The group walked in silence for an immeasurable space of time, but even so,
it did not seem so long to Kizea. The Fendowan felt that perhaps she had
been nearer to the elven stronghold than she originally thought, for at her
best guess, they had been walking but only an hour. At last the group
stopped, and Legolas pulled on her arm, signaling for her to halt as well.
There were more whispers and strange sounds, and the group proceeded
forward once more. Kizea was marched across the stone bridge that crossed
Forest River. A thin hand, not Legolas's, forcefully rested upon her
shoulder, and she stopped short again. She jerked her shoulder, trying to
wrench it free of the strange hand, but it held on tight, fingers biting
into her shoulder. Without knowing it, Kizea now stood before the magical
stone gate that heralded the entrance to the underground chambers and
hallways, the very heart of the Mirkwood elven realm.
Within this underground fortress was the elf-king, Thranduil. It was also Kizea's only hope of gaining information that would to lead her to the wizard or the stone. Of course, before now it never occurred to her that she would be anything less than welcome to the elves, being on a mission of such gravity.
But Kizea was fast realizing they considered her with great suspicion, having come into their midst claiming to be a Fendowan. She might as well have called herself Galadriel. No one believed her. Kizea knew that she must be clever, but honest. Even now, Melune and her own Fendowan guard were probably upon her heels, and if they found her, Melune would know that she had not succeeded in obliterating them all. Kizea could feel a cold chill well up inside her. Her thoughts were wrenched back to the present as the ground on which she stood took to shaking, and Kizea could discern a great upheaval of granite slabs. Stepping backwards, the warrior bumped into the body of an elf, standing somberly behind her. Roughly, he pushed her away from him. Her feet spread apart instinctively to stay balanced. Then, almost as soon as it had begun, the shaking stopped and Kizea was prodded forward again. Her feet stepped cautiously, making sure that they would land on solid ground, and not into some endless chasm. Once inside the archway, her blindfold was removed, and Kizea gasped with wonder. An extensive carved hallway stood before them, lit on either side with torches for some distance. Beyond that, the hall disappeared to blackness where the scant light could not reach. In all her remembered existence, Kizea had never entered a cave that was lit by any kind of light other than the Anor stone. This light was different somehow. It was neither white nor brilliant. When one looked at the stone of Anor it was as one gazing into the too bright sunlight with one's hand covering one's eyes. This was more muted. Like staring lazily into a campfire late into the night, with the soothing smell of burning oak or pinewood surrounding the area. It was comforting, but strange.
Deeper and deeper they marched into the tunnels, and Kizea's encompassing thoughts were not of what she would say once she stood before the king, but rather she remained in amazement of her surroundings. Kizea thought it odd for the elves to live thus, like the Dwarves in their massive caves. Valnin had often talked with her of the elves, having had some previous experience with them. But he had always disliked the other races, for whatever reasons of his own. Especially the elves, who were distrustful of the race of men and unwilling to provide aid to men except when need suited them. Her brother never ventured too far in these discussions with Kizea, only that she should never have dealings with them. She had died, Valnin told her, at the hands of the Rivendell elves, and through the Anor stone she was returned. But that never concerned her. Kizea's only thoughts were to retrieve the stone before Melune obtained it, and return Valnin to her side and serve the stone once again.
As Legolas walked quickly in front of her, she moved her head so she could manage a better view of the scrolling on the hilts of his elven knives. It was fine work indeed. Although she would never admit it, she admired Legolas. He was a hardened warrior, like herself, but there was more to him than simply that. He was confident and wise almost to a fault, and seemingly not as haughty as the others. Having never seen an elf, Kizea was mildly surprised by their speed with a weapon, even rivaling her own. But to her they were overcautious and slow when hearing her demands, even when she relented and explained her urgency to see the King. But what Kizea could not understand was that having been secluded to her one duty, that is, protecting the Stone of Anor, she was simply unused to having her word questioned.
It was an unintended insult that the warrior would have to endure over and over with the forest elves who were used to the same autonomy. When they arrived at last to the main chamber, Kizea was also surprised by the sheer size and depth of the king's throne room. She had spent long years enduring the tiny enclosure of the thousand stairs. Even in the blackness of the Fendowan cavern, the tiny spaces that she was expected to crawl through to stand guard at the sacred alter were enveloping. All she needed to do as she descended into the blackness was extend her arms slightly to feel the boundary of its icy walls. But here, in Mirkwood, the caverns were huge, with ceilings reaching up many times her height. Kizea gazed upwards in amazement at the tall pillars, hewn from the living rock, that held up the enormous weight of the ceiling. Wide, heavy tapestries lined the walls. Sleek silvery axes or elven swords bedecked the pillars, 8 feet above floor level, between lighted torches which created a reddish glow to the interior, reminding Kizea of the magnificent sunsets on the Fendowan mountain of Goldorma.
At the far end of the room, green and purple carpets covered an elevated section of floor. Here sat the elven king upon an intricately carved wooden chair, already aware of Kizea's approach. The chair was bedecked with green and red stones that caught and refracted the torchlight with every movement of the Fendowan's eyes. Kizea took careful note of everything in the room, from the long wooden tables and benches to one side, to the weapons on the pillars, to the number of Mirkwood elves in the room. There were two other exits to the room, both guarded heavily. Two tall, stern-looking elves stood guard next to the King. An elf from behind placed a cold hand on Kizea's shoulder as they entered the throne room, and Kizea stopped and waited.
Legolas walked forward, bowed to his father and spoke elvish to him. Then Legolas stood to the side and the king beckoned for Kizea to approach. She slowly and purposefully walked closer, and could feel the stares of the 20 elves that had filled the chamber by now. When she neared the throne, she once again felt a hand on her shoulder signaling her to stop. She stood silently before the king, waiting. But the elven lord said nothing, for he was waiting also. He was waiting for Kizea's acknowledgement. He had been told, prior to Kizea's arrival, that a Fendowan warrior was being brought to him. Now he looked at the slightly built girl standing before him, and thought to himself that she could no more be the stuff of elven fables and myth than could the dwarves. He looked at her up and down with a serious face. Legolas glanced at his father with some confusion, as though he was expecting his father to speak as well. This did not escape Kizea's notice.
"I ask no forgiveness of my manners," Kizea said at last as she gazed at the elf lord, "The Fendowan are sworn to bow to no King."
A low murmur rose up in the room, but Thranduil raised a hand and the room quickly hushed. Elves looked at the slight girl with renewed interest, for none had ever seen a Fendowan before.
"I have heard the tales of Fendowan oaths," he replied at last, "My son tells me you have sought me out for reasons which you would not disclose, and he has honored you by respecting your requests. But tell me first, the Fendowan are also sworn to never leave the woodlands of Ryalan. So either you are not whom you say, or you have broken your oath, which I find quite impossible. How can you explain this to me?"
Kizea's head bowed slightly as she remembered all that transpired over the last several weeks.
"I would tell you that I was forced to leave the comfort of my homelands because of a great treachery, which, if left unchecked, will engulf all the world, and your own realm with it. Believe me, I have broken no oath in coming here. It is with grave urgency that I would stand before you now, and if you do not help me, King of the elves, then all of Middle-Earth will suffer the consequence of your refusal! I believe you or the wizard who is visiting these lands have something that belongs to the Fendowan."
Thranduil's gaze tightened on her.
"What could the elves possess that a Fendowan of the highest realm would desire?" he asked.
"The Anor stone has been stolen from the golden alter at Goldorma. I know that Gwaihir the Windlord has the stone and that he has brought it to Mirkwood in search of a wizard who is here. If the Stone of Anor is here, I would ask you to return it to me, so that I might return to its rightful place. And then I will leave you and your kind in peace."
