Chapter 13 - not revised
Cerveth 3018 [July]
"Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand."
Boromir awoke with a start, the dream lingering in his mind: The eastern sky had been dark and roiling with black clouds, crashes of thunder sounding, but in the western sky a faint light still shone.
"Seek for the Sword that was broken."
A clear voice rang out the prophetic words. What could they mean?
More perplexing still, his brother Faramir had told him of this same dream just before the Enemy's assault on Osgiliath.
Imladris.Where was that? Neither he nor his brother knew.
He sighed and shoved the covers back. He crossed the room, his bare feet chilling as he stepped from the thick rug onto the bare stone floor. He stood gazing out his window toward the north. Fifty miles away was the ship-shaped island of Cair Andros. The Anduin split around it, breaking into foaming water at its prow. Beyond that lay the Dead Marshes and Emyn Muil. The great Falls of Rauros spilled from the hill country there. Further west and north was the forest of Fangorn and beyond that was Lorien, abode of the witch queen. If one traveled east from there across the river you would find the forest of Mirkwood, haunted and darkened by the evil that dwelt there.
Boromir knew all the lands, but he did not know Imladris. He shook his head, leaning against the cold stone sill.
There was a quiet knock at his door. He straightened and moved to pull on a robe.
"Come."
The door opened and Faramir entered.
"Boromir? Are you up?"
"You can see that I am, brother. Is something wrong?"
"I need to speak with you," the younger man said, closing the door and crossed the room. The two sons of Denethor resembled one another greatly, though it was easy to see that Faramir was the younger. His face did not hold as much of the weariness and care that his brother's did. "I had the dream again last night. You know, the one -"
"Aye. I dreamt it as well." Boromir passed a hand through his tousled dark blonde hair and moved to stand at the window once more.
"Really? What do you think it means?" Faramir joined his brother, looking hopefully over at him.
Boromir shook his head.
"I know not." He laughed slightly. "I don't even know where - or what - Imladris may be."
The two brother stood side-by-side gazing northward.
"Our father might know," Faramir said quietly, then glanced at Boromir. They hadn't wished to burden the Steward of Gondor with dreams since he was weighed down with too many cares already.
Boromir sighed, hesitating. But then he nodded.
"Aye, if anyone would know, it would be he."
Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, was wise in the lore of Middle Earth. He was a very learned man and it was no wonder that the libraries of Gondor were famous. Knowledge was a passion that had grasped him in earliest youth. But when his two sons came to him, all he would tell them was that Imladris was the ancient name of a far away northern dale where Elrond Half-Elven lived, the greatest of all lore-masters.
Faramir immediately wished to leave to seek in the north for Imladris and the Sword that was broken. But Boromir stopped him, grasping the younger man's arm.
"Nay, Faramir. I shall undertake this journey. The way will be dark and many unknown things may befall on the way."
"Boromir, I am no longer a child to be ordered about by you! I-"
"Silence! Both of you are behaving as children."
Both young men turned to see their father, his face grim and set.
"You cannot go, Boromir," he said, his eyes dark. "You are my heir and cannot go off in search of what may not be found. It is foolishness."
"Then I will go!" Faramir declared, the desire for adventure and answers bright in his grey eyes.
"No. I will go," Boromir insisted. "This dream has come to us both, so one of us must seek Imladris to discover its meaning." He said, looking at his father. "And," He turned to Faramir, a stubborn glint in his eyes. "I will be the one to go."
So it was decided, much to Faramir's consternation and Denethor's dislike, though he could deny Boromir nothing. Boromir would seek for the elusive Imladris and the Sword that was broken. Early on the morning of the fourth day of Cerveth [July] he rode away from Minas Tirith, his back straight, and his heart stout. Slung across his back was a round Gondorian shield and about his neck hung the Horn of Gondor. He would find Imladris, of this he was certain. After all he was the son of Denethor II and heir to the Stewardship of the greatest city on Middle Earth. His heart was light as he rode away from the White City, adventure shining in his eyes.
