Chapter Four: Avenging sword
The soldiers had returned triumphant. All the orcs were slain and then loaded onto a pyre to be burnt. It was King Elessar's orders. "As much as I dislike orcs, I do not wish them polluting my soil," were his words.
The men grumbled, but accepted the sense in his words.
Eldarion was glowing after his first skirmish. "Five orcs!" he cried breathlessly, before remembering his station and quickly walking away. He had done well in the fight. Mainly due to the adrenalin that was rushing through his blood stream giving him reckless courage.
When they were back in sight of the White City, they were confronted by something strange.
They could see a band of orcs surrounding one fighter who was valiantly fighting, but seemed to be losing. The odds were against this elf.
"Elendil!" Estel cried and raising his sword, galloped forward followed by the rest of his faithful soldiers.
The golden haired warrior turned and for a brief moment, Aragorn saw a look of relief on his face, but that swiftly disappeared when he scowled in an expression that the man was so used to seeing on a different yet similar face.
It was King Thranduil.
"So nice of you to join me," he drawled over the sound of metal clashing and spun around to swiftly stab an orc through his heart.
"Thank you," the King replied with a mock bow. Leaning down he dispatched another of the foul beasts. "Archers behind!" he called.
The archers dismounted from the horses that the cavalry rode on. They had been perched behind for the journey. They stood behind the wall of shields and started firing.
"Its the same fang!" Eldarion shouted over to his father as he took up his own bow and stood behind the soldiers.
Elessar nodded briefly to his son and carried on hacking and cutting in his effective manner.
The first arrows thrummed through the air, landing in their targets with a meaty thud. Ten fell down dead.
"Death to the mortals!" an orc screeched in the common tongue.
Thranduil gritted his teeth when he found his wife's murderer and started to wade through the fray towards him. "You'll pay, orc scum!" he bellowed, rage started to cloud his eyes and judgment.
"Thranduil!" Eldarion suddenly screamed and with fingers that moved in a blur, reloaded his bow and fired at a spot just above the elf's head.
The axe fell from the orc's dead hand and out of harm. Thranduil had been only milliseconds away from losing his life in his rashness. But he carried on stubbornly, not thanking the prince at all. He swirled the scimitar in his hands in a show of aggression and skill before lunging forward.
"Gurth gothrim Tel'Quessir"[death to the foes of the Elves] a fair and melodious voice shouted in elvish.
Eldarion quickly looked to the side and for a second he was blurred by another wave of arrows passing between him and the elf.
Legolas sat on the tall white horse with grace, standing up in the stirrups (for the horse wore no bridle or saddle other than the strap around his stomach), and fired into the battle. On either side of him, twenty elves fired similarly.
An orc went down, the elvish arrow pierced between his eyes, his face frozen in a look of shock.
"Legolas!" he called, but found he was drowned out by his father's own happy shout of acknowledgment.
The elf obviously heard the calls but turned his head slightly towards Eldarion and blinked his bright eyes before returning his gaze to the orcs and fired again.
Eldarion shook his head and concentrated on shooting.
~
Thranduil hacked away again as the final orc fell from blocking the King's way to his wife's slayer. He swirled the blade around his head, noticing with grim satisfaction the shriek it made as it cut through the air.
The orc snarled and took out a crude axe.
The elf darted forward and was blocked by the shaft of the weapon. The orc leant in and sneered. "Stupid elf!" he snarled and taking his axe away swung back to chop forwards.
But he swung through thin air. Thranduil had ducked to the side and was taking a similar swipe. The orc also moved, but he moved forward far quicker than Thranduil had expected and he was tackled to the ground.
He lay winded for a minute before kicking the orc off him with a contemptuous spit in his opponent's direction.
The orc bared his yellow teeth and lunged forward again. He missed again and lay sprawled into the ground, dazed and confused.
"Caela ie'lle!" [have at thee] Thranduil said with a manic laugh and swiped down.
A sharp cry of "Thranduil!" split the air and for a second all movement stopped as they watched the King of Gondor leap off his horse and in the same moment hurl the mighty sword of Anduril through the air like a dart.
The cry had shocked Thranduil so much that he lost control of his sword and it buried itself in the ground next to the orc.
