Knife's Edge
By
TreeHugger

Chapter 2 - Choices Made

He stood silently, strapping his sword at his side, his fingers caressing the familiar well-worn leather though he was not aware that he did it. His eyes were filled with worry, and a fear that he hoped was nearly hidden. Though he had been told that fear was only natural at times like these, he still felt a certain shame that the cold dread crept through him as he contemplated what might befall them this day. Tension filled the air as thickly as the choking ash and smoke that poured constantly from the churning, crimson bowels of Orodruin. His gaze lingered for a moment on his friends, their faces set in grim lines as they readied their own weapons and armor. Fear lurked in them too, and this brought him a measure of comfort to know that he was not alone in this seemingly dishonorable emotion. He had made certain that those wounded in the skirmish the day before were healing, and either resting comfortably or arming themselves for another onslaught, depending on the gravity of their injuries.

~Our armor is so very scant, ~ he thought with dismay as he watched them pulling on the few pieces of protective metal that they had.

When he had first beheld their allies, all of them dressed in shining armor of silver, gold, and green, long glittering swords and tall bright spears clasped in their hands, he had been nigh overwhelmed by their array, and by the realization of how little his own people possessed of the armaments of war. Even the Dwarves of Durin IV were wrapped in silver mail coats, sharp axes gripped in leather and metal-encased hands, daggers and short swords girded at their sides, heavy helmets engraved with the flowing geometric designs their folk favored. His father had laughed at what he had termed "that clanking Noldor army," but Thranduil realized just how vulnerable the Wood Elves were. A few of them bore armor that they had worn in the battle at Doriath, and yet others wore armor crafted for them by Riwmegor before his death. Yet so few of them had any type of real protection that the prince wondered what would happen to them this day. Too easily had Amdir's forces been cut down the day before, and now he did wonder if the same could happen to the elves of Greenwood.

Thranduil ran a slender hand over the chill silver of his breastplate, his sensitive fingers feeling the lines and curves of the graven beech and oak leaves that adorned it. It was an elegant piece of armor, light and strong and beautiful. Riwmegor had made it specifically for him soon after the metal worker had found his way to Greenwood and set up his forge. The leaf shaped dagger at Thranduil's slim waist, as well as the slender blade in the wrist sheath and the one in his boot top, had been crafted by Celair. They also bore an oak and beech design intertwined with powerful words of protection.

Thinking of Celair and Riwmegor brought a renewed pain, and Thranduil automatically sought out Tanglinna, though he did not wish to see the bitterness that he knew lived in the archer's silver eyes. He saw Tanglinna standing by his bedroll, the slender fingers swiftly braiding the long silver hair. Thranduil had asked Oropher about this once, wondering why Tanglinna chose to braid his hair in the single braid rather than the three braids normally worn by the other elven warriors. Oropher had merely shaken his golden head, his grey eyes sad.

"It goes back to before Doriath," he had murmured, choosing to say no more. In his mind's eye Oropher could still see the frightened, grieving child that had come to live in Doriath with his parents, clutching to his chest an overlarge bow that had belonged to his recently slain sister. The youngling's hair had been pulled back into an intricate braid that fell to his waist like molten silver. When Oropher had questioned Tanglinna later about this braid he had answered, "I wear it to honor Malhesie." Malhesie was his dead sister who had instructed him in the ways of survival and in the bow, the chosen weapon of that family.

Thranduil was barely aware of the low hum of voices about him as the elves of Greenwood prepared for battle. His eyes slid over them, mindful of them but not truly seeing them. Yesterday had shocked them all, so swift and suddenly had death courted Amdir and his warriors. Those surviving the slaughter had been joined into Gil-galad's own ranks. This had not set well with Oropher, who felt that Amdir's warriors would feel more at home among the Silvan Elves of Greenwood, but Gil-galad had been most insistent. Thranduil had no time to contemplate someone else's warriors though; it was his father's own that weighed heavily upon his heart.

He knew them all to varying degrees, and he loved them with a possessiveness that was similar to what his father felt for them. They were his people, these Silvans of Greenwood, and it was distressing to him to realize that some would not survive this day; some would not be returning to their homes, or walking beneath their beloved trees again, or seeing the faces of their loved ones.

