Thranduil had traversed half of the dark staircase when raised voices echoed dimly from below. He immediately recognized the voices of Arvuil and Unngo and stopped. In the humid air, he could hear every breath being drawn around him as his group waited.
"What is it, my lord?" Tellis asked.
Thranduil held up a hand and strained to hear. Faint grunts and slightly louder thumps reached his ears, followed by small splashes of displaced water. It sounded like a boat bobbing on the lake. He knew Bard would wait as long as he was able and wondered if he could spare the time to go after his kin. He was less than certain he could retrieve any who had been sent south to the Easterling's camp, a location he had yet to discover. The fewer he lost to begin with, the better and these two were not yet out of reach.
Abruptly the king descended the stairs, breezing past his party and rounding a corner out of sight. Tellis and the rest of the elves wasted no time following him and thus the humans also went after the elvenking.
At the main entrance to the Keep, Bard tried the door and wasn't surprised when it didn't move.
"It's bolted."
He nodded to Eleros and he in turn gestured for three more of his kin to follow. They went to the tall window set high above their heads and made short work of scaling the wall and slipping the window's latch. Eleros launched himself into the room, soundlessly rolling onto the carpet. He stilled all movement and listened for an indication that he had been heard but no sign of alarm was raised. Somewhere in the Keep the voices of men laughed. Eleros flinched as sudden anger began to burn in his chest.
Satisfied no one had detected his entry; he went back to the window and beckoned his kinsmen inside. The door leading from the room was closed and Eleros peered through a tiny crack to the hallway beyond. One man patrolled the corridor, meandering slowly. He sometimes stopped out of sight at the far end and asked if it was his turn to play a hand.
When the man passed the door again, Eleros quickly and silently swung it open and pressed his kin back and then palmed a small blade. They retreated into the room and held themselves against the wall, waiting. The guard stopped to regard the open door and the elves could see his shadow tilt its head.
Slowly he stepped into the entryway and then hurried to look behind the door, putting his back to Eleros. The elf slipped up behind him, clamped a hand around his mouth and punctured the soft area of his neck where his pulse throbbed. The man howled in pain into Eleros's palm. Blood sprayed the wall and a red river gushed steadily down the man's front. The Quickstrider hauled him backwards to set him down in the corner, out of sight of the door. He was dead before they reached the shadows.
The rest of the elves picked the body of all weapons, scrolls, and any other items of use before finally heading out to the hallway.
Thranduil stopped just before the staircase opened onto the dock when firelight danced in a shifting cascade over the doorway. He waited for it to subside before peering around the wall. In the cavern beyond, a wide short platform spread out before him, piled with crates. Two longboats were tethered to it. The boats were for transporting crates from larger ships to smaller docks and the elves were sat in the middle of the humans crammed into the vessels. More humans stood on the dock, their wrists and ankles were tightly bound and they were lashed together in a line. Four Easterlings stood sentinel over the passengers in each boat while ten guarded the proceedings and two patrolled the dock with a torch in hand.
Thranduil looked back to his group to confer upon the situation.
"How well does sound travel to the Keep?"
One of the men scoffed. "It doesn't. The cavern is too large and there is a level beneath the floor where heavy arms are stored. Between that and the insulation, the only sound that might be heard through the floor is a ship crashing into the dock."
"That is favorable, indeed," Tellis replied hopefully.
The odds of freeing their people without casualties were less favorable. No one seemed to find that a problem as they all wanted a chance to finally strike back at the invading tribesmen and they all asserted that their people would rather die fighting than be carted off as slaves.
The king sent four of his kin out first and they used crates for cover until they each had a chance to make a silent dash for a support beam and scaled the pillars, disappearing into the pitch black rafters. Humans armed with swords were paired with elves armed with bows and they went out next, tucking behind the same crates the others had.
The Easterlings continued loading people into the boats, occasionally shoving someone or threatening to slash a throat. At times they would stop and scrutinize the dock. Thranduil knew they would have to act soon.
