AGONY
"No sign of life did flicker
In floods of tears she cried
All hope's lost
It can't be undone
They're wasted and gone
Save me your speeches
I know (They blinded us all)
What you want
You want take it
Away from me
Take it and I know for sure
The light she once brought in
Is gone forever more"
(…)
"Nightfall" by Blind Guardian
I.
It was already getting light for the third time since Elrond and his army had set out hurriedly for the mirkwood, and still the king of all rivendell elves had not returned. Aragorn, who had stood guard on one of the wooden watchtowers towering the entrance to the rivendell valley, rubbed his hands in a vain attempt to warm them and made a few steps to drive away the cold from his stiff and aching limbs. He was ready to drop from fatigue.
Blinking he watched the morning sun while searching the horizon, but he couldn't see anything. Nothing hostile, but also no returning elves. Aragorn sighed. He was deeply concerned, though he tried to hide it from the others.
When he had returned to Rivendell two days ago from one of his "strides through the wood", he had immediately been confronted with the horrible news, or rather rumours, which were going around: Thranduil, king of the wood elves, had been hurt or killed, huge parts of the Mirkwood had been devoured by flames and the helpless wood elves, trying to defend their homes, had been attacked by thousands of orcs…
At least the fire was more than just rumours; the dramatically red-coloured sky over the beeches of the Mirkwood had been clearly visible even in Rivendell. This frightening sight had been the reason for Elrond´s decision to lead an army to the Mirkwood. Helping hands surely would be welcome there…
Aragorn was angry with himself, because he had not been there to accompany Elrond, and because he had nothing better to do now than to sit around while his mind painted some horrible visions of what possibly could have happened in the Mirkwood. Sooner or later the inactivity would drive him crazy!
Like him, the rivendell elves had been nervous and uneasy about the extent of the fire catastrophe which had befallen the wood elves, and when their messengers had arrived, bloodied and tired, long after Elrond's leaving, nervousness and anxiety turned into sorrow and grief. Suddenly also the security of Rivendell itself seemed in danger. So many soldiers had gone with Elrond! What if the orcs had expected his leaving and tried to ambush him? Or even worse: If they dared to attack Rivendell?
Aragorn sighed again, irritated, and buried his face in his hands. Now he was immersed in gloomy thoughts as well as all the others! Night watch was not really useful against smouldering fear. At least it helped to bane the guilty feelings he had for not being in Rivendell when he would have been of use. Or would he soon be of even more use where he was right now? They had reinforced the guards all around Rivendell, and they waited.
With every minute passing by Aragorn´s heart grew heavier. Elrond should have been back hours ago... What could probably have slowed him down? This time it was the sound of light, subtle steps behind him which aroused Aragorn from his brooding. He didn't have to turn around to know who was standing behind him. Her presence, intense and overwhelming, always left him breathless for a few seconds. "Arwen" he said in a hoarse voice. "Here you are, then." she said. "I knew I would find you here." She came closer, and Aragorn put his arm around her shoulders. He was grateful for both her nearness and her silence. Together they watched the sun and waited for something to happen.
II.
Like the other three guards nearby Arwen seemed to notice something, for she suddenly straightened and searched the horizon. Aragorn involuntary tightened his shoulders and waited for Arwen to say something; for he knew he would not see anything yet. "Elves!" Arwen then exclaimed, and in her voice was all the relief she felt that moment. "But only a small troup." Aragorn too gave a sigh of relief. He squeezed Arwen´s shoulder; and together they climbed down the wooden guard tower to welcome the approaching riders.
The twelve returning Rivendell-elves seemed to have rode hard. One could see it if one looked at their foaming, trembling horses or their bleak, tired faces. Aragorn´s heart grew heavy as he greeted their leader, which he personally knew. He surely did not look like delivering good news... The elf took his greeting casually and gratefully accepted the bottle of water which Arwen gave him. He leaned against his horse, shoulders slumping, then at least he said: "Lord Elrond and his army are on their way back here..." He spoke loud enough for the gathered crowd to hear him. "He sent me to tell you we'll bring casualties with us."
