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Lifting the Gray Veil – Chapter Three
Thranduil surveyed the battlefield laid out before him.
"You were right, Gandalf, please forgive me." A call to arms sounded throughout the elven stronghold calling forth all warriors to come and fight for their home and their families.
Already, small skirmishes were being fought with sharpshooters helping out as best they could from their positions in the trees.
"The enemy has come much closer than we suspected. Even I did not see this happening soon enough to prevent it." The number of their foes was great and they had already invaded parts of the court's private gardens and woods.
Many elves came forth bearing arms and preparing to launch themselves into the fight. The King himself took up weapons and his great sword to join his men in the attack. The Captains of the forces looked to their leader, who was no stranger to great battles having fought and lost his father in the greatest battle in all history.
"Let us charge our enemy! They shall soon see that the elves are not fading, but possess the great strength of the Valor!" Pointing his silver sword at the enemy, Thranduil ran out to fight with his loyal people joining him.
Easterlings were hidden amongst the trees, firing their bows in hopes of remaining hidden and able to kill as many elves as possible before being discovered. They did not count on the very trees they used for cover betraying them by whispering their location to the attacking elves. Quickly were they found and destroyed. All their hopes of making the last elves flee and having the great realm to themselves were being crushed along with their numbers.
They would not be defeated, though, until the last of them were cut down.
Thranduil himself stood in the front of the lines, using a great bow to send death quickly and quietly to his foe. His heart bled to see so many of his people killed. Their enemy, though they were men, fought hard and took many immortal lives with them as they slowly crept back.
"They are retreating, my Lord!" Shouted an elf from a position on the front lines.
"Keep up your guard! Do not let them have the upper hand for one moment! Attack until even elven eyes fail to see the enemy!"
Arrows flew and the clang of swords clashing was heard into the afternoon. The fighting was more severe than any, even Mithrandir, could have predicted.
The elves triumphed and held their ground, but paid a terrible price by giving the lives of many to the field of death.
"Come," Thranduil called to one of his closest advisors, "please, go out into the fields with your men and look for survivors. We must rescue as many as can be saved."
Mithrandir joined the King, "You have done well, son of Oropher, your enemy is defeated and your kingdom held safe. Indeed, you are stronger than even I could have imagined."
Thranduil could only nod, for he did not see a field of victory, but a field of blood. Perhaps his people were fading. He knew for sure that this battle hurt their waning numbers more than a whole nest of poisonous orcs and spiders.
Together, they returned to the palace to speak of plans for the immediate future. Now they were weak and future threats needed to be discussed. In the study of the King the pair talked.
"Now what do we do? I could not spare one warrior, yet now many lie on my very doorstep."
"We will hold until you can regroup. Your enemy will not have the ability to launch another attack for some time."
"How can you be sure? You said yourself that you were unaware of their presence so close to my home. What if there are more hiding deeper in the woods?" Stress was making the King almost panicky.
The doors burst open as an elf ran to the King, "My Lord!" he panted, "We found this on the field of battle."
In the elf's hands was Legolas' toy, covered in red blood.
"My son!" Thranduil shouted. "Where is my son? He just went out to play when" Words stopped and the elf looked to the Wizard with such fear in his eyes that it was not natural for any elf to have.
"He went out into the fields." Mithrandir whispered, "He went right into the enemy when they were in hiding and about to strike. No one noticed him leave."
"We have not found him, My King." Said the messenger, shaking in his fear and worry.
Thranduil raced out of the study with his friends close on his heels. They flew out the door and onto the bloody fields where the trees themselves were mourning such death.
"Legolas!" The King shouted with all the passion of his soul.
*****
Hours passed and one by one elves returned from the fringes their searches completed.
The small Prince was not yet found.
The King was shaking in fear, sitting in front of the fireplace of his son's room. He kept it lit and the room warm for Legolas' return. In his hands, he still held the stuffed toy. He clutched it hard, nearly ripping the seams without realizing it. He had searched with his people until he was too frantic to know what he was doing. Finally, his people convinced him that being at the palace was best. He would know quicker when Legolas was found for the person to find him would bring him straight there. It was feared that Thranduil would be on the other side of the wood when Legolas was found.
Silently, Mithrandir walked into the room. Toys, books and games were littered around the room. It seemed hallow without its young resident.
"How could I not know? How could have lost him?" the elf whispered, his voice shallow and cracking.
"You were doing what a king needs to do. You were focused on your people, looking to the greater good."
The words sounded bitter to Thranduil. "So much like his mother, he has her beauty, her virtue. She is gone and if Legolas is lost as well what would there be left for me to live for?"
"Do not think that way, he is strong. They will find him."
The fire crackled providing the only sound in the room.
*****
In the late afternoon as the sun was beginning to set, there was a commotion below.
The pair in Legolas' room jumped up with hope in their hearts.
"We have found him!" Came a yell from below as a group of elves were approaching the prince's chambers. One of them held a form wrapped in a blanket close to his chest.
"Send for the healers! Summon them from the fields at once!" The King shouted. As the group came into the room, a still form was placed upon the bed.
Thranduil gasped, Legolas' front was covered in blood. So much was lost and his small son's face was so pale. He was unconscious and yet his face was scrunched up as if the pain followed him in his dreams.
"Where did you find him?"
"My Lord," a scout replied, "he was found among a group of bodies near an enemy camp. It appears they had taken him to be a hostage in case events went ill. When they were attacked though, I can only guess it was decided that he would not be of any use to them after all. We did not find him right away because he wasn't making any noise."
The healers streamed into the room and quickly made an assessment of their small patient. A sharp blade had been used on Legolas' small body, a long slice was cut across his chest. They knew time was short and they needed to be alone with the child in order to try to save him. The greatest fear were injuries they had not yet discovered for they knew the easterlings were not gentle with their captives, even one so young.
"My King," the master healer said, "you and Mithrandir must wait outside, we must do our job without interruption."
"You would ask me to leave my son?"
"We shall let you know the minute we have inspected his wounds. Please, let us work."
Gandalf calmed and pushed the King towards the door and into the hallway. Shock at seeing his son so injured made it possible for him to do so without the King even realizing it.
The sound of the door slamming shut echoed around them.