When he was satisfied with the area his people now covered, Thranduil stepped through the doorway. Once the occupants of the boat noticed him, eyes going round, he cleared his throat. All activity on the dock halted. The Easterlings gawked for a moment but recovered quickly.
They dove into offensive positions and brandished their weapons. "Stay where you are!"
"I have no intention of leaving," Thranduil said smoothly.
The black clad men exchanged glances and gazed around suspiciously.
"He can't have come alone! Check the dock!"
"By all means," Thranduil replied, gesturing amiably.
The approaching men hesitated and stared back at their leader.
"What do you want?" The man in charge asked.
"Your life," Thranduil said without missing a beat. "Their lives," he nodded toward the Easterlings assembled, "And the freedom of the people you are attempting to capture." The mention of this sent ripples of whispers and furtive glances between the bound would-be slaves.
The entire dock went silent save for the sound of the water. Then the leader barked with laughter and his brothers joined him.
While they chuckled, the king stared across the distance to his captured kin and bored them with a meaningful stare.
"Return to me."
Movement exploded from Unngo's and Arvuil's boat as they shoved the distracted Easterlings standing before them into the black icy water. A half second later, the captives in the second boat followed suit. Arrows rained from the shadows above and more eastern men fell to the planks. Men and elves erupted up over crates, taking down opponents before they could nock their own volley of arrows and an immediate dog fight ensued.
Though bound, most of the people of Esgaroth made the leap from the boats to the docks and those who didn't were assisted by the rest. They scrambled for blades and hastily cut their bonds. Most fled to the staircase but some took up a discarded weapon and joined the fight. The leader spun around in shock and stumbled back before remembering who was behind him. He pivoted again only to dart away from a swipe made by Tellis.
Thranduil spotted an Easterling clinging to the outside of a boat, aiming his bow toward the advisor. He dove between the arrow and its target, cutting it from the air before it could strike Tellis in the back. Seeing this, one of his archers pinned the man's arm down with an arrow and another elf hopped into the boat to separate the man's head from his shoulders.
The whirlwind of battle swallowed the king whole and he danced from blade to blade, shifting his weight for a stab and then pushing away to slash at someone new, never remaining in place long enough to be struck. Movement was much easier without his armor but he would have preferred to have it as his only defense now was to not be wounded. The weapon he held was an elvish short sword and though it was very elegant, he found its balance wasn't as keen as he liked. The hilt was shorter and lighter than he was accustomed to and the overall length was just short enough to require he rethink his reach. The blade was wider, clumsier and his offensives required more consideration instead of being executed as but a mere thought of his own movement. It wasn't his blade. It was still adequate, however.
He had just pushed a heavily armored and large opponent off of his weapon when a pained yelp drew his attention to the far side of the dock. There he saw one of his archers, falling to his knees. Most of those who had been wounded from the previous battle at camp were given a bow and ordered to provide ranged coverage to keep them from harm's way and from being a hindrance but now, the archer was cradling a wound in his chest, trying to halt the spread of crimson. Thranduil gazed past him to see a black armored man behind him, wiping his blade. Their eyes met and the pale angular face smirked before disappearing into the shadows.
"No…" Thranduil hurried across the deck to his fallen warrior, dropping his blade as he caught the wounded elf. He was already pale from blood loss.
"My king," was all he was able to say through the red froth on his lips before going still.
Thranduil shook as he lowered him to the dock and arranged his body neatly. A warning suddenly pulled the back of his neck tight and he had to roll away from his blade to avoid a downward strike as his kin's murderer landed from the rafters. He tumbled upright and reached for his right leg, sliding Seren's long dagger free of his boot.
The pale metal rang out with a beautiful high note as it was whipped through the air and connected with his enemy's long sword. Though it was shorter than the sword he'd abandoned, it was slender and denser like his own blade, the hilt longer and heavier, the weight balance more familiar. Delighted, Thranduil snarled and hastened his movements.
