Chapter 16
By noon the following day the Elvenking, his company and the dragons reached the great underground home of the wood-elves. But for his efforts to start a conversation with her and his expressed concern about her behavior the previous night, Daenerys had remained tight-lipped during the ride, offering him only single-worded answers and refusing to explain why she had left him so abruptly. In the end he was disheartened and gave up.
The King was greeted with much joy by his people as he entered the Halls through the grand gates, and the councilors were there to voice their relief about their sovereign's safe return. Their faces darkened though, when they beheld Daenerys and the three dragons, but Thranduil seemed to be in a foul mood, and suffered no objections. The dragons were led to their old cavern, and Luineth came and welcomed Daenerys with a warm embrace, and helped her carry her things to her chambers.
When she was at last alone, Daenerys sank in the armchair and gazed bleakly at the cold fireplace. Nothing in her room had changed; the furniture was the same, and the vase was there upon the mantel where she had left it. The curtains were drawn to the side and ample light filled the room. Fresh sheets covered the bed, but she took little joy in returning to her old chamber. For her heart was heavy with the betrayal she had done upon Thranduil. She could not name it otherwise; it felt to her that she had betrayed his trust and his love. For Daenerys was certain that he loved her. With elves, it could be no other way. He would never have reached such levels of intimacy with her, had he not loved her truly and deeply. And she had spurned his love, disregarding that he had gone far out of his way for her sake.
But that voice in her head kept telling her that it would be a mistake to bond with him, for then she would never wish to leave him and return to her own world, where her place truly was. And she had to hearken to that voice, or else she would give into her feelings and forsake her purpose.
Weary at heart, after some time she rose from the armchair and dragged her feet to the bathroom, in hopes that the hot water would cleanse away her sorrow and shame.
A couple of days passed, but Daenerys cared not if the sun dawned or if the stars shone. She would get out of bed in the morning and follow a dull routine, and she would chat with Luineth or the bakers, but her heart was not into any of this. For always in her mind lay heavy the burden of her remorse.
She had not seen the King as of yet, and she suspected that he remained in his chambers, until his wound was properly healed. Something inside her urged her to go and visit him, and make sure he was alright, but then again she hesitated, for she feared her presence would not be welcome.
A whole week went by like this, with the dilemma unresolved, until on the eighth day her worry and tenderness won over her fear, and she decided to head for the Elvenking's rooms. When she neared the doors, the chief healer was just exiting.
"My lady Doronith", Daenerys greeted her.
"Daenerys, sweet child. My heart sings in joy to see you again", she spoke merrily.
The mother of dragons answered with a small smile and an inclination of the head, but her haste and uneasiness was obvious. "Is the King alright?"
"He is recuperating. He told me you saved his life…" Doronith commented.
"I… I could not abandon him", she said. "But it was the dragon that saved him, not me."
"He would have done nothing, had it not been for you to call him forth. You deserve the credit, Daenerys. You need not be so unwilling to accept it", the healer insisted.
And that was true. She was the one to call to Drogon, and order him to assail the orcs. Her child obeyed her command. And Thranduil had seen the living terror and majesty her dragons were, and that they could be used to do good, and vanquish the enemy.
"My dragons and I are one", she finally said, after a small pause. And I will never be parted from them.
Doronith nodded. "Yes, indeed… It is plain for all to see that you are fire as much as they are. The elves are perceptive of one's hidden strength, you know. And that is why some fear you", she told her, looking at her intently. "But do not be afraid of them. No one will ever harm you."
"I know that. And I am not afraid. I only wish to be accepted", Daenerys confided in her with a small sigh.
"It is very hard for the ice to accept the fire… And yet, it is not impossible", the healer replied cryptically.
"How can this be? Ice and fire are opposites, they destroy each other", Daenerys argued.
"If ice can burn, then it is not impossible", she whispered, peering deep into her eyes.
And then Daenerys felt her eyes being opened to truths she had never considered, and marveled at the wisdom of the ancient elleth. "My lady…"
"Now, now. We have chatted too much, and you were on your way to see the King. He also told me you healed his wound, you know… You chanted a healing spell, and stopped the internal bleeding, and calmed his breathing. Is it not so?" she asked with kindness in her eyes.
