- Chapter 31 -
Thranduil leaned back in his chair and ran his hand over his lower jaw. Rest would not come easy for him tonight. If he didn't already have enough on his mind to begin with, he now had to worry over the actions of his council member. Iamben wasn't normally so foolish; and if he wasn't one of the oldest Silvan elves in the Woodland Realm, he might have found himself off the council. As it were, his family was highly respected within the kingdom and the King had valued his opinion for many years.
Lately, it seemed as if the councilor would give him no rest. Only weeks ago Iamben was attempting to negotiate the union between his daughter and Legolas, and at first the King considered suggesting to his son to spend more time with Lastril. She was a well respected elleth and of higher rank than many of the other Ladies of the court. However, the King was not blind and could easily see the way she fawned over his son. He could also see there was an immense lack of interest on his son's part. The topic was brought up between King and councilor a few times following their first conversation, and Thranduil knew it was not something Iamben would lightly set aside.
The fourth time the topic was brought up to the King it was downright refused. Perhaps that had been Thranduil's mistake...
He shuddered.
Of course Iamben would be upset over the refusal and he was certainly a clever ellon; had he pieced together the reasons why?
Pinching the bridge between his eyes, he let go a frustrated sigh. Yes, it had certainly been Thranduil's mistake. After all, the final refusal to negotiate his son's hand came the day after the arrival of the Princess and her ridiculous company.
Fool.
How could Iamben not see the connection after Thranduil practically laid it out on the table for him? Perhaps he had even seen the connection at Mereth Nuin Giliath, or suspected it, when the Prince turned down the invitation to dance by Lastril; something he would have never done at past events out of courtesy. The lack of his son's involvement in the feast did not go unnoticed. Did Iamben see the way Legolas watched the White Princess?
The further he mulled over his troubled thoughts, the worse the weight became. Whether or not Iamben knew about the Prince and Princesses' bonding was still questionable, and it made no sense to sit and waste energy on facts he was not completely certain about.
His eyes came to rest on Sidhel, whose frown was contagious.
"If Iamben knew you wanted to speak with Ristedir upon our arrival, he chose the perfect time to attempt a conversation with her while you were distracted," Sidhel said scornfully.
Thranduil nodded. "He is clever isn't he."
Sidhel's mouth formed a thin line. "You mentioned he might try to speak with her about certain subjects; am I to know what these subjects are?"
"Should anyone question her about the mountain, you will inform me immediately. I do not want her connection with the dwarves to be used against us once we reach our destination. Our goal is retrieving the white gems and I want nothing to stand in our way."
"You think someone might attempt to use her to make the dwarves cooperate?"
"It is possible. She was a member of their company for many months prior to their arrival."
"I thought the dwarf released her from his company?"
Thranduil nodded. "He did."
"If she was released from her duties, I do not think she could hardly be used as a bargaining chip."
"Never underestimate the power of greed, Sidhel. As for the other issue, that is for me to know at the moment. For now, your main task is to ensure she is protected to the best of you and your guards' abilities. Your other task is to make certain she does not speak with Iamben, or even Thadhron. I do not feel his intentions are wholesome at the moment."
Sidhel nodded. "Of course, my Lord. If I may ask, why did you bring her with? We have skilled healers of our own, why bring her along and risk something happening, risking her as a liability instead of leaving her under the protection of the halls?"
Thranduil's mouth hardened. Leaving her behind was the obvious choice. There was no need of her presence with the host at all; they had healers that were just as skilled, if not better. But when the announcement came that the army would be marching towards Erebor to reclaim their stolen heirlooms, something was off right away. Iamben was ever a constant presence by the King's side, and would never have chosen to be left behind. However, when Iamben opted for staying instead of making the journey, Thranduil knew he would have to reconsider his first decision. His suspicions were right when he announced to the councilor that she would be coming with, and Iamben declared the following morning that he would be traveling after all.
Whatever scheme Iamben had rolling around in his head, Thranduil would not allow it to play out.
He arched an eyebrow. "Because I have my suspicions that someone is plotting."
