Chapter 14

Late Night Invasion

When Thranduil was certain that Erynlith was feeling well and ready to continue with the night's festivities, he took the empty wine cup and led her back. The bench they occupied was away from the upbeat courtyard, and would most likely take a few moments to arrive there. And their pace was slow, as though Erynlith did really not want to return. They did not talk anymore, just a few exchanges of glances and a few nods. He was more than satisfied that they understood each other that way. Aduial en Meleth was celebrated before the first fall of snow, and sooner or later, winter would be upon them. He shivered under his thick silver brocade, but he knew his companion was chilled down to her bones with her thin satin dress.

"Are you alright?" he voiced out, suddenly concerned. But Erynlith only shook her head slightly, and then smiled at him. It felt different to have her smiling at him, rather than her usual strange quirks and huffs.

The courtyard was still not on sight when suddenly, Erynlith flinched and looked up. Her grey eyes wandered about, probing the trees up ahead. She stood frozen from where she was, arms about her shoulder as she tried to warm herself from the chilly evening. And as she halted, Thranduil momentarily stopped with her, few paces ahead of her, and he turned back with a look of question in his eyes.

"Is everything alright?" He felt ridiculous for asking her the same question as before. When she did not answer, he sighed and approached her. Her eyes were still darting around the forest, and Thranduil could see the wariness despite the darkness. He cupped her cheek and pulled her gaze to him. "Erynlith?"

She grabbed his arm. "Do you hear that?"

He stared at her curiously. "Hear what?"

Again, she looked startled. "That!" she insisted; her hand on his arm was now shaking.

Thranduil shook his head in defeat. "What are you even talking about?"

Just then, hooves thundered above them. Both elves looked up, with the elf prince narrowing his eyes as he looked at the mountain side beyond the forest. The Misty Mountains loomed east of Lórinand, and many fell creatures attacked the dwarves who lived there. The raging footsteps pressed on, metal clashing against metal. Howls and roars echoed, and he knew these would reach the borders of the forest in no time.

"Run," Thranduil whispered, but she did not hear. Both were too frozen to move. Not long after, the first line of Orcs appeared into his view, and he quickly grabbed her right wrist. Erynlith winced at that; the pain from her wound lingered there. Before she knew it, she was running frantically with Thranduil, and the elf prince was cursing in Elvish.

As they arrived in the courtyard, they found the elves huddled closely together. Fear was written on their faces. Amroth emerged from the crowd, followed by the marchwardens. He was equipped with his bow and sword, and he tossed one slender bow to Thranduil. Behind Amroth, Erestor and Caladhir followed, and Thranduil watched in dismay as Erynlith snatched her arm away from his grip.

"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded to the battle-ready Erestor. His dark hair was pulled back and his armor was silver. It was the same that he wore when they were assaulted in the High Pass. The daunted breastplate and still-bloody pauldron were unmistakable.

Erestor looked down at her, his eyes cold and stern. "Stay here where others can keep an eye on you. I'll be right back." And he pushed her gently out of his way, and was followed by Caladhir.

Erynlith grabbed Caladhir and forced him to look at her. "And you? You're coming, too? After a week of being injured, you will still fight. Are you serious?"

"If it means protecting our people," Caladhir said, taking her hand away from his shoulder, "then I will whatever it would take. My life is hardly a matter now. But if I live this night, I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow, Eryn." He offered her a weak smile and continued to follow his dark captain.

Everyone was gathered now. Even the King was prepared for battle. Horses were mustered, the armory was broken open and weapons were distributed to each willing fighter. Even those who were incapable of fighting were given bows. The elf-maidens were ushered back into their houses, in fear that they would lose their loved ones in tonight's battle. And Erynlith was the one left behind, watching silently as more marchwardens emerged to gather in the King's yard. Lieutenants gave away their reports, and they planned on ambushing the orcs before they could cross the river.

"Get in line!" Amroth shouted when some of the inexperienced wardens went off. "I said get in line, and wait for your orders!"