His gaze returned to Tanglinna, who had strapped on his sword and dagger and then pulled a small leather tube from within the folds of his tunic. Thranduil knew that the small curled paper he drew forth was a picture of Celair, rendered so lifelike by Tanglinna's own hand: her dark curls tumbled about her shoulders, a bright dagger in one slim hand. The prince turned away as the archer unrolled the picture, for he could not bring himself to watch the grief that would blossom in his friend's face once more. Grief and anguish were already palpable things, hanging like a carrion bird in the air above them, heavy and unrelenting. It brought distress to Thranduil to know that these emotions would only grow in intensity before this conflict was over. Would they be able to survive that? Would the end price they paid for this conflict with Sauron be too high? A moment later he turned around, feeling the archer's piercing silvery gaze upon him.

Tanglinna strode by Bronadui and Arasceleg, who were finishing their own preparations and glanced up to watch him pass. They exchanged silent gazes and returned to what they had been doing. Thranduil couldn't help but notice that Heledir was laughing and encouraging Filigod, who looked as frightened as the prince felt. The young elf attempted to smile at his sibling's jests as Heledir adjusted the breastplate that had once belonged to their father, and Filigod nodded in agreement, but Thranduil could see it was doing little to allay the youth's dread of the coming day. He had seen Filigod's grey eyes dart to the tall archer as he passed by, and the confusion of emotions that assailed the new-made warrior showed all too clearly on his young face.

~This is unnatural, ~ Thranduil thought, his eyes moving to the dark mountain and the vile fortress of the enemy. ~It shouldn't be this way. The Valar know that it shouldn't. How have things come to this, that younglings must stand here before this crimson-washed mountain bearing weapons they barely know how to use and be expected to fight what will seem like an endless foe? We shouldn't be here . . . . None of us should be here. How could it have come to this? ~

He started slightly as he realized that Tanglinna was standing before him, the silver eyes cold and brimming with the expected bitter resentment. Thranduil parted his lips to speak, but found the words had died in his throat. He dropped his gaze uncomfortably and turned away, moving slowly toward Oropher's tent. He knew that Tanglinna followed him, and the prince had to fight off the overwhelming desire to hang his head like a guilty child. He kept his chin up though, his eyes trained on the slight flutter of banners in the distance, a mere movement of colored silk against the ashen sky.

The sounds of voices seemed muffled as the camps mustered and prepared for a day of battle. Soon they would form their lines and prepare for the advance against Sauron's fortress. He could hear his father's voice as they neared the tent. Oropher was speaking with his closest advisors, and Thranduil could make out Pethannas' earnest tones as they spoke of this engagement with the enemy; Pethannas was trying to convince Oropher of something of import, and failing. Thranduil knew how very stubborn his father could be, and felt a wave of pity for his counselors who had to deal with Oropher's somewhat mulish behavior at times. Some of Gil-galad's captains had been here earlier, and Thranduil had noted the look of annoyance on their faces after their "conversation" with Oropher as they strode almost contemptuously through the Greenwood camp back to their own, their muttered comments quite audible.

Suddenly the tent flap was thrust open and Oropher strode out, golden head held high, grey eyes flashing with spirit and determination. His gaze swept over the Greenwood camp with satisfaction as he watched his warriors preparing for the coming engagement, and he nodded slightly, evidently pleased with what he saw. He turned to his son then and smiled.

"How fare you this morning, nin ion (my son)?" he asked, grasping Thranduil's arm affectionately and gazing steadily into the prince's blue eyes.

"I am well, hir-nin," Thranduil managed with a nod of his head. He fought to keep the resentment that he felt because of the awkward situation he had been placed in by his father out of his gaze, but he doubted that he had succeeded in this for he saw a slight look of hurt flash across his father's face before vanishing behind the impenetrable mask Oropher usually wore.

Thranduil's eyes lit upon his father's breastplate, which was akin to his own only the leaves had been worked in gold. Atop the blond head was a circlet of twining bands of silver and gold shaped in the image of a wreath of leaves. The king's green cloak fell from his broad shoulders; the silver and green tinted armor glinted in the twilight gloom about them. He looked every inch a king, and Thranduil felt a swell of pride for his shining, glorious father fill him, blocking out the bitterness for a time.

