Out of Mirkwood
Scribbles-on-Parchment
March 14, 2020
Chapter 34 – Saving a King
Thranduil's chest rose and fell faintly. The mighty king lay pale as death on a layer of thin robes that worked to shield him from the harsh cold of the stone floor beneath him. The Sinda's lips were no longer a sickening blue, yet his face remained unnaturally pale and his breathing ragged and slow. A small candle flickered next to a small pouch casting an eerie, dancing light upon the faces of the two Silvan elves that knelt over him. A strong smell of herbs flooded the small tunnel and the whispering voices of the two elves sounded loud as thunder in the dark.
"Thranduil? Hîr nín? You must wake," the auburn hair of the elleth covered much of her face as she put a hand to the king's forehead, "This is not the time to remain lost in the world of darkness and dreams. Your sons need you."
"Naneth, do you not suspect that the poison has too strong of a hold on him? Is it not wishful thinking that he will be able to recover so quickly?"
The Silvan elf looked at her son with gentle eyes, "What do we have if not hope? What is left if that light is extinguished?"
As if in response a cold breath of wind wafted down the hall, causing the flame on the candle to flicker dangerously.
"That will be Úmmon with the rest of my healing herbs."
Dark brown eyes looked down at the still unconscious Sinda as the ellon's hand tightened around a short dagger in his left hand. He was taking no chances. If the figure that followed the gust of icy air was not the head healer, then they would not live to see the next sunrise.
"Nalledir? Narril?" the soft voice of Úmmon came before the shadowy figure of the ellon appeared in the dull light, "How is the king?"
Nalledir quietly sheathed his dagger, breathing a sigh of relief. He was a healer, not a warrior like his adar had been and he would never seek willingly destroy the life of another. A life that was not his to take, yet he would not hesitate to kill if he needed to.
"Pray tell me, were you followed? Did anyone grow suspicious?"
Úmmon crouched down beside the candle before replying,
"No. The healing chambers were empty. There seemed to be a commotion coming from the royal chambers. You do not believe the crown prince has been targeted now?"
The look of anguish crossed the older elf's face as he thought of this. First the death of their beloved Prince Legolas and now an assassination attempt on the king.
"Should we not try to move him into the royal healing chambers?" Úmmon handed the bundle of herbs and blankets he had been carrying to the elleth, "No one is permitted in there."
Narril was quick to shake her head, "No mellon. No one is allowed into the king's chambers either, but did that stop this killer? Nay, we must keep him here in the shadows until we can determine if it is safe and this traitor is no longer a threat. The Greenwood cannot lose its King so close after the prince's death."
The ellon's voice broke as he said this. He had been there for all of the scrapes and injuries the elfling had gotten into as he had grown up. He had always been the one to heal the young elf; yet when the Sinda had needed his skills the most, he had been too far away.
The Silvan elf shook his head and looked down at the king. While the royal healer was Narril, the two of them often worked together to tend for both the sick and injured royals and soldiers.
It had been both of them who had fought long and hard to save the life of Thranduil after the battle that had threatened to wipe out the entirety of the Greenwood. He still shuddered to think about the moment when he had found his king lying gravely injured at the gates to the palace so many years ago.
Flashback
The first sound that reached Úmmon's ears was that of a child softly crying. The healer raised his head, ignoring the dull throb of pain in the side of his head and the wet blood trickling down his face. He had to find the child.
The Silvan elf staggered to his feet and immediately clutched for the closest wall as a wave of dizziness overcame him. What had happened?
As his eyesight cleared, Úmmon glanced around him and went pale. The healing rooms had been destroyed. All of the cots full of injured soldiers from the battle had been overturned, spilling their precious cargo to the cold stone floor. All of the ellyn and ellyth that he had been fighting to save now lay slaughtered. Blood covered the walls and pooled on the ground around the bodies.
The eldar could not help but let a short cry of sorrow pass his lips. Many of these elves had been his friends.
"Ada? Anno dulu enni," the soft words of a child shook the healer out of his grief and he quickly looked around for the source of the plea.
"Ada?"
The voice called again just as Úmmon spotted the small elleth sitting on her knees beside the body of a dead ellon.
"Wake up."
The plea brought tears to the Silvan's eyes as he started to stagger over to the young elfling. His head pounded with each faltering step as blood began to drip into his eyes. The last thing he remembered were yrch pouring through the doors to the healing rooms. Then there had been a sharp pain to the side of his head and nothing more.
"Penneth," Úmmon knelt beside the young child, his legs trembling, "I am here. You are safe."
