Chapter 18
The weeks of summer went by quickly, like the flowing waters of the Anduin. For one thinks time passes so fast, when the weather is fine and the sky is blue and rainless, whilst endless seem the nights of winter cold. But now autumn came, and the bright sun began to wane, and the hot days gave their place to mellow afternoons, which Thranduil and Daenerys often liked to spend in each other's company. Sometimes they would sit in the balcony and sip their tea, or she would teach him High Valyrian, and other times they would wander in the forest. And they would talk of this or that, sharing their stories and their experiences, and each day that passed they felt closer to each other. Daenerys had also returned to the herbal garden, and there she continued her apprenticeship under Doronith, cultivating her newly-discovered inner healing skill.
One such sweet afternoon they went into the forest, and Daenerys had also released Rhaegal to fly and hunt. The dragons were grown, and soon they would have to make their abode outside the Halls and upon the hill, as the Elvenking had suggested. Now Drogon looked like a proper dragon, with massive wings, a long tail, a strong neck and even stronger jaws. His roar shook the foundations of the caverns, and his size was far greater than any known living creature, save perhaps the great Mumakil of the Haradrim, which was taller and denser, but the dragon was more serpentine and far deadlier. And Drogon's brothers were only slightly smaller than he was, and all three dragons seemed to be insatiable in their hunger for flight and freedom and hunt. Their mother considered them adolescent now, fit perhaps to be ridden, if they would submit, but still immature to be ridden to battle. But in her heart she knew the time she would at last ride Drogon – for he was the one she shared the keenest bond with – would not be far off now. And what a great sight it would be, for a Targaryen to ride her dragon, so many years after the great dragonriders of the past.
"Indeed, it would be a breathtaking sight", Thranduil affirmed, when she told him of her desire. "You would be the lady of the skies, upon the black dragon's back…"
She smiled up at him. "Nearly a year has passed since you found me, and then little Drogon used to perch on my shoulder. But the time when I sit on his will not be too long now."
"You dream of flying him, do you not?" he asked her, looking deep into her eyes.
"My dream is so fond and vivid, as an elf's desire to sail west and meet his loved ones again. Now that he is so grown, I think of little else when I visit the dragons", she replied.
Thranduil glanced at the circlet upon her head. It was the one he had gifted her on Midsummer's Eve, Edhelvir, silver with a single gem of amethyst bound to the front. "Perhaps I should have a dragon-crown fashioned for you", he suggested, and his eyes twinkled.
She laughed. "I would love it."
"Consider it done, then. It shall be my next gift to you", he promised her.
"And what gift am I to give to you?" she asked in turn.
"No gift I wish for but one", he answered in a deep voice.
Her lips parted slightly, but then she smiled sweetly. "You have that gift already, if you accept it."
He then took her hand in his. "Your heart has grown calmer and steadier, that much I can tell. But you must be certain that you wish to truly bond with me, like you are bonded with your dragons…"
"With the dragons?" she wondered.
"Yes, for the true bond is deep and real and unbreakable", he answered her in a serious tone.
He fears I might hurt him in the future. He fears my heart may one day turn from him and love another. But I am a woman, and he is an ellon. We love, but will always be different in our ways. And then suddenly the truth dawned on her, and she squeezed his hand. "Thranduil", she started by calling him name with great tenderness, "it is not I who is not ready for love. It is you."
Her unexpected words made his brow furrow. "Why do you say so?"
"You wish for love eternal. You wish for proof that nothing will ever change, and that we shall never be parted." She shook her silver head. "But you wish for something that can never be. I can never give you what you seek, for I cannot love in the ways of the elves. You are afraid… You do not wish to suffer loss and disappointment again, and I understand that. But I cannot speak to you as an elleth would. I am human. Our hearts are less constant, and may change. But that is part of who we are. Our lives are short, and if we do not adapt to change, we perish. But that does not mean we cannot love truly. Did not Beren love Lúthien truly? Was he feeble? But she knew he was a man, and prone to change. That did not stop her from accepting and returning his love, though doomed it might have seemed then, for she chose to take the risk. And she was not wrong. Their love is fabled." She looked into his eyes, and there was sorrow and pain in them. "Do you understand what I mean to tell you?"
He slowly nodded. "I do", he murmured, realized there was truth in her words.
"Am I wrong?" She touched his face gently.
"No… No you are not. I am afraid, I confess that. My wife was taken from me… And I never believed I would love again, for it is extremely rare for an elf to love another. But it came to be, against all odds. Perhaps you are right, perhaps I fear to trust to this new love, perhaps I fear that it will, too, be snatched from my hands…" he sighed, casting his eyes low.