Less than one week after Boromir set out on his quest for Imladris, Gandalf embarked on a quest of his own. He rode with all speed to Orthanc, home to the head of his Order, Saruman the White. Saruman had met him as he arrived and together they had walked in the beauty that surrounded the tower. The bushes were flowering, filling the air with their elusive scent. Tall, stately trees rose to greet the sky. But then to the Wizard's horror he learned that Saruman had betrayed them, wanting the Ring for himself. It ended in a Wizards' duel that Gandalf could not hope to win. And so he was imprisoned alone on the pinnacle of Orthanc, where Saruman went to watch the stars. The only way down was a stair of many thousand steps. And Gandalf watched as the beauty below him was laid waste, great pits and forges marred the landscape once so wondrous. Orcs and wolves filled the force that Saruman was building, rivaling Sauron's own. And Gandalf stood alone on an island in the clouds with no hope of escape.
Urui 3018 [August]
Egla Ash had been integrated into the Elven society of Mirkwood. They had even renamed him Elu Heneb, Blue Eyed, at a private ceremony held by the warriors. He lived as he had once at Gael Dor, but spent much of his time in the company of the Elves. He had shed his black Orc garments for those made for him by Meneliell herself. They resembled the clothing worn by the warriors of Thranduil: mossy greens and browns to help him hide in the trees, a hooded cloak of shadowy green, clasped with his brooch. He joined the hunting parties as they would comb the woods for the strange little creature that the Orcs had wanted so badly. But they soon lost all sign of him. The trail had led them mostly west, but then it turned south. They followed it for a time, but as they explored into the southern reaches of Mirkwood and the trees became black and grotesque, and the spiders threatened, they halted. They were too near to the vile tower of Dol Guldur.
Egla Ash, he still didn't think of himself as Elu Heneb, glanced over at Legolas, who turned to meet his eyes.
"We go no further," Legolas told the others, who were relieved to hear this statement. "If he has gone to Dol Guldur then we will never recover him."
The others turned gladly away from that evil place, eager to return home, though not happy about their failure to keep Mithrandir's creature safe for him. Legolas turned to go also, he had no wish to look on that black edifice again, but Egla Ash hesitated and moved toward a break in the trees. Legolas motioned for the others to go on and he turned to join his friend.
The Orc stood beneath a twisted tree, his eyes on the bleak, broken landscape before him.
"I was born to the darkness there," he said quietly. He shook his head. "I am so sorry, Legolas Elvellon. There are many things that I wish to change. But I cannot."
Legolas moved to stand behind the Orc, looking at the Necromancer's fortress, remembering all to well the night that Egla Ash had disappeared inside it.
"There are things that I wish I could change, too, nin mellon. But as someone once told me, 'We cannot always make things come out the way we would have them.'" He laid a hand on the Orc's shoulder. "Let us leave this place forever. We will not turn back to the dark times. We will enjoy what we have now and what will be ours in the future. Come away."
Egla Ash gently touched the slim hand on his shoulder.
"Yes. We will look ahead," he said after a moment. Then he turned slowly and followed Legolas away from the horror of his past.
Smeagol continued on his westward trek, continuing to avoid both the servants of Sauron that hunted for him and the Elves of Mirkwood who also sought him. He spent his days in hiding, running when he had to, cursing the Yellow Face. The nights he spent traveling, catching small animals and birds for his food. He took to the trees often, knowing that he would be harder to track that way. He slept very little for the precious' call was so great. It was like a fire burning in his mind, devouring his soul completely now that he was away from the Elves and he thought of nothing else. Only occasionally did he remember his starry Elf as he would sit devouring his food, glancing at the night sky overhead. He would recall the kind words and laughter, the gentle touch of a soft hand, but only for a time as the precious drove him ever onwards. He turned south knowing that the Elves would not pursue very far in that direction.
After a time he turned west once more and fled through the open spaces, crossed the river and eventually came to the Misty Mountains and there he discovered the Eastern entrance to the great Dwarf kingdom of Moria. He traversed its dark halls, eluding the many evils that dwelt there, making his way to the Western entrance only to find his way blocked. So he sat in the dark brooding and plotting. Always waiting for the day when the precious would be his again.