Sidhel would not push the King for information. He knew if he needed to know something, the King would inform him. He accepted the King's orders with heavy thoughts; not pleased with the fact he did not know the extent of the situation and knew it would only make his job all that more difficult.
"Has there been any word from Ernil nin Legolas?"
The King's eyes hardened, and Sidhel regretted asking. Always the King's temper was quick to flare. However, the Prince was Sidhel's closest friend, how could he not ask?
"It is my understanding the two of them rode north, but for what purpose I could not say."
Shyloh held her hand palm up towards the sky as it poured down upon the entire host. She watched the fat droplets of water dance across her bare skin and it sent a shiver through her body. She loved the smell of the rain. It filled her nose with the sweet stench of wet earth and greenery, and frankly there was nothing quite like it. The second she felt the first drops of rain she lifted her face to the sky and smiled as the first smells drifted to her on the breeze. It was one of the few smells that was just like home, and she clung to it with all her might.
Touching the necklace around her neck, she briefly wondered what the weather was like back home. Time moved differently in both worlds; would she ever come to grips with that knowledge? What was Mack doing? Did he ever grow out of his 'I'm never getting married' phase, or was he still ruling the bachelor life? What about Dad?
Stop it, her brain snapped, and just as soon as the images of her family appeared, they disappeared. You're breaking rule number one.
Rules are meant to be broken... The foreign voice came to her so suddenly, as if someone whispered right in her ear, that she jumped and twisted around in her saddle so quickly her horse startled and sidestepped right into Nodron's mount.
"My Lady?" Nodron asked, looking startled himself as he twisted around to see what she was looking at, while snatching her mare's reins.
She straightened and got a hold of her horse, then blinked in confusion. Her guards exchanged confused glances while she sat wide eyed in the saddle. Aside from her guards, there was no one close to her. She had to be hearing things, there was no way to explain it. Voices didn't just drift to you out of thin air...did they? The voice was like fine threads of silk; so crystal clear in her head that the intrusion of her thoughts sent her hands shaking.
"My Lady, are you alright?" asked Sidhel quietly as he pulled his horse alongside hers; his usual frown replaced with a heavy amount of concern.
Blinking, she looked up at him and forced her head to nod. "I'm fine," she sputtered, but she turned away when she saw his eyes dart across her to Nodron.
She gripped her reins tightly to help keep her hands steady, and the mare tossed her head in annoyance.
Twice now, she'd heard that voice. The first time she thought it was just her imagination, but now, the crystal clear melodious voice drifted through her head as if there had been someone standing directly next to her, and she shivered violently. It wasn't the voice of her mother, she was sure of it. So whose was it?
Dawn peeked over the horizon on the morning of their fourth day. Thankfully, the rest of their journey went without too much incident - meaning no more creepy voices - and as the rays of the morning sun worked its way through the grey clouds, she felt herself relax just a little. The last two days of their journey had been completely miserable and the rain never let up once. Despite her love for the rain, she grew sick of it quickly as their road turned to one big muddy trail. Soggy ground squelched beneath the many hooves and mud splattered the flanks of the horses as they trudged along as quickly as possible. Only once did a wagon get stuck but it was quickly pulled out with the aid of extra horsepower.
She drew her hood back and let the golden rays of the sun caress her skin like a warm kiss. Pulling her hair free from the braid, she let it fall loose down her back and drift in the breeze. Despite the fact winter was just around the corner, today felt warm and almost summer like, and after a while they were able to shed their cloaks to soak up the sun fully, and the rays turned the strands of her hair a shimmery gold.
For the briefest of moments, she was at peace, and she closed her eyes and forgot about all of her troubles. She was on the back of a horse, in the glow of the early morning light, with the smell of fall and horses.
The army itself already reached the city from what Sidhel told her once they were back on the road, and the objective was to arrive at daybreak. She was ordered to ride next to the King; for what purpose she couldn't understand, but Lord Iamben shot her a look that made her feel like she was completely out of place. Thankfully, he did not request another chat with her and she was glad to be spared from Sidhel's anger. Truly the ellon could be exceptionally intimidating when angry.