Daenerys smiled timidly. "He believed in me. He trusted that I could use my inner magic to heal him… And he was right. Never before had I realized I had magic. But he made me see it."
Doronith touched her arm gently. "I am so proud of you, child. I knew you could become a good healer."
"Thank you, my lady", she said, accepting her complimenting words. "But can I go in? Can I see him? I do not wish to disturb him…"
The chief healer shook her auburn head. "He is awake, and in a fine mood. He gave no orders to keep potential visitors off, so…" she shrugged her shoulders with a bright smile, and gestured for her to walk through the doors.
Daenerys stepped forth and closed the oaken doors behind her. After crossing the antechamber, she came underneath the great arch of his bedroom's entrance. There was Thranduil lying in the bed, turned on his left side, facing away from the door. "Have you forgotten to take with you your jars and ointments again, Doronith?" he called in amusement, but as he turned his eyes towards the sound of the approaching steps, his smile faded in surprise and wonderment.
"It is only me", Daenerys said in a low, calm tone.
He sat up and drew the covers to his stomach, while his eyes studied her figure. She was clad in a long gown in the color of plum, which accentuated her violet eyes. Her hair was braided on the crown of her head, and a few loose tresses cascaded to her shoulders. "What do I owe the honor to?" he asked her, with sarcasm palpable in his voice. But in truth her sight filled his heart with longing, and this weakness of his character angered him.
"I wished to see how you are doing. Are you well?" Daenerys spoke, disregarding his contemptuous words and look. She could not give him wrong, though. She might have been a lot colder, were she in his position.
"I am well enough, and getting better as the days progress", he replied, his face seemingly devoid of emotion.
"Your wound was deep… Is it still bleeding?" she worried.
"Barely. It is healing well, my healers tell me."
She disliked his short answers now, remembering that Thranduil was usually quite eloquent with words. She knew it to be a sign of indirect displeasure, which would not be expressed openly for the sake of civility. She looked into his eyes then, and he held her gaze until she felt uncomfortable and had to look away. "Well, my lord, it pleases me to see you are recovering. I should not disturb you any longer", she muttered, and made to leave.
Thranduil struggled with his desire to have her stay, and strove to maintain his cool façade. She did not deserve a quick pardon. He was still bitter towards her, and he felt he might be for a long time, but her visit and apparent concern had softened his heart a little.
"Have the first days of your return been pleasant?" he asked her, schooling his face into one of formality.
"They have been… tolerable", she admitted, turning again towards him.
"Has anyone wronged you, or spoken ill to you?" he went on, asking these questions despite himself. He should not have shown her he cared, but then again it was his duty as King to ensure her safety and well-being, while she dwelled under his roof.
"No, no… Everyone has been kind to me. I have no complaints to voice." She could not tell him her own heart was the cause of her unrest. She knew she should apologize to him for her behavior that night, but she did not feel ready for it, not yet at least. So, she only told him, "I need a few days to get used to my old chambers again, that is all."
He observed her face as she spoke, and then nodded slowly, blinking once, without displaying any indication as to whether he believed her words or not. "Very well. It pleases me to hear you speak thus. And now, I would like to rest", he told her, signaling their conversation was over.
"Of course", she hurriedly said, bowing her head. "I will leave at once. Rest well, my lord", she said and quickly walked out of the room, as if she was fleeing from a fight she did not want to fight.
Thranduil let out a deep sigh when she was gone, and sunk back in his pillows. Sometimes, he found it insurmountably hard to be the icy statue he was known to be. Sometimes he just wished he could be himself, without any repercussions.
The first weeks of Daenerys' return were marked by the brightening of the sun, which heralded an early summer. The days became warmer, and the breeze was soft and fragrant. Often she would go for walks in the forest, accompanied by one of her dragons each time, like she used to do before her exile. It felt as if nothing had changed superficially, and yet nothing was the same.
