The hallway was empty, a long seemingly endless stretch of darkness. There was no moon in the sky, no pale silvery light to lighten his way. She could see his back, the long sway of his silvery blue robes as they brushed the marble floor below, almost merging with the equally silver color of his long loose hair. It was late at night. She did not need to be told to know the time, it was evident in the blackened views outside the long pointed windows, in the absence of any other elf around as her eldest brother continued his march.
His footsteps were rushed, not running, not hectic, but neither the slow peaceful walk that was customary of him. The Crown Prince stopped in front of a large pair of tall doors, the imposing heavy wood carved with intricate pictures of leaves and branches and flowers. There were no guards flanking their sides.
The doors creaked opened with little protest, the orange warm light that filled the room inside washing over the corridor for a split second before vanishing. There was only one figure inside the brightly lit room, his back towards the doors, dark scarlet robes drowning in the orange light of the four marble fireplaces.
She had never seen this room before, had never stepped inside, and yet she recognized it immediately. It was like seeing that small drawing on Arahaelon's book come to life, the little circles that represented columns now stretching tall and thin towards a too high ceiling above, all of them spaced equally from one another around the ample circular form of the room. It was a Council Room. The Council Room of the Palace.
The lone figure turned at the sound of the doors opening and closing, her father's piercing ice blue eyes meeting his son's instantly.
"What are you doing here?" The King spoke, taking a step forward even before Arahaelon had even finished closing the massive door behind him. The words were quick, whispered, and for a second she saw her eldest brother stop in his tracks, the confusion that crossed his emerald eyes letting her know that this was not the welcoming he had been expecting.
"You called a council meeting." Arahaelon's voice was slow, calmed, that soothing sound that could stop even the wildest of storms.
"I did not send for you." The quick stern answer too her by surprise, and she could see that it was the same case for her eldest brother, whose browed furrowed slightly in return, for a second looking both confused and taken aback at the unexpected rejection of his presence.
"I thought…"The Crown Prince started, clearly at a loss of what to say, but the King interrupted him before he could even fishing aligning his thoughts.
"I have already excused you from this meeting." Her father was now by Arahaelon's side, his face hard, unyielding. He looked as though he would push his eldest son out the doors himself at any second, and by the look on the Crown Prince's face, her brother could see it too.
"You are still recovering and in need of rest to regain your strength." The King added, silent eyes motioning to his son's left forearm suffestively.
"I am not." Arahaelon's eyes narrowed further at the words, his voice low, barely a whisper, not stubborn, not seeming to wish to contradict his father, but puzzled, lost, and she could see on this face that both he and his father knew the King's last words were a lie. But what she could not understand was why.
"Yes, you are. Now get out." The King's voice left no space for argument, the dismissal sharp: an order.
The Crown Prince blinked a couple of times in surprise, but if his father's harsh words had hurt him, he did not show it. Instead he silently turned around, taking a step towards the now closed doors.
The King's fingers suddenly curled around his right wrist, abruptly stopping him. Arahaelon's head turned back, facing his father in surprise, but the King had frozen, his attention towards the door, pulling the younger elf closer to him.
And the she heard it, so light that it was almost impossible to discern among the four crackling fires. Footsteps, slowly but steady approaching the doors. She could hear them stop, one pair by each side of the massive doors outside, the unmistakable metallic clinking of armor reaching her ears. Guards.
The Elvenking's eyes had closed, a shadow of dread crossing his face for a split second before it vanished, icy blue eyes once again sharp, guarded.
"Ada?" Arahaelon whispered, his voice so low that for a moment she doubted that the king had heard him. Her father's fingers remained securely locked around his eldest son's wrist, not seeming to want to let go yet.
"You will sit by me, and stay close to me." The Elvenking whispered in return, his voice carrying a sudden edge to it, almost resembling fear. It was an order too.
The Crown Prince simply nodding his head, not seeming to understand what was going on but deciding against arguing or questioning. It was strange, her own distant body filling with dread. Not even minutes ago the King had been determined to make his eldest son leave the room, and now, with the newly added presence of the guards by the doors, the older elf did not seem to want Arahaelon out of his sight.
"The council will start soon. The lords will be here any moment now." The King continued in that same low whisper, making his way back to the large round table that filled the room, climbing the steps towards the tall throne-like chair that could only belong to him, the Crown Prince following close behind.
"Stay sitting, do not stand up when everyone else will at the beginning of the meeting, do not move much, only when I tell you to. I need them to underestimate you tonight, if thigs turn sour. Now that you are here, I need you to keep up the charade with which I excused you in the first place. You need to look tired, pretend you are still unwell. Can you do that?"
The Crown Prince gave the tiniest nod of his head, impenetrable emerald gaze meeting the King's in a long look. She could see a hundred questions glimmering far in the depths of his eyes, and yet his face was black, resolute.
"What do you fear?" It was the only question that left her eldest brother's mouth, hanging hollowly in the brightly lit air for a couple of seconds, both elves frozen in place.