When the wardens did what they were told, Amroth ran past Erynlith. Her eyes followed his trail, and she realized that Nimrodel was also there, watching the small army of elves. And Amroth approached her, whispered something in her ear, and leaned down to kiss her. It was a sight familiar to Erynlith, and she was not bothered at all. Sooner or later, Amroth had to propose to Nimrodel, even though she and the lady were in not-so-good terms. Amroth then embraced Nimrodel and was about to run past Erynlith again when he had finally noticed her.

"Eryn!" he said in amazement. He quickly grabbed her and pulled her away from the scene. "What are you still doing here? Go back in your chambers and don't leave it until I say otherwise. Now, go!" He literally pushed her away and printed back towards his marchwardens.

She huffed and followed him. But she did not approach Amroth; it was Erestor whom she grabbed by the arm and glared at him profusely. And he did not complain. How could he? For all he knew, this was the girl he raised for a hundred years, taught things he knew, and that he had always felt responsible to her, and she to him. He acknowledged her worry for him, especially right after their incident some weeks ago, but he just had to do this.

Erestor patted her head instead, not wanting to crush her with his armor. Then, he pulled out a bow and a quiver. "Stay here for me," he said and glanced back at the impatient marchwardens. Even Amroth and Amdír looked restless now. "Should anything happen, you know what to do."

"Really?" Erynlith scoffed, snatching the bow and quiver a little too forceful. "And what would you have me do? Warm the bed until you return?" She sounded sullen and hurt.

He quickly felt sorry for her and embraced her. "No, Eryn. I would never let you do that. You are more than just an elf to be left in the house, doing chores. You are capable of doing more things. And I am leaving you in charge of the keep. If anything happens, you can handle yourself, yes?"

"But Erestor—"

"I can leave you here and return that you are safe, yes?" he insisted. She nodded. "Good," he said and kissed her forehead swiftly. "I must go. Keep safe."

Erynlith pulled his gauntlet and he turned to her again. "If it's not too much to ask, please watch over Amroth. You know how reckless that silly elf prince can be."

He nodded and smirked mischievously. "Of course. What about Thranduil? Want me to watch over him too?"

She blinked, startled at that question. Her eyes wandered past Erestor's shoulder and found Thranduil. One of the wardens offered him a change of clothes, his silver brocade now turned into light hunter's garb, with brown leather vambraces. His silver circlet was discarded as well. When her eyes returned to Erestor, they softened, and she nodded sincerely.

"Yes, please," she answered quietly.

And with that, Erestor was off with his companions. The horn sounded, and they rode out and disappeared into the darkness. Erynlith sighed deeply and clutched the bow and quiver tighter, unsure of what to make of them. Considering the might of the elves of Lórinand, with Erestor, Caladhir and Thranduil, they could win easily. And she saw Nimrodel wistfully sitting on the staircase, hands clasped together as if in prayer. The other elf-maidens were now safely in their homes, and two were left to await the rest of the night's fate.

Thranduil mustered his horse closer to follow King Amdír's trail. One of the elves bore the green banner of the King, while one held the horn. The small resisting company of elves rode hard and followed the course of River Celebrant, and it was not long until they reached the point where two rivers intersected. The river that cascaded from the Misty Mountains and flowed through Lórinand was Celebrant, and the smaller river that intersected it was called by the locals Nimrodel. The elf-maiden Nimrodel had always spent her time there, lived there, and thus, it was usually referred as that. The marchwarden's outpost was adjacent to the intersection, high above the trees, which overlooked the whole forest and some areas near the Dwarves' Mirrormere. All this Amroth educated Thranduil, well-aware that one should be knowledgeable about the place before a battle ensued. The Prince of Greenwood mentally noted to himself that he should make a map out of it sometime.

Then, they halted. Bows are drawn in all directions, usually in front of the pathway, and the elves listened. The bubbling sounds of the river were interrupted with vicious strides of the incoming enemies. And as they waited, King Amdír rounded up his best archers and placed them in front. More were positioned near the banks of the river, while those with less experience were behind. Being Prince, Thranduil had the opportunity to stand beside the King and his son, and with Erestor and his friend Caladhir.

The footsteps thundered once more and headed towards them.

Amroth eagerly notched an arrow. He was light on his feet, and he bounced from his spot. "We're born ready for this! Let me at them!"