The sword flew through the air like a mighty silver falcon of death and went straight through the heart of Thranduil's other attacker, for another orc had snuck behind the elf in the hope of getting favour from his boss and killing the elf.
Such was the momentum with which the sword was thrown, it cut straight through the orc and carried on. It dropped slightly and stabbed into the killer of Niphredil as he tried to run.
He swayed on his feet slightly before dropping to the ground with an almighty shriek. He lay there dead and unmoving.
The rest of the battle was brief. The orcs lost their courage and were easily slain.
Legolas dismounted warily and crossed to his father who was slumped on the ground sobbing bitterly in his hands he held Anduril. "Ada?" he asked, touching Thranduil's shoulder.
Thranduil spun around, his golden hair whipping into the face of his son and he glared angrily upwards, not at Legolas but the man behind him.
Elessar stood waiting for his sword to be returned.
"You.... you don't know what you did!" Thranduil hissed and threw the mighty sword to the ground disdainfully. Then the elf rose and walked away from the rest of the party ignoring his son's cries.
"What have I done?" the man asked his friend.
Legolas looked up and the King was shocked to see them brimming with crystal tears. Never had Legolas wept in front of him. He kept his emotions under a strict mask.
"You killed my mother's murderer. My father vowed to slay that beast, and you just did it for him." His words were spoken sadly and with regret. Legolas watched his father's fleeing back.
"Mirkwood!" he cried and the elven horsemen surrounded him.
"Arod!" he whistled and he leapt back onto the horse of Rohan.
"Come. Back to Greenwood," Legolas said softly and began trotting back to his home country.
"Legolas, will you not stay?" Eldarion asked running after the elf.
He tilted his head back and smiled sadly. "I will. Look for me in ten days time. I need to comfort my father and grieve again. Ten days Eldarion!"
Then he murmured some words to Arod and the group gained speed, quickly vanishing over the horizon as quickly as they had arrived.
"Friends, one more task I beg of you," Elessar said with a crooked smile amid grumbles. "And I think you already know it."
The men nodded and started to collect the bodies.
flashback
Legolas fidgeted while the tailor dressed him. He was dressed somberly, far to somberly than normal. He wondered why.
The black silk fitted over his slender body with legs that at his current age seemed far to long and gangly. He was small for an elf, but that was because he was a late starter compared to the rest of his year's children. In reality he was just over the height of a medium sized woman, about five foot five.
He was dressed in a black tunic with black leggings and black boots. His normal soft shoes had been hidden away so he couldn't change into them. Underneath that he had a soft silvery shirt, the sleeves of it billowed out over his marble hands. But they weren't long enough to hide the ring on his finger.
"Oh my," he whispered quietly and felt his eyes become wet. The white stone twinkled up at him and he swallowed deeply.
The tailor patted his shoulder comfortingly and left while his father's friend- Haldir- brushed his hair.
"Now then elfling," Haldir said in gentle tones, as gentle as his brushstroke. The brush went smoothly through the fair hair. Legolas had lighter blond hair in those younger days. When he aged, it darkened to the golden glow that he was remembered by.
"You must be good today," Haldir said and separated a small section of hair. He started plaiting it, his nimble fingers moving the strands deftly.
"Will you do that for your father and me?" he asked.
Legolas looked up with a small smile. Haldir was his hero. The small elfling had only just met the older elf one summer ago. He was attending the Faradome [summer solstice] and had entered into an archery competition. The Greenwood archers were known throughout the land as the most skilled among elves and the Lorien elf had come to challenge that title. He did so with flair and grace.
Legolas had been introduced to the elf and had lowered his eyes shyly to the ground. "Ello Mr Haldir," he said bashfully.
Haldir had laughed and lowered himself slightly so that he was on the same level as the elfling. "I have heard much about you, Prince Legolas," he said.
Legolas blushed slightly. "I hope it was good," he said timidly.
The Marchwarden chuckled and Legolas felt his father's reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Of course it is," Thranduil said with a fond smile.
"I have heard that you show much promise with the bow," Haldir continued. "And your father tells me that soon I will be in danger for keeping my reign over the wood-elves for archery."
