I'm sorry I havent updated in an age. Please forgive me and accept this chapter. It is a bit of a short one but its all I could manage at this time.
As always, centered italics are flashbacks.
Elrond hurried to his tent. His footstep fell as quickly as his mind was churning. I can't believe myself. Why did you have to do that? Why? The elven commander couldn't place his finger on the reason. He had never had such a slip, not even in his youngest days under Gil-Galad. He sighed heavily as he passed down the alley in which his tent was situated. It would eat away at him, not knowing what had been the cause for his blatant mistake. How?! He chastised himself for the umpteenth time. Had he really been that nervous? Or had the plight of the Sindar actually roiled him that much? "I don't know," he moaned quietly to himself as he ducked through the tent flap and entered his small quarters.
Halvorn was lounging comfortably, on the floor, bathed in rich, warm candlelight. A contraband piece of literature was laid out before him. A small, waving candle (just one of several scattered through the room) also sat on the floor beside the parchments, lighting the dark-haired ellon warmly. His chocolate irises did not turn form his pages as the commander entered, nor did his head move as he addressed the distraught elf. "You are back earlier than I had expected," Halvorn said dryly.
Elrond startled.
The sound caused the Nandorin ellon to look up from his book. He grinned but the smile fell when the elf noticed the look on Elrond's face. "You okay?" He asked suddenly concerned.
Elrond had quite forgotten about the ellon and now he pulled his face from surprise into something a bit more cheerful. Maybe this night could become a little better. "Oh, it's you," he breathed. The half-elf tried to fight his sagging shoulders and pasted another artificial smile on his face. He looked around the room and made his way to small desk he had set up in the back of the tent. "I am fine," he answered bluntly. He reallly didn't want to talk about his prior fiasco… Maybe he could act like he was busy. Why make things worse by ruining his friend's night off?
Halvorn narrowed his eyes as the raven-harried commander began to rummage in his desk. "How did it go?" Halvorn asked casually, though he was still quite sure that something had dampened the other ellon's spirits. Indeed, Elrond's false happiness was easy to read through. "I hope it is still alright for me to stay here," he said, fishing for the answer to the elf's mood.
"No, you are welcome here." Elrond gave a half-hearted chuckle but did not take his eyes off his searching.
Halvorn shifted position so he was laying on his side now. He propped himself up on an elbow. The elf had clearly noticed the dodged question. "That is good to know… but tell me how the meeting went. Did Thranduil behave?" Halvorn was almost afraid to ask about that untameable young king.
Elrond finally decided that he couldn't deter the pesky ellon. It had been worth a throw, but Halvorn's tone conveyed his doubt. "Thranduil behaved," he said wearily, abandoning his desk and sitting backward on the wood chair instead.
At least Elrond was finally showing signs of opening up. "So, what is troubling you?" Halvorn asked boldly but gently.
The commanding officer's shoulders slumped. "I made a mistake and gave away the king's military secret," he blurted. Valar, he was doing a good job at doing that today.
Halvorn didn't say anything for a moment. What could have possessed Elrond to have done something like that? Never once in all the long years Halvorn had known him had Elrond ever spoken… rashly. "What kind of secret?" He asked carefully, not wishing to put his friend into another hard situation.
"It isn't really a secret to you and me," Elrond explained, feeling somewhat better to be speaking, but a strange feeling was coming over him like he could easily say too much again. "It had to do with the troop movements towards the south and our recent orders. I suggested Gil-Galad shift focus from the south to the north for a short while to give Thranduil's people a respite." Elrond stopped himself at that. He could feel himself getting riled up and he didn't think Halvorn needed to hear about the peril of the north…
"It doesn't sound that horrible," Halvorn amended his words quickly, realising how badly it was affecting Elrond. "Did he give you explicit instructions not to share that information? Thranduil would have found out sooner than later about it. Word travels fast in an army… especially this one," Halvorn reasoned.
Elrond shook his head. "You do not understand. I spoke unheeded, in a meeting between two kings," he said, while turning his gaze to his hands. He couldn't meet his friend's eyes. "Maybe the nerves finally got to me," Elrond thought, trying to find some reason to his own behaviour. He didn't like that excuse, however. There was one real cause to his upset and Elrond was beginning to get a strong feeling he knew what it was, though he wished he knew not. "Thranduil…" No. He didn't want to continue down that line of thought. Elrond popped one of his knuckles.
Halvorn pressed forward, just as Elrond had known he would. "'Thranduil' what?" The Nandorin elf watched the ellon's face for any cues or silent body language. He was drawing close to the reason and Elrond clearly knew what was the issue. He kept his voice persistent and sat up. "What happened with Thranduil?"
Elrond finally looked up to meet the dark eyes of his comrade. They softened. It did nothing to quell the fire that was now rising in Elrond's soul. "Thranduil's people are on the verge of destruction. According to him, they won't last the month," he said evenly.
Halvorn had not expected news like that. He immediately regretted his previous words about the ellon. He licked his lips unsure of what to say.