~Even Gil-galad must not look so regal this morning, ~ he thought, allowing his emotions to shine forth unhindered at this silent observation. He saw the answering look of acceptance and relief in his father's eyes and knew that what he felt had communicated itself to Oropher. He felt some of his resentment at his father and king lift as Oropher strode past him to step up onto a rocky incline held up his elegant hands for attention, his hair a blaze of gold in the grey air.

Soon all eyes were upon Oropher, the elves of Greenwood gazing upon him in admiration and love. He was their king, and they would follow him anywhere he chose to lead them. He had taken these stubborn, rustic Silvans into his heart as they had taken him into theirs. Thranduil stood proudly as his father stepped forward to address their people.

"My warriors of the fair Greenwood, today we venture forth to meet our dread foe, face to face on his very doorstep, and call him forth to battle. . . ."

The words Oropher spoke that morning were stirring, and they filled his brave warriors with the fierce courage and pride that they would need to face the coming day. That in turn stirred their blood, making them wish to do great deeds here in this black land, to vanquish the foe that had haunted them for so very long. They gazed upon their king, seeing his own courage and belief in the words that he spoke, and they were heartened, their own bravery rising to the fore. They would stand side by side this day to fight and conquer, even though they knew that some of them would fall, their blood mixing with the ashes that littered the cracked ground. At that moment no one doubted that they would prevail against the Shadow and his minions. Then a low murmur of voices that had long known the trees and stars of this world rose on the air ancient and wild, causing the other camps to turn and look at Oropher's warriors. Those that were encamped nearest saw the fair faces shining with such feral delight and untamed spirit that they wondered anew about their quieter, forest-bred cousins.

The king of Greenwood moved back to where Thranduil stood, Tanglinna hovering at the prince's shoulder. Oropher studied the archer, noting well the anger that tensed the muscles and clenched the jaws, the silver eyes fixed on some point in the distance.

"Thranduil, fetch my sword," the king said quietly, his eyes never leaving Tanglinna's face. It hurt Oropher that the archer would not meet his eyes, but he kept his countenance impassive, his own gaze cool and emotionless.

Knowing that his father needed this moment alone with the Master Archer, the prince moved past Pethannas and into the tent, glad to be away from the tension that festered between Oropher and Tanglinna. He despised that he was caught between them in this struggle, thought he knew well why it would be necessary to play it out. He refused to allow the bitterness he felt toward them both to rise up in him again. Now was not the time for such petty grievances. Slowly, Thranduil crossed the interior of the tent to where his father's great sword sat, a gleaming of silver in the dimness.

The counselors walked away from Oropher with one last glance at their chosen leader and moved into the camp, speaking to the warriors of their homes and what it was they fought for. Elven spirits had been kindled with a fierce readiness for battle, and the words of their leaders fired it even farther. They were ready to face anything, or so they felt at this moment of time as they awaited the signal for them to move ahead.

Tanglinna slowly met Oropher's eyes without flinching. Few could withstand the king's gaze, and he could make anyone quail before him when he so chose; this day though the grey eyes were filled with compassion, though tempered with a steely glint that showed he would brook no opposition. Oropher would not back down, not even to smooth the path between the two of them.

"I do not want to go into this battle with ill feelings between us, mellon-nin," he began quietly. "I do this for a very selfish reason, I admit. I will not see yet another one of my people die and not do something to prevent it when I can."

Tanglinna's silver brows knit, but the eyes didn't soften at these heartfelt words. Oropher took hope, scant though it was, in the fact that the archer hadn't gainsaid him as yet. As king, he was not one to cosset and coddle, or wrap his words in softness and tact. ~As even Gil-galad has reason to know, ~ he thought with dark satisfaction as he recalled some of the meetings he had with the High King of the Noldor. Oropher could be plainspoken and blunt, and he knew that Tanglinna was much the same.

Oropher recalled the first words Tanglinna had spoken to him so long ago in Menegroth. Oropher had been standing with a group of his intimates and had witnessed the arrival of Thindalagos and his family as they entered the halls of King Elu Thingol. Some of Oropher's friends had snickered at what they had named "those Wild Silvans," but though Oropher had smiled at this, there was a fierceness and simplicity about the Woodland Elves that he found most appealing and more honest than what his Sindar kindred exhibited. His eyes had lit upon the smallest member of this family of three, amazed that one so very young could look so very solemn and serious.