Lowered whispers spread throughout the room again.
"Are not the Fendowan the guardians of the fabled stone?" the king asked.
"They are." she replied.
"And you have lost it by your own admission."
"We have lost it by treachery, King of Mirkwood. Not through fault of my own."
"And of what treachery do you refer? The Fendowan warriors are the only ones to know of the stone's location, is this not true?"
"Our business is our own to know," Kizea replied stoically. More whispers resounded through the room. Kizea found it almost unsettling; she was not used to having her will questioned.
"I am here to retrieve the stone, that is all."
The King sat back in his chair for a moment and gazed at Kizea. He could not detect any lies in her demeanor. Still, he thought to test her.
"The stone is not here," he said after a long pause, "But I think that if warriors of the greatest renown cannot keep it safe, then perhaps the elves may. If the myths are to be believed, then the Anor Stone was once an Elven stone, akin to the Silmarils, and might then best be guarded in our own elvenhome. I have always thought that if it truly existed, the Stone of Anor should belong to us."
Kizea stood rigid, she had not expected this reply. She glanced briefly at Legolas whose stare was fixed upon her, and suddenly she felt her stomach twinge. His presence unnerved her, and she wasn't sure why. Before her mind strayed too far, she focused her attentions back to the elven king.
"You do not know what you are saying." she began, "The Stone belongs to no one. We belong to it. And you cannot possibly protect it here, in this huge place. I know the elves to be a noble and honorable race. Still, you are not aware of the great peril on which Middle-Earth sits with the stone in the wilds now. I must find it without delay. Since you have heard the Fendowan lore, I am sure you are also aware that we are oath bound to perish before seeing the stone in the hands of any other. My quest is absolute and my mind cannot be dissuaded. I have no desire in my heart to cause pain to any noble elf of this world, but I must fight to the death any being that would keep me from my quest. I can only tell you that the stone is safest in our hands. But perhaps, if you are keen have a new treasure to add to your legendary trove, I will trade you for it."
"Trade?" the king replied almost laughing, "What could a Fendowan possess that is worth more than the fabled Stone of Anor? Long has it been said that the Fendowan are the only race that might keep the stone safe from all evil. Your journey here proves of your determination, warrior maiden. Neither would I have a desire to bring harm to such a mythical creature as yourself. There are not 10 of you in all of Middle-Earth. Is this not so? And I find it difficult to understand how a Fendowan journeys from afar and graces us with her presence, yet, not easily do strangers come into our woodlands and live. And here I am told you have traveled alone within Mirkwood for three. It is also said there exists no greater warrior than one who carries the stone's light with them and wields the flame in battle. It is said, within the stone's power, there is no death. But the elves would think little of this grace, for we ourselves are immortal. If I were to concede to you, that you are who you say, and that you are the only rightful keeper of the Anor stone, what would you give me in return for my help in its recovery?"
Kizea pondered the king's statement for a moment. He knew how long she had been in the woodlands. And then a new thought dawned on her. For him to know, the others must have informed him. Since the day she had set foot into Mirkwood, they had been tracking her, and without her knowledge. Perhaps the elves were not as trifling a race as she was led to believe.
"As I have told you, the stone was taken from us. I ventured away from my familiar surroundings to recover what should never have left. And it is imperative that I recover it. As for what I would give in return, I do not have command of a thousand treasure troves as you do, but I have enough. Would it not be better to have a mighty treasure in your hand here and now, King Thranduil, and know that you have returned the stone to its rightful keeper, than to possess the sacred stone and know that you have brought the world to its ruin in the keeping of it?" Kizea asked.
The masked warrior then dipped a tiny hand into her right pocket. Instantly 10 elves about the room drew up their bows. Their arrows were fixed upon the small girl. She stopped all movement, looked around the room, and continued delving into her pocket, but slower. After pulling her hand out, she opened her fist to reveal a handful of sparkling emeralds and pearls. The king sat up at once when he saw what Kizea held in her hand. Walking cautiously up to the throne, she laid the jewels at the King's feet and backed away. She could hear several bows being pulled taught as she approached, and thought how she might dodge one if an elf behind her deemed her as TOO close. Even Legolas had drawn a long, glowing elven knife from its sheath, and he stood at the ready. Thranduil looked down at the large gems and gazed back at Kizea.
"This IS a treasure," Thranduil said thoughtfully as he bent down to pick up the sparkling stones, "But what if it is not enough?"
"What more would you have?" she asked, greatly puzzled.
Before he could answer, a tall, sleek elf ran into the room, and his attentions were suddenly diverted. The elf brushed by Kizea with hardly a sideways glance, bowed before the elven king and stepped up to the throne. The king leaned forward as the elf whispered to him. The king's glance shot upwards to Kizea before he motioned for Legolas and Kerrinais to escort her to a corner of the chamber. Something was obviously happening, and the girl glanced over at the door from where the elf had appeared, but she saw nothing. Flanked by the two elf guards, she walked calmly to a long rectangular table, and sat on the bench. Legolas stood on one side, and Kerrinais stood on the other. Through the firelight, Kizea saw several figures being escorted into the room. Her hands clenched as she realized it was Melune and the others. But Melune did not see Kizea straightaway. Her cold eyes were fixed on the elven king, and Kizea was sitting in a darkened recess of the room.
Melune stopped short of the elven king's chair and, to Kizea's utter amazement, the Fendowan warrior bowed low before him; the two warriors who stood in back of her followed suit. The king placed a hand on his chest and extended it towards Melune in a gesture of friendship. He neither looked at Kizea, nor let any emotion escape from his face.
"Oh mighty King Thranduil!" Melune began, "I have come here today to beg the help of the noble and great elven king of Mirkwood!"
The elf king leaned forward on his throne as if trying to peer through her mask. He blinked several times, and then sat back into his seat.
"It seems I am recipient of much famous company this day," he began slowly, "Tell me what help would you seek of the elves?"
"I seek the stolen Stone of Anor, and I seek to bring to justice she who would use the stone for her own evil purpose!"
Her words echoed within the chamber. Somehow, Melune knew that Kizea was alive.
"For whom do you seek?" he asked somberly. Melune and the others stood erect.
"I seek a Fendowan impersonator!" Melune said in a loud voice for all to hear, "One who would obtain the Stone of Anor for her own evil purpose! She is come here to seek your hand in friendship, but do not give it to her! In allying yourself to her, I would be forced to kill the elves as well as she! The stone must be returned to the Fendowan stronghold, or the world will fall!"
Another murmur welled up inside the hall. Melune had very little contact with the elves in her long life, and she was not fully aware of the impact of her boastful statement. To the elven king, it was a ludicrous notion that three women might defeat 25 elves at once, 10 of them with bow and arrow fixed upon the visitors. Still, he was not sure. So little was actually known for fact about the Fendowan. What if they were all great sorceresses? Kizea was taken aback. Somehow or other, Melune had found out she survived the battle with the orc on the cliff.
"I am not in the habit of protecting criminals," he said solemnly, "And how am I to know that you are not lying to me now? I can see nothing but blackness in your eyes."
Underneath her mask, a smile came to Melune's face, and her eyes began to sparkle.
"A test! Yes! Is it not said there is no greater warrior in the world than a Fendowan warrior? Let me choose of your elf soldiers here, King Thranduil, and I will defeat him with but my two meager daggers. He may choose whatever weapon he prefers, even unto a drawn bow and arrow. If I am lying of my identity, I will be dead."