A collective groan could be heard from his listeners. "The rumours of the last few days have all been proven true." the messenger continued and took another sip of water since his voice failed him more and more. "There indeed was a devastating fire in the Mirkwood, and the orcs have assaulted the wood elves." This time the crowd gasped in horror. "The surviving wood elves, most of them wounded, will arrive here soon. They'll need our help."
Though his meagre words about the incidents in the mirkwood had not been suited to reassure anyone; and though they didn't really answer any questions that burned on the tongues of the rivendell-elves, they dispersed immediately. They knew it was not the time to ask idle questions. Soon enough they would be informed of everything...
III.
Elrond arrived hours later, when noon was already near. He and his elves rode much more slowly as the messengers before, and the cause of this was clearly visible: They brought the wounded. Many of their horses seemed to carry two riders, a Rivendell elf as well as a slumped figure he supported in the saddle. Other Rivendell elves directed their horses to walk carefully side by side to avoid shaking the stretchers they carried additionally to their riders. Blackened by smoke and soot and overtired as they were, they reminded Aragorn of survivors of a battle which had been lost. Arwen, still at his side, sighed and buried her face at his shoulder. But before Aragorn could react to her, she sighed again, straightened and lifted her head. "Come." she said. "Let's go to meet father. He'll need our help."
Behind the solid doors of Rivendell, already opening for the arriving elves, an even more numerous crowd had gathered than in the morning. Aragorn felt like ducking in a vast sea of bleak, sorrowfull faces when he made his way through the gathering, the sound of lamenting or angry voices ringing in his ears.
But the next instant all the elves went quiet, and in a deadly silence Elrond returned to Rivendell. In front of him the crowd divided, stepped aside, perhaps to create some space for Elrond and his warriors, but more likely they just shrank back from the scene of destruction unfolding before their eyes.
The Rivendell-elves seemed well enough, though their faces were marked from the horrors they had witnessed. But the filthy, exhausted, blood covered figures they brought with them – could that be the proud, even arrogant wood elves they had met occasionally earlier?
Aragorn watched, incredulously too, how Elrond's soldiers entered Rivendell, still watched when some of the Rivendell elves seemed to awake from their paralysis and hurried to help the soldiers rescue the wounded. He himself was not capable to move. "They'll bring the wood elves with them, so we were told." he thought, astonished that the door guardians already had started to close the main gate behind the arrivals. "Did they just bring the wounded and left the rest of the Mirkwood elves behind?" His mind still refused to accept the whole terrible truth, but when the doors of Rivendell fell close with a thud, he instinctively knew that no more wood elves would follow, and no more had been left behind. Perhaps he was one of the first to understand the extent of the catastrophe which had befallen the wood elves – and with them the whole kingdom of the elves. Cold horror seized him, and he suddenly felt sick. Almost roughly he pushed himself through the crowd of Rivendell-elves which blocked his way to Elrond and his men, and everyone who managed to get a look at his face involuntary shrank back. Aragorn did not notice.
With rising desperation he run along the dismounting Rivendell-elves, searching all the while for known faces among the wood elves. Some of them were good friends of him. "Altaja, Voltos, Memic, Fellon..." he thought. "Mirmos, Eleja, Regerin...where are you?" He looked around, wildly, but he could not discover anyone he knew. "Just what do you expect..." the voice of reason said in his mind. "...you see that only precious little wood elves have been spared! Why should your friends of all people be among the survivors?"
Aragorn did not want to be reasonable. He searched on; and recklessly pushed aside anyone getting in his way. Arwen had soon given up following him.
At least Aragorn noticed the almost scared looks he got of the elves he pushed aside, and within a second he had sobered up. He stopped his pacing and took a deep breath. Now it was not the moment to think of oneself, but to save what was still to be saved. Soon enough he would know if all of his friends had been victims of the orcs... He almost felt ashamed for his panic, but it was not the time to be ashamed, too. Again he inhaled deeply, then he looked around, much calmer now, in order to find Elrond. The elven king surely could need his assistance right now.
