Chapter 23

On Our Doorstep

S.A. 3434

A year had passed. The preparation for the war had come to an end. Everyone was ready to make their final stand against the Dark Lord: Elves and Men alike. The High King had marched off his from his west coast with thousands of armies following under his silver and blue banner, elven-horns sounded at the thundering hooves of their cavalcade. For months they travelled towards East until they had reached the house of Elrond. And Imladris was more bustling than ever.

Elrond's household was made ready for the sheer amount of warriors. The armories were refilled with thousands of swords, bows, and shields, of armors and of mail-shirts. The forges were almost broken and the best blacksmiths were put to work twenty four hours a day. Scouts were sent everyday to patrol the valley, training was commenced every morning, and Elrond and the High King would always be with their counselors. Countless messages were sent to Lórinand and to Greenwood, messages of alliance and warfare, and the two Sindarin Kings would always answer to them.

Months after the arrival of the High King in Imladris, the whole Alliance moved on again, this time, travelling eastwards. They took the High Pass, and with their thundering company, the enemies that lurked there cowered in the darkness. Arriving in Greenwood, the Elvenking admitted them into his kingdom, and King Amdír and Amroth of Lórinand were also there. Formalities were shared among the Kings, two Sindarin against the Ñoldorin High King. The Silvan folk were admitted safely in their fortress, while the Elven-guard did their duty.

In Greenwood, Erestor wanted to go, having not heard of someone he loved for months. She stayed there, that Erynlith, and she seemed contented in living there as the Elvenking's guest. She had earned the outmost respect of the Silvan folk there, and she was called by them as "Erfaron", following her incredible feat against the warg pack on one winter night. Whatever followed after that incident, Erestor did not know, and he did not care. He often wondered why the Prince of Greenwood kept her in the forest for too long, not even trying to visit Imladris in those months that had passed. It made Erestor quiver and paranoid, his imagination taking him beyond its limit.

Finally he found her, standing in the middle of the crowd, beside the Prince and the Captain of the Elven-guard. She was clad in the same fashion as the elf guards, in green tunic and black trousers, and her back was turned against him, but Erestor knew her of all people. This was the girl he raised, a daughter turned into sister after hundreds of years. He studied her. Nothing seemed to have changed. Her umber hair was longer, a bow on hand and a quiver on her back.

"Erynlith," Erestor called out, not wanting to attract other's attention.

In that split second, she turned, her eyes narrowing in search for who might have called her. Erestor stepped up, making himself visible among the armored elves, and watched as her eyes widened in realization. She quickly rushed towards him, that abrupt movement shifting Thranduil's attention, and she jumped into Erestor's welcoming arms.

"Erestor!" She beamed as the captain spun her around, laughing quietly. She kissed his cheek and clung onto his neck like a child. "I missed you really, really much! Why didn't you visit me here in Greenwood? Were you so busy? Or was there someone in Imladris that caught your attention and I have to be jealous of?"

He laughed and shook his head. "What are you saying? There is no one in Imladris that could replace you, Eryn. I was really too busy. And you didn't even visit once! What is up with that?"

"Well, the King really didn't want me to leave, tra-lay," she said and glanced back. Thranduil was watching them, and their eyes met. She turned again to Erestor, removing her arms from his neck. "War is really breaking out, isn't it?" Her brother did not answer. She looked at him worriedly. "Are you going, too?

"I might," he said quietly, already sounding remorseful about it.

Finally, Thranduil walked towards them. He looked formal, like the Prince of Greenwood that he was. His robe was long and maroon, a slender sword dangling lightly about his hips, and his hands were behind his back. At Erynlith he made no acknowledgement; his eyes were staring at the dark-haired Captain of Rivendell.

"Lord Erestor," he began, his voice deep. "It has been a while since you stepped in our domain."

"Yes, Prince Thranduil, but it would be more appreciated if Erynlith was allowed to return to Rivendell even just once? She does not have any commitment in Greenwood, does she?" Erestor wanted to reclaim her as soon as possible, have her back in Imladris, and wait with Lady Celebrían and the others.