"And you keep your heart guarded", she went on for him. "I lost a husband, whom I loved, Thranduil. But I moved on, never looking back, for if you look back to the past, it will hold you in its grip forever, and you will be lost. And I fell in love again. Why will you not let your heart be free and open to this love of ours?"
He smiled a bitter smile, cupping her cheek softly. "You said it yourself, Daenerys. You are a woman and I am an ellon. We are different in the ways of our love. It may be natural for a human to receive the love of another, but for an elf, after their One has passed, it is extremely difficult to acknowledge the love of another as true", he explained.
She peered deep into his starlit eyes. "I can only ask you to listen to the deepest song of your heart, and trust me. Will you take this risk with me?" she asked of him.
"I do trust you, I do…" he whispered.
She could sense doubt in his tone. "But?"
He looked away, to the shimmering waters of the forest stream in the distance. "I must find the courage within me, to overcome my fears and qualms. I thought you were not ready to receive my love, but now I see it is I who is afraid to receive yours, and trust to it wholly."
She came and lightly touched his arm. "Then we shall both be patient with each other", she murmured, and her eyes shone.
He smiled then, and lowered his face upon hers. "May I kiss you?"
She cupped his face and gazed at him lovingly. "Of course…"
He drew her in his arms then, and his lips touched hers softly and tentatively, for he had not kissed her in months, and his heart beat like a drum in anxiety. But she would not rush either, and allowed their lips to brush in an intimate caress, relishing the feeling of him in her embrace again, and his lips upon hers.
"Oh, how I have missed you…" she whispered breathily.
"Yes, yes…"
His lips found hers again then, and were more eager this time. The kiss began as chaste and innocent, but soon desire was ignited in them both, and their mouths opened to each other, allowing their tongues to twine in the dance of passion. Thranduil had missed her scent and her taste, and he felt lost now in everything that was Daenerys.
"Come with me…" he whispered, and gestured towards the stream.
A mischievous smile curled her lips. "What are you suggesting, my lord?"
"I would enjoy the cool waters of the stream with you on this warm afternoon."
His voice had been low and seductive, and she found she could not resist him. She nodded her consent, and he took her by the hand and led her to the riverbank. The water was not deep, barely reaching to the knee, and the current was weak. Removing their shoes, Thranduil rolled up his breeches and Daenerys lifted the hem of her gown as they stepped in, and he held her, careful not to let her slip on the treacherous rounded rocks of the riverbed.
"Oh, it is pleasantly cool", she chimed, feeling the soreness dissipating from her feet, for they had walked much, and she had begun tiring.
Thranduil smiled. He felt no fatigue, but the sight of relief on her face made his heart soar with fondness for her. She stepped up to him them, and threw her arms around his shoulders, abandoning the dress to the water. He held her to him, and bent his face to kiss her lips. She gave in eagerly, and her fingers tangled in his long strands. His arms tightened around her back, and he lifted her with ease from the ground, and sat her on a flat rock. The light breeze that blew made her dress dance around her body, and the caress of the wind combined with her excitement made her nipples harden. The Elvenking gazed down at her aroused body, and took in every inch of the sight she posed. His eyes glided unhurriedly down her throat and lingered upon her chest, and then below to her thighs, where the gown had been wetted and rumpled and exposed a good portion of her white skin. He grasped her legs then and prompted her to spread them for him. She did that with a gasp, and watched his hands transfixed, as they touched her knees and gradually moved upwards, drawing the hem of the gown along as they went. He pushed it to her hips, until her most private spot was exposed. Uneasiness crept in her then, to sit thus naked before him. But he made not to touch her, and his fingers dug in her hips, restraining himself from crossing the point of no return.
She sensed his agitation and said, "What is it? Why have you stopped?"
He took a shaky breath. "If I touch you, I know not whether I will be able to stop."
"Touch me, Thranduil. I want you to touch me."
He claimed her lips again then, and she drew him close by the lapels of his tunic. His own arms slid to her hips and her backside, and he pressed himself against her with a moan. His voice and the feeling of his hardened member trapped between her legs drove her mad with desire. Her fingers went to the front of his breeches then, and there traced the outline of his manhood, causing him to gasp and shiver in her arms. "Daenerys… you will be the end of me", he rasped amidst his gasps.
She gazed at his flushed face, and smiled smugly, reveling in the fact that she was the cause of his arousal. "I love the sight of you in your hour of desire", she whispered in his ear, and gave a gentle squeeze to his front. The lessons Doreah once gave me have not gone to waste, she thought with amusement.
He gripped her hips tightly then and his hands crept underneath the hem of her dress, feeling now her bare skin beneath his palms. "You came to me naked", he murmured.
