Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Nine.
(((((((((((((o Chapter 3 o)))))))))))))
October 26, 3018Valar help me. Ada's only been gone for two days and already the situation back here has gone from bad to worst. There have been no more spider attacks, but Grandfather still refuses to let me out into the forest without a royal guard to watch me. It's terrible. It's like being an elfling again in the nursery. My friends have seemingly abandoned me, since they are allowed to roam free. Well, maybe that's not true. They haven't abandoned me. Maybe it's more like I've been forced to abandon them. I won't take this for much longer. I'm no longer a child, and if I have to prove it, I will.
Ithildor
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"Any word from your father in Rivendell, Ithildor?" Rothas asked.
Ithildor scowled slightly and continued walking. His feet tapped lightly on the marble flooring. He was relieved that at least one of his friends had decided to visit him. Unfortunately, staying inside the palace was the only thing they were permitted to do at the moment.
"I haven't heard from him yet." He said harshly. "And frankly I wouldn't care if I did."
Rothas's eyes widened. "Those are strong words, Ithildor."
"I know." Ithildor looked at him, not ashamed. "But I mean every breath of it."
Rothas didn't reply. He looked at the floor and made an uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat. Ithildor knew that meant that Rothas was thinking something but not saying it.
"What is it?" He asked, slightly annoyed.
Rothas cleared his throat. "Well…I just think that you should know that you shouldn't be angry at your father for trying to protect you."
Ithildor rolled his eyes. "Now you will start preaching to me?" He shook his head and stopped. "No, you don't understand…it's not that I don't want to be protected. I just don't want to be…to be…"
"Imprisoned?" Offered the other elf.
"Exactly." Ithildor said. "Imprisoned. And that's what they insist on doing to me."
Rothas furrowed his eyebrows. "Sometimes protection requires imprisonment."
"Not of this sort." Retorted the young Prince. "I can't stand it. I need to be outside more than a few hours each day, just like any other elf, and without some royal guard staring me down."
"They are following you're Grandfather's orders." Rothas told him. "Don't get cross with them."
"Sorry." Ithildor apologized. He'd forgotten—Rothas's older brother and father were both royal guards.
"I just…I can't stand this place anymore." Ithildor explained to his friend. "They say that the woodelves are content with just the trees…but I'm not like that. There's something different about me. I don't know what it is."
Rothas cocked his head, confused. "What do you mean, different? You enjoy the trees just like the rest of us."
Ithildor racked his brain for an answer. "I do enjoy trees…but I…I dream of seeing so much more…mountains and plains and other lands and…and other people."
"Humph." Rothas scowled. "Other people? What sort of people would you want to see? Dwarves?" He laughed.
Ithildor shot him a poisonous look. "No. Well…maybe. After all, no elf has seen the inside of the mountain hollows since the dark days." The young elf shook his head, exasperated. "Even a dwarf-hall would be more exciting than these!"
The Prince moved over to the marble wall and leaned against it heavily. "It is almost too much to bare…to be trapped like this."
Rothas smiled sadly. "You are a Prince of Mirkwood. You can bare it."
"Don't bet your life on it." Ithildor retorted.
"This situation is bound to blow over in a few days anyway. I think your grandfather will soften up." Rothas said encouragingly.
Ithildor huffed. "I wouldn't bet on that either."
Both elves were silent for a few moments. The silence seemed to drag on forever. Then Rothas spoke.
"I must return home." He said. "My father will be furious with me if I return after dark."
"Alright." Ithildor said gloomily. "I'll see you later."
Rothas turned to leave, but then stepped back. "See?" He offered. "My family is strict with me too."
A smile slowly crept on the Ithildor's mouth. "Thanks." He whispered. "Bye."
Rothas moved away. "Goodnight."
Ithildor stood where he was until his friend's footsteps could no longer be heard. Then the moved on down the hall. He paused when he passed the door to the palace library. The young elf pondered a bit, then opened the door and stepped in.
Ithildor liked the library. It was rare when he wasn't the only elf in it, and he enjoyed the quiet. He strolled over to the bookcases and ran his hands over the bindings of the old books. Records of the Mirkwood scribes, the royal family scrolls, and storybooks sat before him, each crying out to be read. Ithildor removed his hands and sighed.