Calmly sitting in the corner, Kizea was intently listening to Melune's discourse. Melune was, of course, attempting to discredit her, which was not a difficult task. The king seemed to believe neither of them. Still, Melune's challenge sent up a well of fear inside her. Kizea knew that Melune's skill and accuracy with a knife was beyond anyone in the room, perhaps even her own. The elves, quick and fierce, were no match for her. Yet, she could say nothing; betray nothing.
The elven king pondered this challenge for a moment before nodding to her, and Melune stood up and began to saunter across the room to where several elves stood with bow and arrow primed for a target. But Melune had glanced to the shadows and saw a slight sparkle emanating from the dark recesses of the corner, and this peaked her interest. Kizea heart began to beat faster as Melune approached her. She stood in front of Kizea at last, cocking her head one way and then the other, before she spoke in a an almost jovial voice.
To the elves, however, she spoke in a slurred tongue, one in which they were not familiar, yet wonderful to listen to. It was akin to lying back on the mossy bank of a stream and closing one's eyes while hearing a babbling brook. Melune's powers were beginning to bring themselves to bear more and more.
"Ah! You have finished the race before me Kizea! Were the spiders of the wood not a welcome diversion from the confines of that dank and dingy cellar we were forced to live in day after day? Did you not have as great a sport as we?"
Legolas gazed at Melune's small stature. She seemed so harmless, yet somehow she unnerved him. Kizea sat rigid and silent. Melune turned around and looked back across the room. All eyes were on her, and she reveled in the attention. Then the masked woman turned back to Kizea.
"Come, come," Melune smiled, "Surely you have discovered your other powers by now. These lower beings cannot understand us if we do not wish it. You have not forgotten your tongue, I hope, old friend. Still, I can see you admire these insignificant woodland folk. Your choice of company has not improved overmuch since our last meeting." Melune eyed Legolas and Kerrinais. Then she pretended to look further around the room.
"But wait!" Melune grinned, "Is there no one else here with you? Did Valnin not survive the fall? What a pity, I had so hoped to see him again, at least!"
At this taunt, Kizea stood bolt upright. Immediately, Kerrinais placed a strong arm in front of Kizea. Although King Thranduil did not understand the women's discourse, his eyes darted to the two remaining Fendowan warriors before him. When Kizea rose to her feet, they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in reverence. This baffled the king, and he looked back at Kizea with renewed interest.
"Fiend!" Kizea cried as she strained against Kerrinais's arm, "I would cut your black heart from you, given the chance. Hear me, Melune, no oath or force of the Dark Lord will save you!"
Melune laughed and brought herself closer to the girl.
"Do not blame ME," she cooed, "It was not I who was left to the boy's charge! But I am forgetting my business at hand! Which elf will I dispose of first Kizea? Which one of these pitiful creatures suits you the most?"
She looked up and her black eyes rested upon Legolas. He gazed back at her with a somber face, his arms to his sides. He could retrieve his own elven dagger in an instant, and yet Melune seemed not the least bit concerned.
"Ah! This handsomish, tall one here!" Melune grinned evilly, "He suits you well, does he not? Your energies are the same; I can feel it. I shall kill him first! He shall be my challenge!"
Melune took a single step towards Legolas, and he leaped backwards in a defensive stance.
"Be not afraid great warrior-elf," Melune purred as she took another step towards him, "If you prevail against me, the stone and all my followers will be yours to do with as you will. It is the law. Think of it. Treasure and power beyond all imagination awaits you if you can overpower me for an instant. Surely an ancient being such as you can win against such an insignificant girl. You need only touch the hilt of my dagger and accept my challenge."
Her words were soft and musical, and suddenly Legolas found himself inexplicably walking towards her, trapped within her mesmerizing gaze. His hand began to rise towards Melune's dagger when Kizea placed her hand on his extended arm. Almost at once he staggered backwards, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the effects of Melune's voice. He stared at Kizea with alarm in his eyes, but Kizea merely shook her head slightly.
"NO Legolas," Kizea said as she gently pushed his arm back, "She would lull you into accepting a challenge which is not possible to win. This must be MY battle."
Annoyed at first, Melune suddenly burst into laughter. She turned about and held the hilt of her golden dagger towards Kizea.
"Yes!" she mused, "Fight with me Kizea! Win back the pride of the Fendowan for noble ill purpose! Return it to a tiny chamber deep inside a black pit, never to see the light of day again! Are we never to realize all of its capabilities? Can you not feel its power? What it is capable of? Are you not the least curious?"
"I know what its power has done YOU," Kizea whispered. Melune shot a fierce gaze at her.
Almost without Melune's realizing it, Kizea grabbed the dagger's hilt and yanked the sharp knife from Melune's hand, slicing her palm. But Melune neither cried out nor moved, she only lifted her hand to display the syrupy, blackened blood dripping down her hand. Kerrinais jumped back in a defensive stance at the sight of it. Only Orcs and things of evil bled black. Still, it was rumored that the guardians of the great stone were not always of the light. Kerrinais did not know what to think.
"I will accept your challenge, demon," Kizea said as her hand trembled in fury.
Melune truly had not much of a wish to battle with Kizea. Her all- encompassing thoughts were to the Anor stone's location, and she did not want to waste her time and energy with one wayward Fendowan. Still Kizea was there and had to be dealt with somehow. Through their conceit of superiority, neither Melune nor Kizea were initially concerned of the 75 or so elves that now packed into the chamber. But as Melune suddenly looked up and about the room, she realized that the elf numbers were progressively increasing, and her escape back to the forest with the stone's whereabouts was now at stake. And so Melune thought to use Kizea to aid in that escape in whatever way she could. She walked in closer to her rival and let her aggressive voice die down to yet another musical and lower level, one in which even Kizea could become entrapped. Melune, being a servant of evil, was supremely arrogant of herself. She was sure that no one, not even the legendary Kizea, could ultimately oppose her.
"There is no need for you to fight me, mighty Kizea. We are of the same bolt of cloth, you and I," Melune said sweetly, "We would both see the stone back to Goldorma when we are done with it! The stone has chosen us and no other can possess it. We know this for the truth. The stone would have us do what we will with it. Join me and we shall have what we desire most in the world! Would you like this elf as your slave? I will make him yours! His will is weak and he may yet be yours if you desire it. Say but a word of solace to me. Come! I would see you bathed in treasure with all these abhorrent creatures at your feet! With the Stone of Anor, you can be a queen of all the elves in Middle-Earth!"
No elf in the room yet understood Melune's discourse. Her voice was low and flowing, and several elves even stepped closer to hear it, but none understood it. Kizea stepped forward and threw down the dagger hard at Melune's feet. It clanged on the floor and the sound of it reverberated throughout the room. Melune jumped back several steps while raising her arms in a defensive stance, as though she was awakened from the throws of her own spell. Several elves looked around the chamber as though they did not know where they were. In Melune's attempt to enlist Kizea to her side, she was placing all the room under a cloak of confusion.
"Pick it up, Melune!" Kizea cried with hatred in her voice. "Your enchantments cannot work on ME!"
Several elves, including Legolas and Kerrinais now could plainly understand Kizea, and they were shocked at the intensity of anger in her voice.
"You've seen your last of the Stone of Anor!" Kizea cried, seething with fury, "And here you shall die! Never has a monster existed that was more deserving!"
Melune frowned. Bending down slowly, purposefully, she took back her dagger that Kizea had thrown to the floor. Then rising, she took an assessment of Kizea's ripped clothing and her bruised body. The demon caught sight of Kizea's injured right hand and she smiled.
"I do not think so." she whispered in a low, menacing voice. Then turning around, she approached King Thranduil once more.