Thranduil met the last party of hunters as they returned. He could see the defeat on their faces, but relief as well. Legolas moved to him, he bent his head pressing his right hand over his heart.
"We have failed," he said quietly. "The tracks led west for some time, but then they turned south." He raised his head. "They led too near to Dol Guldur. We did not go any further."
Thranduil nodded. They had done everything that they could. They would not continue the hunt. Not when it lead there.
"It is as I feared then," Thranduil said quietly. "That wretched creature was too far gone. Mithrandir will not be pleased that he has fled. We have failed him."
Legolas stood silently for a time.
"We.we need to tell him," he murmured at last. "It has been some time since his last visit."
Thranduil nodded, his green eyes distant.
"Yes. He needs to be told. I will send scouts out to search for news of him. Perhaps he can be found quickly."
"Aragorn will not be pleased either. I wonder where he is." Legolas yearned to tell the Ranger of all that that had befallen since he had last come to Mirkwood.
"Wizards and Dunadain keep their own counsel, my son." Thranduil smiled. "They could be anywhere."
Before Thranduil could learn of the whereabouts of the Istari a summons came from Rivendell. A messenger had ridden up to the Wood King's Hall and dismounted. He was ushered into Thranduil's presence and bowed gracefully.
"Who is that?" Egla Ash asked, peering from behind Legolas as they stood in the next room, trying not to be seen. Word had spread that a messanger in the colors of Rivendell had arrived bearing an urgent message.
"He has been sent by Lord Elrond of Imladris," Legolas answered, watching the Elf clad in deep maroon and lavender riding leathers.
"Imladris? Where is that?"
"West of here, across the Misty Mountains. It is also called Rivendell."
"Have you been there?"
"No. Father and Lord Elrond don't often converse."
The two leaned around the door, hoping they were not seen. They watched as the messanger spoke urgently with the king, who did not look pleased, then handed him a rolled parchment, sealed with the symbol of Rivendell, dark ribbons hanging from it.
"It looks important," Egla Ash whispered.
A dark expression came over Thranduil's face as he read the message written therein by Elrond himself.
"Is this true? He is calling a Council?" He asked the Rivendell Elf.
"Of course, my Lord Thranduil." The messenger said, his face showing that he was offended that a Wood Elf should question the veracity of a letter from Lord Elrond.
Thranduil frowned and turned away reading the contents of the letter again.
"I need an answer, my Lord Thranduil," the messenger said, trying to curb his impatience.
Thranduil sighed. Elrond would not have called them to a meeting in his realm unless something of great import was happening. He wondered what it could be.
"Very well. I will send representatives to Rivendell."
"Very good. I shall inform my Lord." He bowed once more and hurried from the Hall.
Thranduil sighed. He felt old in that moment. The time of the Elves was indeed waning and he was growing weary. His realm had been constantly threatened, so many had died trying to preserve their small corner of it. And now something else was threatening. He knew that much. He felt so old.
"Father?"
He looked up to see Legolas and Egla Ash staring at him in concern.
He hesitated not wanting to burden them with this, but then he changed his mind. Legolas was not a child to be shielded and cosseted. He held out the paper. Legolas moved to take it. He read it swiftly, surprise and foreboding coming over him. Egla Ash stood at his shoulder, slowly deciphering the words.
"Who will you send?" Legolas asked, handing it to the Orc.
"I know not. The Council is set for the twenty-fifth of Narbeleth [October]. It must be undertaken soon. There is much to do before they are to set out."
Legolas tried to keep the excitement from his eyes, but they sparkled like sapphires in the sun and Thranduil looked up at him, a scowl forming on his face.
"No, Legolas. I am not sending you."
"Why not?" Legolas looked to the Orc for support. Egla Ash glanced from the Elf king to his son. He shrugged. He knew better than to get involved. He pretended to read the letter again. "You must send my brothers or myself. Lord Elrond will think it an insult if you do not."