Half of her was excited, the other half scared to death with what they might find once they got closer to their destination. Her heart hammered in her chest as they crested the final hill and her eyes widened in disbelief. To the south, the stench of smoke and death drifted to them on the wind. Smoke still rose out from the middle of Long Lake as the rest of the town finished smoldering. The rain from last night would have helped put the remaining flames out. The sight itself was far off but for that she was almost glad; she didn't want to see anymore than she already did.
They followed the road north and she wasn't sure which view was worse: the one behind them, or the one ahead.
Crumbling as if it were a ruin from thousands of years ago, the white stone city was tucked on the crest of the hillside, under the massive shadow of the Lonely Mountain. The remnants of last night's torch light flickered between the gaps in the structures, indicating there was indeed some sort of life inside the walls. The grand stone bridge was wide enough for five horses to ride side by side but the closer they got to the crumbling walls of the city, the more hopeless things seemed.
Standing at attention and stationed around the entire outskirts of the city, the golden armor of King Thranduil's army glinted as the rays of the sunlight reflected off of them, making the city almost glitter. The guards red cloaks drifted in the breeze but otherwise the soldiers remained still and silent; as if they themselves were part of the city like statues carved of stone.
Once under the massive archway, she assumed there must have been doors that closed at one point that allowed entry into the city, or kept others out. Heavy metal hinges were all that were left though, and she figured once Smaug unleashed his fury that anything that would burn, burned, and was long lost. Sure enough, they passed buildings that were bare of doors and shutters. Round wheels of iron were all that remained of what she could only guess had been wagons at one point, but the company passed through at a trot without a second glance.
A sort of heaviness filled her chest that she couldn't explain, and her mind completely failed to reconstruct what the buildings might have looked like during their glory days. Now, it was a desolate city turned refuge camp for the survivors of Lake-town. However as they rode along, Shyloh couldn't help but wonder...just where were the survivors?
They trotted down the center of the city along what must have been the main road. She looked to the King but his gaze was intently focused ahead of them. The deep silver of his armor glinted in the morning light, reflecting the remarkable craftsmanship and skill of the elvish smiths. His charcoal cloak draped around his shoulders and the silver circlet upon his brow positively gleamed. Frankly, he put every other King she learned about in school to shame.
Ahead of them in a wide courtyard, multiple rows of guards stood at attention and as they slowed to a walk, two men of varying heights emerged from the rows, their faces drawn tight with confusion. Halting, Thranduil turned his elk just as the taller of the two men strode forwards. Shyloh and the following company did the same, and she drew her horse to a halt just off to the King's left side. As if they'd been commanded, the entire host of armored elves turned on the spot to face their King, and Shyloh shrank back a little as she steadied her horse.
"My Lord Thranduil, we did not look to see you here," the man said as he stared up at the King.
"I heard you needed aid," Thranduil said, and his head turned to watch the flow of horse drawn carts enter the courtyard, one after the other. Gasps and cries of relief flowed from around the courtyard as people suddenly started emerging as if from the walls themselves. In no time the wagons were being emptied and provisions were being passed out through the bubbling crowd.
"You have saved us!" the tall man gasped as he watched in disbelief. "I do not know how to thank you!"
"Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf," Thranduil said coolly. "I came to reclaim something of mine."
Shyloh's eyes watched the King as he spoke and briefly she thought she saw his eyes flash with greed; but as quickly as it came it was gone and it startled her. She thought he sounded a bit insensitive and selfish, but she pressed her lips together and said nothing.
She turned to look at the tall man that stood before them, but found him staring at her with wide, dark eyes. The top of his shoulder length black hair was pulled back into a tie. She was sure when he was younger he would have been exceptionally handsome. Although still handsome, the hands of time were slowly making themselves known in the tiny crevices at the corners of his eyes. The scruffy facial hair on his face hinted that there might be a tiny bit of grey working itself into the mix of dark hair. In another time, she would have blushed furiously when a man stared at her like he was doing, but right now she thought it was almost rude.
