Out of Mirkwood

Scribbles-on-Parchment

January 25, 2020

Chapter 27 – Dreams

Elrond looked behind as they prepared to leave sight of their ambush. He could not help but feel relief to be leaving such a dark place behind. They had burned Hethion's body at the top of the hill where he had died. Tamír had requested they do this to keep any wild animals from digging up and consuming his body, which was too much of a weight for them to carry back to Imladris with them for a proper burial. The elven lord had agreed and helped his friend with the ceremony.

The mood of the small party had been somber ever since. It was already well past midday when the group was finally ready to leave. Elrond was not happy with their late start and prayed that nothing more would be able to catch up with them for they would not be able to travel far before nightfall.

Though the ellyn could continue to go without rest it would not be possible for Estel or the horses to do so. They would have to make camp, hopefully somewhere far from here, and spend the night there.

The Noldo nodded his thanks to Tamír as his mellon helped host the unconscious Maer onto the horse so that the elfling sat in front of him. He immediately tightened his arms around the young Sinda's waist and chest to keep him from falling forward. The soft golden locks fell in front of the young ellon's face as his head fell forward limply. Elrond could not help but sigh. This was going to be a long and uncomfortable ride.

He watched silently as Tamír mounted his own white steed, much slower than he usually did causing the elf lord frowned deeply. He could see the sadness still darkening the face of the Silvan. It was obvious to him that the appearance and sudden death of Tamír's friend had brought the ellon many memories he did not wish to remember. The elf lord made note to ask the eldar about this once they had returned safely to Imladris.

"Let us get as far away from this place as we can before the night comes upon us," Elrond glanced at his sons before saying this.

Estel had been unnaturally still and quiet since he had told them a part of his tale and had not spoken to him since. He prayed the human was just trying to process this information and did not hate him upon hearing it. However, he had too many other worries on his mind to think about this now. He would speak with his son later.

The small group of riders rode out into the open plains of Rohan leaving the death and darkness behind them.

As they rode Elrond tried to make the ride as gentle as he could for the young Sinda. He kept the elfling's body pressed against his to try and stabilize him, yet after a while the Nodlo's arms began to grow tired.

As a way to help distract himself, the elf lord let his mind wander. He thought back to the meeting he had had in Gondor. It was true that the darkness and evil of Mordor was continuing to spread out into arda. Mirkwood had been the first to fall to it; all that was once lush and beautiful in that forest had been corroded away, corrupted by the evil creatures that had invaded it.

Théoden had seemed only concerned at the closeness of the forest to his lands and for good reason for his people did not have the means to protect themselves against great armies of yrch. Though Gondor was worse off. The evil creatures had already begun to pillage and destroy several of the small villages that lay at their borders, killing women and children and burning everything to the ground.

But why now? This question was what was bothering Elrond. Why had the yrch stayed in the shadows for so many years only to resurface at this time? Were they stronger now? Or was something happening that he did not know…

The elf lord looked down at the Sinda in front of him. This elfling would have answers, he was sure of it. There was something about Maer that almost reminded him of Thranduil, but that great king had long departed for Valinor. No help would ever come from the Greenwood again. He had destroyed them and since then a great void had been left in his heart. Light could no longer be felt from the eldar in Mirkwood.

Elrond was torn from his dark thoughts by his eldest son riding up beside him.

"Come ada. We must find a place to rest for the night. The light is already fading and I fear that if we go any longer Estel will fall asleep on his horse."

Legolas was drifting peacefully in darkness. For the first time in his life he felt free of worry, almost calm. Deep down he knew something was wrong, however, he could not remember even where he was or what had happened to him as he tried to figure out what it was. Burying these feelings, the prince let himself relish in the utter nothingness around him.

Yet slowly things began to change around him. The darkness faded and outlines began to appear leaving Legolas to watch transfixed as the picture unfolded around him.

Kélion stood in his adar's elegant sitting room. The king sat at his desk drinking a glass of wine, a sorrowful look in his normally emotionless eyes. This caused the young Sinda to frown. He never remembered his adar looking so sad e before; so heartbroken, defeated even. Something horrible must have taken place.

