gossamer image of a far-away land with emerald hills and ethereal silver flowers floated about them.
From the lips of the Silvans and the Sindar spilled the sounds of wonder. For the Silvans, the images were of the stories they had only heard about, but for the Sindar, they were the memories of the lost times.
With delicate expertise, the minstrel plucked the harp string, but by the look of it, it wasn't just the strings of a harp that he was plucking.
"Where did all these people come from?" Thranduil gazed at the group of young Elves surrounding the minstrel. Many of them were unfamiliar.
"Other neighboring villages joined us. We are only about a day's walk to the foot of the Dark Mountains." Durion pointed to low-lying hills ahead of them. "From there, that would be another day to walk up the mountain to the city."
They have pitched tents near the foot of the mountains. Elves from villages all over the Greenwood had gathered. In a few days, they will travel up the mountain where one of the largest settlements of the Elves is found in Greenwood.
To the east of their camp, the hills rose to a greater height, but compared to the Misty Mountains to the west of them, Thranduil could hardly call them mountains.
"Why do they call them mountains? They are hills, albeit the range is quite wide."
"Almost 32 leagues wide, in fact. And the tallest one is near in height to that of the Blue Mountains. The heart of the mountain lies there."
"The main village?"
"It is more than a village, Thranduil. It is bigger even than Amon Lanc."
Amon Lanc, the city his father built on top of a hill, started as a town of slightly over a hundred families, but in the past few centuries, with an addition of many Silvans in the area, it had grown into one of the largest settlements in the forest, second only to the one on the Dark Mountains.
Just then, the minstrel started a new song. And others joined in the singing. The rhythm of the harp quickened. A group of young women sitting by the minstrel's feet got up and danced around him. He joined the dance, handing his harp to another elf.
"That minstrel is more popular than you, Thranduil." Durion leaned into the tree next to Thranduil. "Look how the young girls fawn over him and his music."
"I care not."
"You should. He is sullying the reputation of us good Sindar, I hear."
"It looks like he is making it better," Aron, sitting on a branch above Durion's head, said. "He moves the people with his music. Silvans are excellent singers, but he is regarded highly even by other Silvans. He certainly lives up to his name."
"What is he called?" Thranduil asked.
"Tharandulin," Galion who stood near to Durion said, his face unusually sullen.
"Vigorous Nightingale. Nice name, no? Beautiful of face and voice, and the lover of beauties, Silvan and Sindar. That Elf is loved by the women and admired by the men although, for those who had lost their beloved to his songs, he is not a welcome figure.
"He not good. Make bad promises," Galion said.
Thranduil glanced at Galion who seemed intent on a group of young women in front of the minstrel.
Durion caught Thranduil's eyes and bent his head toward one of the young lasses amongst the women.
"Is it the fault of the minstrel if the women like him?" Aron chuckled.
"We should do something about him," Durion said, giving Thranduil a look.
"Why should I care?"
"Why? Because someone might mistake him for you. With that hair of his, he kinds of looks like a shorter version of you, albeit his hair is white."
"I doubt anyone could mistake Thranduil for the minstrel, Durion." Aron laughed, shaking his head.
"But his name sounds like Thranduil." Galion turned to them. "And sometimes, his white hair looks golden. Like now."
Thranduil scrutinized the singer. The minstrel's hair was long and straight like his, but he wore a crown of flowers on his head.
"I doubt it." At the least, he would never be caught wearing a crown of flowers on his head.
"Galion!" One of the dancing lasses waved. "Come dance with us." She ran over to where Galion stood next to Durion. Behind her, several young women joined her, shouting, "Dance with us."
Galion flushed red as he glanced at Thranduil. Durion pulled Aron down from the branch and pushed Aron and Galion toward the girls.
"You should all go have fun. What is life without dancing?" Durion turned to Thranduil. "You, too. Some dancing would do well for your spirits."
"I don't dance." Thranduil stepped away when Durion reached out to grab him.
One of the girls laughed. "Of course you want to dance. Who doesn't enjoy dancing?"
Thranduil looked down at the young woman.
"I. Don't. Dance."
The young woman's laughter slowed into a titter.
"But we love to." Aron offered his hand to the young woman and led them and Galion to the grove where many people have joined in the dance.
"By the stars! You didn't need to frighten the lass like that."
"I did no such thing."
"No?" Durion glared up at Thranduil, allowing a deep frown to mar his face. "Ask me to dance again and I'll hurt you." He imitated Thranduil's voice.
