Thranduil and Aradan had started the day early and by noon, they had finished checking the stockpiles of food and weapons. They had arranged for some gold to be used to purchase supplies to complete the forts. Mirkwood was fortified all around, covered by moat. The fortresses were stepped and tunnels built for the cavalry to flank. It was a sound defence. The only problem was that the Orcs outnumbered the elves. The Orcs' fight was not strategic. But their army was merciless and attacked to kill. What Sauron could not achieve with skill, he made up with numbers.
It was the elves' weakness, their reluctance to let their warriors die. Something was still lacking in Mirkwood's defence. Aradan knew that he had to find that answer quickly. And he would. Now, they had to prepare to leave for the fair. There would be archery tournaments, swordfights, and even jousts. Most of his soldiers would be there. It would be good for him to know their skill. They would eat before leaving. He went to check on the food and was pleasantly surprised. The table had been set. In the kitchen, the crockery had been laid out neatly for the food to be served. The aroma of the food was telling. Chilli and was that meat loaf? The fire was now glowing in its embers, just enough to keep the food warm. What was the pot of water for? He shrugged.
His eyes roved around the kitchen. It was sparkling clean and smelt of lemon and mint. A blast of cold was coming in. He went and saw an open window. Near it were two bowls. Yoghurt! One was flavoured with peach, the other with strawberries. It had been long since Aradan's mouth had watered.
"Commander," he turned to see a soldier bowing to him. It was Golverathor, a soldier who had been injured in the battle at Dale and had been set to light duties. He could not possibly participate in the competitions and must have stayed as guard for the day.
"Is it alright for you to stay today, Golverathor?" he asked. "I am glad to, Commander. I will take care." Aradan nodded and acknowledged Golverathor as the latter informed him that soldiers had eaten. Ithilwen had also eaten the food. Aradan looked up. So, Ithilwen had cooked. It was his instruction that the cook had to eat first to ensure that poisoning was not attempted. It was not that he did not trust. Times were bad.
"The food is delicious, Commander. Shall I set it on the table?"
Aradan nodded. She could talk to animals, summon the elements, heal the wounded and cook mouth-watering food. What could she not do? Perhaps, he would find out today. Lunch was, if he could say so, a humorous but gratifying affair. Thranduil ate in silence without praise, though it was obvious that he enjoyed the food immensely. In a long time, he had accepted a second helping. Dessert was brought out and Aradan savoured the cool yoghurt, lost in precious memories of the past.
"Ithilwen cooked again," Thranduil's voice was soft.
"It appears so, Thranduil. Why? Do you not like it? It is the best food that I have ever tasted. Bless her."
"Best?" Thranduil was biting his lip, much to Aradan's amusement. He ought not to torture his lord so much but really, his King needed to look past Mirkwood's defence, at least once in a while. This once at least. It was really quite apparent. Poor Galaden, he was not good at keeping secrets. He had been looking so tortured lately, despite his initial joy.
They arrived at the fair in time for the competitions. There was much cheer and lightness in the air. Aradan had arranged for all soldiers, above the rank of a captain, to be on guard all through Mirkwood, in case anyone sought to use this day to attack. The competitions had started but the crowd parted to let them through and stand on a platform. Thranduil did not like to sit and watch. "I am not a dowdy old king," he would say.
The crowds cheered as soldiers showed their prowess. It was the swordfight and pretty exciting to watch. The victor was bowing to the crowd. It was Imrathon, a young soldier. He was only about Ceridwen's age, perhaps slightly older. Thranduil sat up in surprise as the next competitor entered the ring and Aradan realised why. It was Ceridwen. "Had Lairiel allowed this?" he wondered worriedly. He looked at the crowds and saw Galaden. He did not look too happy. As Galaden met his eyes, Aradan beckoned him to the stage, staring when Galaden hesitated.
As Galaden went up the platform, the crowd cheered for both competitors. The rules of this competition ensured that the best won, regardless of position. Even Legolas had lost here before, to Tauriel, for he was no swordfighter. Aye, Tauriel was skilled to some extent. But skills were not enough to win war. Strategy and stealth mattered too. "She's good, Galaden," Thranduil murmured as Ceridwen rendered Imrathon to the ground. Ceridwen won the next few matches and went on to her third competitor. The crowd went wild. It was Tauriel. Aradan was pleased. That meant that Tauriel was recovering from Kili's death. The fighting was quite fierce.
"Elleths," Aradan murmured, "why can't they take things quite easy like us elves?"
Galaden was beginning to look worried. It looked like Ceridwen has twisted her arm. "Aradan," he whispered urgently, "declare Tauriel the winner. Ceridwen is foolishly stubborn. She is definitely not as skilled as Tauriel."
"The rules won't allow for it, Galaden," Aradan was sorry, "it wouldn't be fair to Ceridwen or Tauriel."
Thranduil hesitated but he had to agree with Aradan. They looked out again and saw Ceridwen on the ground, but she was still holding the sword. Tauriel's skills were definitely superior but she was obviously not a gracious winner. Tauriel was a predator, one of the qualities that made her a good soldier. She would not let the weak go. It was not that she was mean-spirited but she had a dogged need to prove herself. Aradan saw it as a weakness and a reason why she could not get a position of higher authority in the army yet. Showing mercy was a characteristic of the strong.