Thranduil chuckled thoughtfully. "It is not much of a commitment, but Erfaron was given a position in the Elven-guard, an offer that she could not decline."

Her eyebrow twitched at that name. She had strong aversion to nicknames, to titles, or anything of the sort. And Thranduil knew it very well, only that he liked spending his time annoying her with it. Nothing changed between them for the past months. Their daily morning routine in the forest continued until King Oropher had made her one of Raithon's scouts. And she accepted, wanting to get a new taste in her life. Being a scout was not a difficult task at all, and all the other guards were friendly with her. She continued staying in her chambers in the palace, and Amardís, although not her attendant anymore, visited her often.

"Erfaron," Erestor drawled, the name left a bad taste in his mouth. It was bad enough that Erynlith was a member of the Elven-guard, and now she was called completely by another name. Ridiculous, Erestor thought. He could not help but ask. "Will she be participating in the upcoming battle?"

There was a strong disapproval in Thranduil's eyes.

"No," he answered quickly and sternly, and Erynlith was not surprised. It was the last thing she had on mind: march to Mordor and challenge the Dark Lord. Just thinking about it made her shiver. "She will stay here with a quarter of the Elven-guard while the Captain Raithon will come with us."

Ah, that was the original plan. Oropher had spent countless nights with Thranduil, Raithon, Celairis, and all the other counselors about this. The northern fortress that the Elvenking wanted to build for his people was not even started, prompting the Silvan folk to stay hidden in their fortress in the South. A quarter of the Elven-guard would stay behind to protect the Silvan folk, while the rest would follow the King to war. And that was why Oropher gave Erynlith a position in the Elven-guard, so that she would stay behind. He never received a complaint from her; she was too willing to be left behind. Oropher had mustered some thirty thousand of his folk, and another ten thousand from King Amdír of Lórinand.

"Join us in the conference halls," Thranduil offered to Erestor. "Everyone will be moving there. I heard from the High King that the Alliance will stay here for another month to refill your supply of food and drinks. In that case, you will have more time to catch up some stories from Erfaron. For now, follow me." He glanced at Erynlith before he left, and Erestor had to follow the Prince.

Erynlith waved at him and watched them leave.

Now that she was alone, she was determined to see Santien. Perhaps the healer felt lonesome, with Raithon being busy and all. No one had visited the infirmary for quite a while now, and Santien never left that place. She was too introverted to get herself involved in events like these.

As Erynlith wandered in the halls, she absentmindedly turned on a corner and bumped into a hard steel-plated armor. She recoiled from the impact, gripping her aching nose. She moaned lowly and opened an eye to see what who it was.

The High King looked worried and rushed towards her; his hands were in midair attentively. "Forgive me, dear child," the King said in an amiable voice. "I did not see you coming. Tell me, where does it hurt?"

She quickly shook her head and flailed her hands. "Oh, no, my lord, please! All is well. I am not hurt." She dipped her head in a low bow, feeling stupid in front of the Ñoldorin King. Why was it that she met someone important, she always made an utter fool of herself? She heard the dark-haired High King laugh good-naturedly above her. She had almost forgotten how warm and welcoming he really was.

They had met long before. When she was finally allowed by Erestor to travel with Gildor, the wandering company made a stop in Lindon, and the High King welcomed them all. She was young back then, unaware that the elf in front of her was a king. It was already late when she found out, but she remembered the King laughing it off, calling her a child. But she was no child. She was young, but not a child. She remembered the King ruffling her hair back then, how he used to invite her to dinner with him and Círdan and Celeborn.

And the High King in front of her was no different from the one she met a hundred years ago. Although there might be war coming up soon, he was still as friendly and warm as Erynlith remembered.

"Your hair is longer," the King mused, gesturing on her unkempt umber hair.

She smiled thoughtfully, twirling a lock. "Yes, well I haven't had time to cut it off. It is quite a nuisance for a scout like me, tra-lay."

"It looks better that way." The King smiled and began to walk past her. "I must see the others. I will see you later, perhaps at dinner, dear child."

With that, he ruffled her hair, just like he always did, and then disappeared into the hallways, his blue cloak disappearing with him.