And Thranduil raised an eyebrow at this eagerness. It was the side of the humble Amroth that he did not know. Beside him, Erestor drew out his slender sword, and Thranduil watched in awe. Erestor was the well-equipped fighter in the group, with the exception of the King himself. All others wore simple tunics and trousers and boots, while the captain had full armor.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped. King Amdír looked up attentively and curiously, wondering why the enemies had stopped with their assault. Had they noticed the elves? He gritted his teeth and dismounted his horse. He whispered something to his lead marchwarden. With a nod, the pale-haired warden signaled his companions, and arrows were fired. In the darkness, cries of agony echoed. This alerted the elves more, and with another command, arrows were fired. The elves relentlessly fired, hoping that the enemies would return whence they came. But the orcs did not forsake their position in the darkness. They stood still, but the elves knew well they were still there. King Amdír grew impatient, and sent some of his wardens towards the other party. And as the elves grew closer, the orcs pounced on them and were done with them in no time. Poison-tipped arrows from the orcs were released, and those who stood on the front took the damage.

Seeing their companions fell, Amroth gave a loud command and the warden followed him, openly rushing towards the pack of enemies. Thranduil watched in horror as they did, leaving him quite dazed from where he stood. And he realized that Erestor was still standing beside him, not charging as Amroth had commanded. The captain's eyes were observant, narrowing as they adjusted into the darkness.

"What are you doing?!" Caladhir shouted at Erestor's face, none too pleased for seeing his captain so passive in such an assault. "They are crossing the river! They have thrashed the marchwarden's outpost. And the King and Prince Amroth are leading them. Let's go now!" He did not wait for Erestor to answer. Caladhir followed Amroth, and with his sword from Rivendell, had felled many orcs with it.

With a heavy sigh, Erestor plunged on, and followed by Thranduil.

The battle between the rivers commenced all night, with orcs at the seeming disadvantage. When they had seen their number grow less, the pack split into three groups: one would keep the fighting going on in the rivers, while the other two would circle round the fight and proceed further into the forest. The plan seemed rather simple for such simple-minded creatures, but they saw promise of escape on that one. Their leader, an orc with his tunic adorned with red quills, roared and kept the fight extending until his other two troops were successfully inside the forest.

With all the fighting going around him, Thranduil's mind was plagued on how he wished Raithon was there with him.

And the elves of Lórinand were too engaged into fighting that they had not noticed the splitting groups. Two had circled around them, one on the left and on the other was right, and when they had reached the other side of the river, the orcs had regrouped themselves and advanced into the forest. These creatures congratulated themselves for the job well-done, and they ran under the trees like gleeful children playing under the moonlight.

Erestor's eyes widened. He was fighting an orc himself, too tall for his build, and the orc's strength was great as his height. And as his hewed the orc by his back, Erestor turned around and saw the advancing orc pack in the forest. He tried to cry out to his companions, but the same orc he thought he had killed grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off his feet.

"You blasted elf!" the orc sneered at him, blood trickling down to his chin. Erestor winced, the pain on his throat was too painful to be true, and his strength was failing him as the grip became tighter. His eyes moved once again to the orc pack; now they almost faded into the darkness. "Let me make this easier for you…" The orc raised his axe and placed it behind Erestor's head, pressing the blade on his nape. "Any last words, elf?"

"You are a mistake of nature," Erestor breathed from his aching throat.

The orc laughed harshly. "And you are a fool!"

As the blade was about to hit, Erestor's sword was picked up from the ground and driven onto the orc's broad chest. The orc wavered and gagged, cursing. He dropped Erestor on the ground, and he gasped desperately for air, gently soothing his throat. He looked up and saw Thranduil driving his sword home to the orc's chest, twisting it ever so slowly to make the death more painful. Blood tainted his tunic and breeches, but Thranduil did not care anymore. Even his cheek was disgraced with the shameful blood. The orc fell dead before it reached the ground, thumping loudly and lifelessly beside Erestor.

"Erestor!" Thranduil called out and knelt beside the captain. He helped him onto his feet and handed the sword back. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Erestor shook his head, his vision getting blurry from the pain. "Orcs… orcs are running through the forest… They are heading to the fortress. Let's go now. They cannot reach the keep; Nimrodel and Erynlith are waiting there."

