Part 5
The three elves had walked back to Baradeth's home in silence, winding their way around trees and shrubs, their feet brushing against grass and flowers, and each thought of different things.
Thranduil, who walked with his head high and his stance proper, wondered if this would be the way to get information from the elleth. As dark and twisted as it sounded, the king would do anything to have covert information on Sauron; even befriend a tortured, murderous thing like Baradeth. Of course, there were worse things he could do to get what he wanted than have to become friends with someone that he would never expect to be friends with. Thranduil pondered over ways to show affection towards the elleth in a way that would gain her trust and respect.
Ironically enough, Baradeth was wondering about Thranduil as well. She thought of the king's show of sympathy when she cried and of the kind words he spoke. She wondered why it was that he wasn't as affected by the curse as others—perhaps because of how old he was—and had to question if he was always this nice to people he'd known for only a day. He did know her quite well, though, didn't he? A bit too well…Baradeth felt like the scales were tipped in his favor, then, as she realized she knew almost nothing about the king. In fact, it was extremely possible that he wasn't even a king.
Legolas was thinking, as he walked to the left of Baradeth and stared at the ground ahead of them, about his mother, and how he and his father would have felt if they were in the same situation as Baradeth's family. Even entertaining the idea that his mother could still be alive and in hiding, for whatever reason, was as painful as being stuck by a Mordor blade.
Half way to her home Baradeth remembered the letter in her pocket and quickly took it out to scan its contents. Legolas was still in thought and thankfully didn't mention it, but Thranduil took notice of her actions and was relieved that she would finally read his proposition.
The elleth, however, gave no hint as to if she was pleased or otherwise by his words; her expression stayed as stony as before with no sign of changing. This did not satisfy the king, and left him feeling rather sour.
The walk home was quieter and longer than the walk to the clearing had been.
Once Baradeth's house was in sight, Thranduil quietly asked his son to check on the soldiers and walked the elleth to her door, her arm still kindly draped over his. They stood together on her porch and Baradeth turned to the king to look up into his eyes. Again, she saw the manipulation in them, and again had to question his true motives for comforting her so quickly, but made no mention of it.
"Thank you for listening to my story…to all of them, I suppose. Nobody has cared to ask about me before, and to finally talk about what I've been through…it was rather helpful."
Thranduil smiled politely and tilted his head slightly.
"It was my pleasure, darling Baradeth. I do plan to listen to more of your stories once you are ready to tell them." The hidden double meaning in his words—that he still wanted to know what she had discovered behind the walls of Mordor—was quite obvious. The elleth raised an eyebrow at him and her mood darkened ever so slightly.
"You sound so sure, king of Mirkwood. While courageousness can be an attractive quality, being demanding is rather off-putting. Now if you would excuse me, I need to think some things over."
Without waiting for a response, Baradeth went inside her home to contemplate who she could and couldn't trust, and left Thranduil glaring at her front door. And like that, the king was annoyed beyond reason. He swiftly stomped back to his tent, saving his irate grumbles for when he was alone.
What he did for the rest of the day, Baradeth didn't know, since that was the last time she saw him before sunrise of the next morning. The elleth honestly couldn't care what he was doing, though, for she had too many things on her mind to worry about others. Pulling her fur cloak from her shoulders and hanging it from a branch, she made her way past the bathroom and to the top floor of the small house that she had built years ago; to her bedroom.
The second floor was quite simple looking and consisted mostly of the large stone bathtub near the back of the room and a cabinet of towels. There were scented candles and a few trinkets that she'd picked up over the years—uncommonly large pinecones, rocks with gems embedded in them, driftwood that was warped beautifully—placed on a few shelves and the ledge of the tub. There was only one window, which faced the left side of the house, and two trees popped up from the wooden floor and reached up into the ceiling.