"You exaggerate. I didn't say it that way."
"You didn't need to. Your entire body and face shouted it to the poor lass. Would it have hurt you to put a smile on your face? To just dance with the poor girl? By the stars! If you would just allow them to talk to you, they would love you."
"Why would they want to?"
"Because you are your father's son. They love him, you know. The Silvans. And they want to know more about you."
"Let me remind you, Durion. I am not my father. I don't need anyone to like me because I am my father's son."
"You grumpy, little princeling! That is not what I mean. What happened to the intelligent youth I used to know? Did the Noldor retrograde you rather than enhance you? I am saying you need to participate. Dance, talk, sing. Smile, if for nothing else but for the love of Our Lady of the stars. It is not that difficult to let people into your heart. And stop crushing poor Galion's heart."
"Now that, I did not do."
"The fact that you don't know is what is wrong. Do not these Silvans move you? Their joyful singing, their exuberant dances, their enthusiasm for the world, and their small joys?"
"Are you here to nag me to oblivion?"
Eryn who had been singing with others not too far from Durion walked over. "No words change him, Durion. He must do that himself, Love. Let him be."
"I just want him to know that he can't continue to keep people out. We must endure winter, but we cannot be tied down to it. And unless you are willing to open yourself to the change, the change cannot come."
"Where did you learn such wisdom, Durion?" Thranduil pulled himself up onto the branch above Durion, the one Aron vacated. "You have not only become a poet but a sage as well."
Durion grabbed onto the branch next to Thranduil and pulled himself up next to Thranduil.
"These people are wise. They may not have the benefit of the light of the holy land or the light of our lady, but they have learned to see the wisdom of Eru and the Valar through the creations, from the trees to the forest, and in the change of the seasons. When you talk to them, you will come to realize they know much more about this fleeting world than us."
"Well, good for them," Thranduil scoffed, and jumped down.
"You can run away if you want to. You may be an expert at evasion, but I have Eryn. Don't forget she found you and caught you in no time."
Thranduil grimaced, remembering. It had not taken them much time to catch up to him that time after leaving the pool of the crabapple trees.
"Don't remind me, please." Thranduil turned toward the woods when Aron and Galion walked back after having danced around the grove with the young Silvans.
He wanted to run, but he knew he could not escape. The forest was vast and open, yet it was a prison. Perhaps different from the high-towered and elegant walls of Lindon, but no less suffocating.
Sometimes, friends and family made better jailers than anyone or anything else and their love and concern a sturdier chain than all else.
Thranduil gazed at the forest and the sky above. Far above him, the sky on the east was brightening. A lone bird was flying there, high above all, as if he had no care in the world. Thranduil wished to be that bird.
A hand landed on his back.
"Your father's order was clear. No one is to go off alone, Thranduil. In four days, we will start climbing the mountain. My uncle is to meet us at the boundary of the city on the morning of the fifth day. Your father will expect you to be at his side when he greets other lords of the Silvans. After that meeting, you will have some free time afterward. Wait until then." Aron's voice was soothing and pleading at the same time.
Thranduil turned to his friend. "Can I not have those five days to myself, Aron? You know the elders will not leave me alone. Just five days, Aron. And I will be at my best behavior."
If he could convince Aron, Thranduil knew he needed not worry about others. Aron not only had the authority above others, but he would also be the hardest to convince. Aron was a natural worrier. He never deviated from the rules, almost another Elrond in that regard. Aron was too much like Elrond in many useless ways. Gentle, he was, but strict. But most importantly, other elders did not question Aron's words.
"Aron, come. I will stay far away from trouble."
"But going off alone means trouble will happen. We just passed our first winter here without an incident. I am not about to take any chances, Thranduil. And you do not know these woods. If you are familiar with the ways of the forest here, I may consider, but you don't."
"I could go with him," Galion raised his hand where he stood leaning against a tree.
"Stop being ridiculous, Aron. I can handle myself. I have survived the Dark Lord twice."
"That is what worries me. Some of us never even get to see such evil up close in our lifetime. Yet you got close not once, but twice!"
"I will take my double daggers with me. Tell my father I went off with others. He will believe you. Do this for me, please."
"What's the harm in it?" Durion asked.
He was a nagging bastard, but Durion was not Aron. Thranduil thanked the Valar silently for that.