Hearing that, Thranduil's eyes widened. He whistled for his own horse, and then called Amroth to tell him what had happened. Soon enough, the three of them were riding hard back towards the keep. And they had left without telling anyone. Erestor sat silently behind Thranduil, one hand supporting his weight so that he may not fall. And he continued to observe the two Sindarin princes. He knew Amroth was anxious about Nimrodel, of her safety. But what of Thranduil? Why was Thranduil so desperate to return to the keep anyway? For whom was he fighting?

Erestor only wished that it was not Erynlith.

"Oh, what is happening?

Erestor has left me."

Erynlith occupied herself by stroking the harp absent-mindedly. It had been a while since the army set out, and she was becoming restless. She sat on the other side of the courtyard, leaning against a tree. Beside her was the bow and quiver Erestor had left her with, and those were of not much use. Parallel to where she sat was Nimrodel whose eyes were glued to the direction where she had last seen Amroth. The two elves had not spoken to each other since their departure, and they didn't even talk much to each other in the first place.

Nimrodel always regarded Erynlith and Erestor as one of the elves who brought wars to Middle-earth, to her peaceful home. Her people accepted Amdír, Amroth, and the King's younger sister, and she eventually came to respect them. But Erestor's usual visits with Erynlith were either safe or dangerous. Often they would be followed by the enemies. And Nimrodel never liked that. She had been hostile to both of them since then, but she had come to somehow respect Erestor. She knew well that he was an honorable captain in his place. And so, her hostility turned more to Erynlith. Nimrodel refused to speak to her beloved's cousin, even though Erynlith had once tried using Sindarin. But Nimrodel was prideful and would not disown her native language.

She became restless and abruptly stood up from her seat, startling Erynlith. She began to leave the courtyard and follow the trail of the fighting army. Instantly, Erynlith stood up as well, grabbing the bow and quiver.

"Where are you going?" she asked, although she knew Nimrodel would not understand. But she continued anyway. "Amroth said to stay here. Please, return to your seat. They will be back soon."

And as always, Nimrodel ignored her. It was quite the lady's habit to ignore her. Erynlith rolled her eyes and scoffed at Nimrodel's stubbornness. It would be better to force her back to her seat, wouldn't it? She might even attempt to tie Nimrodel on place. As she followed her, and now they were in the forest, Nimrodel suddenly stopped. Erynlith did as well, and she could hear strides coming towards them. Slowly, Nimrodel retreated behind her, and the massive orc pack appeared in front of them. Erynlith gasped and notched an arrow, aiming on one orc and releasing it. But it was useless against the raging incoming orcs.

"Run," she whispered over to Nimrodel. Fear crept in her veins, and she felt pain in her right wrist where the poisoned arrowhead had been. Nimrodel did not move; she was too overwhelmed with the approaching enemies. Erynlith could not blame her, but it was all two elves could do against the pack of orcs. "Run!" she said more forcefully.

Much to her surprise, Nimrodel nodded and pulled her by the wrist. That sudden gesture of concern warmed Erynlith in amidst of such a cold and dark evening.

Aduial en Meleth was different this year.

Next Chapter: Girl power of Erynlith and Nimrodel take the spotlight!

Author's Notes: Another fighting chapter by yours truly, since I can't keep my hands from writing battle-filled chapters. The next one will involve even more fighting, and maybe some Elvish blood. Eww. So, before we shed Elvish blood, enjoy this one first. Hope you don't mind the fighting. LOL. Thank you for reading and keep the reviews coming. Have a nice day!

*xSiriuslyPadfoot - Yes, I do think there will be some Thranduil jealousy in the future chapters, but not very soon. LOL. Wait 'til someone gets into the picture and we have an extremely Thranduil jealousy coming up! ;)

*Oriana5 - Yup, the dance was pretty smooth, much to Thranduil's favour. Haha!

*DeLacus - More Erestor and Erynlith things for you! LOL. Big brother Erestor/Rivendell Captain goes into action again!

*Rousdower - LOL. I like Smirkwood! I'll keep that in mind from now on!