The third floor was possibly the darkest and plainest of them all. Her bed, a simple wooden frame holding up a normal old mattress, sat against the very left wall beneath the large floor-to-ceiling window which was uncovered by any drapes or curtains. There were only two blankets on this bed and one single pillow, all rather unremarkable. A closet was against the front wall, holding every dress, shirt, pair of trousers, and undergarments she had.
There were no decorations or accents of any sort in this room, and no candles to light it either; all possibility of being able to see relied on whatever light was provided by the window.
On the other side of the room, though, was a pedestal made of marble. It was waist high and covered in dust, as many things were in this rather unused room. On this pedestal sat a perfectly rounded black stone with white and grey swirls in it. This stone was covered by an old silk blanket, for it wouldn't be safe to leave it out in the open.
The name of this odd item was palantíri, and it was one of seven ancient seeing stones, four of which remain lost till this day. The palantíri were once used by royals or guards to communicate over long, vast distances across the world, and rather difficult to control.
Baradeth had come across this stone long before she decided to infiltrate Mordor and spy on Sauron—before she had even finished aging. She found it in a forest while exploring deep within the halls of a destroyed castle, and decided to keep it, not fully understanding its power.
It stayed forgotten and hidden under her bed for years and years and wasn't found once more until she decided that the room would become her newborn son's. When the bed was moved aside and she saw the palantíri after all of those years, she understood and feared it.
The seven palantíri weren't made for evil, nor were they used for such things. Now that the others were unaccounted for, there was no telling who could be watching.
A gang of orcs could be happy to keep a close eye on the elves for Sauron, or jealous dwarfs could accuse others of spying on their gold mines. Baradeth decided to keep the stone for herself and let it stay hidden, so that it might not cause trouble.
Along her journey the palantíri had followed Baradeth from the Grey Haven, to Mordor, and finally to her new home. Very few times had she gazed into it, and even fewer times did it bother to show her anything.
The seven stones worked only for certain people, as pets only listen when commanded by their owners. Now the palantíri sat in her nearly empty bedroom perched upon its pedestal, like the king's own crown waiting to be shined and fawned over, as useful as any common pebble.
She stood in front of the covered seeing stone, leaning on the pedestal and staring at the silken cloth hiding it from the world as if it would offer her some form of console. Many thoughts flew through Baradeth's head and she had a hard time with focusing on just one of them.
Can I trust Thranduil?
His motives are selfish and careless.
Why isn't he horrible to me like others?
He'll probably betray me.
What's the worst he could do though, really?
Capture and torture me until the day he either dies or gets his answers.
That thought really stuck with her. If Baradeth did anything to cross Thranduil, anything at all, he could have her drugged and taken to his dungeons within seconds. Of course, she could always call every orc, goblin, troll, earth-eater, and possibly dragon to her aid if need be, but she would have very little control over them and innocent bystanders would be killed.
Would Baradeth really be willing to sacrifice those people just to save her own skin?
Would either of us really benefit in the end?
He might not even be a king.
What if this is some sort of test to see if I will keep Sauron's secrets to myself?
I shouldn't do it, it'll be foolish.
Despite every doubt that crossed Baradeth's mind, one idea couldn't stop rearing its ugly head.
What if he can break the curse?
This, above all else, was what really mattered; not if he was a good person, not if he really was a king, not if he would betray her in the end. Baradeth needed to be rid of the curse, had been wishing and dreaming of it for decades, and here was her chance.
Thranduil had his motives in mind, and so did Baradeth.
For at least eleven hours the elleth stood in her scarcely used bedroom and contemplated every possible situation, imagining what would happen if things went this way or that. She thought of not only Thranduil, but also Legolas, Sauron, the orcs, trolls, goblins, and even wondered if her old family might be thrown into the mix of possibilities.
The sun fell from the sky and was replaced by a slight sliver of moon that hardly did anything to light the room. The darkness consumed her mind momentarily and all she could imagine was more death and destruction, more failed attempts at being a good person.
Then there was a loud clutter from outside and Baradeth was brought from her mind and back into Middle Earth.
