Warning: there will be character death in this chapter. So if blood and death (nothing too graphic) are not your thing then I would advise you to skip this chapter.

Out of Mirkwood

Scribbles-on-Parchment

July 11, 2020

Chapter 48 – Murder in the Palace

Úmmon sat slumped against the cold stone wall that served as the back of his cell. His eyes were red from weeping and dried tear streaks ran down his face testifying to the emotional turmoil the elf was facing. Anyone who saw the once regal healer would wonder how such a loyal and brave ellon had fallen so low. The pale face of the Silvan was gaunt and the obvious trembling in his hands was not characteristic of that of an eldar. The pale glow that surrounded all elven beings was faint around Úmmon, almost nonexistent, which left the ellon sitting alone in the darkness with little light to comfort him.

The two guards that stood patiently at the entrance to the dungeons fidgeted. It had been many years since there had been any prisoner of the king sent down here and neither desired for this job to last long. There was something unnerving about the rows of empty prison cells that led down into the heart of the mountain. Occasionally the cold breeze that blew up through the narrow passage would bring with it a wide array of eerie noises. The faint clink of metal chains, the sound of a door swinging on its hinges, rocks shifting. No one had been all the way down into the darkness for many years as there had been no need for the isolated prison cells that existed at the end of the passage. This, along with the damp, musty air, led to a miserable experience both for the guards and prisoners alike.

Úmmon lifted his head as he heard the sound of footsteps further up the passageway. The guards who had been tasked with bringing him down here had put him in one of the first cells, unwilling to go down further, yet the Silvan did not think it would be much use. He knew deep down that he would not be leaving. He would die here in the darkness. Nonetheless, the eldar did not feel fear, he almost embraced that thought. He did not deserve to live; that he was sure of.

The flickering light of a torch grew as the footsteps drew closer.

"Are you well?" Úmmon blinked at the bright light, trying to make out the Silvan guard who carried it, "Narril has volunteered to come if you require a healer's service."

"Baw. I do not wish to see her."

The young soldier nodded, a sorrowful look appearing in his eye,

"Then I shall leave you for the night. My prince Kélion has said he will see to you in the morning," he paused for a moment, "I am truly sorry that everything has come to this."

Úmmon smiled sadly at the Silvan,

"You remind me of my son. He too had a good and kind heart, only it served him to his death. I pray to the Valar that you do not follow in his footsteps or wander in the paths of darkness as I have. The power of grief is not to be underestimated."

"No, it is not, for grief can drive you mad. Or so I've been told."

Úmmon's face immediately paled at the voice that came from the darkness behind the young soldier. It was the voice that haunted his nightmares and tortured his mind.

"Who are you?" The healer heard the voice of the Silvan shake slightly as he spun around to face the shadowed elf, "No one is allowed down here."

There was a low grave laugh as the ellon stepped into the light of the torch. As the elf's face was illuminated the young soldier gasped and quickly stepped back.

"Manadhon?"

The ellon frowned darkly at the name, his brown eyes glittering dangerously in the dim light, "That name was disgraced long ago and the elf that carried it has been destroyed. I am Rívorn."

"Seeker of darkness," Úmmon muttered almost to himself. The new name the elf had chosen suited him well.

"You should not be here Manadhon. You were banished for a reason," The young soldier drew his sword and pointed it at the ellon standing in front of him, "You are not wanted here."

The older ellon's face darkened slightly at the use of his old name. Hands clenched into a fist as his side as he asked,

"What is your name penneth?"

The sword wavered slightly at the words as a confused expression crossed the elf's face.

"Fearon. But I do not see how this matters. You cannot talk your way out of this one. I am taking you straight to the king," the guard took a step back up the hall and called, "Saléic!"

There was a deafening silence.

"Oh, was that his name? Well, I am sorry Fearon, but your guard friend won't be coming anytime soon. I'm afraid he's a bit indisposed at the moment."

"What did you do to him?"

Rívorn held up his hands in a gesture of innocence,

"Nothing. I simply put him out of his misery… permanently. You do understand I hope."

Úmmon heard the young guard gasp as the words sunk in. The poor ellon stumbled backward, his back hitting the bars on the healer's cell.

"You will pay for this. You will pay with your life."

"My most heartfelt apologies, but I think you are mistaken. As it will not be me who will die here today, but you I am afraid. A rather disappointing death if I say so myself, but it has to be done. Casualties cannot be avoided. "

Úmmon watched silently as Rívorn reached for a dagger at his waist.

"You see my dear Fearon, your prisoner here has failed in the task I appointed for him. Therefore, he must pay for it and you, I am afraid, are in the way."