"Why am I in here?" He wondered out loud. Turning back towards the door, something caught his eye.
Pivoting back, Ithildor stared in disbelief. A map lay rolled out across one of the desks. He quickly approached the object, appalled that someone was careless enough to take it out and then fail to put it away again. Then he took a look at the map.
It was a large map of Middle Earth itself. Ithildor gazed at it, his eyes being drawn back and forth between the names of lands and places he'd never known. The Shire, Amyn Muil, The Dead Marshes, and Rivendell, where his father was. Of course, Ithildor had read about all these mysterious lands in his studies, but his mind was reeling with the prospect of actually visiting them.
I'll never get the chance…He thought, angered. I'll never get to see any of these places.
Suddenly, the door to the hallway burst open. Ithildor jumped, startled, and turned towards it. Stepping through the opening was a handmaid who looked very relieved to see him.
"Thank the Valar I found you, my Lord Ithildor!" She gasped, tiredly bowing to him. "Your grandfather has requested your presence in the grand hall immediately."
"What is the problem?" Ithildor asked, frowning.
The elf-maid shook her head. "The King did not inform me of any problem. Only to find you and be quick about it."
Ithildor smiled at the panting girl. "Well I can see that you've been looking for me for a while."
"Yes, my Lord." She replied.
Ithildor started for the door. "I'd best get going then." Then he paused, looking over his shoulder. "Would you be so kind as to put that map back in it's proper place?" He asked.
The hand-maid nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir."
"Thank you." Ithildor replied automatically. He walked through the door and made his way to the grand hall.
When he arrived there, Ithildor immediately noticed the change in the air. There was a sudden feeling of wariness as he approached a large crowd of elves, mostly friends of his father and the King, gathering around the throne. His grandfather was trying to fend them off with reassuring words.
"What is the news from Rivendell, my Lord?" One of the elves asked.
"How is Lord Legolas?" Another chimed in.
The King stood up. "Silence, all of you! Questions will be answered as soon as my grandson arrives."
Ithildor stood on his tip-toes to be seen. He still had a few inches to grow before he turned fifty and would be considered adult. "I'm here, Grandfather!" He called.
King Thranduil's head turned in his direction. "Ah! Ithildor, come up here."
Ithildor frowned as the other elves moved aside to let him through. He stood in front of the King, who sat down comfortably on his throne again.
"What's the matter and what does it have to do with my father? Is he alright?" He asked outright—before Thranduil could say anything.
The King sighed. "You father is fine, Ithildor. He arrived safely in Rivendell a day and a half ago."
"Then why have we all been called here with such haste?" Asked another one of the crowd.
The King's face darkened. "Lord Elrond held a Council yesterday. It's been confirmed that the Ring of Sauron has been found."
There was a collective gasp from the group of elves, and then a soft chorus of whispers. Thranduil hushed them with a wave of his strong hand.
"The Council assembled a Fellowship to aid the Ringbearer in a quest to take the Ring to Mount Doom and destroy it." He continued, his face growing more troubled. "I've just received word that Prince Legolas is among those who will take part in the Fellowship."
Suddenly the room became silent. The breaths of all the elves caught in their throats, and they were unable to utter even the slightest word. Ithildor was the first to recover from this stuper.
"What!" He cried, clearly upset. "They can't force him to do that! He's my father! We need him here!"
"Ithildor, calm yourself!" The King answered. "Your father wasn't forced to take part in this quest."
The young prince's eyes widened in disbelief. "He chose to do this?" He asked. The King nodded. "How could he!"
"Ithildor…" Thranduil urged, but the boy only became more upset.
"NO! How could he abandon his people? How could he be so stupid!" The youth screamed, but suddenly his grandfather stood up.
"Ithildor, I order you to be quiet." He said very sternly, but Ithildor barely flinched.
"YOU know that trying to battle Sauron is like giving into death itself!" Ithildor continued, glaring fiercely at the King. "I know that it is! I've studied it! Gil-Galad and your own father fell in the last battle for the Ring—WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THAT MY FATHER WILL NOT?"
Ithildor silenced then, and a single tear of anger and fear and frustration escaped from his eye. It rolled down his cheek and then dropped off, but Ithildor was already gone before it could hit the floor or anyone in the room could stop him. The young elf ran as fast as his legs could carry him to his room, where he collapsed into his bed even as it was being made by some elf-maids.