Legolas laughed, a sweet tinkling sound and from that day on he had admired Haldir greatly as a generous and kind elf, as well as a beautifully deadly one.
Haldir went onto the next plait.
"Why am I dressed up like this?" Legolas asked and fiddled with the ring impatiently. He was still young and wished to go outside for clean air and to climb the trees. These garments would not aid him, but restrain his movements in case he tore the silk.
"Legolas, do not be afraid," Haldir said stopping briefly to kneel in front of the elf and take his twitching hands. "But it is your mother's funeral."
Legolas looked at the Lorien elf with large blue eyes. "Today?" he whispered.
"Today."
"Why did no one tell me before?!" Legolas squeaked.
"Because they did not want you to fret," Haldir said in a soothing voice.
"But I am now!" Legolas cried. His tore his hand away from Haldir's larger ones and wiped his eyes and then looked away embarrassed.
"Its fine to cry elfling," Haldir said and gathered the elfling into his embrace.
~
They were gathered in the same glade that Niphredil had died in.
Thranduil was sombre in a similar black outfit, lending even more colour to the golden crown on his head. But it looked strange, as standing beside him wasn't the Queen's matching one.
The elves normally garb themselves in blinding white for funerals and matters of grief and mourning, but the King had ruled this out. He had said that due to his mood, he should dress in black, and therefore so should ever one else.
The body of Niphredil was untouched by the decay of death and lay in splendour upon a marble bed. She was dressed in silver robes that flowed down her limp body and enhanced the whiteness of her skin and hair. On her fair hair rested the Queen's crown. A simple golden coronet that was studded with gems made into the shape of leaves.
Legolas was by his father's side and made no attempt to hide or wipe away the tears that ran unashamedly down his pale cheeks.
Thranduil was not crying though. He had found strangely that he could not cry. He had not at all since his wife's death.
Legolas made a soft whimper as the first haunting notes of the elven melody drifted through the trees. A hand squeezed his own and he looked up into Haldir's warm eyes that were too filled with tears.
Finding no comfort in his father, he fell into Haldir's embrace yet again and buried his head in the black tunic as he listened to the song.
"Thranduil," Haldir whispered, trying to catch the King's attention. He was standing straight, his eyes closed slightly as he concentrated on the words.
"You should not have to bear this," the Lorien elf decided and led Legolas back inside.
end flashback
Thranduil had ridden on Arod alongside Legolas on the way back to Mirkwood. He was silent and pensive.
The minute they returned, he turned and walked into the forest.
His son stabled Arod before searching for his father.
He knew where to look.
~
Mirkwood had changed a lot since the days of Greenwood when it was one of the mightiest forests in the world.
The Niphredil glade was the same.
The boughs that once had swayed in consoling silence to the sound of soft weeping, now were shrivelled and searching.
The snowdrops that carpeted the floor however, were remarkably still intact. No pestilence had touched them and they bloomed as if in they too knew of Niphredil's death and were trying to make up for her absence in this world.
Niphredil's tomb remained. She still lay on the bed, untouched by age, decay and animals. Some barrier warded them off. It was an instinctive thing; even Legolas himself felt an overwhelming sense of gloom and despair as he entered the glade. So much so that his normally light spirit which could not be dampened even by the Paths of the Dead, was despondent.
He padded forward softly on the leaves and stood next to his father.
Thranduil had shed his crown and stood before his wife's dead body humbly, dressed only in simple clothes of dull woodland colours. The King that Legolas feared and respected was gone. In his place stood someone mourning and blaming himself.
He turned to his son and his bottom lip quivered for he could see so much of Niphredil in his offspring. The same beautiful silken hair, although different in colour now, had been similar at his birth. His startlingly deep blue eyes held the same wisdom and compassion.
Thranduil choked and held forward a shaking hand to cup his son's flawless cheek.
"Niphredil," he murmured and felt salty tears on his skin. They were his own.
"She will rest happy in Mandos now," Legolas said reaching up his own hand to cup his father's cheek.
They stood there for a while. Unmoving, silent in thought. Legolas for once the stronger one, and Thranduil acknowledging his emotions, cried without a noise.
~
You know what would make my day?
A little reviewing, no?