When he parried the man couldn't predict his next swing and the elvenking shifted around him, cutting him but not delivering a fatal blow just yet. Thranduil allowed the man to begin to know he was being toyed with, that he was being allowed to live for a just a few moments more and anticipate his death.
When the soldier grew desperate enough to lunge carelessly, Thranduil spun away from his blade and returned with Seren's under his enemy's plate at the small of his back. He dug the weapon into the man's flesh, wincing when he screamed, and severed his spine before kicking him off the dock. The weight of his armor and his useless legs dragged him under the surface, never to return.
Thranduil returned his attention the main battle, dismayed at the sight. Blood painted the deck with slick and everywhere Easterlings were falling, though humans could also be spotted here and there among the bodies. The archer he'd avenged wasn't the only one of his kin to fall, however. Unngo lay among the dead. Another elf, a young warrior barely into adulthood, lay at the center of a circle of dead Easterlings. Tellis favored his side as he danced with another and a sash of red decorated the right side of his waist.
Thranduil strode over to them and took Tellis's place, making quick work of the man when he stabbed him in the throat. Tellis sat on a crate and watched the various scuffles going on around them while Thranduil assessed the wound in his side.
"I do not see the color of Dragon's Heart in the wound."
Tellis nodded. "It is merely a cut, my lord – several stitches should be all I require." The tall elf, breathed heavily and the shock-induced waxy sheen of sweat appeared.
The king straightened and went to the staircase where non essentials had been left before the battle began. Most of the women and children had remained there. Many likely had husbands, sons or brothers who chose to fight, he realized. Some tried to ask questions but he held up a hand and plucked the satchel Seren had given him from a woman who had been rummaging through it. A moment later she followed him back into the cavern.
He surveyed the remnants of the fighting as he returned to Tellis. The last of the Easterlings offered to surrender but neither human nor elf accepted it and the final weapon strikes left the last of their opponents dead on the dock.
Tellis groaned when he was gently pushed onto his side and Thranduil pulled his over coat open to get a better look at the gash through the white shirt. He pulled linen bandages from the satchel and found a flask of Ceridwen's healing balm.
"It is very deep. You will need a healer for this," Thranduil said as he cleaned the wound.
"Allow me," the human woman offered. "As a healer of Esgaroth, I have experience with closing cuts such as this."
Thranduil studied her for a moment. She was young and kindly in appearance, skin the color of bronze, large almond shaped golden hazel eyes and jet black hair. He could see no guile in her. Finally he nodded and stepped aside. She went to work, cleansing a needle and preparing sutures so he left her to stitch Tellis's wound while he spoke to Arvuil and the rest of his kin.
Humans were drifting in from the staircase, calling for loved ones and the echoes of happy cries mixed with those of grief when the body of a friend was found.
"My lord, Thranduil," Arvuil said, formally and bowed.
The king took a moment to count the wounded before acknowledging the archer. There were twenty-three. "Gather any wounded who can walk and leave a guard for those who cannot. Nuinethir waits near the main gate on land with other wounded. Have him send any who are hale enough to help move those who need assistance.
Arvuil nodded curtly and bowed again but he hesitated before doing as he was bid. "Thank you, my lord, for coming for us."
Thranduil blinked and then nodded, watching the elf go.
There were far more left unwounded and his people gathered with the ever increasing numbers of Lake Town men. He now had a group forty strong. After deciding who would continue with him into the Keep, he returned to Tellis, pleased to see the advisor was looking better and the healer nearly finished with her stitches.
"He is in no state to fight, King Thranduil," she told him. "I'd rather he not walk for a couple of days to allow the muscle some time to knit properly."
Tellis shot her a glare. "I can still aid you, my lord."
Thranduil smiled faintly. "You will go with the injured to meet with Nuinethir. This is my command, old friend."
The tone was kind but held a note of authority. Tellis subsided and nodded minutely, "As you wish, my lord."