"My challenge is accepted, great king!" Melune said loudly for all to hear, "What better way to show you my honorable intentions than to vanquish the very harbinger of evil that I seek before your very eyes?"
All attentions were now on King Thranduil. Despite Melune's callous speeches to Kizea, the king was neither afraid nor angered. For he did not yet comprehend all that had transpired. Even Legolas and Kerrinais did not hear the entirety of it, and they stood baffled at their lack of understanding. After a moment, King Thranduil nodded to Melune, who then turned and waved a hand at the others, who quickly moved away to a far recess of the room. Looking around the room nervously, Kizea took her cue and began to walk to the center of the room where Melune waited. For reasons unknown, Legolas extended his hand and touched Kizea's shoulder. She stopped and turned her head towards him.
"Worry not for me, Legolas," Kizea said in almost a lighthearted manner, "I will be careful."
Legolas's hand dropped to his side and he watched the girl approach the middle of the room. Several elves stepped backwards as they watched the two women come to the center of the room. Both stood an arms length from each other. Kizea turned her head to catch a last glimpse of Legolas in the dark corner as she instantly drew both of her golden daggers from their sheaths. With one arm outstretched to the ceiling, Kizea outstretched her other arm, pointing her dagger directly at Melune's throat. Melune did likewise with her own dagger pointing at Kizea, her black eyes twinkling behind her shining, golden mask. Then each warrior shouted,
"Alia Aya Ungala Anor! (For the light of Anor!)." And thus the battle began.
Immediately upon finishing the phrase, Melune lunged forward slashing both daggers savagely at Kizea's upper torso and head. And with each attack, Kizea countered with an upward block of her own daggers. The sounds of clanging metal and hard breathing echoed in the great hall as the women jousted about the room, tipping over chairs and causing the elves to jump quickly aside in all directions to stay out of their path. At length, Kizea saw a brief opening as they parried back and forth and swept her outstretched dagger before Melune. It was so fast that the very air seemed to be cut in two. Melune quickly ducked her head and the dagger missed her. Almost laughing, Melune clenched her fist hard around her dagger, and punched Kizea squarely in the chest. The girl staggered backwards and rested against a large pillar.
Legolas thought that Kizea's moment had come as she sat dazed against the hardened stone. He took a step forward, but Kerrinais was at once beside him, holding him back. It was more of curiosity, than concern for his friend. Kerrinais wished to see the duel played out, and he did not want Legolas tipping the scales. But Legolas was growing alarmed at the unfolding scenario. But there was little he could do but watch and wait. King Thranduil and the other elves were enjoying the fight with much interest also. The swiftness and accuracy to which each blow was laid was astounding to the elf king. He had never seen a duel such as this before, even between two elves.
As Kizea stood dazed, Melune perceived a new window of opportunity and threw one of her daggers hard at Kizea. She rolled away from the pillar just as the knife whizzed by her head, solidly wedging itself in the stone. As Melune gazed up the pillar, she saw the sparkling elven swords displayed there. Breaking away on a dead run towards the pillar, Melune leapt into the air, placing a foot on the single dagger that was embedded into the stone and used it as a step to reach an elven sword. She swished the remaining dagger in her hand twice. Then, back flipping off the pillar, she landed on her feet, newly armed with a long sword and her other dagger.
Kizea looked around wildly for a moment, backing away. She knew that Melune had the advantage with the elven sword. Stepping back from the pillar, Kizea looked up the same pillar. There were three more elven swords hanging from thin leather straps. One conspicuous strap was still swaying where Melune had sliced it. With renewed speed, Kizea twirled her daggers around in her tiny hands, almost too fast for the eye to follow. When Melune saw Kizea doing this, she jumped backwards, crouching down and crossing her sword and dagger before her to thwart any attempt Kizea might make at throwing them. But instead, Kizea heaved her daggers with all her force to the pillar, letting out a small cry as she let them go. Each dagger neatly cut the leather strap of a hanging sword before wedging itself halfway into the stone. Instantly two swords fell from the pillar. Kizea caught one straightaway with her left hand, the other she kicked with her right foot. The sword flew back into the air, turning end over end, and Kizea immediately grasped the hilt of the second sword with her right hand. Thus newly armed, Kizea ran around the pillar, twirling the two swords as she advanced. This was not for show or to intimidate Melune. That would be an empty gesture. Kizea was merely assessing their weight, for she had never fought with elven arms before. She was quite surprised at how light they were to carry. In truth, the swords did not weigh much more than the shorter, Fendowan daggers.
Leaping again to her feet, Melune drew back a sinewy, muscled arm and brought the elven sword she held down on Kizea, but Kizea blocked the attack with her own raised swords. The two women jumped and parried about the room once more, each renewed attack blocked or dodged. The clanging of the metal mixed with grunts and renewed cries of anger resonated throughout the throne room. At last, Kerrinais leaned over to Legolas.
"They are evenly matched," he whispered, "I have never seen such skill in a woman. Not even our elven kindred can match them with a sword. They must both be Fendowans. This is truly a sight to behold."
Legolas replied nothing. He watched them battle, anxiously awaiting the outcome. His thoughts were grim as he concentrated on the fight. He knew that something foreboding was taking place beyond a battle with masters of the knife, as the elves knew of them. To see one stray Fendowan in the elven territory was enough to elicit a nervous response within the elf. Now, with four in their ranks, Legolas's quiet reserve rose to alarm. He did not know enough of the Anor stone to realize what exactly it meant to have the gem removed from its alter. But elven lore was clearer concerning the legendary Fendowan order. More powerful than any elf warrior, wiser than any wizard, and sworn to their deaths to defend the light of Anor. That they should ALL leave the hidden mountain of Goldorma and come searching for the stone in Mirkwood hinted of some unseen catastrophe. Kizea's desperation had been obvious to him. He had seen Gandalf not a week before, but the wizard gave no hint of any misgivings. Still, the wizard appeared unexpectedly, and was in great haste to see the elven king. And Gandalf seldom appeared without an urgent need at hand. Legolas shuddered.
Across the cold stone floor the two women fault with vehement hatred for one another, and they showed no signs of tiring. Finally, with one mighty thrust forward, Melune grabbed Kizea's arm as it drew in close to her. Melune pulled Kizea forward, wrenching one weapon from Kizea's grip, and simultaneously throwing her off balance. As Kizea flew past, Melune managed to hit Kizea squarely in her lower back. Kizea staggered forward, struggling to regain her footing. Then Melune rushed in, slamming her entire bodyweight against Kizea and the two sprawled onto the floor. With a muffled cry, Kizea's injured hand hit the stone floor hard and her grip loosened. Instantly, the remaining sword skipped ten feet across the floor with a mighty clang. Twisting her body, Kizea attempted to retrieve her sword, but it was out of her reach.
She felt her rival bearing down on top of her. In another fraction of an instant, Melune was sitting on Kizea's chest. Her very weight seemed to take away the girl's breath. Flailing herself from side to side, Kizea fought vainly to throw Melune off, but her arms were pinned solidly under Melune's knees, and the battle seemed suddenly lost. Melune towered above her, breathing heavily. Her dagger was poised under Kizea's chin, one palm pressed against the hilt, ready to push the knife through her throat. A sudden hush fell over the entire room, as the elves waited for Melune to deal the final blow. But she did not kill Kizea. The women gazed at one another, and Melune suddenly became transfixed and unable to move. Even though she cried out in fury and leaned into the dagger, it would go no farther. An intense light glowed through Kizea's mask and seemed to produce an invisible barrier that Melune's knife could not penetrate. Melune, the sweat dripping from underneath her mask, was simply unable to move the dagger further.