Thranduil dismounted, breaking the man's intense gaze, and he blinked as if someone just slapped him.
"Still, we are most grateful for your generosity," he managed to say as he turned to the King, but his eyes drifted back towards Shyloh as he spoke.
The second man stepped forwards and lingered just behind the taller one; as if determined to look important. His greasy black hair fell around his equally dark eyes and just past his shoulders. His pale face and slouchy shoulders almost made him look eerie. When he looked up at her under the bushy eyebrows of his uni-brow, she most certainly did not get any sort of warm and fuzzy feelings. His long black coat came to his knees, and he horribly reminded her of the unsavory characters Gandalf and her encountered at the very beginning of their trip, and the feeling did not sit well in her stomach at all.
Shyloh dismounted and her guards did the same while the King talked with the taller man. She drew the mares reins over her delicate ears and gave her a pat on the shoulder just as a guard came forward to claim both the mare and Thranduil's elk. Relinquishing the reins, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do now. Sidhel gave her no sign of moving away and only came to stand just behind her shoulder while her other guards lingered just behind her.
As the man talked with the King, his eyes made a habit of flicking towards Shyloh. The shorter man's eyes hardly left her but when she caught him staring, he would conspicuously look away; not the least bit fazed by being caught staring.
"Lake-town is a complete loss, as are the waters. The only fresh water source would be from the River Running," the man said.
"A fresher source no doubt," said the King.
Shyloh's eyes wandered the crowd as they continued to talk, and she wondered where Galdiron and the other healers were. Shouldn't she be with them? Most of their company seemed to have dispersed except for the wagon masters, Thranduil and Shyloh's guards, and the elves that were aiding in passing out provisions. She looked over the hungry bodies and her heart ached. They should have arrived sooner. No doubt the wounded were somewhere within the walls of the city, and she slowly grew impatient. She was supposed to be helping Galdiron.
For the most part, those that lingered or bustled about in the courtyard didn't look too bad, aside from their ragged clothes and disheveled appearances. They looked poverty stricken; as if they hadn't led the greatest of lives to begin with before coming here.
"The Master has not yet been found?" asked Thranduil, and her eyes fell upon the three of them next to her again.
The tall man shook his head. "There has been no sign of him."
"It is to be assumed then, Bard, that you will act as the new Lord of Dale?"
The man's eyes briefly flicked to her again before he nodded almost reluctantly.
"He is already most loved by the people, and ever their champion," the short, almost slimy man behind him said. The tall man gave him an annoyed glare but the shorter man only smiled with heavily stained teeth. She cringed a little. Thranduil's eyes were filled with disgust at the sight of him but did not acknowledge him anymore than that.
"Thank you, Alfrid," Bard said with a bit of annoyance.
"Then it is settled then," the King said, as if finalizing a deal. "You are welcomed to my tent to discuss the concerns of your people, and we will help with what we are able to."
"Again, it is most appreciated."
"Might I introduce Princess Shyloh of Rivendell," the King said and his announcement startled her. "She will be aiding our healers while they assist your injured survivors."
The man's eyes grew wide with surprise. "My Princess, we are most honored to have you. To what do we owe your arrival? If I am not mistaken, Rivendell is many leagues from here; surely you did not come on our account."
"Well-," she hesitated.
"Princess Shyloh was residing for a short term in the Woodland Realm, and has graciously agreed to travel with my company. Her uncle, Lord Elrond, has passed some of his extensive knowledge in the art of healing onto her. Princess, allow me to introduce the dragon slayer and new King of Dale, Bard the Bowman."
Shyloh blinked as Thranduil's words settled on her mind. "Dragon slayer?" she asked. "You...you killed Smaug?"
"Indeed he did, Princess," Alfrid said as he stepped around the bowman, his eyes flowing over her snowy white hair. "Like the mighty bowman he is, he took down the fiery beast with the last black arrow. I saw it for myself as he-."
"Enough Alfrid," Bard interrupted, looking incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassed. "Go make yourself useful and help the lads."