IV.
Arwen already stood beside her father when Aragorn finally had spotted Lord Elrond and fought his way to him. Elrond seemed older than Aragorn
had ever seen him, as old as it was probably possible for an elf. His eyes clearly mirrored the horror he had witnessed the last few days, and for a moment even the great elven king Elrond seemed unsure of what to do, what to command. Aragorn was just about to address him when he noticed an overtired wood elf leaning herself against a horse just beside Elrond. He seemed in a pretty bad shape…
Yes, now the elf´s knees buckled, and only Aragorn´s strong, supporting grip prevented his collapse. But before Aragorn could say something, the elf had liberated himself and stood on his own feet again. He looked up to Aragorn, though, and this was the moment at which Aragorn finally recognised him.
"Legolas!" he said, relieved that he had found at least one of his friends alive, but it was Elrond who reacted to his words, not Legolas. The elvenking put a hand on his shoulder and led him a few steps aside. "Is this Legolas, king Thranduil´s fifth child?" he sharply asked, and he bit his lip as Aragorn nodded. "Except Legolas, have you discovered someone else from the king´s family?" "No." Aragorn said, unsure of what exactly Elrond wanted to hear. "But I fear that…" "That´s what I fear too." Elrond said grimly and loosened his grip. Then he turned his attention to Legolas, who still leaned against the horse for support, eyes closed now.
"Legolas, son of Thranduil." he said. "I see that you´ve been wounded. But it is of outermost importance for me to hear what has happened the last few days as soon as possible. So if your wounds do not bother you too much… I just need to know what went on! And since you seem to be the only survivor of the king´s family and therefore the new leader of the wood elves..."
"No! No!" Legolas interrupted, and something next to panic was in his voice. "I'm not the only survivor from the king's family! Elwyne's alive! It's only...It's only that he probably has lost the use of his leg... But he's alive! Father named him his heir before he died..." Aragorn bit his lip, and even Elrond seemed not capable to look Legolas straight in the eyes for a few seconds. "I´m grateful that Elwyne is alive." he finally said, gently "But at the moment it is you I ask for help"
Legolas did not show any reaction to Elronds words. "Legolas!" Aragorn exclaimed, anxious, and seized Legolas by his shoulders. This at least seemed to bring the elf out of his reverie, and Legolas gave a small nod to Aragorn before he wiped a bloodied strand of hair out of his face and directed himself at Elrond: "Surely, Lord Elrond." he said in a hoarse voice. "That's the smallest thing I can do to thank you for your help." Elrond gratefully nodded and led Legolas and Mardin, who had not moved much more than an inch away from his prince all the time, to his private rooms.
V.
There were fires burning in Rivendell the whole night. They illuminated tents, provisory accommodations and terraces – all the places where wood elves had been accommodated and were now attended by every elf in Rivendell which knew something about healing or at least about consoling. The red glow of the fires was the single trace of light which could be detected in the eyes of the saved, and the warmth they gave the only warmth they felt. They died out of sadness, although they were save now behind the walls of Rivendell, although they had been strengthened with lemba and their wounds had been attended –also Elrond, seemingly inexhaustible, had done his share of the work – much, far too much of them closed their eyes to never open them again. The fire and the orcs still found their victims, even here.
Legolas crouched himself on Elrond's terrace, face petrified, with Elwyne's head resting in his lap. He still was disturbed and confused from being in Elrond's private rooms, where he had given the king of the Rivendell-elves, Aragorn and a few others a detailed account of the nightmarish events of the last few days. In the background he had noticed an additional auditor: A scaring, bearded figure, clad in white, from which he had heard many tales, but only seen him once, as a child: Saruman, the white wizard.
Elrond and the others had not been satisfied with what Legolas had told them. Their incredulous faces, their many questions had been tell-tale.
They probably had hoped that he would have any explanations for the killing of Thranduil and the attack on all the wood elves. No one, not even the orcs, did a military operation as big as this one without a good reason. Against his will Legolas felt his throat tighten. Damned, he also had no clue what really had happened! For the wood elves, too, the orcs had come as a complete surprise, or else they would have been fought back. Did Elrond even think that he, Legolas, concealed something from the council? The king of the Rivendell-elves had been very distant, very short, almost as scaring as the human wizard...