Quickly she looked out the window, fearing that the elves had decided to try and overthrow her or that the enemy had decided to pay yet another uninvited visit. It was nothing horrible, though, merely a group of rowdy soldiers sparring in the dark.
Baradeth breathed a sigh of relief and let her eyes wander aimlessly over the campsite to watch those in her yard. Some ate their dinner by the firelight in silence, others whispered to one another with full mouths, and most ignored their food in favor of drink.
She watched the archers clean their weapons, more as a hobby than a necessity, and found herself gazing with interest at the largest tent among them. Baradeth had been spot on when she'd said it was the size of a house.
Was the almighty king of Mirkwood stalking about that majestic tent, muttering to himself and thinking just as hard as she had been? He seemed to be the sort to brood over many things. He could also just be sitting on a throne of sorts, casually commanding his servants to bring him this and that. Thranduil certainly looked the type to take advantage of being king.
Breathing deeply, the elleth made a decision.
Could Thranduil be trusted completely? No.
Was being lied to or betrayed worth the feeling of a pumping heart and hungry stomach like she once did a long time ago? Certainly.
Baradeth went back down to the first floor and reached to the bottom rack of her bookshelf where she kept her parchment and ink. Surly, the ink was rather old and unused, and she'd had some issues the day before with getting it to write, but it was better now. The paper was just as old and unused, rather scratchy and wrinkled with time; it was all that Baradeth had to use, though, so she made do with what she had.
Quickly, before her mind could be changed, the elleth scrawled across the page, folded it, and slipped it under her doorway. If the king got it, then a deal was indeed meant to be made. If not, the Baradeth would send Thranduil and his men on their way back to Mirkwood.
Baradeth just hoped that no blood would be spilt either way.
…
The rest of Baradeth's night was spent trying to distract herself from her excited mind. It wasn't exactly a happy sort of excited—it was more of a worried/glad kind of excitement—but it did keep her on her feet.
She thought of the changes that would need to be made around the house if the deal, which she had yet to even propose let alone get a confirmation about, was to actually be approved by Thranduil. The elleth figured that she really ought to be considering what she would write rather than doing so much work, but logic was escaping her for the moment.
She decided that a new table was needed, one that the king would be able to eat off of, and maybe a bit more decorations. Before she knew it, the elleth was conjuring up a wooden table, uprooting some nice wildflowers to put in jars and glasses, and thinking of new things to add to her boring bedroom. When the sky began to lighten up and birds started chirping, Baradeth took a break and started to make some food in case the king and prince wanted to visit her.
Breakfast was ready by the time Thranduil and Legolas went to see Baradeth.
The king stepped through the threshold, not even bothering to knock first, and hid the note he'd found on her doorstep for later. The elves halted in surprise at the sight before them.
A small, fairly new looking table was set between the two pillar trees sprouting in the living room and the chairs had been moved to it. Potted plants now took up the empty corners of the room, their leaves and vines spilling onto the floor over the sides of the clay mugs and pitchers. It actually looked somewhat cozier than it had been before, like the table and foliage should have been there the whole time.
Baradeth was abuzz with energy today, moving from food cooking over the fire to a bowl of fruits and vegetables on her kitchen counter. She hummed pleasantly, singing a fun tune made by men quite some time ago, and grinned at the king and prince as they entered.
Today she wore something most elves would not consider proper; a man's shirt with the sleeves rolled all the way to her shoulders and men's trousers torn just above the knee, both articles of clothing dirty and not fitting her tall body quite right.
"Someone's had a busy night." Chuckled Legolas. Baradeth smiled, clearly in a pleasant mood, and began putting plates and silverware on the table.
"Yes, well, I figured it was time for a bit of redecoration. Come on now, I've just finished the eggs."
"You made this table?" The prince asked, running his hand over the smooth edge.
"Yes, it was done about three hours ago. I've been working on it for a few days now, but found my work suddenly interrupted by a gaggle of armed elves."