In the next moment, the sounds of stretching bows came to Melune's ears and her attentions were diverted back to the elves that had been watching the Fendowan battle. The two women were completely surrounded by elven archers, arrows drawn taught on their bows. In the background of the chamber, King Thranduil's arm was still raised high in the air. Melune gazed over the room that was now almost filled to capacity. The other Fendowan warriors were already gone, taken away without her even knowing it, such was the ferocity of the battle. The king had gained the upper hand for the time being.
Within this underground fortress was the elf-king, Thranduil. It was also Kizea's only hope of gaining information that would to lead her to the wizard or the stone. Of course, before now it never occurred to her that she would be anything less than welcome to the elves, being on a mission of such gravity.
But Kizea was fast realizing they considered her with great suspicion, having come into their midst claiming to be a Fendowan. She might as well have called herself Galadriel. No one believed her. Kizea knew that she must be clever, but honest. Even now, Melune and her own Fendowan guard were probably upon her heels, and if they found her, Melune would know that she had not succeeded in obliterating them all. Kizea could feel a cold chill well up inside her. Her thoughts were wrenched back to the present as the ground on which she stood took to shaking, and Kizea could discern a great upheaval of granite slabs. Stepping backwards, the warrior bumped into the body of an elf, standing somberly behind her. Roughly, he pushed her away from him. Her feet spread apart instinctively to stay balanced. Then, almost as soon as it had begun, the shaking stopped and Kizea was prodded forward again. Her feet stepped cautiously, making sure that they would land on solid ground, and not into some endless chasm. Once inside the archway, her blindfold was removed, and Kizea gasped with wonder. An extensive carved hallway stood before them, lit on either side with torches for some distance. Beyond that, the hall disappeared to blackness where the scant light could not reach. In all her remembered existence, Kizea had never entered a cave that was lit by any kind of light other than the Anor stone. This light was different somehow. It was neither white nor brilliant. When one looked at the stone of Anor it was as one gazing into the too bright sunlight with one's hand covering one's eyes. This was more muted. Like staring lazily into a campfire late into the night, with the soothing smell of burning oak or pinewood surrounding the area. It was comforting, but strange.
Deeper and deeper they marched into the tunnels, and Kizea's encompassing thoughts were not of what she would say once she stood before the king, but rather she remained in amazement of her surroundings. Kizea thought it odd for the elves to live thus, like the Dwarves in their massive caves. Valnin had often talked with her of the elves, having had some previous experience with them. But he had always disliked the other races, for whatever reasons of his own. Especially the elves, who were distrustful of the race of men and unwilling to provide aid to men except when need suited them. Her brother never ventured too far in these discussions with Kizea, only that she should never have dealings with them. She had died, Valnin told her, at the hands of the Rivendell elves, and through the Anor stone she was returned. But that never concerned her. Kizea's only thoughts were to retrieve the stone before Melune obtained it, and return Valnin to her side and serve the stone once again.
As Legolas walked quickly in front of her, she moved her head so she could manage a better view of the scrolling on the hilts of his elven knives. It was fine work indeed. Although she would never admit it, she admired Legolas. He was a hardened warrior, like herself, but there was more to him than simply that. He was confident and wise almost to a fault, and seemingly not as haughty as the others. Having never seen an elf, Kizea was mildly surprised by their speed with a weapon, even rivaling her own. But to her they were overcautious and slow when hearing her demands, even when she relented and explained her urgency to see the King. But what Kizea could not understand was that having been secluded to her one duty, that is, protecting the Stone of Anor, she was simply unused to having her word questioned.
It was an unintended insult that the warrior would have to endure over and over with the forest elves who were used to the same autonomy. When they arrived at last to the main chamber, Kizea was also surprised by the sheer size and depth of the king's throne room. She had spent long years enduring the tiny enclosure of the thousand stairs. Even in the blackness of the Fendowan cavern, the tiny spaces that she was expected to crawl through to stand guard at the sacred alter were enveloping. All she needed to do as she descended into the blackness was extend her arms slightly to feel the boundary of its icy walls. But here, in Mirkwood, the caverns were huge, with ceilings reaching up many times her height. Kizea gazed upwards in amazement at the tall pillars, hewn from the living rock, that held up the enormous weight of the ceiling. Wide, heavy tapestries lined the walls. Sleek silvery axes or elven swords bedecked the pillars, 8 feet above floor level, between lighted torches which created a reddish glow to the interior, reminding Kizea of the magnificent sunsets on the Fendowan mountain of Goldorma.
At the far end of the room, green and purple carpets covered an elevated section of floor. Here sat the elven king upon an intricately carved wooden chair, already aware of Kizea's approach. The chair was bedecked with green and red stones that caught and refracted the torchlight with every movement of the Fendowan's eyes. Kizea took careful note of everything in the room, from the long wooden tables and benches to one side, to the weapons on the pillars, to the number of Mirkwood elves in the room. There were two other exits to the room, both guarded heavily. Two tall, stern-looking elves stood guard next to the King. An elf from behind placed a cold hand on Kizea's shoulder as they entered the throne room, and Kizea stopped and waited.
Legolas walked forward, bowed to his father and spoke elvish to him. Then Legolas stood to the side and the king beckoned for Kizea to approach. She slowly and purposefully walked closer, and could feel the stares of the 20 elves that had filled the chamber by now. When she neared the throne, she once again felt a hand on her shoulder signaling her to stop. She stood silently before the king, waiting. But the elven lord said nothing, for he was waiting also. He was waiting for Kizea's acknowledgement. He had been told, prior to Kizea's arrival, that a Fendowan warrior was being brought to him. Now he looked at the slightly built girl standing before him, and thought to himself that she could no more be the stuff of elven fables and myth than could the dwarves. He looked at her up and down with a serious face. Legolas glanced at his father with some confusion, as though he was expecting his father to speak as well. This did not escape Kizea's notice.
"I ask no forgiveness of my manners," Kizea said at last as she gazed at the elf lord, "The Fendowan are sworn to bow to no King."
A low murmur rose up in the room, but Thranduil raised a hand and the room quickly hushed. Elves looked at the slight girl with renewed interest, for none had ever seen a Fendowan before.
"I have heard the tales of Fendowan oaths," he replied at last, "My son tells me you have sought me out for reasons which you would not disclose, and he has honored you by respecting your requests. But tell me first, the Fendowan are also sworn to never leave the woodlands of Ryalan. So either you are not whom you say, or you have broken your oath, which I find quite impossible. How can you explain this to me?"
Kizea's head bowed slightly as she remembered all that transpired over the last several weeks.
"I would tell you that I was forced to leave the comfort of my homelands because of a great treachery, which, if left unchecked, will engulf all the world, and your own realm with it. Believe me, I have broken no oath in coming here. It is with grave urgency that I would stand before you now, and if you do not help me, King of the elves, then all of Middle-Earth will suffer the consequence of your refusal! I believe you or the wizard who is visiting these lands have something that belongs to the Fendowan."
Thranduil's gaze tightened on her.
"What could the elves possess that a Fendowan of the highest realm would desire?" he asked.
"The Anor stone has been stolen from the golden alter at Goldorma. I know that Gwaihir the Windlord has the stone and that he has brought it to Mirkwood in search of a wizard who is here. If the Stone of Anor is here, I would ask you to return it to me, so that I might return to its rightful place. And then I will leave you and your kind in peace."
Lowered whispers spread throughout the room again.
"Are not the Fendowan the guardians of the fabled stone?" the king asked.
"They are." she replied.
"And you have lost it by your own admission."
"We have lost it by treachery, King of Mirkwood. Not through fault of my own."
"And of what treachery do you refer? The Fendowan warriors are the only ones to know of the stone's location, is this not true?"
