My friends! It's been a while, and for that, I sincerely apologise. Been a hectic year, but we got through it! Here's a Christmas update :))
The blue of Ashryn's dress was that of midnight, and the wine was a rich, dark, red.
The council chambers were dominated by a huge, round, table, each seat occupied by the high and low of the nobility. The King's seat was adorned with detailed engravings of the realm over which he governed and marked by the figure sprawled across it with all the markings of authority in his eyes. Thranduil was clad in his trademark silver, a crimson river flowing from his shoulders, facing directly the chamber doors. To his right sat his son, who had never quite seemed the heir as much as he did in this moment, down to the red cloak. Lady Lithuin, unyielding, occupied his left.
The Rohan delegation clustered together several seats down from Legolas, clad in differing degrees of formality. Brego, the man Ashryn had shown back to his chambers, was all in black and trying hard to mask a scowl.
Across the table, Lord Candor dominated.
Having taken care to choose a seat sufficiently far away from his party, Ashryn could only view him from a distance, but could see clearly the determination glittering in his eyes. Cassian, the unwavering supporter, sent waves of silent fury simmering through her each time she glanced his way, alongside flashes of something which felt almost akin to grief.
The table was full. The sun had set. All eyes fixated on the King.
Thranduil, however, took only a long sip of wine, the firelight flashing off his rings, and did not speak. Legolas did.
"Thank you," he began, without even a quaver in his voice, as his audience recalibrated to shift their attention to him, "my lords and ladies, for coming tonight. I would like to make a report."
Almost imperceptibly, down the table, Candor stiffened. Already, most of the attendants around the table were aware that this meeting was not in the norm.
Legolas leaned forwards onto the table, resting his forearms upon the wood, countering the way his father reclined upon his chair. The engravings upon the metal guards which adorned the Prince's arms glinted whenever he shifted.
"Of course," he announced, "these meetings are rarely utilised for the giving of reports, for which I apologise." The hint of wry grin danced across Legolas's face before giving way to a heavy sincerity. "I also seek your forgiveness for the information you are about to receive. A week past, a border patrol was run afoul by an orc pack. The pack was destroyed at the cost of a number of serious injuries."
Pandemonium.
Ashryn swirled her glass, watching the glint of candlelight as chaos broke out. Triumph flashed across Candor's face, something akin to distress dancing across Lady Lithuin's.
"-not since the War -"
"- serious injuries. -"
"- we have to do something-"
"Quiet!" Lord Candor's voice cracked across the room, his fist slamming into the table. Ashryn's wine slipped precariously close to the lip of her glass.
Silence fell back over the council, as the lord rose to his feet with enviable steadiness. "If not for the actions and diligence of our brave warriors, we would perhaps be meeting under much darker circumstances." He raised his glass to Legolas with a bow of the head, as the table murmured their agreements, before continuing. "Yet it is but a coincidence that this pack was misfortunate enough to be met by a patrol. Where there is one group of orcs, there are undoubtedly others. We know from experience that they follow strength. More will come. Something must be done!"
It was with grudging admiration that Ashryn regarded her uncle through a long sip of wine.
One of the Rohan envoys – Brego – spoke up. "What do you propose, my lord?"
It was the opening Candor was looking (and had no doubt planned) for. "We must take the offensive. Our soldiers have brought us precious time at grievous cost. My own niece risked her life." A rough gesticulation to Ashryn had the table sneaking furtive glances, as she fixed Cassian with a withering glare. Candor continued on in a growl. "I will not lose another member of my family to dark forces, and we cannot wait for one of our border guard to give up their life for us to act. I say we strike, and we strike now."
"Aye!" This was Brego, rising to the occasion as Candor sat, satisfied. "I have watched children of Rohan slaughtered, and I have no wish to see the same fate handed to Greenwood. Join us, my lords, my ladies. We have fought together before. Let us do it again."
On cue, Lady Lithuin spoke. "I, too, commend the bravery of our soldiers. I agree that this is a threat which must be faced – but not, I say, with an offensive beyond our borders in open warfare. Let us increase our defensive capacities. Who here fought in the War? General Mecheneb, Lord Aearon, Captain Tissaia – you remember the slaughter of the frontlines when armies charge. It is brutal, lasting for eternity and yet over in a flash. Deaths in the thousands. We can not afford that. Greenwood is secure. Let us watch from the trees where we are best."
"Sacrifice is the cost of security," Cassian remarked pointedly.
"Why sacrifice at all if we can attain security without death?"
"What about Rohan's deaths? Do they mean nothing to you?" Brego again.