Only as he had asked if he could go and look for his brother Elrond harsh features had visibly softened, and so he now sat here, too exhausted to feel and think much, and watched as two elderly Rivendell-elves, both of them experienced in war wounds and usually imperturbable – tried to help his elder brother. Without moving he watched their efforts and he knew that they fought for Elwyne's leg, and for his life, as well. The deadly sadness was strong in him, dulled his perceptions and made him apathetically and indifferent. Had it not been for the hate, burning in his heart since the first orc had turned up, he might wouldn't have survived the loss of his family and his home.
At least the two elves had finished with Elwyne's leg. One of them patted Elwyne's cheek and sighed worriedly when the elf did not get ready to awake from his unconsciousness. The other laid an comforting hand on Legolas' shoulder. "He will live." he gently announced. "But his leg will never by of proper use anymore." Getting no reaction from his opposite he sighed and looked sharply at Legolas, but then he left; he and his friends had much more patients in need. To heal broken hearts was not in his power...
VI.
(sentences in italic: Sarumans thoughts, not spoken aloud)
Elrond's private rooms were lit the whole night, too. "I wonder what has really happened in the mirkwood..." the elven king murmured while pacing the room, to no one in particular, and he hoped that his only listener, Saruman, could not hear the desperation and helplessness in his voice, for desperation and helplessness were both feelings that were not appropriate for a leader of the elves in this disaster.
"I long to know myself" Saruman thought, but said nothing. His dark face remained unreadable. What has taken this useless creature of a goldsmith with Thranduil's ring? His orders were simple enough: To betray the elves to the orcs, wait till they have killed their hatred enemy, take Thranduil's ring and bring it to me. That should be easy to accomplish even for a treacherous fool like this crawling human! I waited long enough to find anyone able to gain Thranduil's trust! Damned wood elf! He even dared to mistrust me! He never mentioned the ring with a single in my presence.
There was a hint of a smile on his lips for a moment, instantly gone again. That's what you got for your mistrust, Thranduil. The ring, and all his rarely known, but immense power, will soon be mine!"
"How did the fire arise?" A little bit of magic from my side. "Where did all the orcs come from? How did they hide from the wood elves until it was to late? And why, why did they not return to kill the surviving wood elves when they had the opportunity? In fact we did not see a single orc on our ride through the Mirkwood... They seem to have retreated right after the first attack..."
They retreated because I told them to do so, fool. The wood elves are not important to me as long as I get their ring. I just wanted to weaken them. They're still warriors, after all.
His eyes followed Elrond, who had started pacing again. "What goes on in their evil minds neither men nor elves can say." he then said, quietly. "and robbing, killing and plundering seems to be their only aim in life." "That's what's bothering me." Elrond sharply interrupted. "The orcs should have returned to finish the killing. Everything else is out of the orc's nature. Something...or someone... might have hold them back." Saruman narrowed his eyes.
"What you mean, Lord Elrond, is that someone has put up the orcs to this attack!" You're closer to the truth than you suspect. Almost to close...
Elrond looked at him for a moment, deep in thoughts, then his shoulders slumped. "I do not know." he then said. "I do not know. Why should someone do such a thing?" You'll know the moment I'll take YOUR ring from your finger... "I'm sure about one thing, though: The orcs should have returned." Don't worry, Elrond, king of all rivendell elves: The orcs will return. Sooner than you think..
VII.
The day the funeral obsequies took place was of a tormenting beauty. The morning sun flooded Rivendell´s trees, meadows and waters with golden light and brought a warmth which seemed too early for this time of the year. The life-bringing reign of spring was back– something that seemed inappropriate to Legolas in a strange way, as if he had somehow irrationally expected that even nature should share his -their- loss. Rivendell clearly was more breathtaking, more shining than he had ever seen it, but Legolas suddenly realised that he was not receptive of beauty anymore. He felt helpless, alone, lost and abandoned, and deep in his heart he already understood that he´d been driven out from paradise, with no hope of return.
