"How many encounters with the goblins did you record from your latest deployment?"
"Five, Your Majesty; and we anticipate increasing conflicts of this nature to come."
Oropher tightened his grip on the armrests of his chair and squared his jaw. He sat against the velvet backrest in solemnity and silence, the evergreen crown of Eryn Galen upon his hair of pale gold, and allowed the captain of his largest patrol unit to continue the report.
"Incidents continue to rise despite reinforcement of the southern stations, Your Majesty. Structurally the goblins are improving their presence, as well as by their sheer number; when once we saw nothing more than scanty firepits and shallow dirt-beds on the forest floor, now we are discovering wooden shelters, modified caves, and evidence of weapon hordes. This," said Captain Tauranor as he raised a blade of Elven provenance, its elegant metalwork radiating in the candlelight and revealing muddy prints left by bloated goblin fingers, "was found inside a cave on the far side of Amon Lanc after we rid it of occupants. They have clearly found some success already to be in possession of such items."
Oropher's eyes darkened. He had feared this news greatly. Dark whisperings had been spreading through the southerly region of the Woodland Realm for years, this was no secret. Sightings of goblins and other creatures with sinister allegiances had grown steadily of late, as documented by the written records of his military units. The Elvenking had made no hesitation in responding, firstly by increasing the number of units patrolling the southern forest, and then by ordering permanent stations of skilled marksmen near the abandoned capital of Amon Lanc to quell any threats before they could spread further north to where the Wood-elves now resided; their tactic changed from defensive to offensive to actively seek out and deal with their enemy. By all logic, these measures had comprised an appropriate response.
And yet they were not enough.
He stared with such coldness at the recovered weapon hanging limply in the captain's grasp that Tauranor could swear it began to chill in his hand. It was fortunately not of Wood-elf make, but it was evidence that the trolls had not only entered Elven territory but also gained the upper hand and ransacked their unfortunate target. Added to the growing presence of orcs at the Western border, this was cause for much concern.
The Elvenking's face remained fixed and stony, and as he let the breath within his lungs release slowly into the air of his study, before he looked at his captain and spoke again. "It is troubling indeed, particularly after all the actions we have taken to smite such creatures from our realm." Though his words were spoken softly, the king's deep voice permeated the room, reaching and resounding from every wall. "You and I both know, Tauranor, that all our units save for the Home Guard are fully engaged in the task of suppressing those creatures. None are on standby. And I see little more that can be done in terms of reinforcing our military, for they are well-armed and well-trained for that task."
The captain agreed, and during his recent deployment he had realised that the issue was something far more sinister. There was a change in the behaviour of those loathsome creatures, a rising audacity that led them to encroach deeper into the forest with no apparent fear of Elven forces. It was unnerving beyond words. "The goblins have no intention of leaving, not now," he revealed. "I sense that they have been bestowed with confidence by a greater power."
Oropher knew to which unnamed power his captain referred. A silent exchange passed between them, their eyes locking in mutual apprehension. "Sauron," the king said at last, the very name tasting bitter on his tongue, "is growing restless for power, and the tendrils of Mordor seek to take it. The agents of his plan have unwittingly exposed his full intent for conquest." The enemy's forays into the Woodland Realm were no longer haphazard as they had once appeared to be. There was sure strategy behind the goblins' movement, whether the frail minds of those beasts knowingly engaged in it or not. They flowed from a source, trickling on a course through the fair woods like a dark stream.
"It would henceforth be a fool's wish for the goblin packs to be eradicated from our forest for good," he muttered, rising from the ornate wooden chair to stand at his towering full height. "As you say, their numbers have only replenished and grown despite our defences, and will continue to be fed by the black spring of Mordor." Oropher gazed at a flickering candle on his desk as if he were looking into a reflection of his own burning blood. He would never resign himself to defeat. He would never allow the powers of Mordor to threaten his people: the Silvans who had melded together from scattered groups to take him as their leader, and the Sindar who had faithfully journeyed with him from the ruins of Doriath. The king looked back at the captain who was fresh from his station near Amon Lanc, clad in full military attire and a quiver half-depleted of arrows. Clasping his hands behind his back, the Elvenking approached the other elf slowly, his gait heavy with the weight of ill news. Though Tauranor had known the king for many centuries, he shifted under Oropher's mighty presence as he drew nearer, for the Elvenking was unrivalled in stature and bore an indomitable regal countenance.
"I shall assemble Council tomorrow to determine whether a portion of our Home Guard should be sacrificed to the patrol stations. Your experienced judgment will be called upon to make an informed decision, along with that of your fellow captains," announced Oropher, thinking on his feet.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the other elf bowed loyally as both a captain and a friend.
"Yet that strategy will only buy us time." The Elvenking began to pace slowly, his brow deeply furrowed and his eyes distracted by unseen thoughts, his green velvet robe sweeping across the floor behind him. "Our position in Emyn Duir is no longer favourable, Captain Tauranor. The mountain range provides many advantages, but in return it renders our location exposed and familiar to our enemies. When I brought us here, centuries ago, the advantages outweighed the caveats. But times have regrettably changed."
"You speak of moving our capital again," Tauranor stated grimly.
"Yes," replied Oropher, "to where malevolent eyes cannot reach us."
"Forgive me, Sire, but our people surely grow weary of moving. We cannot live the life of nomads forever. I thought that we had found our home at last in these mountains." He did not intend to cross his king; it was out of concern for them all that the captain voiced his sentiment.
"Home?" Oropher's head turned sharply. "The threats in the southern realm do not shrink for long under our assaults, as you have told me in your own words. If we do not devise a long-term strategy against the shadow that spreads from Mordor, then we shall never be able to call this realm our home." He had moved his people no less than three times to find stability, uprooted time and again by the dual threats of hostile Dwarves and hulking goblins. Oropher was nothing if not proud - it was a notorious characteristic of the Sindar, though he bore it in greater quantity than most - and as a proud ruler, his deepest wish was to forge a kingdom of permanence within their vast forest. "Would that our kingdom was buried within the mountain rock, or better yet, beneath the forest floor, where it might be hidden from plain sight," he whispered to himself.
"And bring us peace at last," the captain murmured, and his words were swallowed by a brief silence.
"Have you any more information to relay?" asked the king, looking squarely at the other elf standing between himself and the door.
"No, Your Majesty, though I shall inform you immediately should any new developments arise."
"Very well. You may take leave now, Captain Tauranor, until tomorrow." Oropher said no more and nodded his head, permitting the officer to exit his study. Tauranor obliged with another bow and departed, closing the door carefully behind him.
The Elvenking returned to his desk and retrieved a pile of written records, amassed from his patrol units, out of a drawer. Each had been personally delivered into his hands by the very captains who had led the action. He unwound the ribbon ties that bound the papers together and flicked through them to fiercely scrutinise their contents. The summaries spanned five years of military activity, giving details of every sighting, encounter, kill, raid – details that he had almost memorised by heart by now. The Woodland Realm had fought hard.
But it was not enough.
Oropher set the papers down, clenching his free hand first and then his teeth. "By the Valar, Eryn Galen will show the dark powers what we are made of," he seethed, wishing only that the powers he spoke of could hear him and cower.
End note: Well, it's been a few years since I wrote anything for this site, but I'm returning to Middle Earth after a long absence and giving fanfiction another go. I also want to show my gratitude somehow for all the support and suggestions I've received from you over the years. This is my interpretation of events based on what I could put together from sources plus a bit of creative licence. I hope you enjoy it, and happy 2023 - and thank you for reading!