"Our business is our own to know," Kizea replied stoically. More whispers resounded through the room. Kizea found it almost unsettling; she was not used to having her will questioned.
"I am here to retrieve the stone, that is all."
The King sat back in his chair for a moment and gazed at Kizea. He could not detect any lies in her demeanor. Still, he thought to test her.
"The stone is not here," he said after a long pause, "But I think that if warriors of the greatest renown cannot keep it safe, then perhaps the elves may. If the myths are to be believed, then the Anor Stone was once an Elven stone, akin to the Silmarils, and might then best be guarded in our own elvenhome. I have always thought that if it truly existed, the Stone of Anor should belong to us."
Kizea stood rigid, she had not expected this reply. She glanced briefly at Legolas whose stare was fixed upon her, and suddenly she felt her stomach twinge. His presence unnerved her, and she wasn't sure why. Before her mind strayed too far, she focused her attentions back to the elven king.
"You do not know what you are saying." she began, "The Stone belongs to no one. We belong to it. And you cannot possibly protect it here, in this huge place. I know the elves to be a noble and honorable race. Still, you are not aware of the great peril on which Middle-Earth sits with the stone in the wilds now. I must find it without delay. Since you have heard the Fendowan lore, I am sure you are also aware that we are oath bound to perish before seeing the stone in the hands of any other. My quest is absolute and my mind cannot be dissuaded. I have no desire in my heart to cause pain to any noble elf of this world, but I must fight to the death any being that would keep me from my quest. I can only tell you that the stone is safest in our hands. But perhaps, if you are keen have a new treasure to add to your legendary trove, I will trade you for it."
"Trade?" the king replied almost laughing, "What could a Fendowan possess that is worth more than the fabled Stone of Anor? Long has it been said that the Fendowan are the only race that might keep the stone safe from all evil. Your journey here proves of your determination, warrior maiden. Neither would I have a desire to bring harm to such a mythical creature as yourself. There are not 10 of you in all of Middle-Earth. Is this not so? And I find it difficult to understand how a Fendowan journeys from afar and graces us with her presence, yet, not easily do strangers come into our woodlands and live. And here I am told you have traveled alone within Mirkwood for three. It is also said there exists no greater warrior than one who carries the stone's light with them and wields the flame in battle. It is said, within the stone's power, there is no death. But the elves would think little of this grace, for we ourselves are immortal. If I were to concede to you, that you are who you say, and that you are the only rightful keeper of the Anor stone, what would you give me in return for my help in its recovery?"
Kizea pondered the king's statement for a moment. He knew how long she had been in the woodlands. And then a new thought dawned on her. For him to know, the others must have informed him. Since the day she had set foot into Mirkwood, they had been tracking her, and without her knowledge. Perhaps the elves were not as trifling a race as she was led to believe.
"As I have told you, the stone was taken from us. I ventured away from my familiar surroundings to recover what should never have left. And it is imperative that I recover it. As for what I would give in return, I do not have command of a thousand treasure troves as you do, but I have enough. Would it not be better to have a mighty treasure in your hand here and now, King Thranduil, and know that you have returned the stone to its rightful keeper, than to possess the sacred stone and know that you have brought the world to its ruin in the keeping of it?" Kizea asked.
The masked warrior then dipped a tiny hand into her right pocket. Instantly 10 elves about the room drew up their bows. Their arrows were fixed upon the small girl. She stopped all movement, looked around the room, and continued delving into her pocket, but slower. After pulling her hand out, she opened her fist to reveal a handful of sparkling emeralds and pearls. The king sat up at once when he saw what Kizea held in her hand. Walking cautiously up to the throne, she laid the jewels at the King's feet and backed away. She could hear several bows being pulled taught as she approached, and thought how she might dodge one if an elf behind her deemed her as TOO close. Even Legolas had drawn a long, glowing elven knife from its sheath, and he stood at the ready. Thranduil looked down at the large gems and gazed back at Kizea.
"This IS a treasure," Thranduil said thoughtfully as he bent down to pick up the sparkling stones, "But what if it is not enough?"
"What more would you have?" she asked, greatly puzzled.
Before he could answer, a tall, sleek elf ran into the room, and his attentions were suddenly diverted. The elf brushed by Kizea with hardly a sideways glance, bowed before the elven king and stepped up to the throne. The king leaned forward as the elf whispered to him. The king's glance shot upwards to Kizea before he motioned for Legolas and Kerrinais to escort her to a corner of the chamber. Something was obviously happening, and the girl glanced over at the door from where the elf had appeared, but she saw nothing. Flanked by the two elf guards, she walked calmly to a long rectangular table, and sat on the bench. Legolas stood on one side, and Kerrinais stood on the other. Through the firelight, Kizea saw several figures being escorted into the room. Her hands clenched as she realized it was Melune and the others. But Melune did not see Kizea straightaway. Her cold eyes were fixed on the elven king, and Kizea was sitting in a darkened recess of the room.
Melune stopped short of the elven king's chair and, to Kizea's utter amazement, the Fendowan warrior bowed low before him; the two warriors who stood in back of her followed suit. The king placed a hand on his chest and extended it towards Melune in a gesture of friendship. He neither looked at Kizea, nor let any emotion escape from his face.
"Oh mighty King Thranduil!" Melune began, "I have come here today to beg the help of the noble and great elven king of Mirkwood!"
The elf king leaned forward on his throne as if trying to peer through her mask. He blinked several times, and then sat back into his seat.
"It seems I am recipient of much famous company this day," he began slowly, "Tell me what help would you seek of the elves?"
"I seek the stolen Stone of Anor, and I seek to bring to justice she who would use the stone for her own evil purpose!"
Her words echoed within the chamber. Somehow, Melune knew that Kizea was alive.
"For whom do you seek?" he asked somberly. Melune and the others stood erect.
"I seek a Fendowan impersonator!" Melune said in a loud voice for all to hear, "One who would obtain the Stone of Anor for her own evil purpose! She is come here to seek your hand in friendship, but do not give it to her! In allying yourself to her, I would be forced to kill the elves as well as she! The stone must be returned to the Fendowan stronghold, or the world will fall!"
Another murmur welled up inside the hall. Melune had very little contact with the elves in her long life, and she was not fully aware of the impact of her boastful statement. To the elven king, it was a ludicrous notion that three women might defeat 25 elves at once, 10 of them with bow and arrow fixed upon the visitors. Still, he was not sure. So little was actually known for fact about the Fendowan. What if they were all great sorceresses? Kizea was taken aback. Somehow or other, Melune had found out she survived the battle with the orc on the cliff.
"I am not in the habit of protecting criminals," he said solemnly, "And how am I to know that you are not lying to me now? I can see nothing but blackness in your eyes."
Underneath her mask, a smile came to Melune's face, and her eyes began to sparkle.
"A test! Yes! Is it not said there is no greater warrior in the world than a Fendowan warrior? Let me choose of your elf soldiers here, King Thranduil, and I will defeat him with but my two meager daggers. He may choose whatever weapon he prefers, even unto a drawn bow and arrow. If I am lying of my identity, I will be dead."
Calmly sitting in the corner, Kizea was intently listening to Melune's discourse. Melune was, of course, attempting to discredit her, which was not a difficult task. The king seemed to believe neither of them. Still, Melune's challenge sent up a well of fear inside her. Kizea knew that Melune's skill and accuracy with a knife was beyond anyone in the room, perhaps even her own. The elves, quick and fierce, were no match for her. Yet, she could say nothing; betray nothing.