"This forest is safe." Durion yawned. "I sent out scouts this morning to make sure no unwanted beasts are hiding in the shadows. Let the lad have some fun, Aron. The poor lad will have his hands full of responsibilities soon enough. And Lord Oropher hardly lets him outside his eyes since he arrived. I have seen Thranduil fight in the north when the Orcs took you. He can hold his own. Maybe even a better warrior than both of us combined." Durion turned to Thranduil. "Don't let that get to your head, though."
"You see? Durion trusts me." Thranduil grinned widely.
"Well, he hasn't been with you at Lindon."
"Please talk some sense into him, Durion. All I want is five days of alone time. Is that too much to ask? And the midsummer celebration is not for another week or so afterward."
"Your father will worry the Lady's ear off if he does not see you that many days, not after what happened at the forest last year." Aron shook his head.
"Ah, come, Aron. Give the lad five days. What are five days? We are at the base of the Dark Mountains. He won't be missed until we arrive at the city boundary. Silvans even let their children wander here without a worry. I heard several groups joined us from the mountain just to see our minstrel play."
"How about four days?" Thranduil, sensing Aron's resolve waiver, offered a compromise. "Three days?"
"Fine, but take Galion with you."
Galion's face lighted up. "Yes! I will go with you, Thranduil. I know all the parts of this forest."
"Two days. And I go alone. Two measly days, Aron."
Aron shook his head while Durion chuckled.
"I shall return before the sun sets on the second day or I will do whatever you ask."
Eryn looked bored. "Many elflings about this forest. And there many gathered for the midsummer feast. I not see what harm Thranduil could do. We not worry about our elflings in this forest."
"Yeah, and if Thranduil does not turn up, we could have Eryn track him down again." Durion grinned wickedly. Then his eyes glinted with mischief. "But what happens if he does not return, whether by his will or no, on time? That could happen, right? We should give him an incentive to return as soon as he can, like…making him swear that he'll dance with all the ladies at the festivities if he is but an hour later than the promised time. Now, wouldn't that be good for everyone? Thranduil gets his time off alone, and should he tarry a bit, we get the benefit of seeing him mingle with others. Even Lord Oropher, the elders, and some lucky young women get the benefit of his tarrying. A win-win for everyone, no matter what happens."
Thranduil bit down an urge to take a swing at that smug face.
"Certainly." Thranduil raised his chin and glared at Durion. "I am willing to make such a promise, as stupid as it sounds."
"Swear it."
"I swear I shall dance with any lass who is willing to dance with me if I don't return on time."
That would not happen, but if that was what it took, Thranduil was willing to take the chance.
"We have a deal? You will cover for me?"
Aron frowned deeply, but Thranduil could tell, he had won.
"We agreed then." Before anyone could say anything else, Thranduil jumped up onto a tree branch and climbed up the tree to jump onto another.
Thranduil peered down at Durion, laughing with his hand over Aron's shoulder.
"By sundown the day after tomorrow, Thranduil," Aron shouted after him.
Unable to stop his lips cracking open, Thranduil ran over the tree branch and dropped lightly onto the opening of his tent he shared with Aron. He grabbed his long daggers. He didn't expect trouble, but it didn't hurt to be prepared. He grabbed his green cape Glineth made for him but did not bother to grab a pack. He was going away for only two days. He needed nothing else.
Thranduil looked up at the sky. The day was breaking. He wanted to be gone before the revelers returned to rest. Quickly, he took a path away from the grove when someone passed him, carrying a familiar harp. The young elf went inside a tent in front of Thranduil, but came out shortly, walking down the path back to the grove.
Thranduil turned to go the opposite direction when he saw his father with a group of elder lords walking toward where Thranduil stood. The young Sinda jumped into the first tent in front of him.
He held his breath, listening to the barely audible sound of their feet passing the front of the tent. Once he heard no other sound, Thranduil raised the flap carefully. His father and the company went down the path toward the grove.
With a sigh, he turned back to the tent. A small lamp sat next to a plush bedroll illuminating a sumptuously furnished space. Among the pillows, a harp lay on it. Thranduil picked it up. It was the same harp the minstrel played at the grove.
Thranduil plucked the string. It had been a while since he had picked up an instrument. He let his fingers run over the strings when he heard someone call out. A delicate, sing-song voice.
"Master Tharandulin?"