Her brow creased in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"
"You were naked among the ashes when I found you upon my path…" he told her, and his fingers left her hip and slid now over her chest, "cradling three newborn dragons on your breast. I will never forget that sight, your otherworldly violet eyes as they gazed back at me in fear and question, your sweet form crouched upon the ground."
"Then the memory will forever be shared", she said, "for I will never forget the tall, silver lord that came to my rescue that day."
They both smiled, and their arms joined in a warm embrace, drawing their bodies together. Their fronts made contact then, and she clung to him, tightening her things around his hips. She could feel his clothed manhood grazing at her womanhood. "It is love confessed", she told him.
He drew a little back, so as to look into her eyes. "Is it?"
"Will you deny me now what I want?" she challenged him, as her hand crept low on his abdomen, her fingers barely touching him again through the material of his breeches.
But he had not the chance to answer, for heavy rustling was heard from the bushes by the riverside. Thranduil's keen elven ears caught the sound at once, and his eyes darted towards it. "What was this?" he said, alarmed.
"What was what?" Daenerys asked in puzzlement.
But then the rustling was heard again, and the Elvenking disentangled himself from her embrace and jumped out of the stream. "Hide behind the rock", he instructed her, and she crouched, the water now drenching her up to her midriff. He gathered his sword from where he had placed it upon the ground, and noiselessly drew it from its sheath. With slow steps he approached the bushes, holding his breath as he went. But as he made to inspect the thorny branches, a foul smell assaulted his senses. "Orcs!" he yelled, and drew back. At once a dozen orcs sprang from their hiding place, wielding their vile weapons. They came against the King, who defended himself efficiently against the sudden attack. Then one of the orcs sounded a horn, and Daenerys watched in terror as another dozen orcs came running through the trees, led by a tall, large one, who looked to be their leader.
Seeing now Thranduil surrounded and pressed from all sides, dismay took over her. She stepped forth from behind the rock and climbed on top of it, her eyes now searching the sky for signs of the green dragon. "Rhaegal!" she called his name. "Rhaegal!" she yelled again frantically.
Thranduil glanced at her in worry. "Daenerys! Run!" he shouted. But the orcs had seen her as well, and a few of them broke off and hurried towards her.
Daenerys stood there and watched the monsters approach her in terror. "Rhaegal!" she screamed on top of her lungs one last time, but there was no sign of the green dragon.
Then the large orc stepped forth. "No dragon will save you now!" he mocked them. "Seize them both. Our Masters will be happy for such a gift", he commanded now his orcs.
Overpowered as he was, the orcs grabbed Thranduil by the elbows and kicked him to the ground, taking his sword away and hitting him on the head to make him lose conscience. Blood trickled down his forehead and into his eyes, blurring his vision, and his head buzzed and ached horribly, but he did not faint. The orcs dragged Daenerys from the river, too, and threw her down beside the Elvenking. Then they bound their wrists and ankles and carried them unceremoniously into the woods. Her dress was caught in the thorns and it ripped, but the orc was angered, and dragged Daenerys violently along. The sharp branch cut into her thigh, and she cried in pain. Thranduil glanced at her through his haze, but could only mutter her name.
After a while the orcs came to a small camp, where more of their kind waited. Ruckus arose when the prisoners were presented, and they yelled and grunted unintelligible things in Black Speech. Some curious ones came and prodded Daenerys, pinching her and lifting her dress and pulling at her hair, and she screamed and kicked and spat at them, until she was slapped hard across the face and was forced into silence. Thranduil's fate was not gentler, as the orcs hated elves with a passion. He was beaten again, and his bonds prevented him from fighting back as he would have wished.
But then the leading orc came and shoved aside the others. "They are not to be harmed!" he barked. "Put them on the cart now. We must leave!"
Orcs went and unloaded some sacks from a cart, and upon it pushed their captives, now bound together back-to-back for greater restriction of movement. They tied a huge ox to the cart then, and the orcs were soon ready to depart. They marched in single file, and the cart went to the middle of their line. Daenerys lifted her eyes and saw the sun setting to her right as they went. "We are moving south", she whispered. "Where are they taking us?"
Thranduil shifted and grunted in aggravation. "Dol Guldur."
"What?" she hissed.
"The leader spoke of their Masters. They are taking us to Dol Guldur", he repeated.
Daenerys had heard countless times of that dark and ominous place, but never dreamed to visit it. Evil dwelled and bred there, and the Lieutenants of Sauron, the terrible Nazgûl, held command of the fortress. The elves used to say the sun never shone there, and the black towers were always overhung with leaden clouds. Nothing grew there, and the ground was sown with thorns and bare rocks.