The elven king pondered this challenge for a moment before nodding to her, and Melune stood up and began to saunter across the room to where several elves stood with bow and arrow primed for a target. But Melune had glanced to the shadows and saw a slight sparkle emanating from the dark recesses of the corner, and this peaked her interest. Kizea heart began to beat faster as Melune approached her. She stood in front of Kizea at last, cocking her head one way and then the other, before she spoke in a an almost jovial voice.
To the elves, however, she spoke in a slurred tongue, one in which they were not familiar, yet wonderful to listen to. It was akin to lying back on the mossy bank of a stream and closing one's eyes while hearing a babbling brook. Melune's powers were beginning to bring themselves to bear more and more.
"Ah! You have finished the race before me Kizea! Were the spiders of the wood not a welcome diversion from the confines of that dank and dingy cellar we were forced to live in day after day? Did you not have as great a sport as we?"
Legolas gazed at Melune's small stature. She seemed so harmless, yet somehow she unnerved him. Kizea sat rigid and silent. Melune turned around and looked back across the room. All eyes were on her, and she reveled in the attention. Then the masked woman turned back to Kizea.
"Come, come," Melune smiled, "Surely you have discovered your other powers by now. These lower beings cannot understand us if we do not wish it. You have not forgotten your tongue, I hope, old friend. Still, I can see you admire these insignificant woodland folk. Your choice of company has not improved overmuch since our last meeting." Melune eyed Legolas and Kerrinais. Then she pretended to look further around the room.
"But wait!" Melune grinned, "Is there no one else here with you? Did Valnin not survive the fall? What a pity, I had so hoped to see him again, at least!"
At this taunt, Kizea stood bolt upright. Immediately, Kerrinais placed a strong arm in front of Kizea. Although King Thranduil did not understand the women's discourse, his eyes darted to the two remaining Fendowan warriors before him. When Kizea rose to her feet, they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in reverence. This baffled the king, and he looked back at Kizea with renewed interest.
"Fiend!" Kizea cried as she strained against Kerrinais's arm, "I would cut your black heart from you, given the chance. Hear me, Melune, no oath or force of the Dark Lord will save you!"
Melune laughed and brought herself closer to the girl.
"Do not blame ME," she cooed, "It was not I who was left to the boy's charge! But I am forgetting my business at hand! Which elf will I dispose of first Kizea? Which one of these pitiful creatures suits you the most?"
She looked up and her black eyes rested upon Legolas. He gazed back at her with a somber face, his arms to his sides. He could retrieve his own elven dagger in an instant, and yet Melune seemed not the least bit concerned.
"Ah! This handsomish, tall one here!" Melune grinned evilly, "He suits you well, does he not? Your energies are the same; I can feel it. I shall kill him first! He shall be my challenge!"
Melune took a single step towards Legolas, and he leaped backwards in a defensive stance.
"Be not afraid great warrior-elf," Melune purred as she took another step towards him, "If you prevail against me, the stone and all my followers will be yours to do with as you will. It is the law. Think of it. Treasure and power beyond all imagination awaits you if you can overpower me for an instant. Surely an ancient being such as you can win against such an insignificant girl. You need only touch the hilt of my dagger and accept my challenge."
Her words were soft and musical, and suddenly Legolas found himself inexplicably walking towards her, trapped within her mesmerizing gaze. His hand began to rise towards Melune's dagger when Kizea placed her hand on his extended arm. Almost at once he staggered backwards, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the effects of Melune's voice. He stared at Kizea with alarm in his eyes, but Kizea merely shook her head slightly.
"NO Legolas," Kizea said as she gently pushed his arm back, "She would lull you into accepting a challenge which is not possible to win. This must be MY battle."
Annoyed at first, Melune suddenly burst into laughter. She turned about and held the hilt of her golden dagger towards Kizea.
"Yes!" she mused, "Fight with me Kizea! Win back the pride of the Fendowan for noble ill purpose! Return it to a tiny chamber deep inside a black pit, never to see the light of day again! Are we never to realize all of its capabilities? Can you not feel its power? What it is capable of? Are you not the least curious?"
"I know what its power has done YOU," Kizea whispered. Melune shot a fierce gaze at her.
Almost without Melune's realizing it, Kizea grabbed the dagger's hilt and yanked the sharp knife from Melune's hand, slicing her palm. But Melune neither cried out nor moved, she only lifted her hand to display the syrupy, blackened blood dripping down her hand. Kerrinais jumped back in a defensive stance at the sight of it. Only Orcs and things of evil bled black. Still, it was rumored that the guardians of the great stone were not always of the light. Kerrinais did not know what to think.
"I will accept your challenge, demon," Kizea said as her hand trembled in fury.
Melune truly had not much of a wish to battle with Kizea. Her all- encompassing thoughts were to the Anor stone's location, and she did not want to waste her time and energy with one wayward Fendowan. Still Kizea was there and had to be dealt with somehow. Through their conceit of superiority, neither Melune nor Kizea were initially concerned of the 75 or so elves that now packed into the chamber. But as Melune suddenly looked up and about the room, she realized that the elf numbers were progressively increasing, and her escape back to the forest with the stone's whereabouts was now at stake. And so Melune thought to use Kizea to aid in that escape in whatever way she could. She walked in closer to her rival and let her aggressive voice die down to yet another musical and lower level, one in which even Kizea could become entrapped. Melune, being a servant of evil, was supremely arrogant of herself. She was sure that no one, not even the legendary Kizea, could ultimately oppose her.
"There is no need for you to fight me, mighty Kizea. We are of the same bolt of cloth, you and I," Melune said sweetly, "We would both see the stone back to Goldorma when we are done with it! The stone has chosen us and no other can possess it. We know this for the truth. The stone would have us do what we will with it. Join me and we shall have what we desire most in the world! Would you like this elf as your slave? I will make him yours! His will is weak and he may yet be yours if you desire it. Say but a word of solace to me. Come! I would see you bathed in treasure with all these abhorrent creatures at your feet! With the Stone of Anor, you can be a queen of all the elves in Middle-Earth!"
No elf in the room yet understood Melune's discourse. Her voice was low and flowing, and several elves even stepped closer to hear it, but none understood it. Kizea stepped forward and threw down the dagger hard at Melune's feet. It clanged on the floor and the sound of it reverberated throughout the room. Melune jumped back several steps while raising her arms in a defensive stance, as though she was awakened from the throws of her own spell. Several elves looked around the chamber as though they did not know where they were. In Melune's attempt to enlist Kizea to her side, she was placing all the room under a cloak of confusion.
"Pick it up, Melune!" Kizea cried with hatred in her voice. "Your enchantments cannot work on ME!"
Several elves, including Legolas and Kerrinais now could plainly understand Kizea, and they were shocked at the intensity of anger in her voice.
"You've seen your last of the Stone of Anor!" Kizea cried, seething with fury, "And here you shall die! Never has a monster existed that was more deserving!"
Melune frowned. Bending down slowly, purposefully, she took back her dagger that Kizea had thrown to the floor. Then rising, she took an assessment of Kizea's ripped clothing and her bruised body. The demon caught sight of Kizea's injured right hand and she smiled.
"I do not think so." she whispered in a low, menacing voice. Then turning around, she approached King Thranduil once more.
"My challenge is accepted, great king!" Melune said loudly for all to hear, "What better way to show you my honorable intentions than to vanquish the very harbinger of evil that I seek before your very eyes?"
All attentions were now on King Thranduil. Despite Melune's callous speeches to Kizea, the king was neither afraid nor angered. For he did not yet comprehend all that had transpired. Even Legolas and Kerrinais did not hear the entirety of it, and they stood baffled at their lack of understanding. After a moment, King Thranduil nodded to Melune, who then turned and waved a hand at the others, who quickly moved away to a far recess of the room. Looking around the room nervously, Kizea took her cue and began to walk to the center of the room where Melune waited. For reasons unknown, Legolas extended his hand and touched Kizea's shoulder. She stopped and turned her head towards him.