He had left his friends and approached the youngling as he might a small-untamed creature, silently and slowly. The child's parents had left to ask permission to stay within the safe confines of Menegroth, leaving their son standing by one of the towering, carved pillars. He noted that the youngling's gaze moved up and down the length of the great column, one slim finger reaching out to touch a carved bird, its head cold and smooth, so very lifelike.

"It is very beautiful, is it not?" Oropher had asked quietly, his own eyes sweeping to the ceiling far overhead. Surely this child had never seen anything as magnificent as these wondrous halls and was most impressed by the beauty that now surrounded him on all sides; from the colorful stone floors, to Melian's beautiful hangings on the walls, the sound of the nightingales sweet singing mingled pleasantly with the soft music of water spilling in fountains of silver and marble.

Tanglinna had turned to him then, the silver eyes filled with a mild disdain that surprised the older Sindar.

"They are not real," he said bluntly, indicating the carvings that twined about the pillar. "They are just imitations. The real ones are better."

Straightforward and so very honest, two of the things that Oropher had found refreshing and surprising about the Silvan Elves. They could be so quiet at times, elusive and shy, yet their answers could cut straight to the heart of the matter. It was with these thoughts in mind that he turned to his friend now.

"Do you think that you are the only one who suffers from their deaths?" Oropher continued in a low earnest voice, searching the silvery eyes for some sign that Tanglinna heard him, but receiving nothing. "Do I not suffer with *every* death that comes to Greenwood? I do, Tanglinna, and I thought you knew that. I could not face this fight knowing that you seek out an end to your life. Do not do this to me! Do not do this to Thranduil! He is your friend, and he cares deeply for you. How do you think he would feel if you accomplished what it is you want? How will any of us feel? My son is the most important thing to me in this world, and all I do I do for him; for you, and for my people, our people. I was unable to prevent Celair, Riwmegor, and Cubell from being taken from us, I would have done all within my power to have prevented that . . . . I need you to stay with me through this, Tanglinna. Don't you understand? Ending your life is not going to help anyone! I need you with me! Thranduil needs you! Isn't this what Celair would have wanted? You did not choose to die when Malhesie fell all those years ago. Or when your parents died in Doriath. They would not want you to throw your life away for them. I cannot believe that Celair would ask that of you either. She loved you, Tanglinna. She would have wanted you to live. I want you to live . . . ."

Tanglinna held the king's gaze for a moment, and then dropped his eyes to the blackened ground at his feet. Even as he tried to harden himself to the king's words, his heart ached with the knowledge of the truth behind them.

Malhesie would have tugged his braid playfully and shaken her dark head at him.

"Don't be foolish, Vanwahith (Silver Braid)," he heard her distant voice say in his head. " I taught you those skills for a reason. Now use them where you may, to save those you can."

Tanglinna had felt as though he would die when she had been slain near their home so many years before, smiling up at her younger brother as her life bled out of her, but he hadn't. His parents needed him, and he had put aside his grief to be strong for them. When they had died, he had been strong for the survivors of the despoiling of Doriath. They had needed him then. And Celair. . . his beloved Celair . . . .

"Don't be foolish, nin Orolith (my Silver Hawk)," her beloved voice seemed to whisper in his ear as though she stood just behind him, so very close and yet so very far from him. If only he could touch her once more, feel her pressed against him, her body fitting so well with his own, her curls brushing teasingly at his cheek. "We will be reunited someday, but they need you now. One day you will tell your son how you stood with Prince Thranduil at a great battle that helped to vanquish evil from Ennor. Our day of reunion will be the more sweet if you do not throw your life away needlessly. Be strong, beloved. Im meleth le, Orolith."

Tanglinna closed his eyes against the pain, calling up her beautiful face, so serene, her silver-blue eyes filled with a love that she had shown to him alone; a love that he had thought would never be gifted to him by anyone. Now she was gone and he felt so weary of life; his spirit so battered and broken nearly beyond recovery.