"Legolas, I do not need you to teach me statecraft. I know that one of my sons must go. And I also know that I do not care to send you."
"Why not? You don't think I could represent our people?"
"It is not that." Thranduil turned anguished eyes to his youngest. "I have nearly lost you twice. I do not wish to live through that again."
Legolas glanced at the floor, his shoulders slumping.
"Father, you agreed to let me go on the hunt for Smeagol. How could this be any more dangerous? Imladris is a place of safety. I am sure Lord Elrond would not care to risk your ire by having something untoward befall your son."
Thranduil knew that he was caught. He truly did not want Legolas to leave Mirkwood. He wanted him ever near, but he also knew that what the younger Elf had said was true. He could see the yearning in his youngest child's eyes, so blue like his mother's. He sighed.
"Very well, little Greenleaf. You shall go to Imladris."
Legolas smiled.
"Thank you, Father. I appreciate your confidence in me. And it won't be long before I am home again bearing tidings."
"Yes. I do have confidence in you, else you would not be going. Whilst you are there though you must tell what has befallen with Mithrandir's creature. Perhaps Mithrandir himself will be there. If this meeting is as urgent as it seems then undoubtedly he will be. I must think of whom I shall send with you. And you will need to prepare yourself for the journey."
Thranduil took the parchment from Egla Ash who was staring at Legolas in dismay.
"You are leaving, Legolas Elvellon?"
Legolas still smiling turned to him, but seeing that the Orc was truly distressed by this, turned to his father. He couldn't leave Egla Ash now. Not after all they had been through.
"Father?"
"Yes, Legolas?"
"Would it.do you think.how would Lord Elrond feel if Egla Ash accompanied us to Imladris?"
Thranduil turned to them in amazement, one brow shooting upward. Both sets of blue eyes were filled with pleas for his assent. How indeed, he thought turning away with a frown. An Orc in Elrond's beloved Imladris. But then a mischievous smile crept over his lips. And he laughed slightly. How indeed.
"Why I think that he would be quite pleased to meet Elu Heneb I dare say he has never had a conversation with one such as he. Yes, Elu Heneb shall accompany you."
Egla Ash nearly burst with happiness. To travel to Imladris where more Elves lived was more than he could have dreamed of. He was overwhelmed.
"Thank you, Father," Legolas said, smiling at the Orc.
"Thank you, your Majesty." Egla Ash bowed, his head spinning with excitement.
Thranduil watched as the two left the room, chattering happily at one another. His smile widened.
"Well, Elrond, my old friend," he said to the empty room, his green eyes sparkling puckishly. "I wonder how you will greet my representatives." He laughed merrily, imagining the expression of horror that would grace the Half-Elf's face when he saw the Orc. Indeed, he wished he could be there to see it himself. He rolled the parchment up and left, feeling rather lighter of heart and years younger than he had in some time.
Response to Reviewers
*I do not know where the numbers in front of the reviews came from. I didn't type them in. Believe me I looked at my Word file to be sure. Weird.
AJ Matthews - Aragorn will be back very soon. I promise.
Horus - I'm happy that you didn't think it was too sappy. Thanks a lot! Hearts to you!
Lithia - I'm still loving your reviews!! Hearts to you, too!
JastaElf - When I was writing about Legolas and Egla Ash looking at Dol Guldur, I was not thinking of my story as I wrote this. Wonder why!! I am using your idea about renaming Egla Ash. Elu Heneb was JastaElf's idea, guys! And as you know, so were the braids! Egla Ash, uh, Elu Heneb loves them!!
Shinigamio - Thanks so much for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed it! Hearts to you!
long under tree - I'm glad that you didn't think it was too sappy. And, yeah, it was a totally typical - see it coming a mile off - ending. But like you, it was just what I wanted to see. Don't let writer's block worry you, it'll pass. And I will be waiting.
Note to Jan - Thanks so much for catching that BIG faux pas in this chapter. Thank you, nin mellon!! It has been fixed!!
