Disclaimer: I own nothing from Middle Earth or J. R. R. Tolkien's amazing little mind. I wish I did, though because I love Middle Earth. I do, however, own everything from Elfwood and Merendor.
Well, I decided to post Chapter Two tonight in order to bring in the actual LOTR characters. Elrond, the twins, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Estel won't come in until much later. Actually...I'm not sure when they're entering... I haven't gotten to that chapter yet... Ah, well, must work! This chapter is much longer, btw.
Elvarde
Forlorn
Chapter Two: Blatant Lies
It was several days later when they finally reached the mountain pass. The Misty Mountains stretched high above them into the lofty clouds. The freezing wind turned colder, carrying along with it a volley of snowdrifts and ice. Monstrous icicles curled toward the path like cruel claws outstretched to seize the unwary traveller. Lord Eilendis glanced uncertainly at them. Rilvaro raised one of his thin eyebrows slightly and queried in an apathetic tone, "My lord, are you positive this is the right place?"
"Yes," murmured Eilen in reply. "I recognize it, but it's just that, well, it looks much less, er, ominous in the springtime."
The small, dark-clad rider stiffened, his eyes darting to the sides. He tapped the Elf-lord on the shoulder. "I sense something," he whispered softly.
The other two Elves exchanged worried looks as their fingers moved instinctively to the hilts of their swords. "What is it?" asked Eilen.
A quaver ran through the child. "A group of people — well-armed," he responded. "I know not if they are friend or foe, but they are drawing close. I feel the presence of a scout nearby. They are Elves, mounted on horse. Many are archers, I think."
"How close are they?"
The boy closed his eyes and mumbled almost inaudibly, "Their scout is right behind us."
Immediately unsheathing their swords, the two warriors whirled around. Camouflaged in the shadows of the snow-covered rock crouched an Elf, cloaked and hooded, poised with a dagger. Nevertheless, skilled in the arts of tracking and espionage, Rilvaro's cold, ice-blue eyes easily discovered him. "Come out of hiding, spy," the dark-haired soldier taunted, "unless thou be a coward!"
The scout stood up, clutching his dagger, and glared fearlessly at them. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is your purpose here?" The three refused to reply, and this angered the scout. "Speak! Speak, if you value your lives."
Eilen moved closer to the dark rider protectively. "We cannot give our names," the brunet Elf-lord answered reasoningly, "but I do assure you that we bear you no ill will. We are simply passing through."
"Indeed," muttered Rilvaro under his breath, for which he received a quick, reprimanding glare.
The fair-haired scout looked skeptical. "Then why, pray tell, are you following us?" he retorted.
"Huh?" Lord Eilendis was confused. "It appears that you are the one pursuing us, not the other way around." The black-clad rider inhaled sharply.
His grip tightening around the helve of the silvern dagger, the scout shook his head. "I am not asking for your names and business," he stated dangerously. "I am requiring them."
Rilvaro interpreted this as a threat and reacted upon impulse. He attacked the scout, who skillfully defended himself. Millennia of training proved their worth to Rilvaro, so he was able to disarm the scout and overpower him, rendering him helpless by twisting his arms painfully behind his back in a tight, vice-like grip. The fair-haired Elf struggled with all his strength but to no avail. "Don't!" cried out the small, dark-clad child at the same time that Eilen shouted, "Stop!"
The boy's warning was too late, however, for the struggling scout had already whistled a very shrill, high-pitched bird call that echoed off the lofty mountains. Both before them and behind them, mounted Elven-soldiers arrived with arrows nocked, completely surrounding the three travellers. They were trapped.
Reluctantly, Rilvaro released his grip on the scout. "Be quiet this time," hissed Lord Eilendis. Rilvaro nodded in acquiescence.
One fair-haired Elf with piercing, sapphirine eyes stepped forward, looking the prisoners over curiously. "Tarmion, who are these?" he inquired softly.