"Celair," he murmured, feeling a fresh rush of tears burn in his eyes, his heart aching anew. "Celair, it is so hard to go on." A strong, warm hand clamped on his shoulder, and he gazed up into Oropher's eyes. The king said not a word, but merely watched him with compassion, knowing there were no words he could fashion that would have any real meaning at this moment. He felt the archer's muscles relax in defeat and release, the tears falling from the silver eyes.

~Finally, mellon-nin. Perhaps you can begin to move on in peace now, ~ Oropher thought as he watched the play of overwhelming emotions that danced across the other's face.

Instead of touching on the subject so near to both their hearts, for the king feared to reopen a wound that he hoped had so recently begun to heal, he smiled, and clapped Tanglinna on the arm, offering him strength and support in the simple gesture.

"Now, my friend, while I speak with the prince, will you go and help to bolster the younglings' courage? I know that Filigod seemed a bit peaked this morning, and yon galenhuan (bird-carver)," he pointed at young Bronadui, "needs to be told to stop picking up stray bits of wood during the fighting; I fear it will go ill with him if he doesn't and that would not please me."

Tanglinna raised his eyes then, a slight, crooked smile on his lips. He nodded slowly, feeling weary beyond belief, and yet filled with a tremulous peace that he had not ever thought to feel again and feared to examine too closely for fear it would flee him never to return.

"I will tell him," he said in a quiet, broken voice that shook with the vestiges of his retreating sorrow.

"Good. Then come back here to stand with Thranduil when we make ready our lines."

The archer nodded and moved silently away, slender fingers brushing away the traces of his recently shed tears.

Oropher exhaled, feeling his muscles sag with relief. He would have hated to enter into battle with Tanglinna's resentment following on his heels. He turned sharply and moved into the tent before the others could see his own struggle with emotions felt too strongly.

Thranduil looked up as his father entered, the king's sword in his hands, the long leather belt spilling at the prince's feet. He could see that his father looked wearied from this confrontation with Tanglinna; Thranduil had not expected it to be easy on either of them. The prince of Greenwood gestured with his head, indicating the sword belt.

Oropher nodded and moved to stand before him, sweeping the long cloak up and then holding his arms out at his sides. Thranduil knelt before him, girding it about his father's lean waist.

"How is he?" Thranduil asked after a moment of silence, without raising his head from the task at hand. He didn't think that his father was ready to look him in the eyes as yet, and Thranduil was determined to give him the time needed for Oropher to master his emotions.

"All will be well, nin ion," Oropher answered quietly as his son fastened the silver clasp that held the belt closed. It was shaped as an oak leaf surrounded by flowing intertwining circles. It had been a gift from Auriell, one of her last to him before she sailed over the sea. Oropher looped the belt's excess efficiently, and then motioned for Thranduil to stand. He grasped his son's broad shoulders, staring intently at the younger elf's face. He saw himself in that beloved countenance, and Auriell as well, especially about the eyes. "All will be well."

The prince saw the sad, distant look on his father's face and knew Oropher's thoughts were with his beloved. This made Thranduil's thoughts wander to his own beloved Brenillass, and a wave of longing swept over him. How would he feel if she were no longer here? Would he wish to fight on as his father had chosen to do, as Tanglinna had been forced to do? Would he want to live without her at his side? He hoped that he would never have to find out.

"I miss her so," Oropher murmured, causing his son to gaze up at him. The king met his eyes, and Thranduil was surprised to see the tears that glimmered in the grey orbs. "I find that though I have comfort in the fact that one day we will be together, the wait seems too long at times. You must realize that Tanglinna will always carry this grief with him, nin ion. The pain that he suffers is one that will never entirely vanish. Yet he will live. He has made that choice this day. His resentment toward you will vanish. He looks upon you as a friend, and he always will. Never fear, Thranduil. He will be there for you when he is needed."

Suddenly he took his son into a gentle, loving embrace, something that surprised Thranduil, as Oropher was never overly affectionate and such outward displays were rare and therefore cherished. Then he was released, and Oropher smiled widely, the tears blinked away as quickly as they had come.

"Well, shall we go show Gil-galad and his Noldors what marvelous fighters we simple rustics are?" he chuckled, settling the sword belt more comfortably about his hips.

Thranduil returned the smile and tipped his golden head in acknowledgement.

