CHAPTER 11

They rode fast, their aim was to arrive at the village as quickly as possible, hoping against all odds to find survivors of the onslaught. There was no time to think or to discuss things at length. After leaving Dale, every one of them enveloped himself in his own thoughts, mentally preparing for whatever they were going to have to face the following morning.

Einar and Ceorl had wanted to come with them. Having lived there for many years, they knew the area blindfolded and persuaded Bard in letting them join the group. He was hesitant at first since they were no fighters but simple fishermen, but the look in their distraught yet imploring eyes quickly convinced him otherwise. If it had been him in their place, he would have done the same thing.

Bard was leading the group and he swiftly looked behind him just to put his mind at ease. He was closely followed by Legolas and Arahad, after whom rode the best fighters that remained in Dale, around seventy five men in total. Still, he did not feel at ease. He blamed this on the fact that they were on their way to fight orcs, a task which in itself wasn't very pleasant. Yet it wasn't just that. The uneasiness ran deeper. It was strange that such a number of orcs had joined forces once again to create havoc, so soon after they had been dispersed and hunted by all races after the battle a year ago. Even Gundabad had been left deserted according to Arahad's descriptions of the place.

And the more thought Bard gave it, the more anxious he became, a vicious tormenting circle of doubt and angst. Orcs were not known to unite in groups…unless they have a leader! His brow furrowed. But that was impossible! Their leaders had been killed…so the question remained, what was going on here?

This made the matter at hand all the more crucial. They must find out what is amiss and deal with this problem quickly and efficiently before it grows and corrupts everything like all evil does. His one and only lingering fear was whether it was more than they could deal with. The thought of asking King Thranduil for help had crossed his mind before they had left but he had thought the diversion would waste precious time for the survivors, if there were any. Now he was wondering whether he had made the right choice!

Thinking of the elves directed his mind back towards the mysterious elf maiden following closely behind. He didn't quite know how to describe her. She had an air of serenity and superiority at the same time which, frankly, all elves possessed. However, she had always been very approachable and friendly in the short span of time he had known her, especially with the children.

Very similar to Tauriel, yet different in other ways. Doesn't stand injustice and suffering, yet not impulsive…calculating rather…and evidently a born leader. The way she spoke to them inside the Town Hall was the strong and indubitable voice of an elf who was used to being in command. Her features made this task all the easier for he couldn't deny that she was unquestionably attractive, very eye catching. He couldn't blame Arahad for his infatuation.

Arahad. His friend was smitten. He had never seen him under a female's spell before…usually it was the other way round. All the ladies fancied the dark looking and reckless ranger whereas he never favoured them with a second glance. Bard knew he needed to speak to him as soon as this was over. She was an elf, most probably belonging to the Woodland Realm. The king would never grant her permission to unite in marriage to a mortal man. It was out of question.

Bard sighed. He had no idea how he was going to break the news to his friend, for Arahad could be rather childish and obstinate sometimes. Guess that locking him up in Dale prison would have to be one of the options! Bard grinned as he imagined the scene, while spurring his horse on into the approaching night.

Gandalf felt grumpy and terribly irritated at the sudden turn of events; quite the opposite in fact from the jovial mood he was in this very morning. It was incredible how a couple of hours could make such a difference!

Most of all he was worried. He never expected to give this very important and incredible news on his own. He had imagined them facing the King as a group. He only hoped that he would be given enough time to explain. He would not want to have to resort to other methods. With this thought he gripped his staff tighter. Magic was not an option this time.

After what seemed an eternity, he finally arrived at the gates of the palace. He quickly dismounted his horse and asked the guards on duty to be led to the King. Both of them knew the Istari-wizard very well, and his request was immediately granted.

"Follow me, Master Gandalf," said one of them, while yet another guard took his place at the gates. He led the wizard to the wing of the palace where there was the King's study and the council room. The guard noticed that Gandalf's mood was very different today than when he had left the palace a couple of days before. He seemed quite nervous and he couldn't stop mumbling and muttering to himself.

At last, the guard stopped in front of the door that led to the council room and he slowly turned round to speak to Gandalf. "Since the King is discussing important matters of state with the generals and advisers, I'm afraid you will have to wait some ti…"

But here, much to his amazement, he was abruptly cut short by a very red faced wizard whose temper had completely run out at this point. "Trolls and hobgoblins! I've had enough of all this suspense…" and with those words he shoved aside the guard, who was taken completely by surprise (not to mention the considerable strength which he couldn't believe the 'frail' old man possessed), and opened the door to the council room, unceremoniously disrupting the meeting.

Now, if there was one thing that King Thranduil hated, was being interrupted. By the time the wizard reached the table where the King and the others were seated, he was glaring.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, I never expected him to barge in!" came the guard's pitiful excuse which was met with an icy look that made him freeze in his steps.

"We will talk about this later Limdur," said the King frostily. "You may leave us now." And with these words the guard exited the room in silence, thinking about all the extra hours of duty he will have to suffer because of a cursed wizard!

As soon as the door closed, all eyes turned towards Gandalf who looked clearly agitated.

Thranduil spoke. "Well Mithrandir, if you could just wait outside, our council is not over as you can plainly see. We have important matters to discuss."

"Well, I too have matters of utmost importance which must be discussed with you now…my lord Thranduil." The last part he added as an afterthought, more to placate the growing ire of the King than anything else.