"I don't know, ernil nîn," the scout answered after recovering his fallen dagger. "They refuse to reveal anything, and when I persisted, they attacked me. I do not doubt that they are spies, Prince Legolas."
Eilen glanced at the mall rider, who gazed at him pleadingly. Then he nodded. "My name is Lord Dírnaith Eilendis," he declared. "We are of Merendor, a world separate from here, and do not care about the wars between your kingdoms here in Middle Earth. if we have been mistaken for spies, then you are entirely wrong, and I demand that you let us go." This was said boldly and confidently.
"You hail from Elfwood?"
"Aye."
Ire flared in the prince's silvery-blue eyes. "Then why should we believe you are not spies, since Elfwood is ruled by a tyrant whose minions murder mercilessly and do not uphold the old alliances?"
Eilen knew without looking that the young boy was trembling. Straining to keep his voice steady, the indignant Elf-lord replied, "When the throne was usurped, we were exiled from that realm. Personally, i would rather die the most slow and painful death ever known to Elfkind than serve that murderer!" Vehemence rose in his voice, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself before he could continue. "Nay, we no longer live there. I am only a healer now, and I seek the counsel of the Lord of Rivendell."
Legolas was undaunted. "If your mission is peaceful, why did you attack Tarmion?"
Dírnaith was starting to lose patience. "We only attacked because we were threatened!" he snapped. "You cannot hold us captive for defending ourselves!"
Legolas ignored this outburst, for now he was staring intently at the dark-clad rider, who was avoiding any eye contact. "Who are the other two, Lord Dírnaith?" he asked suspiciously.
Gesturing to the stony-faced Elf beside him, Eilen stated, "This is Rilvaro, Captain of the Guardsmen in my household."
"And the other?"
"My son," stammered Eilen hastily. Then, his cinnamon eyes hardened. "And who are you, who hold us prisoners in your distrust ad disrespect?"
The fair-haired Elven-prince glanced at the other soldiers. "We are emissaries from Mirwood," he replied coolly, "and I am Legolas Thranduillion. We do not trust strangers — particularly those who attack us. If you truly are not spies as you claim, tell us who you really are and what you're really doing in Middle Earth."
They did not comply.
Legolas turned to the other Wood-Elves. "Seize their weapons, and bind their hands," he ordered.
Rilvaro could not take this anymore. Brandishing a sword in each hand, he leapt forward and icily exclaimed, "If but one of you lays a hand on them, I'll kill every last one of you! Every last one!" Their captors pulled their bowstrings back further, preparing to fire, as their prince drew his pair of White Knives.
"DARO! STOP!" shouted a distressed voice loudly. "All of you, please stop!" The small boy had dismounted and stepped in between Rilvaro and Legolas. Although the large, black cloak, thick cowl, scarf, and gloves concealed him completely, his elegant yet sad voice could be heard clearly as he spoke, which was very forcefully. "That is enough of such pugilism! We said that we mean no harm, yet you maleficently assail us anyway. Be sure that we will defend ourselves if pressed, but we do not want to harm anyone. Therefore, you will lower your weapons while we lower ours, and we will treat each other decently! Honestly, I should think that Elves born of nobility would have better manners than what you have all displayed! These are indeed dark times. No, strangers should not be trusted lightly — to us, you are strangers, thus we do not trust you. Time are too dark to divulge secrets, yet how could you expect us to blurt out everything bout ourselves, especially when you shall not believe it anyway? Forgive my temerariousness, but that is quite hypocritical of you, considering that you blatantly lied to us!"
"I what!" gasped Legolas angrily. This child certainly knew how to be blunt.
EIlen leaned over and whispered to the boy, "I think that's enough. You'll get us into more trouble. Say, what do you mean by 'blatantly lied to us'?"
"What I mean," continued the child candidly, "is that you lied to us. You are not emissaries at all." At this, the Wood-Elves, having already lowered their weapons, looked at each other in fear, chagrin, and bewilderment, as their prince blanched in shock. Dírnaith and Rilvaro inched closer to the dark-clad boy in order to protect him better. "Why would you be representatives of your king, Thranduil Oropherion, if he himself is among you?"