In the next few weeks that followed, Raithon was busier with his Elven-guard. Thirty thousand Silvan archers from Greenwood, and another ten thousand from Lórinand under the command of Prince Amroth and a marchwarden. Raithon himself had countless lieutenants and lower ranked officers. Thranduil prepared the fortress for their departure, making sure his people would be supplied with enough livestock while they were gone. He guided Celairis on doing this task, as he did not trust the rest of his father's counselors. The Kings were always together, always in deep conversation, always serious. It was as though no one could come up to them without interrupting such an important discussion. Erestor found himself in the middle of this; he was Elrond's right hand at the moment, and the captain wished someone would replace him soon.

The departure day was coming. The whole of Greenwood was in great tense. The warriors were restless. What if they would never see their family again? What if they lost the battle? The High King prevented them from thinking about such a way. On their last night in Greenwood, the wine cellars of the Elvenking were broken down and there was a feast under the trees. Fire was set in the heart of the merry-making. Tables were filled with different kinds of food, and the wine varied in tastes. Silvan minstrels sang their songs, warriors took their time drinking and dancing, and even the High King enjoyed himself for the last night.

"Do you think we can achieve victory?" King Amdír whispered to Oropher. His eyes were carefully watching as Amroth conversed with the other warriors, particularly with Raithon. "These Ñoldo are what concerns me. We are Kings in our own rights. Should we really let the self-proclaimed High King lead us into battle?"

Oropher sipped from his drink and shook his head. "Nay, my friend. We are Kings, after all. No king should ever submit to another king. Remember that." He was too proud to admit that the High King was more supreme than they are, being kings of only the simple and native Silvan elves. Oropher had to hold on to what supremacy he had left.

"And your son? Is he ready for battle?" Amdír kept the questions coming. He knew Amroth was ready, despite being reluctant to leave his Nimrodel at first. He wondered if Thranduil was the same with his niece, if ever there was something between them.

"He is," Oropher answered confidently. He knew how his son had become attached to Erynlith in the last months, but there was nothing odd between them. "He is willing to leave Greenwood and join us for battle. He has seen and experienced much. I believe he is more than ready to face war."

The conversation between the Sindarin kings continued just as Thranduil left the merrymaking. He was tired of all the festivities; the music made his ears numb, and all the idle chat with the other warriors bored him. He would have talked to Erestor, though; he found the captain more engaging in conversations than Amroth was. All the other prince could mention was Nimrodel, and Thranduil was not even interested. He tried looking for Erestor, to ask him questions, but the captain was busy with the High King and Elrond. And Thranduil would never want to spare a few words with the High King. He approached one minstrel, asking for someone, and the minstrel kindly told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I saw Erfaron in the meadow a few moments ago," the elf said.

"Thank you," Thranduil answered and went off.

The Silvan elves had gotten used to calling her Erfaron, something that annoyed her for the first weeks following the warg incident, but Erynlith had sighed and accepted the fact that she could not change it anymore. Even the King Oropher referred to her as such, Raithon, Santien, and even Amardís. The name found its way to Lórinand, and Nimrodel was convinced to call her the same. Erfaron. It was amusing to see Erynlith grumble and roll her eyes at that name, and Thranduil spent most of his time annoying her.

He found her sitting cross-legged in the middle of a field of bluebells, the very first place where they met.

"Good evening, Erfaron," Thranduil greeted. "Enjoying the festivities, aren't we?"

Erynlith rolled her eyes and threw a stone at him. "Erfaron here, Erfaron there, tra-la-la. Enough with it, tra-lo. I miss being called Erynlith. So far only Erestor has called me that. Even the High King called me a child." She sighed and flopped on the ground, her arms stretched. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be entertaining people?"

"About that…" He sighed, sitting cross-legged beside her; his arms supporting his upper weight. "I have had with your cousin's endless rant about Nimrodel, how perfect her hair is, or how sparkly her eyes are." He shuddered and Erynlith laughed.

"When he starts talking about her, it would certainly take hours to make him finish. Quite annoying, really, tra-la."

Thranduil laughed with her. His eyes fell on the piece of cloth in her hand, and he pointed his finger at it. "May I see that?"