Anna.
The soldiers had returned triumphant. All the orcs were slain and then loaded onto a pyre to be burnt. It was King Elessar's orders. "As much as I dislike orcs, I do not wish them polluting my soil," were his words.
The men grumbled, but accepted the sense in his words.
Eldarion was glowing after his first skirmish. "Five orcs!" he cried breathlessly, before remembering his station and quickly walking away. He had done well in the fight. Mainly due to the adrenalin that was rushing through his blood stream giving him reckless courage.
When they were back in sight of the White City, they were confronted by something strange.
They could see a band of orcs surrounding one fighter who was valiantly fighting, but seemed to be losing. The odds were against this elf.
"Elendil!" Estel cried and raising his sword, galloped forward followed by the rest of his faithful soldiers.
The golden haired warrior turned and for a brief moment, Aragorn saw a look of relief on his face, but that swiftly disappeared when he scowled in an expression that the man was so used to seeing on a different yet similar face.
It was King Thranduil.
"So nice of you to join me," he drawled over the sound of metal clashing and spun around to swiftly stab an orc through his heart.
"Thank you," the King replied with a mock bow. Leaning down he dispatched another of the foul beasts. "Archers behind!" he called.
The archers dismounted from the horses that the cavalry rode on. They had been perched behind for the journey. They stood behind the wall of shields and started firing.
"Its the same fang!" Eldarion shouted over to his father as he took up his own bow and stood behind the soldiers.
Elessar nodded briefly to his son and carried on hacking and cutting in his effective manner.
The first arrows thrummed through the air, landing in their targets with a meaty thud. Ten fell down dead.
"Death to the mortals!" an orc screeched in the common tongue.
Thranduil gritted his teeth when he found his wife's murderer and started to wade through the fray towards him. "You'll pay, orc scum!" he bellowed, rage started to cloud his eyes and judgment.
"Thranduil!" Eldarion suddenly screamed and with fingers that moved in a blur, reloaded his bow and fired at a spot just above the elf's head.
The axe fell from the orc's dead hand and out of harm. Thranduil had been only milliseconds away from losing his life in his rashness. But he carried on stubbornly, not thanking the prince at all. He swirled the scimitar in his hands in a show of aggression and skill before lunging forward.
"Gurth gothrim Tel'Quessir"[death to the foes of the Elves] a fair and melodious voice shouted in elvish.
Eldarion quickly looked to the side and for a second he was blurred by another wave of arrows passing between him and the elf.
Legolas sat on the tall white horse with grace, standing up in the stirrups (for the horse wore no bridle or saddle other than the strap around his stomach), and fired into the battle. On either side of him, twenty elves fired similarly.
An orc went down, the elvish arrow pierced between his eyes, his face frozen in a look of shock.
"Legolas!" he called, but found he was drowned out by his father's own happy shout of acknowledgment.
The elf obviously heard the calls but turned his head slightly towards Eldarion and blinked his bright eyes before returning his gaze to the orcs and fired again.
Eldarion shook his head and concentrated on shooting.
~
Thranduil hacked away again as the final orc fell from blocking the King's way to his wife's slayer. He swirled the blade around his head, noticing with grim satisfaction the shriek it made as it cut through the air.
The orc snarled and took out a crude axe.
The elf darted forward and was blocked by the shaft of the weapon. The orc leant in and sneered. "Stupid elf!" he snarled and taking his axe away swung back to chop forwards.
But he swung through thin air. Thranduil had ducked to the side and was taking a similar swipe. The orc also moved, but he moved forward far quicker than Thranduil had expected and he was tackled to the ground.
He lay winded for a minute before kicking the orc off him with a contemptuous spit in his opponent's direction.
The orc bared his yellow teeth and lunged forward again. He missed again and lay sprawled into the ground, dazed and confused.
"Caela ie'lle!" [have at thee] Thranduil said with a manic laugh and swiped down.
A sharp cry of "Thranduil!" split the air and for a second all movement stopped as they watched the King of Gondor leap off his horse and in the same moment hurl the mighty sword of Anduril through the air like a dart.
The cry had shocked Thranduil so much that he lost control of his sword and it buried itself in the ground next to the orc.