Cerveth 3018 [July]
"Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand."
Boromir awoke with a start, the dream lingering in his mind: The eastern sky had been dark and roiling with black clouds, crashes of thunder sounding, but in the western sky a faint light still shone.
"Seek for the Sword that was broken."
A clear voice rang out the prophetic words. What could they mean?
More perplexing still, his brother Faramir had told him of this same dream just before the Enemy's assault on Osgiliath.
Imladris.Where was that? Neither he nor his brother knew.
He sighed and shoved the covers back. He crossed the room, his bare feet chilling as he stepped from the thick rug onto the bare stone floor. He stood gazing out his window toward the north. Fifty miles away was the ship-shaped island of Cair Andros. The Anduin split around it, breaking into foaming water at its prow. Beyond that lay the Dead Marshes and Emyn Muil. The great Falls of Rauros spilled from the hill country there. Further west and north was the forest of Fangorn and beyond that was Lorien, abode of the witch queen. If one traveled east from there across the river you would find the forest of Mirkwood, haunted and darkened by the evil that dwelt there.
Boromir knew all the lands, but he did not know Imladris. He shook his head, leaning against the cold stone sill.
There was a quiet knock at his door. He straightened and moved to pull on a robe.
"Come."
The door opened and Faramir entered.
"Boromir? Are you up?"
"You can see that I am, brother. Is something wrong?"
"I need to speak with you," the younger man said, closing the door and crossed the room. The two sons of Denethor resembled one another greatly, though it was easy to see that Faramir was the younger. His face did not hold as much of the weariness and care that his brother's did. "I had the dream again last night. You know, the one -"
"Aye. I dreamt it as well." Boromir passed a hand through his tousled dark blonde hair and moved to stand at the window once more.
"Really? What do you think it means?" Faramir joined his brother, looking hopefully over at him.
Boromir shook his head.
"I know not." He laughed slightly. "I don't even know where - or what - Imladris may be."
The two brother stood side-by-side gazing northward.
"Our father might know," Faramir said quietly, then glanced at Boromir. They hadn't wished to burden the Steward of Gondor with dreams since he was weighed down with too many cares already.
Boromir sighed, hesitating. But then he nodded.
"Aye, if anyone would know, it would be he."
Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, was wise in the lore of Middle Earth. He was a very learned man and it was no wonder that the libraries of Gondor were famous. Knowledge was a passion that had grasped him in earliest youth. But when his two sons came to him, all he would tell them was that Imladris was the ancient name of a far away northern dale where Elrond Half-Elven lived, the greatest of all lore-masters.
Faramir immediately wished to leave to seek in the north for Imladris and the Sword that was broken. But Boromir stopped him, grasping the younger man's arm.
"Nay, Faramir. I shall undertake this journey. The way will be dark and many unknown things may befall on the way."
"Boromir, I am no longer a child to be ordered about by you! I-"
"Silence! Both of you are behaving as children."
Both young men turned to see their father, his face grim and set.
"You cannot go, Boromir," he said, his eyes dark. "You are my heir and cannot go off in search of what may not be found. It is foolishness."
"Then I will go!" Faramir declared, the desire for adventure and answers bright in his grey eyes.
"No. I will go," Boromir insisted. "This dream has come to us both, so one of us must seek Imladris to discover its meaning." He said, looking at his father. "And," He turned to Faramir, a stubborn glint in his eyes. "I will be the one to go."
So it was decided, much to Faramir's consternation and Denethor's dislike, though he could deny Boromir nothing. Boromir would seek for the elusive Imladris and the Sword that was broken. Early on the morning of the fourth day of Cerveth [July] he rode away from Minas Tirith, his back straight, and his heart stout. Slung across his back was a round Gondorian shield and about his neck hung the Horn of Gondor. He would find Imladris, of this he was certain. After all he was the son of Denethor II and heir to the Stewardship of the greatest city on Middle Earth. His heart was light as he rode away from the White City, adventure shining in his eyes.