She sat up once again and showed him the green and silver pennant in her hand. It had a short grey rope on both ends, and a heraldic device was drawn in the middle. It was a diamond and had the image of a tree, with green leaves and silver flowers curling about it. There were also stars, three silver stars on each corner of the diamond. Thranduil ran his fingers on the device, his eyes widening in remembrance. The emblem was so painfully familiar.

At the lower corner of the pennant, an embroidered name written in Tengwar was present. He read the name, and his breath hitched up in his throat.

"Cúthalion," he whispered, looking up at her.

Erynlith simply shrugged and took the pennant from him. "King Amdír had this in his keeping for years, after my parents left. It seemed my father had things for heirlooms. This pennant belonged to my father's father, but it doesn't really matter, does it? It is mine now, tra-lo."

"Why do you have strong aversion talking about your lineage?" Thranduil asked out of curiosity. For the years he spent with her, she never mentioned the name of her parents.

Again, she shrugged. "Am I obliged to talk about it? Sorry, I don't do back stories, tra-lil-lay."

"You have bitter memories about it?" He pressed his luck with her.

"No." She snorted. "For one thing, I love everything in my life. I do not blame Erestor for my parents leaving. People leave all the time. There is no need to be such a wuss about it. I am contented."

"I am glad you are." Thranduil smiled at her. "And I hope you'll still be contended once we leave tomorrow?"

All of a sudden, she fell silent. Fear was creeping into her again. She was not participating in the battle, but almost everyone she knew would: Erestor, Elrond, Raithon, Amdír, Amroth, Oropher, Thranduil, and even the High King. It was like a one-way trip to Mordor. Whatever horror that would await the Alliance, even Erynlith was afraid of it. And she knew why that pennant was returned to her. Should anything befall on King Amdír and Amroth, the heirloom was passed to her. It was a ridiculous thought, to anticipate your own death before even marching to war. But she also knew that the King was cautious, just like he had always been, and wanted the best for her. She feared for all of them.

"Can we save the farewells for tomorrow?" Erynlith asked hopefully, looking at him in the eyes.

He nodded mournfully. "Will you really let me say goodbye to you? What if I don't come back?"

She placed her hand on top of his, a reassuring gesture.

"Believe me. You will come back, Thranduil."

Next Chapter: Farewells are exchanged.

Author's Notes: I am not looking forward on writing the war, but it has to be done. With a lot of deaths, too! There would be lots of feels for me. (T_T)

*Asmodeus Black - Aw, I'm glad you liked it! Thank you for reading!

*Oriana5 - From the start, I never planned on including Eryn in the war, mainly because I didn't want her to get all the attention throughout the battle. Besides, that war is the highlight of many important elves (our Sindarin buddies plus Elrond and Gil-galad). Anyways, thank you for reviewing! ( ˘ ³˘)

*Evangeline Pond - Hooray for killing-wargs-for-fun! \(• ◡ •)/

*Limbairedhiel - First of all, thank you for two reviews! It's really nice to have you back here! Aww, Thrandy with a princeling crush on a girl who only has eyes for Erestor and her horse (His name is Arcastar, by the way).

You want a Thrandy-hug? That would be $89.99, plus $5 for a nuzzle on the neck, and $50 for hiding behind Raithon. But really, I would melt instantly if Thranduil so much as looked at me.

*Rousdower - *protectively hugs Thorin* Don't be so rude! He is not that disgusting! Well, he could use a bath or two, so... Wait! Come back here! *frantically waves money* Don't you want your payment for delivering Thorin?!

*xummy10 - Reading all through 22 chapters must have been tedious! Thank you so much! Lemme hug you! d=(´▽｀)=b

*DeLacus - Yay, you dropped two reviews as well! Other than Melkor and Mairon, I also love Namo (aka Mandos) and Arien as Vala and Maia.

If you want Raithon, I could give you a 30% discount on him, since he is quite popular. Limbairedhiel could have Thrandy and you could have Raithon. *le gasp* WHO WANTS TO BUY ERESTOR?! *clears throat* Moving on, thank you for dropping by!~

For everyone's reading pleasure. Thank you!