Now that he had given his orders, there was nothing keeping him from returning to the Keep, though he loathed leaving any of his kin behind. He beckoned those who were accompanying him and they all fell into formation behind him as he once again took to the stairs.
Eleros left his kin to open the main door and instead crept down the hall, careful to survey all other arches and doors. The closer he drew to the last room, the more his focused narrowed and his pulse rushed in his ears. Light spilled into the hallway behind him as the main door was opened to Bard and the others and it was like an afterthought.
He raised his long sword almost unable to see past the red of his mounting rage. The presence of three of his kin behind him registered, two of whom had bows.
They took a moment to assess the position of the occupants, counting three men in total and then swept into the small space. The archers shot a wide swath of several arrows apiece, hitting the two Easterlings who had been standing. Twin yelps of surprise responded to the assault. The third man rose up from a table laid with cards when his fellows flew back into the wall. His shout of alarm died with a gurgle as an arrow found the hollow of his throat. Eleros rushed in to tackle one of the others as he stumbled away from the wall before he could yell, running him through up under the ribs before the daze wore off. Blood fountained out of his wound at a fatal rate. The remaining Easterling let loose a loud growl and ran to meet them and was quickly cut down.
Bard waited as the elves swiftly and silently assessed the remaining rooms and sent others peek into the central chamber. An occasional footstep from above alerted him to the second floor.
Eleros rejoined him as he finished an estimated count of occupants on the floor above.
"The Master's alive," Bard murmured low with a wry grin. "The sound of his gait is unmistakable."
Eleros nodded. "How many are in there?" He nodded toward the central chamber.
Bard grew solemn. "A few hundred of my people occupy the main hall. Avoiding casualties will be difficult in such a crowded space."
"We cannot afford to lose," the runner reminded him. "If you want the tribesmen driven from your home, worry less about casualties and more about succeeding."
After a tense moment, Bard nodded. "If we are going to succeed, we need the king and the people following him. There are dozens of Easterlings – of those we could see. There may be more."
"It is possible he was delayed," Eleros said. "We cannot simply wait. It is past midday and it is winter. We will lose the sun in a few hours."
He turned away from the bargeman and stalked to the end of the corridor where the door to the kitchen stood. At the back of the room, in a corner, was another door, leading down to the hidden docks. He took a torch from the wall and the elves immediately began the journey down.
They had reached the platform to the outer door when Eleros made them stop. He listened for a moment before grinning broadly and resuming his descent, almost running this time.
Bard kept after him as best he could on the steps but still lost sight of the elf. Shortly after, the sound of joyous greetings reached him and when he rounded a final corner, he found the runner finishing a bow in front of Thranduil.
"We thought you may be in need of rescue, king Thranduil," Bard teased and then offered an elvish salute.
"That will not be necessary," the king said imperiously and strode past him.
"Where is Tellis?" Eleros asked after him.
Thranduil stopped. "He is wounded and cannot fight further so I ordered him to return with Arvuil to Nuinethir."
"Arvuil lives? What of Unngo?"
Thranduil's eyes fluttered down a fraction, not truly seeing anyone. "We have our casualties, as do the humans. We will focus on those we lost later."
Eleros didn't press for a clearer answer – he didn't need to. His head bowed as he continued up the steps after his king.
"Do you think our camp is still in place?"
How Laseviir could continue his line of questions was beyond Caireann. She preferred the journey to pass in silence and the stream of questions was beginning to wear on her patience.
They'd slipped from the camp where the Easterlings had taken them and once they had their bearings, they made their way north west. For the first mile or so, remaining unseen had been a challenge as the tribesmen patrolled the forest beyond their camp. Having seen none of the intruders for some time now, she and her kin picked up their pace in hopes of reaching their camp by nightfall – if the camp was still there. The warrior was ever watchful for signs of messengers from the city, however.
"There is no way to know what the situation is in Esgaroth," Caireann replied. "When we were taken, our camp was under attack and the city appeared under siege as well. It is likely the king took our people home and returned with reinforcements."