Less than one week after Boromir set out on his quest for Imladris, Gandalf embarked on a quest of his own. He rode with all speed to Orthanc, home to the head of his Order, Saruman the White. Saruman had met him as he arrived and together they had walked in the beauty that surrounded the tower. The bushes were flowering, filling the air with their elusive scent. Tall, stately trees rose to greet the sky. But then to the Wizard's horror he learned that Saruman had betrayed them, wanting the Ring for himself. It ended in a Wizards' duel that Gandalf could not hope to win. And so he was imprisoned alone on the pinnacle of Orthanc, where Saruman went to watch the stars. The only way down was a stair of many thousand steps. And Gandalf watched as the beauty below him was laid waste, great pits and forges marred the landscape once so wondrous. Orcs and wolves filled the force that Saruman was building, rivaling Sauron's own. And Gandalf stood alone on an island in the clouds with no hope of escape.
Urui 3018 [August]
Egla Ash had been integrated into the Elven society of Mirkwood. They had even renamed him Elu Heneb, Blue Eyed, at a private ceremony held by the warriors. He lived as he had once at Gael Dor, but spent much of his time in the company of the Elves. He had shed his black Orc garments for those made for him by Meneliell herself. They resembled the clothing worn by the warriors of Thranduil: mossy greens and browns to help him hide in the trees, a hooded cloak of shadowy green, clasped with his brooch. He joined the hunting parties as they would comb the woods for the strange little creature that the Orcs had wanted so badly. But they soon lost all sign of him. The trail had led them mostly west, but then it turned south. They followed it for a time, but as they explored into the southern reaches of Mirkwood and the trees became black and grotesque, and the spiders threatened, they halted. They were too near to the vile tower of Dol Guldur.
Egla Ash, he still didn't think of himself as Elu Heneb, glanced over at Legolas, who turned to meet his eyes.
"We go no further," Legolas told the others, who were relieved to hear this statement. "If he has gone to Dol Guldur then we will never recover him."
The others turned gladly away from that evil place, eager to return home, though not happy about their failure to keep Mithrandir's creature safe for him. Legolas turned to go also, he had no wish to look on that black edifice again, but Egla Ash hesitated and moved toward a break in the trees. Legolas motioned for the others to go on and he turned to join his friend.
The Orc stood beneath a twisted tree, his eyes on the bleak, broken landscape before him.
"I was born to the darkness there," he said quietly. He shook his head. "I am so sorry, Legolas Elvellon. There are many things that I wish to change. But I cannot."
Legolas moved to stand behind the Orc, looking at the Necromancer's fortress, remembering all to well the night that Egla Ash had disappeared inside it.
"There are things that I wish I could change, too, nin mellon. But as someone once told me, 'We cannot always make things come out the way we would have them.'" He laid a hand on the Orc's shoulder. "Let us leave this place forever. We will not turn back to the dark times. We will enjoy what we have now and what will be ours in the future. Come away."
Egla Ash gently touched the slim hand on his shoulder.
"Yes. We will look ahead," he said after a moment. Then he turned slowly and followed Legolas away from the horror of his past.
Smeagol continued on his westward trek, continuing to avoid both the servants of Sauron that hunted for him and the Elves of Mirkwood who also sought him. He spent his days in hiding, running when he had to, cursing the Yellow Face. The nights he spent traveling, catching small animals and birds for his food. He took to the trees often, knowing that he would be harder to track that way. He slept very little for the precious' call was so great. It was like a fire burning in his mind, devouring his soul completely now that he was away from the Elves and he thought of nothing else. Only occasionally did he remember his starry Elf as he would sit devouring his food, glancing at the night sky overhead. He would recall the kind words and laughter, the gentle touch of a soft hand, but only for a time as the precious drove him ever onwards. He turned south knowing that the Elves would not pursue very far in that direction.
After a time he turned west once more and fled through the open spaces, crossed the river and eventually came to the Misty Mountains and there he discovered the Eastern entrance to the great Dwarf kingdom of Moria. He traversed its dark halls, eluding the many evils that dwelt there, making his way to the Western entrance only to find his way blocked. So he sat in the dark brooding and plotting. Always waiting for the day when the precious would be his again.