And then, the King moved. Slowly, without a sound, her father's right hand traveled to his formal scarlet robes, pulling the fabric aside just in the right way. Arahaelon's eyes widened in realization, dread pooling heavily inside her own stomach, the silver hilt of a sword visibly hanging from the long leather sheath on the King's hip. The Elvenking was armed.
She wished more words would be exchanged, she wished for any of the two let her know what exactly was happening, why her father carried a sword hidden by his long robes to hold a council meeting. Why he seemed adamant in keeping an eye on the Crown Prince, as though fearing for his son's safety. And yet nothing else was said, Arahaelon seeming to understand the situation without the need of further words. And in that moment she hated her eldest brother's quick wits, hated how quickly he thought and understood things….if only he had asked more then perhaps she could understand as well.
But the moment was interrupted by more footsteps resonating outside the doors. The lords were arriving.
The Elvenking threw one last look at his son, who moved wordlessly towards the equally tall chair by the King's right, the one that judging by the rank it evoke it must be his seat as Crown Prince, lowering himself silently on folding his hands over his lap.
The massive doors creaked open, a tall golden haired elf silently making his way inside the room, night blue robes trailing behind him.
"Your Majesty." The elf inclined his head in a respectful greeting, even though a warm smile crossed his face, his familiar dark blue eyes, moving from the King to the Crown Prince, looking slightly surprised.
"Your Highness." Lord Doronor continued, this time towards her eldest brother. "It is a pleasure to see you are well enough to join us."
From his seat at the large table, Arahaelon played his part expertly, so much so that for a moment it even fooled her. The Crown Prince said nothing to the Adviser, merely curving his lips in a half smile, silently nodding his head in greeting. Her brother's entire posture had changed, sitting tall yet only ever so slightly hunched over as to make it noticeable, as though instead of pretending to be unwell he was pretending quite the opposite. It was perfectly executed.
"Stubborn, is what he is." The king muttered to his friend, arching an eyebrow high on his forehead as he threw his son a reproaching look, eliciting a short laugh from the Adviser, who silently walked up the steps to stand by seat, at the King's left.
One by one they started to arrive, the eleven remaining members of the council equally dressed in long formal robes of all different hues. They gathered around the table, some chatting lowly among themselves, each of them directing short respectful bows at both royals inside the room. Yet none of them sat down, the only elf sitting inside the ample room being the Crown Prince, and she understood that unless the King took his seat, none of the others could theirs first.
There were a few faces she recognized, having seen them before, though she could not place a name to them. There was the bony looking elf, with sharp cheekbones and olive green eyes, with his long face and thick eyebrows. She had seen that same face, at the trail for the crazed red-haired elf only days ago. There were other, new faces, like the silver haired elf with equally pale eyes, looking almost a ghost in the bright orange light of the room. Another elf, standing just by Arahaelon's left she was sure she had never seen before, although his features looked oddly familiar. His long ash colored hair was neatly pulled back from his face in long braids, hands patiently folded behind his back.
Finally, the King moved, patiently and regally walking to stand in front of his throne-like chair, lowering himself in a graceful single move, hands motioning around for others to do the same. A deaf echo of chairs being pulled back and them forward echoed through the circular room, bouncing off the tall crystal that composed the many windows.
Silence settled over the room, heavy, tense.
"I believe there is no need to waste time on introductions. I am sure everyone present is aware of the purpose of this meeting." Her father's voice travelled through the room, the steady tone she had heard only a few times: the voice of a King.
There were a couple of nods of heads, others merely remained silent, and yet every single eye was focused on the King.
"If I may, Your Majesty," A squared face brown-haired elf started, from nearly the opposite side of the table as her father, "How do you intend to proceed, given the circumstances?"
There were a couple of murmurings, a few adverted gazes.
"Evacuate everyone." Another voice called out over the whispers, the silver haired and paled eyed elf that reminded her of a specter. "The orcs will be at our walls in a matter of hours. They are already at our gates!"
"Gather the armies, post them at the gates, in the town, outside the Palace. We can stop them." A different elf jumped in.
"And why are the orcs so near our walls?" The King's voice settled a heavy silence once more, piercing ice blue eyes searching through each of the twelve faces around him. "I sent order for troops to be send to the borders the moment we had word of those creatures approaching the realm. Where are those troops? Lord Dalerion?"
The elf in question lifted his gaze, blue meeting steely gray in a long tense silence.
"The troops stayed in the Palace." The elf admitted, something about his unsmiling face, his eerily silent gaze sending shivers down her spine.
"And what, Lord Dalerion, do you presume gives you the authority to go against my own orders?" There was a dangerous edge to the King's voice, and she was sure she would have flinched had she been really present in that room.
"It is never my desire to question my King's decisions." The elf replied, midnight dark hair bushing his shoulders as he spoke. Empty words. "But with all due respect, Your Majesty, you would have been sending those warriors to their deaths."
"Is it everyone's deaths you wish for, then, Lord Dalerion?" The King hissed, seething eyes so cold they would have made even the strongest elf cower.