By now the King could barely contain his anger at the wizard's annoying insistence. His lower jaw moved slightly out in visible irritation as he inhaled deeply through his nose. "Gandalf," he said alarmingly slowly, "all your 'matters' seem to be of 'utmost importance'…"

"Yes…and sometimes 'a storm is just a storm', but other times…well…it is not!" This direct reference to the discussion they had had just before the Battle a year ago, hit the nail straight on the head. For at the time Thranduil had mocked the wizard, saying he exaggerated things when the latter had mentioned the armies of orcs that were heading their way, only to be proved right the following day.

If there was another thing that King Thranduil hated was being proved wrong…and in front of his advisers and generals at that! He stood up, deceivingly calm, yet his eyes betrayed his anger and frustration at this wizard who always found the means to irritate him one way or another.

But Gandalf moved quickly. Before Thranduil could say anything else, he took out the necklace from his pocket and placed it on the table in front of him. "We need to talk about this!" he said.

"What…?" Thranduil was just about to speak when recognition shot through him like lightening. His eyes opened wide and he put his hands on the table for support. He was in shock and he wasn't the only one. The other elves had seen the necklace before then as well. Their faces showed that they had also been taken completely by surprise by what Gandalf had brought. They looked at their King. His adviser, Lathron, looked especially agitated and urged Thranduil to sit down, whilst sitting down himself.

The King hadn't spoken a word, his hands could barely find the strength to touch the necklace lying in front of him. Finally, he slowly turned round to look at the wizard. His voice was barely audible, "Where did you find this Mithrandir?" All anger dissipated, his eyes were now sorrowful, imploring as all guard was let down and his innermost feelings were laid bare in front of all in the room.

"That, my dear friend, is quite a story and I think it would be better if you take Lathron's advice and sit down, because I dare say that you need all the strength you possess to listen to all I have to tell you."

Gandalf started recounting step by step all that happened since Legolas, Tauriel and himself had left the palace. The generals were amazed at the audacity of the rangers to explore Gundabad and were also relieved to learn that the fortress had been abandoned after the Battle. The King sat silently, listening attentively, eyes fixed on Gandalf and holding tightly the necklace in his right hand.

Simple interest turned to wonder as Gandalf described the hidden passage and the underground room enveloped in elf magic. By the time he arrived at the part in which he described the enchanted sword and the secret door, there was dead silence in the room.

Gandalf's gaze and warm, kind blue eyes never left Thranduil's. He took a deep breath before he described how the rangers found her, "She was asleep my Lord, safely protected in a deep, enchanted sleep."

General Drauchir's voice could barely be heard. "My Lord Thranduil," he said while he stared at the King's right hand which was clutching the star necklace so fiercely that there was blood trickling from between his fingers due to its pointed edges.

The words snapped Thranduil into action. As he rose slowly from his chair, his look turned to one of extreme fury. He was livid. How did this wizard dare invent such a story? How could he? And finally he spoke, through clenched teeth "If this is some kind of joke…"

Gandalf stopped him. "Do you really believe, my lord Thranduil, that I would jest on such matters? Knowing what all this must mean to you?" replied the wizard as calmly as he could.

"But this does not mean that it is her. We've still got no real proof of …anything!" Lathron pointed out, visibly shaken, Gandalf noticed, almost more than the king himself, if that was even possible.

"Well, if that necklace isn't proof enough, she is also in possession of a sword which, according to your son Legolas, is almost the same as yours my King," continued Gandalf.

"Legolas," whispered the King, all anger drained from his eyes now to be replaced by hope. "Legolas has met her?" he asked.

"Yes," answered the wizard, "and he was considerably perplexed by that sword, I dare say. He suggested that we should come back here and ask you about it."

"Then why isn't he here? Why isn't she?" the King demanded. "Also, why am I not feeling the bond between us, if she is awake now?" Doubt and confusion clouded his eyes once more but Gandalf was once again quick to find a plausible answer. "I think the reason is harshly simple my Lord. She has lost all memory of what her life had been before she fell asleep." These words echoed round the room as they sank in to all those listening.

It was then that Gandalf continued to fill them in with the rest of the story, of how the rangers brought her back to Dale, their meeting at Bard's house, his visit to Erebor and his return to find them all gone. Although pressed for time, he knew that the King, (not to mention the others), needed to be filled in with all the details of the story, thus making it more and more real.

It was when he mentioned the village attacked by the orcs and how they were all heading there, that the elves' eyes widened in alarm. Drauchir looked at the King, who wasted no time in giving out orders.

"Drauchir, Meldarion! Two hundred elves must be ready to leave in half an hour." Both generals nodded at the orders given and left the room in an instant.

Thranduil looked at the wizard and provided him with a reason behind his actions; not that it was usual for the King to explain his actions to anybody, but this time he felt it was the right thing to do.

"This, Mithrandir, was exactly the topic we were discussing when you barged in. We had reports that a considerable number of orcs was seen South, around the borders of the Running River. And, I'm afraid, that is not all…"

"They have a leader!" interrupted Gandalf, without waiting for the King to finish his sentence.

Thranduil sighed, giving up. "You're right," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes. I am…most of the time!" grinned back the wizard.

But the King wasn't listening anymore. His eyes were once again fixed on the necklace he was holding in his right hand. Only one word escaped his lips,

"Valadhiel"