Thranduil lifted the tent flap and found a young woman standing outside. She looked barely a century old, too old to be visiting a young man's tent without a chaperon. She was a small elleth even for a Silvan, her dark head barely reaching where his heart was.
When she saw him, her eyes widened as she craned her neck to look up at him.
"You are very tall," she said.
"You are very short."
"And very big for an elf."
"And very small for an elleth."
"I am not that small." The girl frowned. "For a minstrel you are very rude."
"And for a girl, you are not very mannered." Thranduil stepped out of the tent. "I am no…" He meant to tell the girl that he was no minstrel, but down the path came Himion with some warriors Thranduil trained as a child. He pulled the girl into the tent.
"What are you doing?" The girl stepped away, shaking her wrist free of Thranduil's grasp.
"Shhhh." Thranduil placed his finger in front of his lips.
The girl's eyes widened as the frown on her face deepened.
"Just stay quiet for a while. And I will leave. Here, take the harp. Okay? It's a gift." Thranduil thrust the harp into the girl's hands as he kept his ears on the footsteps outside.
"But Master Tharandulin…"
Once the sound of footsteps faded, without another word to the girl, Thranduil stepped out of the tent. Keeping one eye on the path to the grove, Thranduil stepped into the darkness of the forest.
Mountains of Shadow. June 4, SA 722
GRIMWINE woke to a gentle music like a misty rain early in a winter morning, barely audible and difficult to see, but whose chill dug deep into your skin. He sat up, mesmerized by the gentle plucking of a string. He didn't know a string could make such a sound, delicate like a drop of water but powerful like a storm at the same time.
He turned to where the sound came from. On a rock near to him, a figure sat covered in a cape that had been red at one time. It was old and faded, yet untattered. It looked strangely ancient, as if it would fall into dust but for some power that held it together. Long hair, dark as night, braided and knotted in many places, fell over the cape. The figure sat strumming a small harp made of wood that was white as the light of the moon. The harp was in the shape of a tree, one gold and one silver, and where the two branches met, strings black and shiny were strung.
Elegant, long, white fingers strummed the strings. Its stirring sound, haunting and powerful, pierced Grimwine's heart, making his eyes sting with tears.
The figure turned and met his eyes. The star-filled eyes greeted as he put away the harp into a small pouch that he stowed within his cape.
"Who are you?" Grimwine asked as he looked around himself. They were surrounded by crags, a small level area within several piles of rocks. "Where am I? Where is my brother? The others?"
"One question at a time, mortal." The deep, clear voice was the like the sea wind, otherworldly in its cadence.
"You are the elf?" Grimwine did not need confirmation, but he asked.
The elf's lips curled up. "I don't know about 'the' elf, but I am an elf, yes. You can call me Minstrel as that is what people call me."
Like his music, the elf was striking. The deep-set eyes, gray like the stormy sea in winter, dominated over sharply curved cheekbones. And despite the windblown look to him, the elf was pristine as if he walked out of a sea clean and fresh. He did not look as if he was out in this dark land for days. No grime clung to him, and even though Grimwine could see the knots in the elf's glossy black hair, it shone with a high sheen in the dusky light of the dawn that was breaking overhead. And despite the blackness of the hair and the smoothness of the Elf's skin, Grimwine felt the elf was older than he could ever fathom.
"As for your brother, he lives yet. Once the sun graces the skies, if it is your will, you will have the time and the opportunity to rescue him and others."
"We must get to him now. That monster… what was that?"
"That was one of Ungoliant's children."
"Ungoly what?"
"She was Morgoth's creature in a shape of a giant spider."
Grimwine grimaced. "A spider? That was a spider? And what is Morgoth?"
The elf was talking of too many things he knew nothing of, and Grimwine wanted to find his brother. "Where's my ax?" Grimwine looked about him. The last thing he remembered before being knocked out was seeing his ax on the ground behind the elf. "I need to find my brother. Why did you knock me out? Too much time has passed."
"Your ax is where you dropped it last night. Had you not tried to fight me, I would not have knocked you out. But you must wait. She will sleep now that she had fed. Like the creature of the darkness that she is, she fears the light. When the sun rises, she shall withdraw deep into her lair to rest. That is when you can rescue your brother."
"How do you know she did not eat my brother?" Grimwine clambered up onto the nearest rock. They were near the edge of a cliff. He jumped down onto the ledge and found his ax on the floor.