There were many gasps at this. After dismounting, a tall, blond Elf brushed aside some of the soldiers and made his way over to his son, who looked just like him except that Thranduil's eyes were a darker blue. There was a slightly amused expression on his face. "How did you know?" asked the Elven-king.
The boy bowed reverently. "I recognized Your Royal Highness, since you did visit the palace in Elfwood two centuries ago," he explained. "Besides, why else would your soldiers behave so vehemently if not to protect their sovereign?"
Thranduil looked him over scrutinizingly. "Funny," he remarked, "I don't recognize you. Of course, it's rather hard to recognize someone when you can't see what they look like."
Eilen glared at him irately. "His eyes are sensitive to sunlight, alright?" he retorted. Rilvaro's ice-blue eyes glittered with a lethal sheen.
"I was not threatening him," assured Thranduil. He turned back to the black-clad, young Elf, who was now trembling slightly. "What's your name, boy?"
Eilen wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and stated, "His name's Lorna." Rilvaro made no move other than glance frostily at his lord.
"I was asking him," said Thranduil, slightly annoyed.
The child bowed his head. "Lorna, Your Highness," he murmured.
"Well, Lorna Eilendis," the Elven-king continued after exchanging a strange look with his son, who shrugged, "I think you're right. We did act rather rashly, but as you said, times are dark. Perhaps we could start over?" His manner seemed cordial enough, yet Dírnaith and Rilvaro still were wary.
"Ada…" Legolas started to protest but then sighed.
"That would be better, I guess," replied Eilen. He held out his hand. "Hello, I am not a spy. Nice to see you again, Your Highness. Isn't the weather terrible?" He managed a tiny smile.
Thranduil shook his hand, yet there was still tension between the two. "So you are on your way to Imladris?" the blond Elf queried rhetorically. "We are as well. Perhaps we could travel together? The Misty Mountains are very dangerous — too dangerous for the three of you to be alone."
"Dangerous?" echoed Dírnaith, alarmed. His face had turned several shades whiter, and his eyes widened. Both of his arms were tightly wrapped around Lorna protectively as if he would never let go.
"Aye, dangerous," shrugged Thranduil nonchalantly. "There are Orcs and wargs and risks of avalanches and raiders and trolls and—"
"You've sufficiently terrified us," Rilvaro interrupted in his apathetic drawl. "Lord Eilendis, I advise you to turn down their oh-so-kind offer, although 'tis not my place. Do what thou wilt."
Dírnaith looked questioningly at Lorna, but the boy made no sign. The Elf-lord sighed. "Very well, Your Highness," he yielded, "but on one condition."
"Which is?"
"My son is not to be harmed. if any of you even attempts to hurt him in any way, I'll kill 'em. You have my word."
Thranduil nodded in acknowledgment. "I understand. No-one shall lay a hand on him." He lent spare horses to Eilen and Rilvaro, and then they were on their way through the cold, intimidating mountain pass. The Wood-Elves surrounded them, which made Rilvaro very suspicious. His glacial gaze swept over the soldiers, resting on Thranduil and his son.
The fair-haired Elven-king was deep in thought. It was not merely benevolence that had prompted him to make such an offer. He wanted to keep an eye on them. He knew that they were lying to him; he knew that they were hiding something very important. However, he could not figure out what these secrets might be. One thing was for sure: these three Merendor Elves were more than they claimed. Thranduil felt uneasy about this entire situation. He knew for a fact that Dírnaith had deceived him, for they had met when the former visited the Elfwood palace two centuries before along with Elrond of Rivendell and Celeborn of Lórien for a council, Dírnaith having been a courtier in Elfwood. Lord Eilendis and his wife, Lady Annë, had expressed their deep regret, during diner conversation, that they had not yet had a child.
Dírnaith Eilendis had no son.