"My Lord Ithildor?" One of them asked, concerned. The Prince was a ball of tears. "Are you alright?"
Ithildor buried his face into the mattress. "No." He answered, his voice shaking. "Leave me."
The two maidens exchanged confused and worried glances, but then slowly backed out of the room. They paused by the door, but then seeing that they could do nothing for the upset prince, left, closing the door tightly behind him.
Ithildor wept for a very long time before he could finally get his thoughts straight.
How could Ada do this to me? He said he didn't know when he would return…but now he might not return at all! Fear shook Ithildor, but it was mostly anger that fueled his tears.
"WHY?" He screamed into the pillows. The sound was ripped from his mouth, and Ithildor felt that for a moment he died. He lay on the bed not alive, but a ghost. He'd already lost his mother…how could his father be so foolish as to join a quest that so surely guaranteed death? How could he abandon him, his own son, to face a life alone?
Ithildor got up and went to his desk. He opened the drawers and pulled out his diary and slammed the drawers shut again. He flipped open to the first blank page and began to write furiously:
Ada has abandoned me. He's gone on a stupid quest to destroy the stupid Ring of Power. Damn him. Damn Sauron. Damn everything! How could he do this?
Ithildor ceased writing, breathing heavily and wiping away his tears, trying to keep them from falling on the page and smearing the ink. He shut his eyes tightly and tried to calm himself. He opened them and began to write again, his hand shaking:
I won't be abandoned and stand for it. I won be imprisoned and tortured like this anymore. Not when my family will so easily leave me. Why should I not leave them?
Again Ithildor paused. Leave? The concept was both forbidden and intriguing to him. He had never thought to run away before. The wheels in his mind began to twist. Why not run away? That way he could do as he liked without his father or grandfather forbidding him to do it. He could be his own elf. He could hunt in the forest, feed himself on his own, travel to distant lands he'd only dreamed of visiting before.
By the time Ithildor's thoughts had passed he'd already made up his mind. He turned back to his diary and scrawled a few more words:
I will leave. I'll leave tonight, and I'll ride fast on horseback so that I'll be out of Mirkwood by nightfall. Then I'll be free. If Ada thinks he can abandon me, then I'll be the first to abandon him, and the rest of this horrid place. Like father, like son.
Ithildor slammed his writing tool down, and ran his hands through his ash-blonde hair. His tears had somehow ceased during the last few minutes of writing.
A soft squawk drew his attention to the side of the room. Gilandor, his hawk, stared at him.
"Don't look at me like that, Gilandor." Ithildor warned. The bird cocked his head in curiousity.
Ithildor got up from the desk and rushed to his dresser, pulling out clothes and blankets and whatever he could think off. He raced around the room as if he was expecting someone to come in and stop him. But no one did. Only Gilandor sat on his perch, watching intently with his golden eyes.
Ithildor pulled out a large sack from under his bed and began stuffing his clothes into it. The bird in the corner hopped along his perch and then began to screech.
"Shh! Quiet Gilandor!" Ithildor scolded, turning to the hawk. The creature silenced but continued hopping frantically around on his perch.
Ithildor approached the nervous bird, whispering. "If you think I'm going to leave you behind, you're wrong. You're coming with me, and we'll have great adventures." He said.
The hawk calmed a little, and stood still once more. Ithildor continued talking to the bird.
"Besides," He said. "I'll need you to help me hunt for food. We can't rely on my skill with a bow if we're to survive on our own."
Ithildor turned back to his things. He shoved a few more garments into the sack and then closed it. He then rushed over to the corner of his room where his bow and quiver were leaning against the wall. He grabbed them and slung them over his back, then headed to the other side of his room, where above his dresser hung his sword. He lifted it from it's shelf with care, for it was the weapon most dear to him. He set the sword along with his bow and quiver alongside the sack on his bed.
Standing back, Ithildor wondered what else he would need. He'd never had any experience with travel before, so he was stumped.
I'll need…something else. I know I need something else…He thought, concentrating hard. It finally came to him. Oh! Of course!
Ithildor turned back to the desk, where his diary still lay open. I would be a fool to forget this. He thought. Hastily he stuffed it in his pack, along with supplies to write in it.