"You sent him to kill the king."

"You do catch on quick."

The reply was dripping in sarcasm.

The guard still held his sword out in front of him though it was still shaking slightly. Rívorn sighed as he watched the young guard struggle with his emotions.

"But if you are so mightily as you seem to think you are then why do you not kill the king yourself?"

The cloaked ellon halted for a moment, a strange look appearing in his eyes. Then, before Fearon had time to react, the older eldar attacked. He kicked the sword out of the soldier's hand and delivered one deadly slash to the exposed neck of the young elf.

"No!"

The heartbreak and desperation of Úmmon's voice cut through the darkness as the dagger descended on Fearon. The young ellon never had a chance to dodge the attack as the blade sliced deeply into the side of his neck.

The healer closed his eyes and pulled uselessly against the chain that bound his legs to the wall as Fearon's gasp of pain echoed through the hall. Even though his eyes were tightly closed Úmmon could still picture the shocked and pained look in the guard's compassionate brown eyes as the life left his body.

A dry sob left the healer's parched lips. For the first time in many days, his heart felt immense pain and guilt.

"What is this? Do you actually feel something for him?"

Úmmon dared to glance up as there was a sound of keys clanking. He saw Rívorn holding the torch as he pushed the door to the cell open with a deafening screech. But what made the healer go pale was the agonized look frozen forever in Fearon's eyes as he sat slumped against the cell bars blood pooling around him.

"Orvelethron," the ellon spat, "This is all your fault. You should never have come back here."

To Úmmon's surprise, the dark elf laughed, a horrible rasping sound that made him want to cover his ears.

"This is all my fault is it?" He knelt down before the prisoner, "You did not seem to think these things when you came seeking me. You seemed quite ready to do whatever I asked. And all for what?" he paused for a moment, "Ah yes. You wanted to be free from Thranduil's suffocating rule. You wanted to leave. You said there were too many painful memories here."

Rívorn put his face close to Úmmon's and hissed,

"It was not me, but you who tried to kill Thranduil. It was not me that led your son to his death, it was Thranduil. And it was not me who failed, it was you. So, it does sound like it is all your fault; and I did warn you what the consequence would be if you did not succeed."

"If you knew I could fail then why did you not just kill the king yourself? You have already killed his son, what is stopping you?"

Rívorn growled and brought his bloody dagger up the healer's throat.

"I could kill Thranduil. I could walk into his room and slaughter him as he sleeps. But I prefer to watch him kill himself instead. You see Úmmon, I knew you would fail. I looked into your pitiful eyes and saw how soft you were. I counted on you not being able to kill the king," the dark elf lowered the dagger till it rested over the healer's heart, "Thranduil is fading. He is suffering a fate worse than death and that is what I want. I want him to suffer as I did, I want him to watch everything around him start to crumble. I gave you the poison to put in the wine. It was never going to kill him, I only needed it to weaken him and drain his power."

"Hegrath?" Úmmon breathed as he felt the tip of the dagger enter his flesh, "You are destroying him with that dark poison?"

"Destroying? No. I prefer to say corrupting. But it is not I who did this to him, but you. You see I sent you to 'finish the job' so that all of the blame will fall on your head, not mine. When they finally find your bodies tomorrow all they will see is a crazed healer who escaped and killed his guards."

Úmmon gasped in pain as the dagger cut deeper into his chest,

"They will see through your lies. You will not get away with any of this. They will kill you for what you did to Legolas."

"They will see only what I want them to see," Rívorn smirked, "And as for Legolas. He never was dead, but I can guarantee you that it will not stay that way for long."

"Legolas," the healer's eyes widened in disbelief as blood began to soak through his tunic. He wanted to fight and warn Thranduil of the danger he and his family were in, but the eldar could find no strength to move his arms; like all his power had been drained from him.

"Don't be too sad Úmmon. The young prince will never get the chance to see his adar again. Now rest mellon nín, you have done well, and I will be forever in your debt."

A second later the once-great healer slumped to his side, dead.

The sight that greeted Meldir the next morning as he went to retrieve Úmmon, was one he would never forget. The two young guards lay dead in the passageway their throats slashed and faces mutilated almost beyond recognition. Blood splattered the floor and walls of the hall and pooled around the dead bodies. And Úmmon lay at the entrance to his cell one of the guard's daggers lodged deep in his chest.

Soon word spread rapidly through the palace that sometime in the night the insane healer had gotten loose of the rusted chains and had then attacked and brutally killed the guards watching him. Then the ellon had taken his own life.

Elvish Translations:

baw – no

penneth – young one

orvelethron – orc lover (Sindarin insult)

adar – father

mellon nín – my friend