The Noldo continued, "the king will not aid them, and even worse, a new terror is said to be rising there." Elrond mentally recounted Thranduil's words about that fire-breathing horror. "My initial thoughts based on his description was that the dark lord had bred a dragon and let it loose on the northern front. I don't know what else it could be, but dragons have not been seen or heard of since… the early days."
The vivid stories that his stepfathers came back to Elrond.
Maglor told the story as he usually did. Maedhros sat not far away, listening and waiting for any moments in which to add to the tale.
"It reared up like a serpent," Maglor's piercing silver eyes flickered between the gazes of the twins. "It's iron teeth and steel eyes shone like molten metal in the smoky battlefield. With every move, it smashed elf and man like clodded earth. It was drawing near, burning everything alive under its black, smouldering talons. Elves as tall as Maedhros were shorn down like the grass under a scythe."
The elder of Fëanor shifted in his seat. He hated it when fear came into their young eyes, but Maglor never seemed to notice. Or maybe he did and he didn't care. "Get to my part," he said gruffly. The twins have had enough. He did not speak those words, only through his eyes did he give the message.
"It came upon Maedhros. I watched from afar, shooting vain arrows. But Maedhros feared not the fire nor did he feel the heat. He drew that ancient sword forged by father." Maglor's eyes beheld the described weapon, which was now mounted unsheathed above the mantle. The twins followed the elf's gaze, looking upon the shining blade. Nothing had dulled the lustre even after all these long years. "In the heat of battle, it shone red and sparkling with the gem-dust that had been instilled within it… far away in the Blessed Realm. The blade bit deep as Maedhros swung his arm in a mighty blow. It sliced that burning tongue even as the creature surged forward, meaning to devour my brother. He thrust then and smote his sword across its throat. The great dragon writhed in the pain, beginning to shake and tremor in such a mighty spasm that the earth was rent deep. But even in death, such a monster causes much destruction. Elf and man died in waves as the hulking form crushed all under its girth. A spewing, potent venom shot from the wound. Maedhros fell, not dead but blind and burned." Maglor glanced at his brother in painful reminiscence. "But the beast was dead."
The end of the story was followed by minutes of tense silence before Elrond thanked them for the tale and had pulled his brother to bed. It was obvious the brothers had once again fallen into the shadow of days gone by.
"A dragon," Halvorn whispered softly into the silence. He swallowed over his fear and the lump settling in his throat. "If he has unleashed such a beast, how…" His voice trailed off. He didn't want to say what his mind was conjuring at the moment.
Elrond nodded gravely. "That is what I am thinking. As of yet, such a tale has only been heard of on the northern front, but how long until this power reaches further? Even if it is not a serpent, I fear the Sindar truly will not be able to hold it longer." Elrond sighed, reminded once again of his previous mistake. His silver eyes looked down to the floor, but his voice came stronger as he spoke his heart, what he had realised during this talk with Halvorn. "Which is why I question the decision to withhold forces from the north," Elrond stated.
Halvorn proceeded carefully. "Aye, I agree, mellon." His next words were cut off by Elrond, who was growing bolder with each passing breath.
"They have been fighting for a long time without anyone's aid and now in their most dire need, do we forsake them?" Elrond shook his head. Halvorn merely continued to listen. "I understand that forces are spread thin, but have they not been this way the entire length of the war? We have always been careful in choosing our battles from the beginning so why can we not aid the army which has stood by our side from the beginning?"
Elrond met Halvorn's eyes. The half-elf's steel irises were burning with memories now. Halvorn let him continue, perceiving that the ellon needed to vent, which the elf continued to do, animating his words with his hands. "Thranduil's people are dying. They have been dying since day one. Yes, it was their fault for charging recklessly, but still… I don't think I can stand by and watch the remains of an entire people group be diminished. Gil-Galad should have jumped to aid our ally and he did not." Elrond stopped speaking. His tense shoulders slowly relaxed.
Halvorn waited through the elf's descent, watching Elrond's body language and waiting for the right moment to move the conversation along.
"I don't know anymore," Elrond finally confessed as he ran his hands through his hair and stood. His gaze took in the small map over his bed. The black land seemed so vast suddenly and Barad-Dûr looked so insignificant on a piece of parchment. Not for the first time, he pondered why such a massive effort was needed to blot out that. One. Small. Speck. The moody eyes of his best friend bored into Elrond's back and finally the half-elf turned to look on the short ellon still sitting cross legged on the floor. Elrond joined him, sitting in the same position heavily. "What is this war?"
Halvorn swallowed. "I don't know… but I do know we got to fight it. And we will." He searched out the other ellon's silver gaze. "Sometimes orders are given to us without a full reason. You know that. We never have the full picture and when you start leading, you will have to make decisions like this too. The king is merely being patient." Halvorn's eyes hardened. "He will not let the north fall."
A second of silence passed before Elrond nodded then sighed. "You're right, of course. Maybe I am just overwhelmed. Maybe I should just go to bed… I have a meeting again tomorrow morning," he said glumly.
"Relax, it will be alright," Halvorn offered.
"That is easier said than done," Elrond countered.
The Nandorin elf chuckled. "Well, that is true too."