"As you wish, aran-hir," he said, following Oropher from his tent. He would not let the thoughts that had plagued him earlier distress him now. There was an energy in the air, and at that moment he felt that perhaps they could do the impossible here. The Valar would look upon them with favor, and they would succeed.

The sound of singing met them as they emerged, a beautiful blending of voices that rose on the black air, defying and mocking it. Once more a fierce swell of pride filled Oropher, King of Greenwood the Great. His eyes sought out Tanglinna once more, and he was rewarded with a fleeting smile from the archer.

"We shall indeed show them," Oropher murmured quietly, before his voice lifted in song to join with theirs.

TBC

This chapter was a "breather," needless to say. I didn't want to leave too many ill feelings between the three characters in this tale, so I wanted them to reach some sort of understanding before the battle commenced. I did not want Tanglinna to go into the next phase of this story feeling guilty because he had parted on uneasy terms with Oropher any more than I wanted Thranduil to be feeling too resentful toward his father over what Oropher had done with the "nurse maid" scenario. The next chapter will be the battle and/or the aftermath, so there will be angst and loss of life. You have been warned. :(

Thank you to al, my beta-reader! Not too green this time.thankfully! I fear that the next thing I send will be a forest. :)

Thank you to Dragon_of_the_north for reading this over and Okaying the speechless version. Not even the ghost-speech-writer could help with that part. ;) It just proves how very stubborn some elves really are.

The picture of Celair is based on a picture drawn by Ubiquitous Pitt.

Also please see my bio page, which has been changed. Go to Dragon_of_the_north and read "The House of the Silver Bow." She is writing this with my full consent. She has managed to undo something that should never have been. It is considered part of the TreeHugger canon now.

Response to Reviewers

Let me say that I was somewhat overwhelmed and pleasantly surprised by the reviews for the first chapter of this tale. Thank you so very much. :) I admit that I hesitated on this tale, not in the writing of it but in posting it. Those of you who know ME history know what will befall in the first assault on Sauron by the Alliance. There is not much written about this battle, only a few snippets picked up here and there. There is also not much about Oropher so each of us shapes our ideas of this King of Greenwood the Great in our own way. I hope you like my interpretation of this great, stubborn King. I find I really do like him.

JastaElf - I am glad that I can occasionally surprise you with my "different voices." It must be my split-personality problem. ;) I am pleased that you like my Oropher even if he is somewhat different from yours. It is always fun to see the different perspectives on the characters, with a few exceptions: e.g. Evil Thranduil. Thank you most heartily for answering all those Dagorlad questions, they helped me get more of a feel for this battle. :)

Dragon_of_the_north - You have picked up on nuances of this tale that I have failed to notice. :) I find it amusing that people find it hard to believe that Brethil's ada was quiet. He was. ;) Yes, his little birds will be quite significant in the rewrites. :( You are welcome for the mention of the "foes" in this tale. I view them in a slightly different light since reading your tale. You know I couldn't write a more "vivid" description of what happened to Celair and her family.you know how much trouble and agony I went through writing the little that I did. :( I like that you are very aware of the irony in this situation with Tanglinna and Oropher. Yes, I had thought about it when Tanglinna wanted to die and Oropher is the one who will fall in the battle. Very sad and very ironic.

muggles - I am quite thrilled that you are enjoying a more in-depth look at Tanglinna. He is my current obsession. :) It has been nearly a year since I tried to write anything angsty so your comments really meant something to me. Thank you!

Larian Elensar - You sound nearly as exhausted from reading the last chapter as I felt after I wrote it. ;) Glad you are enjoying it. :)

daw the minstrel - I like the image of Oropher and Tanglinna snapping at one another. No, they are not the Noldors. ;) That scene was very clear in my head and I can still see the looks on their faces. Oropher's charge was brilliant and cruel, but as you said, it will accomplish what it was supposed to.