Thranduil met the last party of hunters as they returned. He could see the defeat on their faces, but relief as well. Legolas moved to him, he bent his head pressing his right hand over his heart.
"We have failed," he said quietly. "The tracks led west for some time, but then they turned south." He raised his head. "They led too near to Dol Guldur. We did not go any further."
Thranduil nodded. They had done everything that they could. They would not continue the hunt. Not when it lead there.
"It is as I feared then," Thranduil said quietly. "That wretched creature was too far gone. Mithrandir will not be pleased that he has fled. We have failed him."
Legolas stood silently for a time.
"We.we need to tell him," he murmured at last. "It has been some time since his last visit."
Thranduil nodded, his green eyes distant.
"Yes. He needs to be told. I will send scouts out to search for news of him. Perhaps he can be found quickly."
"Aragorn will not be pleased either. I wonder where he is." Legolas yearned to tell the Ranger of all that that had befallen since he had last come to Mirkwood.
"Wizards and Dunadain keep their own counsel, my son." Thranduil smiled. "They could be anywhere."
Before Thranduil could learn of the whereabouts of the Istari a summons came from Rivendell. A messenger had ridden up to the Wood King's Hall and dismounted. He was ushered into Thranduil's presence and bowed gracefully.
"Who is that?" Egla Ash asked, peering from behind Legolas as they stood in the next room, trying not to be seen. Word had spread that a messanger in the colors of Rivendell had arrived bearing an urgent message.
"He has been sent by Lord Elrond of Imladris," Legolas answered, watching the Elf clad in deep maroon and lavender riding leathers.
"Imladris? Where is that?"
"West of here, across the Misty Mountains. It is also called Rivendell."
"Have you been there?"
"No. Father and Lord Elrond don't often converse."
The two leaned around the door, hoping they were not seen. They watched as the messanger spoke urgently with the king, who did not look pleased, then handed him a rolled parchment, sealed with the symbol of Rivendell, dark ribbons hanging from it.
"It looks important," Egla Ash whispered.
A dark expression came over Thranduil's face as he read the message written therein by Elrond himself.
"Is this true? He is calling a Council?" He asked the Rivendell Elf.
"Of course, my Lord Thranduil." The messenger said, his face showing that he was offended that a Wood Elf should question the veracity of a letter from Lord Elrond.
Thranduil frowned and turned away reading the contents of the letter again.
"I need an answer, my Lord Thranduil," the messenger said, trying to curb his impatience.
Thranduil sighed. Elrond would not have called them to a meeting in his realm unless something of great import was happening. He wondered what it could be.
"Very well. I will send representatives to Rivendell."
"Very good. I shall inform my Lord." He bowed once more and hurried from the Hall.
Thranduil sighed. He felt old in that moment. The time of the Elves was indeed waning and he was growing weary. His realm had been constantly threatened, so many had died trying to preserve their small corner of it. And now something else was threatening. He knew that much. He felt so old.
"Father?"
He looked up to see Legolas and Egla Ash staring at him in concern.
He hesitated not wanting to burden them with this, but then he changed his mind. Legolas was not a child to be shielded and cosseted. He held out the paper. Legolas moved to take it. He read it swiftly, surprise and foreboding coming over him. Egla Ash stood at his shoulder, slowly deciphering the words.
"Who will you send?" Legolas asked, handing it to the Orc.
"I know not. The Council is set for the twenty-fifth of Narbeleth [October]. It must be undertaken soon. There is much to do before they are to set out."
Legolas tried to keep the excitement from his eyes, but they sparkled like sapphires in the sun and Thranduil looked up at him, a scowl forming on his face.
"No, Legolas. I am not sending you."
"Why not?" Legolas looked to the Orc for support. Egla Ash glanced from the Elf king to his son. He shrugged. He knew better than to get involved. He pretended to read the letter again. "You must send my brothers or myself. Lord Elrond will think it an insult if you do not."