He remembered telling Boromir a few days ago –it seemed eternities- that elves could not feel like humans did. He knew now that he had been wrong. He surely felt like a mortal now. Fierce storms of grief, anger and hate raged through him, and what was worst of all – it felt right. He was not here in the valleys of Rivendell to find calm, oblivion or a save haven - he was here to seek revenge.
Revenge for the fallen from his people, which now lay lined up in long rows before them. They had been clothed in long, white, opal shimmering clothes; the blood, filth and ash washed from their faces, flowers woven into their hair. There were huge funeral pyres beside them, build by the Rivendell elves, to hand over the bodies of the fallen to the fire. Their ashes would then be scattered on a clearing, lined by ancient, wise trees. It was a place of marvellous beauty, chosen by Arwen. Legolas gratefully noticed the sensible gesture behind her suggestion, although it seemed very human to him. All the same, the thought of his father, his brothers and sisters, his friends and his people resting under their beloved trees was strangely comforting.
Aromatic vapours were now rising from the pyres – some Rivendell elves had put herbs on the burning stacks of wood - and now silent, incredibly sad singings could be heard from them. The wood elves did not sing. With petrified faces they watched the funeral ceremony going on. Soon the moment would be here when the bodies of the fallen would be handed to the fire, first of all king Thranduil, which lay, in the white clothes of Rivendell, with his weapons and his favourite amulet made of green shimmering diamonds, right in front of his youngest son.
He looked peaceful now, but still Legolas had to swallow a lump in his throat and he blinked away some burning tears. Lord Elrond himself got ready to take Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, onto his arms, but Legolas was faster, and Elrond stepped back without a sign of annoyance. Legolas picked up his father and carried him to the burning pyre only to put him down again to carefully watch his all-to-familiar features one last time.
Then he bent down, seemingly lost in thoughts, and oblivious of all the eyes directed on him, he took something of his father's property. He did not take his father's splendid bow, or his incredibly precious amulet - Legolas chose his fathers sword as a keepsake. The sword was heavy in his hands, and slowly he put it into his belt and again lifted his father's body to place it on the pyre. And in this moment he silently vowed that many, many orcs would taste this sword in memory of his father.
Then he stepped back and watched as the many stacks of wood first awakened to life and then burned up slowly, like the star of the wood elves in the Mirkwood had done. His eyes and his heart were like cold stones during the ceremony. His gesture had not been lost on Elrond though, and the king of the Rivendell elves had a worried look on his face. His uneasiness, concerning Legolas, grew. He would have to keep an eye on the Mirkwood's youngest prince...
His scowl deepened even more when he noticed the approving looks the wood elves shared. It seemed that there already existed an agreement among them about a subject which had not been discussed with the Rivendell-elves: the revenge against the orcs.
Or was he wrong, and overvalued a harmless, even touching gesture? What meant Thranduil's sword to his son? Was it taken as a sign of memory of lost things or a sign of hate?
Elrond decided to ask Legolas Greenleaf, now –at least temporary- king of Mirkwood about this, as soon as decency would allow it. If there was something that he – and all the rest of the elves – could not use right now, it would be an unplanned revenge campaign. He sighed and shortly touched his temples. "Now you already start seeing ghosts everywhere." he scolded himself and tried to pay more attention to the ongoing ceremonies. But the uneasiness which had overcome him suddenly was not easily shaken off – for a good reason, as he soon would notice.
VIII.