"You had no right to make that decision. I made the counts, arranged the strategies, the orcs were outnumbered, not us. We would have stopped them days ago!" The ash-haired elf next to Arahaelon suddenly added, patient honey colored eyes glaring at the dark haired elf across from him. But her father lifted a hand commandingly, silencing the elf before he could add anything else.
"Word from Cunir, at the border." Lord Doronor broke the tense silence, handing a neatly folded letter in the Kings direction.
Her father rose to his feet, tall and majestic, crossing the room in long strides towards a side cabinet. All eyes watched his figure, some expressions worried, some blank, other eyes calculating his every move, his every step, like a predator watching a prey that could at any moment turn deadly. She watched the King retrieving something from one of the top drawers, silently making his way back towards the table, sitting down in complete silence.
Only the rackling of the four fires resonated inside the chamber, all eyes following the King's hands as he lifted a small letter knife towards the parchment, the hundreds of tiny gems incrusted in the pommel shimmering vividly in his hand. In a quick stroke, he cut the seal open, letting the yellowish parchment unfold before his eyes.
Her father's eyes danced over the black inked words, absently handing the letter knife in Arahaelon's direction, motioning to his son with a nod of the head to replace it in its drawer. Without protest, the Crown Prince stood up, once again playing his part expertly, using only an almost imperceptible aid of the chair's armrest for support, taking the exquisite knife and heading towards the long side cabinets.
"What news?" A different elf spoke as the King put the parchment down, one that had so far remained in complete silence. He had long waves of blond hair, eyes a pale blue, matching the equally blue silks of his robes.
"Their numbers have increased." The King said flatly, eyes once again dancing through every expectant face. "Another horde joined he first one form the west some hours ago. It seemed that now we are outnumbered."
Arahaelon had reached the cabinet, but there were no eyes to follow him, every elf's attention focused on the King. And she watched, watched what nobody else could see, her eldest brother pulling open the delicate drawer in a single move, listening as it creaked in protest, and then dropping the knife inside. It gave out a deaf thud in evidence before it was once again picked up in slender, swift fingers, sliding unnoticed inside Arahaelon's sleeve. He closed the drawer, making his silent way back to his seat.
"This could have been avoided!" Another elf jumped in suddenly, flaring eyes glaring in the direction of the grey eyed Lord Dalerion, the air growing heavier by each passing second, the fires now seeming cold.
"There was no way of knowing this would happen!" The elf in question defended himself, voice stained with venom. She could the panic, the fear, rising inside the room, the threat outside suddenly becoming much more real.
"And yet you dared disobey your orders!" A different elf this time, dressed in deep violet robes.
"Evacuate ladies and elflings. Take them to the underground caves. This changed everything." The King suddenly ordered Lord Doronor, not paying any attention to the other arguing elves, the golden haired adviser not needing to be told twice before rushing to his feet and out of the room.
And then, the King's eyes fell on the ashen haired elf sitting quietly by the Crown Prince. "Gather the warriors, have them all ready. It is too late to stop the orcs at the borders, but we can stop them from entering the Palace."
"No." The silver haired elf suddenly stood up, fear and defiance clouding his pale eyes. For a second a shocked silence reigned.
"Pardon me?" The Elvenking too rose to his feet, slowly, tall and imposing, and never before had he seemed so menacing, had he looked so deadly. For the first time she could see not only the renown ruler, but also de infamous warrior, and she knew that should the King strike, the silver haired elf would not even see it coming.
"We all know what it is the orcs seek, yet no one dares to mention it." The silver haired elf continued. "It is not the first time they have come. How many more lives will be lost fighting them? Let them come, let them take what they want."
The King's face darkened. "What are you implying?"
"You know what they want, My Lord." Lord Dalerion stood up this time, dark hair swaying eerily behind him. "Give them the Princess. It is what is best for the realm."
"What kind of treason is this?" The King hissed, inching forward like a dangerous animal. "Do not forget that it is my daughter you are talking about."
"And it is the safety of the realm we are talking about." Countered the silver haired elf.
"Send the warri-" The Elvenking started in the direction of the ashen haired elf, but another, brown-haired elf interrupted him.
"The warriors will not go." Pale brown eyes met the King's furious face, the slightly shorter elf rising also to his feet. In a single second the air had changed, silent and heavy, the eerie calm before a storm broke loose. "We are sorry it had come to this, My Lord, but tonight they will take the child. Put an end to this once and for all."
"What kind of madness is this?!" Her father seethed, and for a second she understood. She understood what her father had seemed to fear, to anticipate even before the meeting started.
"Guards!" The King suddenly yelled, but only silence answered. The guards by the doors did not move. No one stepped inside. Only a couple of faces looked around in shock, and she understood too that not every member of the council was aware of the trick that had been so perfectly planned.
"Have my decisions been so poor that it was come to this?" Her father's head cocked slightly to the side, eyeing each and every elf in the room. Yet she did not miss the King's eyes flickering in Arahaelon's direction for a split second, set on not letting him out of his sight.
But before any elf present in the room could answer, loud noises echoed outside the doors, distantly in the hallway. There was yelling, unintelligible cries, and the loud echo of metal hitting metal. She saw Arahaelon's eyes widen, the ashen haired elf next to her brother suddenly rising to his feet, alert.