The Elvenking busied himself with his duties, scheduling as many meetings with dignitaries of other realms as possible. He always seemed to be locked in his chambers, or in the council chamber for that matter. At some point he had announced that there was to be a feast in honor of Daenerys, for he owed her his life, but as of yet no date had been specified. The elves suspected their liege waited for Midsummer's Eve, so as to combine the feasts, but Daenerys simply knew he was in no mood for celebrations now, especially for a feast in her honor, where he would have to face her during the whole length of the feast. For he had avoided all contact with her after her visit to his chambers, while he was still recovering from his injury, and she had avoided him as well. Their behavior was childish and annoying and they both knew that, but it could not be helped. Thranduil felt embittered, and Daenerys had decided to keep to her own. Instead, she dedicated most of her free time to reading the third ancient tome, hoping to come across a valuable revelation, at last.
And there she was now, deeply lost in the pages of her book on a sweet afternoon of late Lothron, when she heard a knock on her doors. Startled, she lifted her eyes from the book. "Luineth? Is that you?" she called, as she made for the door.
But when she unlocked it and was met with Thranduil's imposing presence, she gasped. "No, Daenerys, it is I", he told her in a grave tone, and his eyes matched the quality of his voice. "May I come in?"
She stepped aside, and gestured for him to enter, still unable to speak a word. He walked in in measured step, almost military-like and posed, and came to stand by the table. His eyes fell on her open book, but they showed no particular emotion. "I see that your search continues… Have you discovered anything?" he inquired.
She stepped a little closer to him, directing her gaze to the book as well, in order to avoid looking at him. "There are only vague references of travels to unknown worlds through dreams and visions… But no actual travel is mentioned."
He shook his head, and then walked below the arch that led to the balcony. The soft light of the setting sun made his skin shine and his hair glow silver-golden. But to her he looked distant and cold, almost a stranger. "I came to tell you that I have happened upon a piece of information you may find interesting", he began. "There is an old scroll, originating from the library at Tham Mírdain in Eregion, which I have no idea how came to be in my possession. It speaks of what you seek", he said pointedly, and turned his eyes to her. His look was sharp, but hers was full of question and hope, and it made his hardened heart soften a little. "A travel to another world is possible only through blood magic, the scroll states."
"Blood magic?" she repeated the ominous words with dread.
The Elvenking nodded. "It requires a sacrifice – and the victim must be willing to offer their life. A life must be given for the gates of space to open, and a spell has to be chanted." His icy gaze pierced her heart. "The scroll was written by Sauron himself. He possesses vast knowledge, and most of it pertains to the dark arts, and black magic. He wrote this when he was in Eregion, disguised as Annatar amongst the elves there…" He approached her then, and produced the scroll from his robes. It was old and yellowed, and a black ribbon held it rolled. "Here, take it, and do with it what you will. I have no use for it."
Her fingers trembled as she grasped it, for she had never imagined the answer to her question to lie with the Dark Lord himself. And when the scroll was in her hands, she could almost feel his black energy lingering there, and she, who had never been burned, felt now her fingers scorched, and she dropped the scroll. "It is utterly evil…" she rasped.
Thranduil looked at the scroll on the floor, and his brow furrowed. "It is", he affirmed. "But I fear this is the only answer you will ever find. You came here through blood magic, and through blood magic you must return."
At that he made to turn and leave, but she was not ready for that. "Thranduil!" she called his name, and her hand shot out and grasped his sleeve.
He turned at her with a look of indignation. "My lord", he corrected her, and yanked his arm away.
But it was all too much for her then, and tears welled up in her eyes. "My lord", she whispered brokenly. "How can you leave me now, when you have told me such dreadful news?"
He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart, and poured all his willpower into maintaining his cold exterior. "I do not see what more I can do for you. I promised to help you, and I did. I have found you your answer. Are you not satisfied?" His eyes burned into hers, a torrent of emotions in their depths.
"But such an answer… You give me Sauron's work and I am supposed to be glad?" she asked in agony.
"It is regrettable that the answer had to be such. But this is it, and we cannot change it", he told her in a softer tone.