"So the Rivendell-elves will not do anything to revenge the wood elves, will they?" Legolas asked shortly, not even trying to conceal his anger. Gandalf gave him a scolding look, and Elrond draw in a sharp breath, but he didn´t deny Legolas´ words. "That´s what you want to tell us, Lord Elrond!" Legolas continued, more than a touch of arrogance in his voice, and he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "What Lord Elrond means, young Legolas Greenleaf…"Saruman quietly, unimpressed, answered. "…is that it would not be wise to ride against the orcs right now, for we do not know anything about their plans, their hiding places, their weapons or even their numbers. To attack them right now, completely unprepared, would mean to risk the lives of many elves to no use. But if we first plan our revenge, carefully, coldblooded, we could…"
"Planning! Waiting!" The fact that Legolas dared to interrupt the commonly respected and feared wizard clearly proved the extent of his fury. The prince of Mirkwood had lost every hint of elvish reserve. He gave Saruman an enraged look. "My father has been killed! The same goes for most of my people! Our homes have been devastated… The blood of our fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers, sons and daughters screams for revenge! Perhaps it´s customary among Rivendell-elves to sit and wait when their families and friends are killed. It´s certainly not customary among wood elves!"
Elrond, Saruman, Aragorn and the other participants of the council sat in silence, taken aback. The debate did take a course they had not anticipated... Worried glances were exchanged. The talks about the future of the wood elves and the line of action of all elves did take a course they had not anticipated.
Of course they all knew that measures had to be taken to punish the orcs for their outrage. But if the elimination of almost all of Thranduil's people had proved something, then it was the growing vulnerability of the elves. Only a few centuries ago an attack like this had been unthinkable and would have ended in a devastating defeat for the attackers; if someone would have been stupid enough to plan such a suicidal venture. But now the power of the elves, as well as their number, was shrinking while their enemies seemed getting more and more numerous. Seen in this light, the fall of the wood elves was just a last, drastically proof of a development that had started long ago. Elrond knew that neither he or any other elf could detain this development. But he had sworn to himself that every elvish life he could beware would be a valuable contribution to the future of the elvish people, and this was true for Rivendell as well as for Mirkwood elves.
He gritted his teeth. No elf in middle-earth could made him change his mind, and he would not allow that anyone would uselessly waste the life of elves in a crusade against the orcs. For heaven's sake, if he only could persuade his opposite that just the moment of, but not the revenge itself was the point of discussion...
Mardin however, stepped forth and laid a hand on Legolas` shoulder. Perhaps it was a comforting gesture; or a silent ply to calm down, but most likely he just expressed his agreement with the prince and was ready to support his leader in every way possible. Also the tree other wood elves accompanying Legolas had dark faces and moved closer to their prince as if to award more weight to his words.
"Why this hate?" Elrond finally asked. "Do you think, prince Legolas, that hate and revenge can bring back one single fallen elf?" A shudder went through Legolas´ body. "No, Lord Elrond." he said, and there was an air of almost tangible sadness about him, if only for a moment. "They will not bring any elf back." He looked at the floor, visibly fighting to regain his composure. "But they die out of sadness." he then said, very quiet, very desperate. "They die out of sadness." He looked at the floor again.
Elrond felt every hint of anger evaporate when he heard this words, deeply touched, and Saruman seemed to feel the same for he stared at Legolas as if mesmerized, and Aragorn gently touched Legolas arm. But the elf stiffened under the contact, and when he lifted his head the hate was back in his eyes. A hate which, Elrond suddenly understood, effectively would separate Legolas Greenleaf from any reasonable argument.
Abruptly Legolas got up. "The only way to fight the sadness in them is to give them an aim." He searched Elrond's face. "Tell me, Lord Elrond: What aim can a wood elf probably have? To rebuild our destroyed homes in the equally destroyed Mirkwood? We´re much to few for this... To stay here and to get slowly consumed by the longing for our dark woods?" Quieter he continued. "I do not wish more elves to lose their lives,too. I agree with you in this point, Lord Elrond. But if waiting means sure death to a wood elf as well as revenge against the orcs does – we surely will choose the second option. With or without the Rivendell-elves."
Elrond had also raised, he seemed to want to say something, but then chose to remain silent. With a short nod Legolas bid farewell to the present elves and turned to leave. He only stopped to say: "We too thought the Mirkwood to be safe." Then he withdraw, accompanied by the other wood elves. Elrond stood there for a few seconds as if petrified, then he slapped the table with his fist in a vehemence which made everyone jump. Saruman smiled.
To be continued...