"What is the meaning of this?!" The King demanded, even though the defying lords remained perfectly still, not seeming at all surprised at the noises coming from outside.
"They are here." Lord Dalerion was the one to speak.
It was impossible. She did not need any of the present elves to say it to know. And she could see the realization downing on the King's face, on the other few shocked elves. It was impossible for the orcs to have reached the Palace so quickly. Not unless there was another horde, one that had been far ahead and somehow gone unnoticed. And that had to had been let inside.
The King moved, taking a swift step towards the doors, but in a split second the brown haired elf was in front of him, blocking his way. It took a blink of an eye, and suddenly, before she could even anticipate it, swords were out of sheaths.
Shock wracked her figure, or would have had she been there. The lords were armed. That alone was considered treason, she knew it. No one, no matter their rank, was allowed to carry weapons in the presence of the King, except for the royal guard. But her father had thought that would be the case, he had somehow known it, suspected it. His own long sword came out of its hiding place, shimmering in silver under the orange light, a few eyes widening in fear. So the lords had not expected their King to be armed as well. She could read their hesitation, their sudden terror. None would dare be the first to test their King's skills with the blade.
Only two elves were unarmed, still standing frozen around the table, eyes wide in shock: One with dark blond hair and hazel eyes that had not said a word the entire night, and the other the ash-haired elf standing next to Arahaelon. So they had not known. Whatever plot, whatever schemes had been planned for that event, those two had not taken part.
"We cannot allow you to leave this room, Your Majesty." The elf with the olive green eyes and long face broke the silence, his face almost apologetic, and for a second she doubted if he truly meant ill to her father, or if it was his fear what was taking control of his choices. "For your safety."
"For my safety." The King chuckled coldly, the sound making a few of the elves shiver in return. "Should I feel honored that you worry for my well-being, Lord Eristion? Tell me, have you lost your senses!? Have none of you fought orcs before?! Known their ways?! They will strike anything and anyone on their paths! Regardless of who they are! They do not simply come, take something and leave! You have risked every single life in the realm!"
Suddenly, her father moved again, rushing towards the doors, only to be met by the dark haired elf, Lord Dalerion, who seemed to be the only one brave enough to meet his sword. Metal hit metal fiercely, the other armed elves jumping in turn to surround the King. She saw the unarmed blond haired elf suddenly jumping to, dutifully stepping in front of his King, even though he had no means to defend himself.
And then Arahaelon moved. No one had been looking at him, no one had even payed attention to his figure, sitting quietly still at the round table. So the King's strategy had worked, and the Crown Prince had been underestimated, none of the elves seeming it important to even keep an eye on him. Her eldest brother dashed towards the doors, rounding the table so quickly that the other elves barely even saw it.
Yells erupted in the room, a couple of elves turning around swiftly, trying to catch up the Crown Prince. And then everything moved too fast, the King attempting to reach the doors again, only to be stopped by a swing of a blade. The fighting outside had grown louder, and the sudden echo of breaking glass somewhere out in the hallway made her nearly jump in surprise.
Arahaelon nearly made it, almost there, reaching the doors, but a hand grasped the back of his silver robes violently, pulling him back. The Crown Prince ducked just in time as a sword swung dangerously close to his head, his emerald eyes widening at the attack. And she would have cried out had she been able to. The blow had been a mortal one, had it reached its target.
The elf stroke again, but her brother was faster, quickly moving aside and pulling out the letter knife from its hiding place inside his sleeve. It was not much, it would do little against the strength of a sword, and it was too short to allow Arahaelon to reach his opponent without getting dangerously close, but it was better than nothing.
The sword swung again, but once more Arahaelon easily evaded it, jumping to the left just as the long blade landed fiercely on the wooden bookshelf behind, heavy tomes flying to the ground in a heap. But another elf came to aid the first one, sword narrowly missing Arahaelon's left shoulder by inches.
In the distance, she could see the King facing six elves on his own, desperate, yet failing, to come to his eldest son's aid. But Arahaelon was managing. The two elves facing him were stronger, yet the Crown Prince was faster, each move so quick, so sure, and at the same time unpredictable. It was impossible to guess which way he would turn, where he would jump. But with his eyes busy following the moves of his two opponents, he could not see the third elf, suddenly coming from his left.
A sword stopped the blow, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. The ash-haired elf swinging the blade he had managed to take from a fellow lord just in time, pushing away the new attacker and succeeding in knocking one of the tow elves hard in the head with the hilt of the sword, when he had not even seen it coming. It opened a window, a short one, but that was all Arahaelon needed. For a second the ash-haired elf had managed to clear the way towards the doors.
"Get out, My Lord!" The lord suddenly whispered in a rush, his honey colored eyes gazing urgently at the Crown Prince, nodding towards the doors. He pressed the sword to Arahaelon's hands, surrendering his only weapon to the Prince, not letting go until her brother's fingers had curled securely around the silver pommel, taking the tiny letter knife instead. A much poorer weapon.