The prince shook his head and looked away toward his brother who was standing silently looking out the window that overlooked the royal gardens. The sunlight filtered through the glass casting dancing sunlight on the expansive rug. Both ellyn remained silent for a time.

Legolas's forehead wrinkled. Was this a dream? A vision? He never remembered ever having a dream this realistic before; he almost felt as if he were actually there.

"Why did you do it adar?" Kélion did not even look over at the king as he said this, but remained where he was standing, "Why did you take down the painting? Have you forgotten Legolas so quickly just like you did with naneth?"

The elfling watched astonished as a tear slid down his adar's pale cheek. Thranduil never cried; he was a warrior, a king who showed no emotion. And what was this dream about? Was this foreshadowing his death? Was he already dead?

The Sindarin elf set his glass down and looked about to say something when suddenly Êmand burst through the door.

The king raised an eyebrow looking slightly annoyed and quickly wiped the tear from his face before saying harshly,

"What do you need? I asked not to be disturbed."

It was then that Legolas realized his mentor had his sword drawn and had a nasty, bleeding gash on his forearm. It was dripping spots of crimson blood onto the rug.

"There is a traitor in the castle. He is attacking. You are in danger…both of you," Êmand was breathing heavily, brown eyes wide with adrenaline, "I will not let you die. Quickly you must…"

However the faithful guard never finished.

The young prince watched in horror as a sword was thrust through the elf's chest. The Silvan's eyes went wide and seemed to fall onto Legolas for a second. A second later the immortal light of the eldar vanished from around him as his súlë fled his body. Êmand was dead.

The world seemed to slow around the elfling. This could not be happening. How could his mentor be dead?

The prince's heart felt torn apart. It was utter agony; pain he had never felt before. He should have done something, yet his body would not move, he was stuck watching his worst nightmares take place right in front of him.

As Êmand's body fell to the ground a hooded killer who had been standing behind the now dead ellon was revealed. Kélion let out a strangled cry and drew a dagger that was at his waist.

"What have you done?"

The pure rage in his brother's voice tore at Legolas. He had never seen his brother this angry before and wanted desperately to run to the ellon and comfort him, but he could only watch as the horror continued to unfold.

Thranduil had also leapt to his feet, a long, slender blade in his hand. The grief in his eyes had turned to pure hatred, a fierce fire that the young Sinda has never seen before. As one, both ellyn lunged for the hooded assassin...

And missed, their swords striking only air.

Legolas watched as the figure seemed to move faster than even an elf was capable of, and dodge the deadly blades. The being leapt to Kélion's side and the young elf suddenly knew exactly what was about to happen. He opened his mouth to scream, but there was no sound.

The assassin lifted his razor- sharp blade and slashed it across his brother's throat killing the eldar instantly. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and Legolas shut his eyes tightly. This was all just a dream. It had to be for there was no way that both Êmand and Kélion were now dead.

However with his eyes closed it did not stop the dreadful gasp that his adar made from reaching his ears. It was followed closely by a cry, so full of emotion and of utter despair that if he had had control of his body, Legolas would have fallen to his knees in despair. Even the forest outside seemed to be weeping and crying out in anger at the murder of their prince.

The elfling at long last opened his eyes as the pain began to fade into a horrible, cold numbness. Deep down he knew this was just a dream, but what if it were true?

The young ellon saw his adar kneeling over the body of Kélion rocking the dead body against him, weeping even as the blood stained his fine tunic. The king did not notice or did not care that the assassin was standing over him, sword in hand.

Make it stop, the prince pleaded, I need to wake up. I can not take it anymore.

As if on command the royal chamber began to fade around him, until only the cloaked assassin remained in a sea of gray mist.

"Who are you?" Legolas's voice echoed around him.

The figure reached up and brushed his hood back slowly, first revealing a pair of piercing blue eyes that could freeze even the bravest of warriors. Yet there was no life in them, they were a dead and empty shell. As the rest of the hood fell away the air around Legolas seemed to become too thick to breath for he was staring at a perfect image of himself.

The picture crumbled into darkness and the young prince felt himself falling. A split-second later he jerked upright, breathing heavily and found himself staring right into the face of a Silvan elf.

Elvish Translations:

mellon – friend

maer - golden

yrch – orcs

ada - dad

adar – father

naneth – mother

súlë – spirit