Lithuin shifted seamlessly. "Do not put words in my mouth, my lord. Death, be it human or elf, death means everything to me. But I am representing Greenwood, not Rohan."
"Coward," came Candor's snarl.
"Careful," Legolas warned, fixing her uncle with a harsh stare.
Silence, again. The attention turned now to Thranduil.
"Double the patrols," came the King's smooth command, "I want any trace of orcs within our borders eradicated within a moon's turn, but I will not bestir our forces to engage in open war."
Ashryn glanced over at her uncle's party, waiting for the rebuke, but none came, only expectant resignation.
"As for Rohan," King Thranduil continued. "I will allow a force of thirty volunteer soldiers to accompany you when you depart, to assist the effort until our borders are clean. Goodnight."
The grand doors swung open, and the candles dimmed.
The screech of chairs against the stone floors filled the room, Brego and his men merging clearly with Candor's party as they filed through the doors. Clumsy.
Ashryn downed the rest of her glass as she stood, skirts swirling around her ankles and her head spinning ever so slightly. The wine was a mistake, she knew, but frankly, she didn't care.
The nerve –
"Ashryn!"
Halfway to the exit, Legolas caught up with her, his father already long gone, a hand brushing her elbow.
"Later," Ashryn snapped, her pace storming with her temper as she fixed her gaze at the back of Cassian's head in the middle of the throng congregating about her uncle, twisting free of his touch. "I need to see my uncle."
Something in her tone made the Prince obey without a question, halting to watch her leave before turning to head to the royal exit. Ashryn breezed past another group of undistinguished council members, slipped between General Mecheneb and the wall, and shoved her way through the throng with sharp elbows and dirty looks to yank the back of her uncle's tunic with enough force to make him stumble.
"Who – Oh," Candor;s hand dropped from his sword as he turned to see Ashryn planted firmly in the hallway, anger crackling. The entire group was watching.
"Dearest uncle," Ashryn smiled sweetly. "May I speak to you?"
Cassian was watching her with clear apprehension. The rest of the group looked to Candor for directions.
"We will meet later," Lord Candor nodded at Brego. The Rohan delegation continued down the hallway, with the rest of the group following dutifully. Only Cassian dallied.
"Ashryn. -"
"I don't recall asking you to speak, Cassian," Ashryn tilted her head. "Or even stay, for that matter."
"Go, Cassian," Candor ordered. "Midnight at the estate. You know who to invite."
Reproach dancing on his face, Cassian turned and left.
Candor wrapped an arm around Ashryn's shoulders, steering her back into the deserted council chambers, the door closing behind them soundlessly.
Looking down at her with fatherly concern, Candor motioned at her ankle. "How are you feeling?"
"I thought," Ashryn hissed. "that I made it clear I'm not interested in being your political prop?"
"Is this because I mentioned your injury?" Candor's clear incredulity only stoked her temper.
"This is because you made it clear to the entire council that I am involved! You know that I am not a member of the border patrol, the whole council knows I am not a member of the patrol, and you've made it clear that I am participating in one of your little excursions – don't look at me like that, you know everyone knows those patrols are of your doing. What are you trying to do? Make me look like some sort of martyr? The poor little orphan risking her life? Trying to shame the others into joining your cause? Do you think now that the nobility assume I am one of your ambassadors that I have to play the part? Why can't you just leave me alone!"
Candor didn't even flinch. "You're drunk."
Ashryn laughed. "Not nearly drunk enough for you to be playing your games."
When her uncle didn't reply, Ashryn leaned in. "What, nothing to say?"
"Go to bed, Ashryn."
A scoff. "No."
"Ashryn."
"Stop trying to parent me, Candor," she snarled, "stop trying to dictate my life. It isn't working. I am not a tool you inherited when my parents died for you to manipulate court with. Leave me alone."
"Ashryn," Candor spoke slowly, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. "We're family. I'm all you have left. We stick together."
"Nothing in that allows you to use me as your prop, uncle," she snapped back. "Leave. Me. Alone."
Candor's grip tightened on her shoulder as his gaze hardened. "I took you in when your parents died, fed you, clothed you, and this is how you repay me?"
"I don't owe you my life just because you deigned to relinquish one of your guest rooms in your estate. Now let me go."
"You don't want to regret this, Ashryn."
Baring her teeth, Ashryn twisted roughly from his grasp. "Begging your pardons, my lord, but I can regret whatever the hell I want to. Leave me."
He left.
Bit of a short one, sorry! But hopefully we can get some more Legolas next chapter, which will hopefully come up before next semester.
Lots of love (and Merry Christmas),
Silver.