"Then why are we returning to Esgaroth?" The young warrior to ask this was Fariel, one of her trainees; though he had long since completed her instructions to satisfaction. He and his training partner Annuil watched her intently for her reply as they traversed the hilly terrain.
She glanced fondly at them now. "To be of use, if the king needs us."
For the first time, since they left; Lithia, an archer like Laseviir, spoke. "Do you not think the king would have come for us, Caireann?"
For several long minutes, she considered her answer and they crested a hill that led steeply down before she gave it. "King Thranduil has to keep the good of our entire kingdom in mind. Our lives, dear as they are to him, cannot take precedence over the good of our people."
She stalked up the next hill, heaving a little to breathe. "No, I do not think he would have come for us."
Lithia frowned and cast a glance at Laseviir.
"The Long Lake!" Fariel declared.
Caireann peered in the direction he pointed as saw hints of a wide open space through the trees. The late afternoon sun danced off the water in golden sparks. She breathed deeply and renewed her pace, eager to put the Easterlings behind her and see her friends again.
Seren twisted away from the noise as several voices rose to full volume, accompanied by rushed footsteps. Clinking glass, crumbling dry herbs and bandages being cut filled the air with sound.
"Over here," she heard Ceridwen say and realized she was in the infirmary.
The healer was directing the placement of other patients and a sense of urgency permeated the air. Shouting and clanging metal could dimly be heard some distance away. An occasional muffled boom resounded through the halls. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the main hall.
Seren opened her eyes and pushed herself upright, trying to drag her body to full wakefulness. She sat on her bed watching the hurried activity of the room around her. Several elves lay around the room bleeding from arrows and sword wounds. Some were strangely pale and sunken looking, despite having minor enough wounds to survive without healing.
One warrior in particular no longer responded to his pain but simply laid there, his chest barely rising. He was faded in a way that reminded Seren of Haavelas's death and his skin was streaked with jagged red lines that seemed to smolder within his flesh. An attendant came to the man's side and stroked his strawberry honey colored hair, though it had lost its luster and he smiled before going entirely still.
The attendant sobbed as she closed his eyes and caressed his sunken, grayish cheeks. Moments later, the body began to collapse into itself. The red markings grew brighter until they were nearly orange and expanded. As they swelled, pale light in his skin coalesced until it beamed. The glowing lines advanced over the luminance, consuming it until they shone golden. As the light began to dim, disappearing into the lines of fire, they shrank turning the skin around them a darker shade of grey until it resembled charcoal. Faint smoke drifted up from the dead elf and it was strangely odorless. Fine lines appeared in the skin, deepening into cracks and it started flaking apart like ash. The body soon resembled little more than a pile of fine embers. The flakes broke into even smaller pieces and drifted up on the air only to shrivel into nothing. A few minutes later, a soot stain was all that remained of the elf who had lain there.
Seren hadn't noticed her tears until Ceridwen stepped into view and dabbed at her face. She took the cloth from the healer, trying not to crack.
"What was that?"
"That is the fate waiting anyone wounded with the heart blood of a dragon. The younger one is, the quicker and more merciful their death."
Seren blinked. "The king told me what it does, but I never imagined what it would look like. He was reduced to nothing… not even a body to be buried."
"There will be more before the night is over." Ceridwen wiped at her own face and breathed. She tucked some loosened strands of hair behind her ears.
"How long ago did the battle begin?"
Ceridwen checked Seren's vital signs as she considered her reply. "The first wave arrived just before the sun set. That was about an hour ago." She released her patient's wrist and produced a small cup of something earthy for Seren to drink. "How are you? I expected you to sleep for some time yet."
"I feel tired," Seren admitted. She placed the cup in the healer's hands and sat up straighter. "But I doubt I could sleep right now."
The elf studied her for a moment before handing her a list. "In that case, I could use your bed. I need these items from the kitchens. Would you get them?"