There. The young prince thought, satisfied. That should do it. I'm ready to be on my way.
Now came the challenge of escaping without being seen. Ithildor looked warily at the doorway. Surely if he tried to get out that way someone would see him. And if they saw him with his pet hawk and a huge sack full of cloths and other things, they would definitely suspect him. Plus he'd never be able to convince the palace guards to let him through the gate.
I have to find another way…He thought, turning towards the window. A more direct way…
Ithildor looked out his window, and he could see that the twilight was just beginning to surrender to the overwhelming weight of darkness. The moon flickered through the moving branches of trees blown in the wind. Ithildor grinned, and went at once to open the window.
He was greeted with a cold blast of night wind, and suddenly Gilandor began to screech again. The bird thought that he was going to be let out.
"Shh! Gilandor, shh!" Hushed the prince, rushing to silence the bird. Gilandor obeyed, but stared at Ithildor expectantly. "Oh, alright, you can get out first." The prince said.
Ithildor hastily undid the leather strap that fastened Gilandor to his perch at night. As soon as he was freed, the bird hopped onto the elf's arm, and Ithildor brought him to the window.
"Alright, go out there and when I'm out I'll call for you." He said quietly to the bird.
Gilandor didn't waste any time hopping off of the young elf's arm and onto the windowsill. He tested the air for a moment with his wings, and then pushed off with his powerful talons. Ithildor watched as his pet soared into the nearby trees.
"If only escape was that easy for me." He muttered to himself, while he looked around the room for something to use as rope. His bedroom was on the third story of the palace, and he knew if he jumped he could risk breaking a bone. He only needed enough rope to lower himself down to the second story before he knew he could leap down safely. Ithildor's searching eyes rested on the curtains in front of him, billowing in the breeze.
The elf looked up at the curtains. His window was a very tall one, and so it was the same with the curtains in his room. They would do perfectly.
Ithildor used his sword to cut the curtains from their rods, and then fastened one end to a post at the head of his bed. Since his bed was right next to the window, he'd have plenty of fabric to use. Ithildor went to his bed and grasped the sack full of supplies. He leaned far out the window and let the sack drop. It landed softly in the bushes below.
Now it is my turn. Ithildor decided, and he returned to the bed, and to his weapons. The bow and the quiver he slung back over his shoulder, and the sword he comfortably attached to his belt. Now he was ready.
Carefully stepping out of the window, and gripping the fabric of the curtain tight, Ithildor prepared for his descend. He didn't know why, but suddenly the height made him dizzy, and instead of lowering himself down the length of the fabric with ease, he simply fell backward.
"Whoa!" He cried, but the curtains held fast, and his grip didn't fail him. He hung from his window, swaying slowly in the window. Ithidor stayed still for a moment, hoping nobody heard his cry.
The youth lowered himself down further with only a little difficulty. He was just about to the bottom when he heard a terrible sound.
Ithildor looked up just as the fabric that held him let out another groan. It began to rip.
"Oh…no—Whoa!." Ithildor barely had time to utter three words before the fabric tore in half under his weight, throwing him to the ground. Ithildor landed with a soft thud in the bushes next to his pack.
"Thank…the…Valar." He panted, trying to gain control over his fast-beating heart. The adrenaline rushed through his veins and into his head, clouding his already confused thoughts.
Ithildor stood up and checked his weapons. None of them had broken in the fall. He bent over and grasped his sack of clothing, slinging it over his shoulders as well. He looked up to the trees.
"Pst!" He whispered harshly. "Gilandor! Come!"
It was not long before Ithildor saw a dark shape floating towards him through the trees. The hawk landed on the elf's other shoulder with a squawk.
"Shh!" Ithildor warned. "We have to go to the stables now to fetch my horse, so be silent!"
Hurriedly Ithildor made his way in the dark, around the front end of the palace towards the stables. He was surprised when nothing jumped out of the woods to eat him.
Just as I thought…he said to himself smugly. All Ada's worrying was for nothing.
Ithildor got a surprise when he reached the stables, however. Two royal guards stood at the door, their weapons at ready.
Damn. Ithildor cursed. I should have known they would have set guards on the horses in case wargs came out to eat them.