"Silence!" an orc yelled, and hit their legs with a whip. Both of them were barefoot, their shoes abandoned by the riverbank, and the lash stung awfully.
As soon as he walked off, Daenerys murmured, "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I think so… And you? Your leg?"
She glanced at the thorn gash high on her thigh. The blood had dried, but it still pained her somewhat. Thranduil had taken the worst of the whip's blow, so her feet hurt a little less. "The pain is bearable", she answered frankly.
"If I could heal you…"
"No. Preserve your strength", she insisted in a steady voice.
They both fell silent then, espying the orc with the whip just ahead of the cart. They need not provoke his anger further. Then Daenerys searched the skies again for signs of Rhaegal. Where is he? What have they done to him? No, they cannot have killed him. He would have roasted them alive first. Oh, my child, where are you? Where are you now that I need you?"
Hours later the orcs made camp for the night. They bound their captives to a tree, and lit fires to cook their food. Thranduil saw them throwing chopped pieces of slimy, dark meat into a huge pot, along with roots and other nameless things. Soon it began boiling, and a rancid odor filled the air. "Are they going to serve us this as well?" he muttered under his breath.
Daenerys looked over to the pot with disgust. "I would never eat that. It smells horribly", she commented.
"And it probably tastes even worse…" he added.
But when dinnertime came, a short, square orc approached them and tossed them two slices of grey, maggoty bread. When he saw their frowns and looks of appalment, he huffed. "What? Did you think we were going to serve you our delicious broth? You fools!" he laughed, and laughed, and laughed as he walked away from them.
Thranduil watched the orc with bottomless hatred, feeling his blood boil with rage. Then he glanced at the bread. "Best if we do not eat this either", he said.
Beside him Daenerys nodded and sighed. "We must find a way to free ourselves", she whispered.
"But how? They have confiscated my sword, and I saw them taking your dagger as well. We have nothing to cut our bonds with", he replied.
She sunk against the trunk of the tree, inwardly cursing the vile orcs. "I am worried about Rhaegal", she muttered a while later. "He did not answer my calls."
"He was probably hunting far away from us. He is a dragon, Daenerys… There is no way the orcs could have ever truly harmed him", the King tried to reassure her. "And by now our absence has surely been noted. Search parties will soon be sent out. We must trust to hope that our people will find us", he said, trying to sound confident.
That much Daenerys could believe. Legolas and the councilors would not remain idle. Perhaps it would not be too long before they heard the elven horns and saw the flashes of the elven swords cutting through the orcs.
"I wonder why they did not kill us", she spoke after a while.
"We are useful to their Masters, I think. Perhaps they think to use us to threaten my realm, and gain favorable terms for themselves. Or they may think to ransom us for a great prize… I do not know", he sighed, feeling numb and tired now. His head still ached, and although the cut on his forehead had stopped bleeding, the blood was now dried and caked and it hindered his already hindered vision. To the various cuts and bruises all over his body he paid little heed, but they pained him every time he tried to move a little.
"Are you hurting?" she asked him in concern.
"A little", he admitted. "You?"
"Not really… But my dress is torn and damp, and I am cold", she told him.
"I wish I could take you in my arms and warm you…" he lamented.
Daenerys took a breath, and then snuggled to Thranduil's side, trying to steal some of his warmth. But then a horrid thought suddenly crossed her mind, and she lifted her face. "Thranduil", she began, "am I in danger of being raped?"
Her voice was filled with horror and dread, and it tore his heart apart. "No, I think not… The orcs hate and detest us. They are base creatures, but they do not possess the minds and urges of men. They might hit you some, but they will not touch you in that way", he answered her, and his words soothed her worry a little.
"At least, this is some good news", she sighed in relief.
He nodded. "Our lives are not in danger, for now. The tall orc has forbidden them to damage us. We must calm our hearts and minds, watch them closely and bide our time for a chance of escape", he whispered to her, careful not to be heard by the orcs.
"Yes, yes you are right", she agreed.
"Lean on me and try to get some sleep. You need it. I will keep watch of them", he told her.
"Will you not rest?" she protested.
"I need sleep far less than you do. I can endure many hours without sleep, but you must replenish your strength. Rest, my sweet love, and think not of the vile world, if only for a few hours", he spoke to her softly.
His voice was like balm on her heart. She readjusted her position as best she could, and laid her head on his shoulder. At first she worried that sleep would never come, with all these orcs parading and grumbling all around them, but soon fatigue took over her, and she surrendered to a dreamless slumber. Beside her, Thranduil sighed when he felt her drift off. If only his son would not be too late.