None - I hope it won't make you cry too much. No more than it has made me cry. ;)

Nilmandra - I surprised myself in wanting to write this story. I have known about this part of Tanglinna's life for some time and wasn't certain if I wanted to write about it or not. I don't particularly enjoy writing angst any more, it literally wears me out! But in the end Tanglinna won out and the story is here. I am glad that you like my Oropher. There is so little about him out there that I had to think about how I saw him before I could write this. I did have to laugh about your spanking Legolas if the squirrels in Jade King had hurt the picture. I knew how important the picture of Celair was so there was no way the squirrels were going to hurt it. The younglings have no idea who he is and what he has gone through, and I don't see him talking to them about it. So to them he is just the stern Master Archer who deserves to have pranks played on him. ;)

AURORA - It is good to hear from you again, mellon-nin! I laughed when I saw the name Thrumb Dumb. I hadn't though of that in quite a while. I am glad you like my details, scant though they are in Master Tolkien's books. Dagorlad is usually just a side note somewhere.

Mickie - Well, you may get attached to a few of the elves, some will survive . . . for now. :( As to living down what I did to Tanglinna and Brethil, well that has been rectified, if not by me. See my note on the story by Dragon_of_the_north. I will admit that I didn't want to go into gory detail about the death of Celair and her family. I couldn't. It took me some time to write what I did. I must say that I get entirely too involved when I am writing something and it was very hard for me to write. Yes, I am just a little strange. ;) I think we all enjoy being sad at times, and yes, Steel Magnolias does it to me every time too. :)

Aislynn Crowdaughter - You are very correct in saying that Oropher is not often seen. I suspect this is because so very little is known about him. I find him to be a fascinating character and it has been very nice to work with him. I might have to write more stories with him in them. I am glad you like my Thranduil too. :)

WeasleyTwinsLover1112 - Tense and sad! Cool! That is exactly what I was feeling when I wrote it! I am glad that it came across that way. Thank you so much! :)

Lakergurl13 - Now you need to calm down and read my bio page. Things have changed very recently in my universe. In a word - I caved. ;) Now then, to Charlie. . . well, you certainly are a "bad, bad, bad, evil, fell, nasty Uruk-hai!" No, you may not kill "the archer dude!" Don't even suggest such a thing or I may have to hunt you down! I do have a bow and I know how to use it! *Tanglinna snorts contemptuously, folds his arms over his chest and mutters, "Then he has nothing whatsoever to worry about."* Obviously he doesn't think I use a bow as well as you do your frying pan! He is probably right. ;)

Hel - It has been an interesting experience to write about Oropher and a young Thranduil. You are right in saying there isn't much out there set in this time period, not concerning them anyway. Oropher did indeed know what he was doing charging Tanglinna to watch after Thranduil. Tanglinna's oaths aren't taken lightly. I am glad that you can see the type of relationship Oropher has with Tanglinna. I am glad that I was able to make that come across. Yes, the Greenwood elves are stubborn, independent of spirit, and strong-willed. I think that is why I admire them so. :)

Lothiriel - Your review made me smile! I love "WOW!" I am very glad that I have managed to make people get emotional over this tale. Thank you for that wonderful review! :D

Angaloth - Thank you for your nice compliments! It is very strange for me to write this younger Thranduil, as I usually have him being the one in charge, and is grownup and a father. I had to smile about this part of your review, for yes, Bronadui is actually a quiet elf, very unlike his son. ;) I hope you have read Dragon_of_the_north's tale about what happened after Hearts of Darkness chapter 5. It is canon now. Some things can go the way they should. ;)

LOTR lover - It has been easier for me to write this knowing that Tanglinna will have some happy times ahead of him. I don't mind angst, but I like things to go well for the characters too. Yes, he will be reunited with his family one day, and there is always the Tricksy Trio to entertain him until then. ;)

Katharine the Great - First let me say that you have had a hand in crafting Tanglinna, so some of him belongs to you, melaglar nin. You are certainly the one who made him an artist, and well, it is Tanglinna canon now. :) I had to laugh at you calling yourself a "Thranduil luster." Yes, you are. ;) Don't cry over Bronadui. I try not to think of him dying in two universes, but . . . the deed is done and behind us. I am pleased that you like my "elven ladies." I admit that female characters give me pains. As to the funfic . . . there is a wonderful story by someone named Katie-sama out there. You should check it out. ;)

Hildestohl - Amazingly I can tie everything into a neat package . . . well, I can sometimes. I am glad that you are enjoying this tale, sad though it is. Actually . . . the picture in Tanglinna's room won't be in this story until chapter 4 . . . the last chapter. ;) This picture is another one.