The sword flew through the air like a mighty silver falcon of death and went straight through the heart of Thranduil's other attacker, for another orc had snuck behind the elf in the hope of getting favour from his boss and killing the elf.
Such was the momentum with which the sword was thrown, it cut straight through the orc and carried on. It dropped slightly and stabbed into the killer of Niphredil as he tried to run.
He swayed on his feet slightly before dropping to the ground with an almighty shriek. He lay there dead and unmoving.
The rest of the battle was brief. The orcs lost their courage and were easily slain.
Legolas dismounted warily and crossed to his father who was slumped on the ground sobbing bitterly in his hands he held Anduril. "Ada?" he asked, touching Thranduil's shoulder.
Thranduil spun around, his golden hair whipping into the face of his son and he glared angrily upwards, not at Legolas but the man behind him.
Elessar stood waiting for his sword to be returned.
"You.... you don't know what you did!" Thranduil hissed and threw the mighty sword to the ground disdainfully. Then the elf rose and walked away from the rest of the party ignoring his son's cries.
"What have I done?" the man asked his friend.
Legolas looked up and the King was shocked to see them brimming with crystal tears. Never had Legolas wept in front of him. He kept his emotions under a strict mask.
"You killed my mother's murderer. My father vowed to slay that beast, and you just did it for him." His words were spoken sadly and with regret. Legolas watched his father's fleeing back.
"Mirkwood!" he cried and the elven horsemen surrounded him.
"Arod!" he whistled and he leapt back onto the horse of Rohan.
"Come. Back to Greenwood," Legolas said softly and began trotting back to his home country.
"Legolas, will you not stay?" Eldarion asked running after the elf.
He tilted his head back and smiled sadly. "I will. Look for me in ten days time. I need to comfort my father and grieve again. Ten days Eldarion!"
Then he murmured some words to Arod and the group gained speed, quickly vanishing over the horizon as quickly as they had arrived.
"Friends, one more task I beg of you," Elessar said with a crooked smile amid grumbles. "And I think you already know it."
The men nodded and started to collect the bodies.
flashback
Legolas fidgeted while the tailor dressed him. He was dressed somberly, far to somberly than normal. He wondered why.
The black silk fitted over his slender body with legs that at his current age seemed far to long and gangly. He was small for an elf, but that was because he was a late starter compared to the rest of his year's children. In reality he was just over the height of a medium sized woman, about five foot five.
He was dressed in a black tunic with black leggings and black boots. His normal soft shoes had been hidden away so he couldn't change into them. Underneath that he had a soft silvery shirt, the sleeves of it billowed out over his marble hands. But they weren't long enough to hide the ring on his finger.
"Oh my," he whispered quietly and felt his eyes become wet. The white stone twinkled up at him and he swallowed deeply.
The tailor patted his shoulder comfortingly and left while his father's friend- Haldir- brushed his hair.
"Now then elfling," Haldir said in gentle tones, as gentle as his brushstroke. The brush went smoothly through the fair hair. Legolas had lighter blond hair in those younger days. When he aged, it darkened to the golden glow that he was remembered by.
"You must be good today," Haldir said and separated a small section of hair. He started plaiting it, his nimble fingers moving the strands deftly.
"Will you do that for your father and me?" he asked.
Legolas looked up with a small smile. Haldir was his hero. The small elfling had only just met the older elf one summer ago. He was attending the Faradome [summer solstice] and had entered into an archery competition. The Greenwood archers were known throughout the land as the most skilled among elves and the Lorien elf had come to challenge that title. He did so with flair and grace.
Legolas had been introduced to the elf and had lowered his eyes shyly to the ground. "Ello Mr Haldir," he said bashfully.
Haldir had laughed and lowered himself slightly so that he was on the same level as the elfling. "I have heard much about you, Prince Legolas," he said.
Legolas blushed slightly. "I hope it was good," he said timidly.
The Marchwarden chuckled and Legolas felt his father's reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Of course it is," Thranduil said with a fond smile.
"I have heard that you show much promise with the bow," Haldir continued. "And your father tells me that soon I will be in danger for keeping my reign over the wood-elves for archery."