"If someone else takes the fight from Ceridwen, she can go," Aradan murmured. He saw Galaden search in the crowd. His eyes narrowed on whom Galaden sought. So, Ithilwen was here. Aradan relaxed. This was going to be interesting. Ithilwen looked hesitant at first but she must have relented on seeing Galaden's worried face.
Aradan could not help the tingle of excitement that went through him. This was going to be fun. Even Thranduil was looking very interested. As Ceridwen went off, Ithilwen bowed to Tauriel, her veiled eyes sizing her opponent. She had taken Ceridwen's sword and was flexing it lightly, trying to adjust herself to it. She was taken by surprise by Tauriel's first strike and had to cower. Slowly, her moves came, in defence at first. Once, she understood the style of Tauriel's fighting, Ithilwen struck mercilessly. She jumped nimbly, avoiding Tauriel's thrusts. Her blade met Tauriel's at every cut. Deftly, the two skirted through the sand, each jumping or dodging the other's blow. Finally, Ithilwen was rendered to the ground. As Tauriel brought her sword towards her, Ithilwen lay still. The crowd's cheer halted midway and whistles erupted instead as Ithilwen vaulted up into the air, her sword slicing Tauriel's raised blade into two. Her thrust threw Tauriel's broken sword to the ground and rendered the latter speechless.
The clapping was thunderous as Ithilwen bowed to her competitor. Aradan had to hold his laugh. "Humility in victory. My lord, I trust you will declare the winner now," he said. Thranduil did not reply. He observed closely as Ithilwen went to help Tauriel up. But the latter ignored her help and went off. It appeared that Ithilwen had finally given herself away. What had she told him when he had asked for her name? Her nana had called her the bringer of light amidst darkness. She had not mentioned her Ada. Thranduil looked at Ithilwen again. Toiling away in the kitchens, bathing in the bitter cold, peach cobbler for Aradan and strawberry tarts for him. Galaden told him, did he? Thranduil did not know whether to laugh or to cry. But he could say for sure that he was extremely upset.
He looked at Galaden and Aradan. Galaden had practically begged Ithilwen to fight and Aradan had been smiling so enthusiastically, as if he knew what the outcome would be. Traitors! The both of them! Thranduil thought for a while. Well, he could have a little fun too. He turned to Aradan. "I believe not, Aradan. Today's prize is, shall I say, more worthy than all these years? I am not ready to part with it, yet. It has to be in rightful hands."
Aradan nodded cautiously. Where was this leading to?
Thranduil turned to the crowd. "We have seen a most impressive display of talent today. But, I am afraid that my prize today is worth not even a fortune. It is worth a kingdom. Elves of Mirkwood, hear me well. You know who one of the best fighters in all of elvendom is. His is a name feared amongst enemies, respected amongst allies. Today, he shall compete with our winner. If she can defeat him, the prize is hers."
The crowd cheered in delight. This was going to be fun. Aradan was startled. Galaden was swallowing and Ithilwen was ..well, the sands had started to blow around her. She was definitely angry. The crowd had begun to chant their Commander's name. Aradan looked at Thranduil furiously. "Have you lost it, Thranduil?" The latter merely shrugged.
"Your king has spoken. Will you defy him?"
Thranduil was sorry when he saw his Commander's shoulders slump. But, then he turned his chin up defiantly. Aradan had been mean to him as well. He knew he sounded like an elfling but well….so be it.
It was a cautious commander who entered the pits. He bowed to Ithilwen who glared at him. Aradan swallowed. Oh, why did he have to get caught between the two of them?
"Umm, may I?" he asked.
Ithilwen raised her sword and met his in mid-air. "You are not asking me to dance, Commander," she replied irately. As both moved, Ithilwen was the first to strike. She forced his sword up, rendering him awkward. Aradan bent back, bearing her strength until he dislodged her foot and threw her back. He was about to reach out to her when she jumped back on her feet.
"Remember where you are, Aradan," she snapped.
This time, Aradan smiled. "All right, then. We will have it your way, Ithilwen."
One could not expect a fight between two skilled warriors to be mellow but this was beyond fierce.
Both moved with skill and speed. If both were cunning warriors, Aradan's strength was matched by Ithilwen's nimble moves. As Aradan brought his sword down, she deftly slid under it. Before, he could strike again, she rolled away, meeting him blade for blade. At one point, both placed their unused arm behind their backs, depending only on their single arm to fight. Aradan swiped his blade across her. She dodged him in a full-point turn. Again, the crowd hooted with excitement. The cheering was now harder for Aradan as well as Ithilwen. For a moment, they locked swords and eyes. Ithilwen swallowed as she saw Aradan's liquid eyes. "How?" she whispered.
She did not give him time to reply. Pushing him back, she turned as if to strike again. When Aradan's sword halted hers, she lost her footing and fell to the ground, dropping her sword. The crowd roared in victory for their Commander. On the stage, Thranduil's lips quivered. The show was not over yet.