Hiro-tyre - Still waiting for a hug, are you? Perhaps some day he will. You can never tell what Tanglinna might do. ;) I see that you have noted that my younger Thranduil is not quite the way he will be. I see Dagorlad as being a turning point for Thranduil . . . for many reasons. This is my view of the mighty king, of course, but I think that after what happened in this battle, none of them would be quite the same. He is suddenly no longer the prince, but the king, and being made into that position in the midst of a war can't be easy. Also we are about to see his older stubborn self emerge somewhat in the next chapter. I envision Dagorlad as being one of the defining points of Thranduil's life, so I hope I will be able to get that across in the last chapters. Well you are right that I wasted Tanglinna early in his career, luckily someone has rectified that.

erunyauve - I am pleased that you like the little details. They are indeed the things that breath life into characters. The line about returning swiftly to their homes is indeed most poignant. Dagorlad was such a sad battle, so many died, including so many of the leaders of the Alliance. Then we think that the Ring wasn't destroyed, and their hard-won victory was only temporary! :(

Lutris - Tanglinna has many facets to his personality, as he is showing me. Sometimes he can be quite irritating! ;) I am so very pleased that you love him! That is the greatest compliment I can receive! Thank you!

Karina - I see you are rearranging your thoughts to get this Thranduil in mind. He is married, but not yet a father, that will come about after Dagorlad. I admit that I didn't have a clue about what Oropher was really like, so I have done some thinking about how I actually picture him. I find that I actually like him, even though he is mostly remembered for his one HUGE mistake. :( I may write more later about what happened to Celair, but it gave me (literally) pains to write this little bit. Bronadui is actually a very quiet elf, unlike Brethil. He is very nice like his son is though. So while they are similar, they are quite different as well.

Jennet - I am glad that you like the characterizations. Oropher was a mystery to me for a time, for as you said there isn't much out there about him. Mere snippets make this job more interesting, but also more frustrating. I always wonder if there is some little thing buried in the HoME books that I missed. Thank you so much for you wonderful words! :)

Gwilwileth - You sound like a naughty thing! LOL Why were you online reading my story in your leadership class?? ;) This one makes me tear up too, though the only people that see me tear up are my family. Hope you didn't get caught! I used to play poker in science class with my friends! ;) Talk about naughty!

Banba McCuill - This is indeed a sad story, but Dagorlad is a tragic battle for so many. I enjoy finding stories about the lesser-known characters in Tolkien's world, and yes!! There are many characters than those that exist solely in LOTR. :)

ziggy - I think there is a lot of Legolas in his father, and I am glad you see that. I haven't written anything this serious in quite some time, and while I don't particularly like writing angst I have "enjoyed" doing this. Though I am not sure if "enjoy" is quite the right word for what I am feeling. :) Oropher is a very cool elf, and he is quite a tactician.

the evil witch queen - LOL "Old Sourpuss" comes later. Thranduil has a mischievous side, but I am not sure how it will come into play, if it comes into play, in this story. The next chapter has a sad tale of its own to tell. Lives will be changed forever. :(

Lindon - Seeing Tanglinna like this is awful for me too, but it is his fault for telling me this tale. It makes it easier to write knowing that he will have a happier life later on. I am glad that you like my Oropher. He may have been incredibly stubborn and prideful, which is all people may see in him, but I see him as much more than his faults. It is very different to write someone else as being the King, as Thranduil should be the king. ;) My young Thranduil will be undergoing some life altering things in the next chapter, and then you may see the older Thranduil emerging from this younger, untried one. I am glad that there was at least one thing in this to break the tension. Oropher can be a charmer, and Tanglinna is good with dry sarcasm. :) I know how you feel about the scene when Tanglinna finds his murdered family. I had a lot of trouble typing that part. I was racing along at a pretty good pace, the words just pouring out and then WHAM! I hit this wall of horror and sat staring at the screen, literally shaking with emotion. As a mother and a wife, I know how I would feel if that were to happen to me. So you are not alone in finding it hard to take.

Angel - Yes, nin mel! That is Tanglinna. If it is any comfort to you it is a picture from Dagorlad. He is not happy at all, and well, I am sorry if it creeped you out! ;)