Then, the lord leaned closer to the Crown Prince, honey colored eyes pleading almost desperately. She knew that any second now another elf would notice the Prince's free way towards the door, and would come stopping his exit.
Her eldest brother nodded his head once and in that moment she understood. The ashen haired lord would not leave that room if his King was still inside. He would do his duty, even if it cost him his life. And Arahaelon ran, his legs moving swiftly, before anyone could catch up with him, pushing the doors open as yells and cries echoed behind him…
The hallway outside momentarily made him stop in his tracks, fierce emerald eyes suddenly widening at the sight. Bodies lingered on the stone floor, both elves and orcs alike, pooling over shards of still sharp glass from the many broken windows. A black blade nearly hit his side, the Crown Prince's expert reflexes making him turn just in time, cutting off a grey slimy arm in a single sure stroke. The orc gave out of loud wail of pain, baring its yellow teeth before it lurched again, only for his chest to meet the end of the Crown Prince's long sword.
More were coming. She could hear the high-pitched cries as they grew closer by the second. Her brother's emerald eyes darted quickly through the hallway, always alert, ready. He discarded his outer robes, the expensively embroidered fabric falling in a heap by his feel, quickly drenching in the blood soaked floor. It would be useless, she knew, it would only slow him down. Instead, he was left only in his formal inner tunic and breeches, as silver as the outer robes had been.
The Crown Prince did not wait a single second more, not sparing any valuable time, once again dashing through the hallways he seemed to know by memory. Desperate cries filled the now woken Palace, not a trace of the peaceful darkness that had ruled the corridors hours ago remained. More elves appeared in her vision, wielding swords and bows, and knives and daggers, and whatever it was they had been able to grab in order to defend themselves. There were servants too, and maids, running and crying out in fright, crouching behind columns as if not to be found.
The air exploded to his right, a noise so loud it almost left her deaf suddenly booming over the hallway. The ground shook, the right-most wall of the corridor suddenly collapsing in a heap of stone. Cries filled the air, elves running away just in time to evade the falling debris, other not lucky enough to escape. Arahaelon's traveled to cover his head, shielding himself from the smaller stones that flew his way, shocked forest green eyes glancing at the wide hole now open on the Palace's wall.
"They have catapults!" An elf yelled, a guard, judging by his golden armor. "Your Highness! Your Highness, this way!"
A servant was at Arahaelon's side in an instant, seeming to be the first elf in the infernal corridor to notice his presence.
"They are inside!" The servant kept yelling, his face still rounded with youth, eyes as baby blue as a clear morning sky. "They have breached the walls! They are everywhere! You need to get to safety, my Lord!"
It made her heart ache, the young elf's desperate attempt to do anything in his power to protect his Crown Prince, even though even she could tell that Arahaelon had far more skill, more practice in battle than the servant.
"Lead them down." Arahaelon instructed the young elf, nodding his head in the direction of a pair of maids crouching down beside the fallen wall. "To the underground caves."
And then the Crown Prince was moving again, leaving the desperate cries of the servant behind him. He turned a corner, only for an arrow to narrowly miss his left eye. A twisted blade collided with his sword, Arahaelon jumping to the side in a graceful move, the orc momentarily losing his balance. But there was another one on top of him in a second, swing a heavy mace that her brother narrowly escaped. But the two orcs were no match for him, quickly striking one on the side and taking the head off the second without a moment of hesitation.
"Ar! AR!" a familiar voice reached her ears over the screams and loud cries, her brother's head turning around desperately in the direction of the sound.
Tadion was there. She could see his figure, running among the chaos of panicked elves, his long golden hair loose on his back, dressed in nothing but a plain dark blue tunic. There was a long sword on his right hand, dripping black blood onto the stone floor.
"Tadion!" The Crown Prince was at his younger brother's side in the blink of an eye, emerald eyes scanning around the chaos that surrounded them, alert to any danger that could come their way: always the eldest brother.
"Where is Lossenel?!" Arahaelon nearly had to scream for his voice to be heard among the commotion. Something rocked the ground once more, the drumming sound of another distant wall collapsing wracking the crystals of the nearby windows.
"I do not know!" Tadion shook his head, debris falling out of his golden hair.
"Nana?! Leagolas?! Alamrëa?!" Arahaelon pressed further, brow creasing in worry as Tadion shook his head once more.
"I do not know! I have not seen them! I was not in my chambers!" The younger elf explained, "Where is Ada?! I heard the Council Room has been blocked! How did you get out?!"
"Ada is safe!" The Crown Prince replied quickly, even though she could tell Tadion did not seem to believe him. An arrow flew their way, the eldest brother managing to pull Tadion to the floor just in time to avoid being hit.
Frantic cries of panic echoed around them, a couple of elves running from the sudden threat upon them nearly trampling their figures, a boot kicking Arahaelon hard on the cheek as the elf ran away.
"Where is Ada?!" Tadion demanded again, rising to his feet for his sword to slice through a nearby orc's chest, splattering black blood on the nearby wall. The orcs were once again upon them, closing in, the Crown Prince barely having time to rise from the floor before having to duck again.