The elves each smirked and pulled up a chair to the table, waiting for whatever meal Baradeth was serving them this morning.
"Really, darling Baradeth," the king sighed as he looked at the plate of toast, sausage, eggs, and grapes that was set before him, "you simply cannot continue to feed us like this."
"If I don't, then all of my food will go to waste. What is worse, dear king, eating the meals I give you, or letting them rot while others in Middle Earth are starving?"
"Where do you even get the food from?" Legolas asked in a daze as he picked up his toast.
"What did you think I meant when I said that I cook in my free time? The forest is overflowing with fertile land and tasty game, especially since I'm the only one here to take advantage of it. Every few feet you can find something not only safe to eat, but rather flavorful as well. Now no more questions, my friends, for I have business to attend to elsewhere." After being sure that they had their food and any napkins needed, the elleth rushed passed them to the front door.
Thranduil frowned at Baradeth's sudden take of leave and set his fork back down on his plate, quickly speaking before she could leave.
"Business—of what sort and with whom, might I ask?"
Baradeth gave a breathless laugh and stepped through the door, looking at her guests from the porch.
"Your plates better be cleared when I get back, Thranduil."
Within the blink of an eye, she was down the hill and running into the woods on her bare feet, grinning all the while.
"What do you suppose that's about?" Legolas asked.
"Eat your food." Thranduil muttered, still staring at the door. The prince made a slight face at his father, but did as asked and tucked into his eggs.
The king's eyes squinted in doubt before he quickly took the note from where it was tucked in his sleeve and opened it to read its contents. The single sentence written in old black ink was enough to make Thranduil feel just as gleeful as Baradeth.
Legolas eyed the letter in his father's hand thoughtfully as he popped a green grape into his mouth. He pointed at the note.
"Why—"
"Eat."
Thranduil stood, still not having touched his food, and let the note fall into the flames of the fireplace. The prince watched his father with raised brows, but ignored the question he'd been hoping to ask nonetheless and took another eager bite.
While Legolas agreed with Thranduil that elves didn't need to nor should they gorge themselves too much in case they gain weight and become just as slow and clumsy as men, he had to admit that Baradeth's cooking was quite delectable. It wasn't often he had time to sit and eat an actual meal to the point of being totally full.
The king lightly sat back down in his chair and glanced over his plate of food, not really seeing it or anything else he looked at.
Baradeth wanted to make a deal. For this, Thranduil was extremely glad, because it meant that when he pulled through—because he had no doubt in his mind that he could do anything Baradeth wanted—he would know that much more about the enemy. Now that it was really happening though, the king couldn't help the unexpected anxiety that fell heavily upon his heart.
If Baradeth wasn't interested in the treasure, romance, or power that Thranduil had blatantly and repeatedly offered her, then what could she want? Clearly, she wasn't as simple as any other elleth; she wouldn't be pleased by any mundane thing…or would she?
Thranduil might know of her history, but he truly had no idea of who she was as an ordinary person. To him, the elleth was a fairytale come to life what happened to have some useful knowledge. Baradeth's hopes and intents, along with her fears and irritations, were beyond the king's knowledge; as far as he was aware, she would ask him to rip Middle Earth in half for her, just so she could be entertained.
Was he out of his league?
"Aren't you going to eat, father?" Legolas asked as he washed his plates in the sink.
He hadn't bothered the king, knowing he was in deep thought over some serious matter, but Baradeth could be back any second now and the prince didn't want to find out what would happen if she saw that one of their plates wasn't clear of all food. Thranduil blinked out of his stupor and lifted his head to glance at Legolas as he dipped the used silverware into a bucket of clear water. Looking back down at his plate, the king found that his food had to be cold and less appetizing by now.
"No, son, I do not think I will."
"Baradeth won't be pleased." Sighed the prince as he dried the damp dishes on a cloth.
The king silently scoffed and stood from the table to aimlessly look out the front window.
It seemed that he did know something about the elleth; she certainly made sure that her guests got fed.