The elleth turned and gazed up at him with large brown eyes full of pain and sorrow. Tear streaks ran down her face mixing with the blood and dirt that lay on her cheeks.
"Will you help me?" The elfling continued to gaze at him, "My ada will not wake up."
The innocent look on the child's face tore at the older ellon's heart. He cupped the elleth's face in his hands and brushed her tears away.
"Your ada cannot wake up right now penneth. Now tell me, what is your name?"
"My name is Milmaviel," the elfling turned back to look at her father, "He is dead isn't he."
Úmmon frowned, "He is at peace, but come we must tend to you."
The healer began to push himself to his feet but halted as the young elleth whispered,
"I cannot."
As these words left her lips the elfling's body went suddenly limp. Úmmon grabbed her before she could hit the bloody floor and gathered her up into his arms. The elleth's entire right side, which had been hidden from him, was bloody. A black arrow protruded from deep in her body. The ellon closed his eyes for a brief moment. He was too late. It would only be a matter of time now.
The child in his arms whimpered as her eyes fluttered open.
"Do you think my ada will be waiting for me?"
The simple question made Úmmon's heart sink.
"Yes, and I know that he will be very proud of you penneth."
The elfling's body gave a shudder as the light began to leave her eyes.
"Go to him now Milmaviel and do not fear."
With a sigh the elleth's body went limp, the light and life of the eldar fled the damaged body.
For several minutes, all Úmmon could do was sit and weep. His tears falling onto the soft hair of the innocent elfling. When had arda become so cruel that it killed the innocent and left the corrupted?
As the tears of the healer began to slow, a horrible sense of emptiness began to settle over his heart as the realization of what had happened began to sink in. The Greenwood had been attacked; how many others had died and would still travel to the Halls of Mandos before the day was over?
With one last tear falling from his dark lashes, Úmmon gently lowered the elfling's body so that it lay next to that of her adar. Then with one last sorrowful glance, the healer got stiffly to his feet and began to search for survivors.
Every room and hall that the healer staggered to were littered with the bodies of women and children, the bodies of his people. Were there any that yet lived?
Úmmon wiped the blood from his eyes as he, at last, stumbled out of the place. The sun was low in the sky casting red hues across the forest as though the blood of the innocent had not been unseen by the Valar.
As the Silvan elf looked around at the large clearing that surrounded the gates, he could see nothing but death. Dead elves lay beside the bodies of their foes, their dark red blood staining the dirt around them. A flash of silver-white hair caught the ellon's disappearing gaze and Úmmon recognized it immediately. It was the king.
With a shout of anguish, the eldar rushed over to the still body of the Sinda. A dark arrow stuck from his chest spilling crimson blood onto his silver armor. Thranduil was dead.
Úmmon let his body crash down beside that of his dead king as he bent his head over the pale face and wept. But as he did so he suddenly froze for on his cheek he felt the soft breath that came from between the eldar's pale lips.
End Flashback
"Mellon nín," Narril put a hand on her friend's shoulder bringing him out of his memories, "He will not die, not while we still have breath in our lungs," The Silvan elf took Úmmon's slightly trembling hands in her own, for she knew what past events the ellon had been remembering, "Now come. We must focus on the task in front of us and not get lost in the sorrows and despair of the past."
Even as she said this, her heart once more began to cry out for Tamír. It had been many years since she had seen him, but just as with the young Legolas, she refused to believe they had left arda. Something in her heart kept a flame of hope kindled, perhaps it was too much for her to think that both her husband and the youngest prince had been taken.
Nalledir watched as his naneth worked furiously with Úmmon to combat the unknown poison that threatened the king's life. In the already small and cramped tunnel, there was no chance that he could be of any help to the two and even if there was room for him to aid them, he was still younger than they and had less experience.
So, the young Silvan elf settled down to watch the dark passage on either side of the small group. If an intruder were to venture down here then he would be the first to know.
Outside of the chamber, the entire palace was in tumult. News had gotten out and spread like wildfire of the disappearance of the king and many elves had seen the faithful mentor, Êmand, gently carrying the unconscious Kélion to the royal healing wards. However, another rumor was traveling as well. An assassin. An assassin was in the palace.
With three of the head healers of the Greenwood also missing, blame immediately fell on them. Anger and despair filling their hearts, the eldar of the Greenwood began to search the palace fearing their king had also followed his son to the Halls of Mandos.
Elvish Translations:
hîr nín – my lord
naneth – mother
adar – father
mellon – friend
ada – dad
anno dulu enni – help me
yrch – orcs
penneth – young one