She looked at him, searching for traces of his love and compassion, but he seemed unyielding in his demeanor. She bent then and gathered the scroll, tossing in on the table. "If ever I find the heart to read it…" she sighed. "Still, I could never do that. I could never pay that price to return to my world. No life I will sacrifice, for my dreams are not worth it", she whispered sullenly, and wiped a tear away. She felt her heart being crushed under a huge weight, and her world and hopes shattered around her. Feeling on the verge of breaking, she whispered, "Please, leave."
He gave her one last look, and constrained himself from going to her. Instead, he turned and marched out of the room. But as he closed the door, he heard her bursting into sobs and weeping her heart out. His hand tightened upon the doorknob. One turn, and he would rush inside and take her in his arms and comfort her, as his heart cried for him to do. But he knew that he should not. She had asked for her privacy, and he was still feeling hurt for her rejection of his feelings and her aloof manner since that night in the woods. No, this is something she must cope with on her own, he decided. Without another thought, his fingers slid off the doorknob and he walked away.
The scroll was as dark as one might have expected for a scroll written by Sauron himself. The text was elegant, but twisted, and although sweetened with words of light and hope that the elves loved to use, the dreadful message was clear. This was blood magic – black magic – it described beyond any doubt.
For days Daenerys struggled with her fear of reading it, and made herself finish the ancient tome first, in case another way of traveling between worlds was mentioned. But her efforts were to no avail. The only possibility of going back to her world lay with Sauron's dark scroll. And at last she picked it up from the table, where it had remained untouched since the day Thranduil had given it to her, and tugged at the black ribbon and unrolled it.
"Of Travels to Hidden Worlds…" she whispered the title, and then her eyes ran on the Dark Lord's flowing script.
"… and not few are those hidden worlds. But Eru had decreed to keep them from the sight and knowledge of his children, for he wished to keep them safe and free of such temptations. And truly, what a temptation it is to visit a world different, and escape in it… But one must never consider such folly, for within such travels lie perils unknown…"
"… but it has been since long discovered by the Ancient and the Wise. Still, it is a dark path to tread on, for the writ of passage to another world is the sacrifice of a life. A life must be taken from this world, for one to enter another. But the life must be given freely and not taken by force. Therefore one cannot take the life of an enemy and hope to leave this world. And the life must be sentient, of someone with free will and formed thoughts. Therefore one cannot offer the life of an animal or a lesser being. One must offer the life of a friend, it is said. But of course none has ever attempted this, for it is darkness and folly…"
"… but if one wished to truly do this evil deed, he should chant the spell of passage, as he performs the sacrifice. The dark words to be said are these:
'One life to leave this world, one life to pay for it. One willing to lay down his life for a friend, and the friend to claim it. Let now the blood run hot, let the darkness take it. Let it open this door, for one to leave this world and ever forsake it.'
"Thrice must these words be said, and then the gates of space shall open. The traveler must then think of the hidden world he wishes to go to, and speak the name of the place aloud. But he may do so with the knowledge that he cannot return, unless a new sacrifice is made. Once the spell is chanted and the door is opened, it cannot be undone. One cannot falter or change his mind after the deed, for he will leave this world for sure. Once the spell is done, there is no going back…"
"… and this knowledge is entrusted to the wise elves of Eregion by their honest friend Annatar, to keep it safe and secret, and far from evil eyes."
Daenerys shoved the scroll aside in disgust. An honest friend, he calls himself. What honest friend teaches you how to do such dark deeds? What friend plants such evil seeds in your heart, and yet counsels you against them? Sauron, the Master of Lies as the elves call him, deceived them… But this information has been kept secret for centuries. No elf would ever perform such a deed, and now this dreadful knowledge has come into my hands… No, I could never sacrifice the life of a friend. And who would be willing to offer their life as a price for me to return to Westeros? Nobody. This scroll is useless to me. I had better destroy it.
She went and held it over the flame of the candle, and soon the parchment caught fire. But as it burned, blackened and withered, the words of the spell were stuck in her head, and repeated themselves over and over: One life to leave this world, one life to pay for it. One willing to lay down his life for a friend, and the friend to claim it. Let now the blood run hot, let the darkness take it. Let it open this door, for one to leave this world and ever forsake it…