Seren nodded and stood slowly to stave off dizziness before navigating the busy room. She was thankful when she reached the hall just beyond and breathed deeply of the cooler air. For several moments she felt weak and too exhausted to move. When she gathered her strength, she began her trek to Nuineri's kitchen but halted when she came upon a beam of moonlight streaming into the hall from a small high window.
The cool bluish silver light felt like fresh water over a burn. She stood in it and closed her eyes, letting it soothe her. Tension drained from her weak limbs and she relaxed. Gradually she felt a little bit stronger and she shook off the last of her sleep before resuming her stride with renewed vigor.
Nuineri's kitchen was abandoned and the tidy appearance of it told Seren that it hadn't been used yet that day. She sighed sadly and started rummaging for the herb flasks she'd been sent to collect. The few food stocks on the list were placed in one basket and the flasks in another.
Once she had the entire list accounted for, she turned to make the journey back to the infirmary when a child's low hum caught her attention. She set the baskets down again and slowly crept to a cupboard under a table by the rear wall and called out.
"Menui?"
The humming continued and the tune was one Seren thought she could almost recognize.
"Menui?"
Still the girl did not reply but her lovely voice continued to drift from the cupboard. Not wishing to frighten the youngster, Seren knelt and gently tapped on the door. The humming stopped.
"Menui?"
"Seren?"
The cabinet door burst open and the girl bowled Seren onto her rear and hugged her around the neck.
"What are you doing here?"
"Mother isn't in our chambers and I didn't want to be alone but I thought I heard bad men and I couldn't go any further so I hid!"
The child sobbed into Seren's neck and she stroked the long silken strands of golden hair. "It's alright. I'm here now. We can go to the infirmary together. How does that sound?"
Menui nodded and slowly pulled back. A square of startlingly white light appeared in her hands and Seren reached for it. She stared in shock at the little rectangular device, earphones dangling from her hand. It was startlingly out of place and it seemed as alien to her as it was familiar.
"Taliesin's music player…"
Floods of memories swam through her thoughts and her hand trembled.
"I'm sorry Seren. I just wanted to see your painting and then I saw a strange bag and when I picked it up, this really pretty music started playing," Menui said in a rush. "I didn't mean to take it! And, and I was going to return it, I swear!"
Seren shook herself from her thoughts, eyes glassy and she smiled. "It's alright. No harm done." She hugged Menui to show her she wasn't angry with her. She gazed at the title on the screen and her heart clenched. The song was from the playlist with her name on it and it was one of her favorite violin pieces.
"I'd forgotten all about Taliesin's bag." In truth she had shoved it under her bed, never to be seen again. Menui must have hid under it and found her brother's satchel.
It felt strange to scroll through the digital catalogue and she clumsily swiped at the touch screen to bring up the list of songs and found what she was looking for.
"This is one of my favorites."
"Play it!" Menui picked up the earphones and handed one to Seren, before crawling into her lap.
For a few minutes Seren was back home, painting and expecting Taliesin to poke his head into her room at any moment. The song was called "Crystalline" and, while there were no lyrics; there was a vocal track amidst the ethereal strains.
"It's a pretty song," Menui said when it ended. "I would like to hear it again."
She held the music player out to Menui. "Here."
The child's eyes lit up. "I can keep it?" She took it gingerly and stared at Seren with awe.
Seren smiled, though a part of her wanted to reach for the player and never let it go. "It won't last forever, Menui." She pointed to the battery indicator. It had thirty percent of its power left. "When this turns red and falls to zero, it will not play music anymore and will go dark."
Menui frowned in confusion. "But you can make it work again, can't you?"
Seren shook her head somberly. "No. I wish I could. It requires electricity and I have no way to charge it here. Once it runs out of power, it will never play again."
"Oh," Menui said sadly, looking at the device.
"Come on. We must get back to Ceridwen. She's expecting these supplies."
Together they stood and Seren once again grabbed her baskets. Menui hurried to an empty sack hanging on the wall and frantically stuffed what bread, fruit and food stuffs that would transport easily and took Seren's hand as they started the long walk back.