…
Baradeth's naked feet pounded on the dirt rhythmically as she sprinted through the woods.
Her white hair whipped past her pointed ears to float in the wind, and her clothes clung to her front in a desperate attempt to keep up with her. She leapt over trees and bushes, and carefully avoided sharp pebbles or poky pinecones. Her eyes did not water or burn against the wind, and her muscles wouldn't get sore if she decided to keep on running until there was no ground left to run on. The sun tried to touch the elleth, but the leaves and branches above her kept it from doing so.
No sound was heard as she went; there was no thud of her feet, no stray twig snapped, no puddle splashed through. Baradeth was only a shadow flying on the wind.
Since she was running as fast as she could, Baradeth made it to the Sea of Rhûn by noon. Had she been walking, it would have taken her nearly a day just to get there. She slowed to a stop, once she broke through the trees and spotted the sandy beach not too far away, and rested her hands on her hips. She didn't need to catch her breath or let her legs rest, for Baradeth didn't have lungs that craved for air or a body that ever got sore.
No plants grew from this bit of land—no weeds, grass, flowers, or trees—and no bugs liked to make their house in it. The sand was too hot and the water too salty to be a home for any living creature, so the beach was a rather baron one. The same went for the sea; no plants, no bugs, and no animals, except for a few large fish of the same kind and a certain flower at the very bottom of the sea.
The Sea of Rhûn was, from where Baradeth stood, more than one hundred and fifty miles long and one hundred miles wide. In the far left side of the water were some rather sharp, nasty rocks ready to injure any who dare to swim there. Directly across the sea were some nearby mountains, and further behind those were the Ash Mountains of Mordor.
She had one day swam the entire sea and come across this flower.
This flower is what Baradeth was hoping to find. It sprouted from the wet sand in the middle of the Sea of Rhûn and was at least ten feet tall. Its stem was thin, stringy almost, and a very light shade of green, and off of it blossomed clusters of tiny white petals hugging one another and long pollen tubes. The petals had a sparkly sheen over them that made them look like they were made of silver, and the pollen was the shade of gold.
How it is that a flower managed to grow in the middle of a nearly empty sea, Baradeth did not know, but she wanted it either way. She would not uproot the entire plant for fear of stunting its growth, but since there were four others surrounding it, the elleth decided it would be alright to take from just one.
The main reason she wanted this radiant plant was to impress Thranduil with it. He might want a crown fashioned from it, or for it to be stitched into the collar of his robes—or, as hard as it was to imagine, Thranduil might merely wish for them to be put in a vase so that he might gaze upon them as often as possible. Whatever it was the king might be interested in doing with the plant did not matter, but Baradeth simply knew that they would make his stay better, however long it may be.
Baradeth shed her clothes and left them hanging from a tree.
Her toes broke the top of the sand and sunk underneath it, only to be uprooted to take another step and repeat the process until she felt the cold water of the sea lick at her feet. She walked in and didn't stop, even after her head was under the water; there was no air in Baradeth's body to keep her afloat and she had no need to come back up to breathe. The elleth kept on walking deeper and deeper into the sea with her eyes open and her hair floating gracefully about her head.
The one breed of fish in the sea, nameless large black things with two tails rather than one and many eyes, curiously followed her. One tried to take a nip at Baradeth's arm, but was batted away like an irritating little bug and didn't bother her again.
It was an uneventful trip and took quite a long time for her to find the plant. It would have been faster if Baradeth had swam rather than just walk, but she never did like to hurry things along when in the water. Once she did find the flower though, glowing as it swayed in place, the elleth made sure to be kind and careful as she plucked two feet of it and took it back to shore. She dried herself the best she could and quickly dressed. Baradeth decided not to run back home, for fear of damaging the flower, but she walked quite briskly and made it to her house just as the sun was setting.
The king and prince were no longer in her home, but on her porch there sat a letter, one which she read as she placed the silvery plant in a nice water-filled vase.
B,
What did you have in mind?
-T