"Your brother is the one who pushed you away, isn't it? Shoddy, you called him. She wrapped him in her web. It meant she plans to eat him later. She would have fed on the first one or two men she took. The rest, she would take to her lair."
"And where is that?"
The elf pointed to the cleft above them.
"Dark as night is her cave, which leads down to the valley. Within the depth of her lair, she hides a clutch of eggs. She will take your brother and others there, to feed them to her young when they hatch."
"There are more of them?"
"The creature you encountered, she was laying eggs when I found her. After few bouts, I had the upper hand and chased after her, but she hid from me. I had been looking for the clutch of her eggs when you and your brother arrived. If left to hatch, they will spread outside this damnable place."
"The creature ran from you?" Grimwine could not believe it. They could hardly defend against the monster, and they were ten. The elf was alone.
"I had fought them before. Like the many seeds of dandelion that seeds itself over and over, there had been a countless number of those evil creatures. One could always find them in the dread valley of Nan Dungortheb."
"I have never heard of such a place."
The elf glanced away to look up at the brightening sky. "You could not have heard about it. It does not exist anymore. Although I am glad of the loss of that dark valley, so much has been lost along with it." The elf's face revealed nothing, but Grimwine thought he heard bitterness within the words. Or was it grief?
The elf did not give Grimwine time to think, however. He skipped from the top of one rock to another, then landed next to Grimwine. "But, come. The sun rises. If you wish to rescue your brother, it is time."
"You will help me?" Grimwine did not doubt that the elf knew he was being pursued. "Why? You know who we are and why we are here. In fact, why did you help me?" Grimwine knew the elf could have easily allowed him to fall to his death.
"You are one of Eru's children."
"What does that mean?"
"That means we are brothers, not in blood, but in our being. We should not harm each other if we could help it. If I need not, I rather not."
Suddenly, the elf turned away from him. Grimwine did not see the elf move, but in his white hand, a naked sword gleamed.
"I… thought you rather not." Grimwine clutched his ax. He was loathed to fight with the elf who had saved him.
Something flashed. The elf turned, his sword raised high to meet another steel.
Clang!
The sound of the clashing metal reverberated throughout the valley. A wind swept the ledge. Two capes, one faded red and the other black as night, swished in the wind.
Clank! Clank!
The two swords, one curved and the other long and straight, flashed as they made several passes. Kemik's arm blurred, his movement too fast to catch. They skipped and hopped over the rocks to land back on the ledge. The elf returned every one of Kemik's strike. At first, they seemed well matched, each of one's strike countered by the other. But as the sun rose out of the mountains, Kemik's movements slowed while the elf did not falter once.
Kemik's breath roughened as his movements became sluggish when three others of Kemik's men flew down onto the ledge and surrounded the elf.
The elf lowered his sword. "Is this fair, Hronatan? But then when did your kind knew fairness."
"I swore to my master that I would bring you to him. My oath to him flies first and foremost."
"Ah, oath. I know something about oath. And I tell you, Man of the East, do not give oath readily, for it may take more from you than you are wiling to give."
"Wait, Kemik. Do not hurt him." Grimwine waved his hand.
"I do not desire to harm him, friend," Kemik said and lowered his sword. "I only desire to fulfill my lord's command." He turned to the elf. "Throw your sword and I offer you my word of honor that you will not be harmed."
The elf laughed out aloud, his laughter empty of mirth. "I have given up believing in the honor of the Secondborns, but then, what choice do I have? It is easier to kill than to defend, but I have renounced killing if I can help it." The elf put away his sword which disappeared inside his cape. Grimwine wondered what else the elf carried under there.
Ellyth=plural form of elleth, Elven maid
Ungoliant (Sindarized form of Quenya word, ungweliante: Dark Spider)—Perhaps a Maia or a lesser spirit in a form of a giant spider. Melkor used her to enter Valinor unseen using Ungoliant's web of darkness and destroyed the two trees. Ungoliant became bigger and stronger after consuming the light of the trees and the Noldorin gems Melkor stole after stealing Silmarils, the jewels of Feanor. After attacking Melkor when he refused to surrender the Silmarils, she fled to Ereb Gorgoroth (Mountains of Terror) and had many offsprings. One of her offspring is Shelob from the LOTR.
Nan Dungortheb (Sindarin. Valley of Dreadful Death)—a valley between Ereb Gorgoroth (Mountains of Terror) and the enchanted fence of Doriath's north marches. Ungoliant moved here and filled it with horror and many of her offspring.