"Legolas, I do not need you to teach me statecraft. I know that one of my sons must go. And I also know that I do not care to send you."
"Why not? You don't think I could represent our people?"
"It is not that." Thranduil turned anguished eyes to his youngest. "I have nearly lost you twice. I do not wish to live through that again."
Legolas glanced at the floor, his shoulders slumping.
"Father, you agreed to let me go on the hunt for Smeagol. How could this be any more dangerous? Imladris is a place of safety. I am sure Lord Elrond would not care to risk your ire by having something untoward befall your son."
Thranduil knew that he was caught. He truly did not want Legolas to leave Mirkwood. He wanted him ever near, but he also knew that what the younger Elf had said was true. He could see the yearning in his youngest child's eyes, so blue like his mother's. He sighed.
"Very well, little Greenleaf. You shall go to Imladris."
Legolas smiled.
"Thank you, Father. I appreciate your confidence in me. And it won't be long before I am home again bearing tidings."
"Yes. I do have confidence in you, else you would not be going. Whilst you are there though you must tell what has befallen with Mithrandir's creature. Perhaps Mithrandir himself will be there. If this meeting is as urgent as it seems then undoubtedly he will be. I must think of whom I shall send with you. And you will need to prepare yourself for the journey."
Thranduil took the parchment from Egla Ash who was staring at Legolas in dismay.
"You are leaving, Legolas Elvellon?"
Legolas still smiling turned to him, but seeing that the Orc was truly distressed by this, turned to his father. He couldn't leave Egla Ash now. Not after all they had been through.
"Father?"
"Yes, Legolas?"
"Would it.do you think.how would Lord Elrond feel if Egla Ash accompanied us to Imladris?"
Thranduil turned to them in amazement, one brow shooting upward. Both sets of blue eyes were filled with pleas for his assent. How indeed, he thought turning away with a frown. An Orc in Elrond's beloved Imladris. But then a mischievous smile crept over his lips. And he laughed slightly. How indeed.
"Why I think that he would be quite pleased to meet Elu Heneb I dare say he has never had a conversation with one such as he. Yes, Elu Heneb shall accompany you."
Egla Ash nearly burst with happiness. To travel to Imladris where more Elves lived was more than he could have dreamed of. He was overwhelmed.
"Thank you, Father," Legolas said, smiling at the Orc.
"Thank you, your Majesty." Egla Ash bowed, his head spinning with excitement.
Thranduil watched as the two left the room, chattering happily at one another. His smile widened.
"Well, Elrond, my old friend," he said to the empty room, his green eyes sparkling puckishly. "I wonder how you will greet my representatives." He laughed merrily, imagining the expression of horror that would grace the Half-Elf's face when he saw the Orc. Indeed, he wished he could be there to see it himself. He rolled the parchment up and left, feeling rather lighter of heart and years younger than he had in some time.
Response to Reviewers
*I do not know where the numbers in front of the reviews came from. I didn't type them in. Believe me I looked at my Word file to be sure. Weird.
AJ Matthews - Aragorn will be back very soon. I promise.
Horus - I'm happy that you didn't think it was too sappy. Thanks a lot! Hearts to you!
Lithia - I'm still loving your reviews!! Hearts to you, too!
JastaElf - When I was writing about Legolas and Egla Ash looking at Dol Guldur, I was not thinking of my story as I wrote this. Wonder why!! I am using your idea about renaming Egla Ash. Elu Heneb was JastaElf's idea, guys! And as you know, so were the braids! Egla Ash, uh, Elu Heneb loves them!!
Shinigamio - Thanks so much for your review! I'm glad you enjoyed it! Hearts to you!
long under tree - I'm glad that you didn't think it was too sappy. And, yeah, it was a totally typical - see it coming a mile off - ending. But like you, it was just what I wanted to see. Don't let writer's block worry you, it'll pass. And I will be waiting.
Note to Jan - Thanks so much for catching that BIG faux pas in this chapter. Thank you, nin mellon!! It has been fixed!!