Ithildor looked down at the leaf-covered ground. What was he to do now. He was brave, yes, but he was no fool. He knew he couldn't possibly make it through the forest without a horse. Wargs or spiders would pick him off as soon as he left the city boundaries. He needed a horse so he could travel swift and steady.
Carefully, so the guards wouldn't hear it, Ithildor set down his sack. He took Gilandor onto his arm and set him quietly onto a low branch of a nearby tree, putting a finger to his lips so that the bird would remember to keep silent. Then he crept around to the other side of the stable, using the trees and bushes for cover.
There was a large maple tree growing on the far side of the stable, and one of its longest branches hung out just a few feet above the roof. Ithildor knew this because he'd seen other young elves climb it and then enter the stable through a small window at the top. The more mischievous elflings liked to play pranks by stealing horses in this way.
Ithidor would do just that. He made his way to the tree and soon found himself on top of the roof. He looked down and observed the two guards at the doorway. They looked very bored. They would probably use any occurrence as an excuse to leave and inspect something. Ithildor got an idea.
The youth went back down the to the ground, and gather up a few large stones, careful to be silent. He then climbed the tree and stood atop the stable roof again. Ithildor cocked back his arm, a large rock grasped between his fingers. With a silent prayer of hope, he hurled it into a thick patch of trees a great distance away from where Gilandor and his pack were hidden. He heard the stone's noisy landing loud and clear—as did the guards. Their head whipped around in that direction, but they didn't move.
Ithildor smiled. It was all right, he had more stones. Again he threw one into the trees. It too landed with a suspicious thump. Ithildor paused and then listened and watched for any movement from the guards.
"You heard that, didn't you?" One asked the other.
"Yes. Are you going to see what it was?" The second one answered.
Ithildor threw another stone. He watched with glee as the guards bristled at the sound.
"It's most likely one of them accursed wargs." The first guard said. "Only one of those vile creatures could be so noisy. I'm going to go."
"I will accompany you." Said the other. "Can't be too careful."
Ithildor crouched down low on the roof as the guards moved away. When they disappeared among the trees he made his move and slipped through the small window.
Inside the stable, he looked around for his horse, Athenos. He finally found him, standing peacefully in a stall on the left.
"Hey, boy!" He greeted, rubbing the horse's nose with his hand. "Want to go for a run?"
Athenos grunted and stamped his hoofs. "Great!" Ithildor whispered. He opened the stall door and led the horse out towards the door, only stopping briefly to fit Athenos into a bridle and saddle.
Ithildor paused at the door, putting his ear up to it. His keen sense of hearing told him all he needed to know—he could hear the heavy footfalls of the guards outside. Their steps were weighted down with armor and plenty of weapons, and they were moving about quite loudly. He, on the other hand, was lighter and being much more careful where he stepped. The guards would not hear him. As for Athenos, his hoofs muffled any sound he made as he walked. Ithildor opened the door and lead Athenos out into the night. He closed the door gently behind them.
I am an absolute genius! Ithildor thought triumphantly as he and Athenos reached the group of trees where Gilandor was waiting for them. Ithildor grabbed his sack and fastened it to the saddle on Athenos's back. He then hopped on, grasped the reins, and turned to the hawk.
"Follow us closely, Gilandor. We'll be traveling quickly." He whispered to the bird. The creature obviously understood it's master, for as soon as Ithildor began to move Athenos away, he hopped around on his perch and took off ahead of them.
The trio moved silently through the trees, past the large closed gates of the palace and into the woods. As soon as they reached the end of the city boundaries Ithildor hastened Athenos into a gallop.
This is it! He thought excitedly. This will surely be a great adventure, and there is nothing in my path to stop me!
Ithildor laughed aloud and rejoiced in his freedom by leaning his head back and enjoying the cool wind run fingers through his long hair. He occasionally caught glances of Gilandor through the trees, a dark silhouette against a star-frosted sky. The elf prince laughed again, and rode further into the night, and closer to a world waiting to be discovered.
(((((((((((((o Personal thing o))))))))))))))))
Well. Ok. Sorry for another late update, my dear friends. I'm having a serious case of writers block, but it thankfully went away today, and I wrote just about all of this chapter. I think it's pretty good. It seems a little bit Walt Disney—with our young hero (ahem—Ithildor) talking to his animal friends and looking forward to great adventures and all. But I hope you liked it! Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed! I love you all!