Legolas laughed, a sweet tinkling sound and from that day on he had admired Haldir greatly as a generous and kind elf, as well as a beautifully deadly one.
Haldir went onto the next plait.
"Why am I dressed up like this?" Legolas asked and fiddled with the ring impatiently. He was still young and wished to go outside for clean air and to climb the trees. These garments would not aid him, but restrain his movements in case he tore the silk.
"Legolas, do not be afraid," Haldir said stopping briefly to kneel in front of the elf and take his twitching hands. "But it is your mother's funeral."
Legolas looked at the Lorien elf with large blue eyes. "Today?" he whispered.
"Today."
"Why did no one tell me before?!" Legolas squeaked.
"Because they did not want you to fret," Haldir said in a soothing voice.
"But I am now!" Legolas cried. His tore his hand away from Haldir's larger ones and wiped his eyes and then looked away embarrassed.
"Its fine to cry elfling," Haldir said and gathered the elfling into his embrace.
~
They were gathered in the same glade that Niphredil had died in.
Thranduil was sombre in a similar black outfit, lending even more colour to the golden crown on his head. But it looked strange, as standing beside him wasn't the Queen's matching one.
The elves normally garb themselves in blinding white for funerals and matters of grief and mourning, but the King had ruled this out. He had said that due to his mood, he should dress in black, and therefore so should ever one else.
The body of Niphredil was untouched by the decay of death and lay in splendour upon a marble bed. She was dressed in silver robes that flowed down her limp body and enhanced the whiteness of her skin and hair. On her fair hair rested the Queen's crown. A simple golden coronet that was studded with gems made into the shape of leaves.
Legolas was by his father's side and made no attempt to hide or wipe away the tears that ran unashamedly down his pale cheeks.
Thranduil was not crying though. He had found strangely that he could not cry. He had not at all since his wife's death.
Legolas made a soft whimper as the first haunting notes of the elven melody drifted through the trees. A hand squeezed his own and he looked up into Haldir's warm eyes that were too filled with tears.
Finding no comfort in his father, he fell into Haldir's embrace yet again and buried his head in the black tunic as he listened to the song.
"Thranduil," Haldir whispered, trying to catch the King's attention. He was standing straight, his eyes closed slightly as he concentrated on the words.
"You should not have to bear this," the Lorien elf decided and led Legolas back inside.
end flashback
Thranduil had ridden on Arod alongside Legolas on the way back to Mirkwood. He was silent and pensive.
The minute they returned, he turned and walked into the forest.
His son stabled Arod before searching for his father.
He knew where to look.
~
Mirkwood had changed a lot since the days of Greenwood when it was one of the mightiest forests in the world.
The Niphredil glade was the same.
The boughs that once had swayed in consoling silence to the sound of soft weeping, now were shrivelled and searching.
The snowdrops that carpeted the floor however, were remarkably still intact. No pestilence had touched them and they bloomed as if in they too knew of Niphredil's death and were trying to make up for her absence in this world.
Niphredil's tomb remained. She still lay on the bed, untouched by age, decay and animals. Some barrier warded them off. It was an instinctive thing; even Legolas himself felt an overwhelming sense of gloom and despair as he entered the glade. So much so that his normally light spirit which could not be dampened even by the Paths of the Dead, was despondent.
He padded forward softly on the leaves and stood next to his father.
Thranduil had shed his crown and stood before his wife's dead body humbly, dressed only in simple clothes of dull woodland colours. The King that Legolas feared and respected was gone. In his place stood someone mourning and blaming himself.
He turned to his son and his bottom lip quivered for he could see so much of Niphredil in his offspring. The same beautiful silken hair, although different in colour now, had been similar at his birth. His startlingly deep blue eyes held the same wisdom and compassion.
Thranduil choked and held forward a shaking hand to cup his son's flawless cheek.
"Niphredil," he murmured and felt salty tears on his skin. They were his own.
"She will rest happy in Mandos now," Legolas said reaching up his own hand to cup his father's cheek.
They stood there for a while. Unmoving, silent in thought. Legolas for once the stronger one, and Thranduil acknowledging his emotions, cried without a noise.
~
You know what would make my day?
A little reviewing, no?
Anna.