"Ada is safe!" Arahaelon repeated, swinging his sword at the nearest orc, watching its lifeless body drop to the ground. She could see the Crown Prince trying to get closer to Tadion, who kept moving away from him in the chaos of the battle, but the many twisted blades and curved daggers that swung his way made it almost impossible.
"Tadion! Ada is safe!" Her eldest brother kept yelling, cutting through yet another orc who got dangerously close to him.
"He needs help!" The younger elf replied stubbornly, heading away in the fight, the Crown Prince's desperate attempts to reach him being all in vain.
"Tadion!" She could hear Arahaelon crying out, running towards his younger brother distancing figure, but an orc suddenly jumped in front of him, a heavy blow forcing the elf's arm to the side, narrowly missing his wrist. She heard Arahaelon cursing under his breath, meeting the new opponent without hesitation, even though his eyes kept glancing at Tadion's ever distancing back. "Tadion! Come back! You need to get to safety! TADION! TADION!"
But it was no use, the younger elf had already disappeared through the fighting, running and screaming crowd. The foul creatures head dropped to the floor, the Crown Prince panting for a second to catch his breath. Forest green eyes darted to left and right, searching through the crowd, but Tadion could no longer be seen.
He kept moving, and for the first time she noticed that her brother seemed to be heading against the chaotic crowds, going up towards higher levels of the Palace, when everyone else seemed in a desperate attempt to get down. A few elves collided against him, not even turning to look who they trampled over, others only muttering quick apologies before continuing this desperate runs down the long corridors. More portions of the Palace had collapsed, opening holes on the walls, entire corridors blocked by fallen stone.
"Your Highness!" a few guards who spotted him cried out I his direction, hands curling against his arms, attempting to pull him to safety, to lead him down along with the masses. "You need to head to safety, My Lord!"
"No! Let go!" Arahaelon had to shake himself free from the many hands desperately trying to get him out of the fighting.
He turned left on the next corridor, barely jumping over the pile of fallen stone that covered the floor. Dust filled the air, making him blink a couple of times in attempt to see through the ashen clouds. It was silent here, the cries and yells now left behind in the main hallways. A door was half-way open, the ornately carved wood fallen form its hinges to the side, resting over what had once been a column.
He heard the swooshing of the air before he saw it, moving his head aside just in time as a twisted knife flew past his right, incrusting in the wall before him, cutting loose a single strand of his silvery hair. His fingers picked the blade, throwing it back without even needing to see, turning around in time to catch sigh of it meeting the orc between his eyes. The creature fell backwards, not even letting out a cry of surprise, its clumsy stinking body dropping over the stone with a loud sound.
He had to climb over the ruins of the fallen column in order to continue his march, and she could see sharp shards of stone incrusting in his hands, cutting his palms open in many places, but he did not seem to notice. She lost track of how many times he turned, how many corridors he crossed, how many stairs he climbed.
"LOSSENEL!" Her eldest brother cried out, feet moving as fast as they could, rounding a corner into yet another corridor. But this corridor she knew all too well. It almost looked the same, even long years later. "LEGOLAS!"
The darkness was consuming, drowning, the air too still. There was nobody around, nothing moved, nothing stirred. It was as though the fighting, the chaos that had taken grasp of the entire Palace had not even reached this wing yet. Everything looked flawless, untouched, the five ornate doors carefully closed.
He pushed open the first door to the left, so hard that for a moment she thought the door would fall off from its frame. It hit the side wall with a loud bang, bouncing slightly in protest.
"Lossenel!" Her eldest brother cried out, halfway stepping into the room, emerald eyes searching frantically through the ample night-lit space. But the room was empty, the bed unmade, a few pillows thrown haphazardly on the pale marble floor.
But the Crown Prince kept going, not even bothering to close the door, hurrying on agile legs to the next one. His hands pushed the wooden panel open as hard as the first one, stepping into another room.
"Legolas!" He yelled into the darkness, but his voice was once again answered by silence. The long deep blue curtains swayed languidly by the open balcony. There were toys laying on the floor, along with a pale blue baby blanket which must have fallen from the bed at some point during the night.
The Crown Prince let out a curse, eyes closing slightly in exasperation, running to the next to door. This time he did not yell, did not even bother to cry out, his legs rushing inside the third dark room. He stopped by a large ornate crib, resting his hands on the delicate railings, forest green eyes glancing almost defeated at the empty nest of blankets inside. It too was empty. He let out a frustrated sigh, his left foot kicking at the cribs legs in despair, turning around to exit the room.
A frail whimper made him stop, head flying back over his shoulder. At first she could not see through the darkness, following the line of her eldest brother's gaze as he slowly made his way to one corner of the room. But then she saw it, a pair of large tear filled eyes, staring widely at the Crown Prince. The elfling was crouched on the floor, her fragile body pressed against the side of a wooden dresser, as if making herself smaller. She could see her shaking, little bony fingers gripping at the wood as if it could shield her from any danger that came her way.