"Of course my Lord," Alfrid said, bowing low and dramatically. Before he left, his beady little eyes floated over Shyloh once more, before he turned and slowly walked off.
She pinched her mouth together with distaste as she watched him go, but Bard gave her a sympathetic look.
"He's more of a worm than anything," the bowman said, then watched the shorter man disappear into the crowd. "He served the old Master and used his status to his advantage more times than I can count. I don't think anyone is sad to see him demoted."
"Is he not your aid?" she asked.
Bard gave her a measured look. "Hardly. He still likes to push his way around. I'd say he's harmless but I wouldn't underestimate him completely."
Nodding, she felt Sidhel's eyes shift to her but she refused to look at him. If she knew her guards at all, she knew Sidhel was just adding Alfrid to the list of people to keep her away from.
"Rivendell," wondered Bard as he looked over the guards that pressed themselves protectively around her. "Did you not bring guards from your own homeland?"
Thranduil's eyes bore into her suddenly and he shook his head just the faintest so only she would see.
She hesitated again. "My company returned home shortly after we arrived in the Woodland Realm."
She twisted her fingers together a little nervously. She wanted to ask Bard if he knew anything about the dwarves or Erebor, but the warning look on Thranduil's face told her he knew what she was thinking, and that now was not the time for it. She bit her lip and kept quiet as the anxiety crushed her.
What she said wasn't technically a lie. Her company had indeed returned home shortly after their arrival in Mirkwood. They just might not have been the exact company he was thinking of.
By the time Shyloh got to the healing wards, a large space had been cleared in a courtyard and several small tents were erected within the space. There were cots lined up for those unable to walk, and already there was a small line of people with varying injuries waiting for help. The other two healers were passing out blankets, and off in the distance somewhere the echo of small children crying tugged at her heart.
It didn't take long for the smell of food to drift through the streets, and she could hardly blame them for digging in. These poor survivors literally lost everything.
She could hardly see the tip of the Lonely Mountain over the high walls of the courtyard, but she suddenly felt angry. Why weren't the dwarves here helping? Why didn't they offer the people of Lake-town shelter and aid from the cooler air? Especially due to the fact these people were forced to relocate.
If Bard killed Smaug, what did that mean for the dwarves?
She still had no idea which dwarves were holed up in the mountain. What if there was only one or two of them left? What if they all survived? What about Bilbo? If the dragon had so easily destroyed Esgaroth, she could only imagine what he could have done to the dwarves.
Turning back to the tents with a new form of determination flooding her, she vowed to help the survivors as much as possible, no matter who was hiding in the damned mountain.
Galdiron looked up at her and gave her a reserved smile as she entered the closest tent.
"My Lady, I did not expect to see you for some time yet," the healer said as he turned to her. She frowned and was about to ask why, but he motioned for her to follow him into the tent more. "I will have you work over here."
He motioned to a handful of cots that lined one side and were already being filled with those that couldn't walk or needed help walking.
"We will split the tent, and meet in the middle," Galdiron said, and he quickly showed her the large cabinets with their medicinal items. Already she was drawing her weapons off her shoulders, and she handed them to Sidhel who took them without question. There was no room for her guards inside, so reluctantly he ordered them to stand outside the entrances. Much to her annoyance, Sidhel refused to leave her alone and opted for standing out of the way to watch her. It was incredibly annoying as she rolled up her sleeves to prepare working thinking that he was right there, watching her every move.
Shaking her head slightly, she drew her shoulders back and took a deep breath. Now was the time to focus on those that needed her help, and as she looked towards the first patient, her determination grew and she shoved the thoughts of dwarves, guards, dragons, foreign voices and Lords from her mind and set to work.
ro781727 - you asked some good questions in your last review, so to answer a few of them, it is widely known that she is Elrond's niece and a Princess, since she is referred to as "Princess" various times. The reasoning behind the cold shoulder attitudes of the wood elves will make more sense perhaps the further along we get. Thank you for the corrections again.
Thank you for the comments and reviews; as always they are much appreciated and I love hearing your thoughts. Welcome new followers!
-S