"Worry not for me, Legolas," Kizea said in almost a lighthearted manner, "I will be careful."
Legolas's hand dropped to his side and he watched the girl approach the middle of the room. Several elves stepped backwards as they watched the two women come to the center of the room. Both stood an arms length from each other. Kizea turned her head to catch a last glimpse of Legolas in the dark corner as she instantly drew both of her golden daggers from their sheaths. With one arm outstretched to the ceiling, Kizea outstretched her other arm, pointing her dagger directly at Melune's throat. Melune did likewise with her own dagger pointing at Kizea, her black eyes twinkling behind her shining, golden mask. Then each warrior shouted,
"Alia Aya Ungala Anor! (For the light of Anor!)." And thus the battle began.
Immediately upon finishing the phrase, Melune lunged forward slashing both daggers savagely at Kizea's upper torso and head. And with each attack, Kizea countered with an upward block of her own daggers. The sounds of clanging metal and hard breathing echoed in the great hall as the women jousted about the room, tipping over chairs and causing the elves to jump quickly aside in all directions to stay out of their path. At length, Kizea saw a brief opening as they parried back and forth and swept her outstretched dagger before Melune. It was so fast that the very air seemed to be cut in two. Melune quickly ducked her head and the dagger missed her. Almost laughing, Melune clenched her fist hard around her dagger, and punched Kizea squarely in the chest. The girl staggered backwards and rested against a large pillar.
Legolas thought that Kizea's moment had come as she sat dazed against the hardened stone. He took a step forward, but Kerrinais was at once beside him, holding him back. It was more of curiosity, than concern for his friend. Kerrinais wished to see the duel played out, and he did not want Legolas tipping the scales. But Legolas was growing alarmed at the unfolding scenario. But there was little he could do but watch and wait. King Thranduil and the other elves were enjoying the fight with much interest also. The swiftness and accuracy to which each blow was laid was astounding to the elf king. He had never seen a duel such as this before, even between two elves.
As Kizea stood dazed, Melune perceived a new window of opportunity and threw one of her daggers hard at Kizea. She rolled away from the pillar just as the knife whizzed by her head, solidly wedging itself in the stone. As Melune gazed up the pillar, she saw the sparkling elven swords displayed there. Breaking away on a dead run towards the pillar, Melune leapt into the air, placing a foot on the single dagger that was embedded into the stone and used it as a step to reach an elven sword. She swished the remaining dagger in her hand twice. Then, back flipping off the pillar, she landed on her feet, newly armed with a long sword and her other dagger.
Kizea looked around wildly for a moment, backing away. She knew that Melune had the advantage with the elven sword. Stepping back from the pillar, Kizea looked up the same pillar. There were three more elven swords hanging from thin leather straps. One conspicuous strap was still swaying where Melune had sliced it. With renewed speed, Kizea twirled her daggers around in her tiny hands, almost too fast for the eye to follow. When Melune saw Kizea doing this, she jumped backwards, crouching down and crossing her sword and dagger before her to thwart any attempt Kizea might make at throwing them. But instead, Kizea heaved her daggers with all her force to the pillar, letting out a small cry as she let them go. Each dagger neatly cut the leather strap of a hanging sword before wedging itself halfway into the stone. Instantly two swords fell from the pillar. Kizea caught one straightaway with her left hand, the other she kicked with her right foot. The sword flew back into the air, turning end over end, and Kizea immediately grasped the hilt of the second sword with her right hand. Thus newly armed, Kizea ran around the pillar, twirling the two swords as she advanced. This was not for show or to intimidate Melune. That would be an empty gesture. Kizea was merely assessing their weight, for she had never fought with elven arms before. She was quite surprised at how light they were to carry. In truth, the swords did not weigh much more than the shorter, Fendowan daggers.
Leaping again to her feet, Melune drew back a sinewy, muscled arm and brought the elven sword she held down on Kizea, but Kizea blocked the attack with her own raised swords. The two women jumped and parried about the room once more, each renewed attack blocked or dodged. The clanging of the metal mixed with grunts and renewed cries of anger resonated throughout the throne room. At last, Kerrinais leaned over to Legolas.
"They are evenly matched," he whispered, "I have never seen such skill in a woman. Not even our elven kindred can match them with a sword. They must both be Fendowans. This is truly a sight to behold."
Legolas replied nothing. He watched them battle, anxiously awaiting the outcome. His thoughts were grim as he concentrated on the fight. He knew that something foreboding was taking place beyond a battle with masters of the knife, as the elves knew of them. To see one stray Fendowan in the elven territory was enough to elicit a nervous response within the elf. Now, with four in their ranks, Legolas's quiet reserve rose to alarm. He did not know enough of the Anor stone to realize what exactly it meant to have the gem removed from its alter. But elven lore was clearer concerning the legendary Fendowan order. More powerful than any elf warrior, wiser than any wizard, and sworn to their deaths to defend the light of Anor. That they should ALL leave the hidden mountain of Goldorma and come searching for the stone in Mirkwood hinted of some unseen catastrophe. Kizea's desperation had been obvious to him. He had seen Gandalf not a week before, but the wizard gave no hint of any misgivings. Still, the wizard appeared unexpectedly, and was in great haste to see the elven king. And Gandalf seldom appeared without an urgent need at hand. Legolas shuddered.
Across the cold stone floor the two women fault with vehement hatred for one another, and they showed no signs of tiring. Finally, with one mighty thrust forward, Melune grabbed Kizea's arm as it drew in close to her. Melune pulled Kizea forward, wrenching one weapon from Kizea's grip, and simultaneously throwing her off balance. As Kizea flew past, Melune managed to hit Kizea squarely in her lower back. Kizea staggered forward, struggling to regain her footing. Then Melune rushed in, slamming her entire bodyweight against Kizea and the two sprawled onto the floor. With a muffled cry, Kizea's injured hand hit the stone floor hard and her grip loosened. Instantly, the remaining sword skipped ten feet across the floor with a mighty clang. Twisting her body, Kizea attempted to retrieve her sword, but it was out of her reach.
She felt her rival bearing down on top of her. In another fraction of an instant, Melune was sitting on Kizea's chest. Her very weight seemed to take away the girl's breath. Flailing herself from side to side, Kizea fought vainly to throw Melune off, but her arms were pinned solidly under Melune's knees, and the battle seemed suddenly lost. Melune towered above her, breathing heavily. Her dagger was poised under Kizea's chin, one palm pressed against the hilt, ready to push the knife through her throat. A sudden hush fell over the entire room, as the elves waited for Melune to deal the final blow. But she did not kill Kizea. The women gazed at one another, and Melune suddenly became transfixed and unable to move. Even though she cried out in fury and leaned into the dagger, it would go no farther. An intense light glowed through Kizea's mask and seemed to produce an invisible barrier that Melune's knife could not penetrate. Melune, the sweat dripping from underneath her mask, was simply unable to move the dagger further.
In the next moment, the sounds of stretching bows came to Melune's ears and her attentions were diverted back to the elves that had been watching the Fendowan battle. The two women were completely surrounded by elven archers, arrows drawn taught on their bows. In the background of the chamber, King Thranduil's arm was still raised high in the air. Melune gazed over the room that was now almost filled to capacity. The other Fendowan warriors were already gone, taken away without her even knowing it, such was the ferocity of the battle. The king had gained the upper hand for the time being.