"Lhenes?" The Crown Prince lowered himself slowly, in order to be at her eye-level. He seemed to recognize the elfling immediately, his eyes scanning around the room in search of anyone else that may be present, but there was nobody else.
The elfling let out another frightened whimper, nodding her shaking head at the mention of her name, wide terrified eyes not departing from her eldest brother, yet not moving closer. Her heart ached, she could feel it sinking deeply inside her stomach, her body heavy as lead. She knew the child, knew the elfling, except that she was older now, grown, her features no longer rounder and soft, her eyes not so frightened or terrified as she brushed her hair and incrusted tiny jewels into her braids. It was one of her maids.
"Where is your mother?" The Crown Prince asked, his voice soothing, perfectly reading the shock and horror that filled the elfling's face. "Where is Sidhel?"
The child shook her head for an answer, shrugging her little shoulders.
"Where is everyone?" Her eldest brother continued, his face, his posture all exuding an air of calmness that slowly seemed to be easing the child, fat tears still streaming down her face.
"I don't know." The words that left the small mouth were as frail as the little body, barely more than a whisper, large eyes fixed on Arahaelon's face.
"The guards were here, they were yelling, and then everyone ran." A tiny pale finger pointed towards the door, still half-way opened. "I was not supposed to be here. Nana will be angry. I was told to stay in bed, but I wanted to play with the doll. I know I should not play with it, it's not mine. Please don't be angry."
"I am not angry." Arahaelon shook his head, his eyes scanning through the many toys lying on the floor. "Which doll did you want?"
A bony short fingers stretched as an answer, pointing at a set of rags lying not too far from them, by the unused bed. Her brother's hand reached for it swiftly, slender fingers curling around what she could now tell was a pale pink dress over stuffed legs, arms and a smiling face, offering the toy in the elfling's direction, who accepted it with hesitation.
"It is not mine." The child shook her head, eyes widening in alarm, clearly scared that the Crown Prince though she was taking stealing something from the room.
"Almarëa will not miss it." Her eldest brother soothed, watching as she child slowly, tentatively pressed the offered toy into her chest. "Now come, we need to get out of here, it is not safe."
With a last sniffle the elfling's little arms curled around the Crown Prince's neck, allowing herself to be picked up in safe arms, her eldest brother leaving the room with the same speed with which he had come in. Outside the royal wing, the noises of the fighting were louder than before, the elfling clinging harder around the Prince's neck, a couple of guards suddenly running past them, their swords raised high.
Arahaelon turned right, sliding into another corridor, narrowly missing a couple of elves that almost ran into him. There were screams, yells, some of pain, some trying desperately to reach or find a loved one in the chaos.
"GALION!" Her eldest brother's voice roared over the noise, a golden haired elf not too far away suddenly turning around, pale blue eyes widening instantly at the sight of the Prince.
"My Lord!" The butler reached their side, not even questioning or complaining as Arahaelon transferred the crying elfling to the other elf's waiting arms, the child crying once loudly in protest.
"Take her downstairs." Was all the Crown Prince said, his voice rushed, frantically gazing around them in alarm. There was no time to be stopping to chat in the middle of the corridor. The ground shook again, dust falling from the high ceiling above. Another wall had fallen somewhere close? Perhaps, there was no way to tell. "Where is my mother? Legolas? Lossenel? Almarëa?"
"Princess Lossenel is safe." The butler replied with the same urgency, readjusting the child onto his left arm, so he could keep his right hand free, where she could see a long sword lay safely held. "I took her downstairs myself. She is in the caves. The rest I do not know. I was heading back to retrieve them, Your Highness."
"There is no one up there." Arahaelon shook his head, pushing himself and the butler to the side just in time to avoid another stray arrow that suddenly flew their way. "It is empty. Head downstairs. Get to safety."
"Yes, Your Highness." With one last nod of his blond hair, the butlers se to run down the hallway, the crying elfling still perched to his chest, disappearing through the crowd.
The number of bodies lining the floors had double, the sight twisting her stomach, freezing her blood. There were so many, elves and orcs alike, those still alive running in such panic that they stepped over their fallen kin without so much a second notice, desperate to escape what was now a sure death in the falling and tarnished corridors.
The Crown Prince turned left, easily evading others, swinging his sword left and right as was needed in order to strike the orcs that crossed his path. A heavy weight landed on his back, from behind, sending him tumbling down the corridor, slamming against a pile of fallen stone. Black claws reached for his face, swigging a curved rotting blade too close to his neck. Arahaelon struggled, hands pushing the foul creature attempting to keep it as distant as he could. He managed a kick, taking his opportunity to roll over and away from the claws, which succeeded only in slashing through his upper arm before her brother's sword sliced through the creature's chest.
He barely had time to rise to his feet before a knee suddenly slammed against the side of his face, the running guard not even looking back to see. He struggled to his feet, narrowly avoided being trampled over at least three or four more times, rushing down more corridors, down many more stairs.
"Arahaelon!" A voice shouted through the crowd, her brother's eyes widening in sudden relief, running faster in its direction.
The Queen was there. She could see her, her golden locks flying messily at her back, still adorned with tiny jewels that had started to fall off her braids. The deep blue velvet of her night robes clung to her feet as she moved, the hem stained in dust and blood that covered the floors. Her right hand held tightly to the tiny hand of a crying elfling, pulling him along with her as his tiny feet struggled to catch up with her long strides. The elfling's large sky blue eyes looked left and right in fright, crystal tears stained by ashes running down his soft cheeks, his wails muted by the loud noises of the fierce battle that filled the Palace.
The Queen's other hand held tightly to the fragile form of a baby, pressed securely against her chest, using a white silk blanket as only means of protection from the harsh air.
Immediately, Arahaelon picked up his youngest brother in his strong arms, Legolas wrapping his tiny pair of arms tightly around the Crown Prince's neck. Her eldest brother glanced quickly around them, his silvery hair sticking to the side of his face, covered in ashes and dust. He wrapped his free arm around the Queen, guiding them to a side corridor, reassuming their run.
Legolas kept wailing, terrified, his face now buried in Arahaelon's shoulder, their strands of hair mixing together.
"Where are Lossenel and Tadion?!" The Queen suddenly yelled, needing to raise her voice for it to be heard among the shouts and echoes of meeting swords and daggers.
"Lossenel is safe!" Was all the answer she got, Arahaelon abruptly pushing them all to the ground just in time as a large rock broke through a tall crystal window, sending shards of glass flying in every direction.
A surprised cry escaped the Queen's lips as shattered crystal rained over them, some of them cutting through their skin. One of the large pieces sliced open a cut just before the Crown Prince's right ear, but he did not seem to take notice. Legolas wailed louder, tiny fingers gripping tighter to his eldest brother's neck, leaving pink scratches.
"It is all right, Legolas." The Queen soothed the crying elfling, her eyes shooting up to meet her first-born's equally green onces.
"Where is Tadion?!" She repeated, desperate for an answer that had not yet been given to her, letting Arahaelon pull her to her feet. Her voice betrayed her worry, her fear, emerald eyes pleading her son for an answer. "Where is your brother?!"
"I do not know!" The Crown Prince admitted, once again rushing down unrecognizable corridors. "He ran upstairs; I was going after him!"
More of the walls had tumbled down, some of the staircases now completely blocked. The sounds of the fighting were closer to them now, making it impossible to know where it was safe to run. There was no time to waste. Another group of elves warriors ran past them, swords ready in their hands.
"The King is still in the Council Room! All entrances have been blocked!" She could hear one the warriors informing his companions as they disappeared through the crowd of running figures.
"Nana, Ada is safe!" Not entirely the truth, but it was not a lie. Arahaelon's free hand urged the Queen to go forward, the latter's attention having being stolen by the warrior's words.
"My Lady!" A tall blond elf still dressed in his day robes suddenly grabbed the Queen's arm, pulling her to the left and through an open doorway. "This way! A wall collapsed some feet ahead, if you keep going you will find nothing but a dead end!"
The elf guided them through the door, leading the Queen down the first few spiraling steps of what could only be one of the servant's stairs. The golden haired lady stopped a few steps in, turning around to look behind her as a running maid suddenly stopped by them.
"Sidhel! This way!" The Queen yelled, Arahaelon carefully handing the crying Legolas into the maids extended arms. The child was quick to shift his grip, releasing his eldest brother and allowing himself to be carried by the familiar maid, who was now descending the spiraling stone steps at a fast pace.
"Your Highness!" Another group of guards shouted as they appeared down the corridor, their customary golden armor dulled with dust and dented at places. They stopped by the Crown Prince, the latter turning quickly in their direction, raising his sword more steadily in his hand.
"Your Majesty, keep going!" The blond elf at the door urged the Queen, Sidhel's hand reaching for hers, pulling the lady down a couple of more steps in a hurry. But the Queen resisted, turning her head to glance at her eldest son, the Crown Prince still standing by the doorway, showing no intention of heading down.
"My son!" The Queen yelled desperately, eyes glancing over her shoulder s Sidhel continued to pull her down, to get her to safety. "Arahaelon!"
"I have to find Tadion!" He shouted, throwing his mother one last glance before turning on his heels, following the group of guards that had been waiting for him, determined to follow their Prince wherever he led them.
He managed to turn right, more breaking glass raining over his head, his feet climbing over crumbling steps two at a time.
"My Lord! All accesses to the Council Room have been blocked!" One of the guards suddenly shouted, seeming to have guessed the direction in which his Prince was headed, but her brother did not bother to reply, turning left on another hallway, using his sword to slice off the head of a stray orc that lurched at him.
The air exploded, a flash of light suddenly covering the entire view, blinding everything out, a force so powerful sending the Crown Prince and the guards rolling backwards, muting every sound, shaking walls and floors, the wind howling outside, the forest roaring…..It was the King.
Hi there!
I know it has been a long time, but here is the first part of the memory. This chapter will have two parts since it is already too long and I really didn't want to shorten it by cutting pieces out in order to have it fit in a single chapter.
I hope you enjoy it!
Love,
Elena