Chapter 63

Heart of the Forest

Surprisingly, the cold weather did not stop them from riding day in and night out.

However, what surprised Thranduil even more was that there were no signs of Glorfindel chasing after them, determined to get Erynlith back to the forest. He had always imagined the darkened face of the warrior, him shouting to get his horse and assembling the wardens to ride out. Often Thranduil looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them. Did the warrior somehow give up? No, the King would not count on that: Glorfindel did not him strike as someone who would back down without a fight.

"Ah, the Old Ford!" Erynlith cried out, the excitement unmasked in her voice.

Thranduil smiled and pressed himself closer to her, grateful of the warmth she provided amidst the cold weather. Winter seemed eager to kick in and cover the world with its snowy greatness.

"We should have brought the Elven-guard to escort us," he mumbled, white smoke puffing out of his mouth.

She shivered when his cold breath touched her neck. "Nonsense," she replied. "Travelling without an escort is one of the best."

"Of course." He clutched the reins and urged to horse carefully towards the rivershore. His eyes observed the rush of the water, with him suddenly alert of danger. "We should continue on foot," he said, sliding down from the saddle and offering his hand to her.

"Should we stay for the night?" She accepted his hand and went down, and then dusted her breeches of the horsehair. "Are we to make camp? I like making camp, tra-la."

"No camps." He looked left to right, and assessed the speed of the current. It looked dangerous to him, and he did not want to get in trouble before returning to his underground palace. He remained standing at the rivershore and holding the horse's reins. He heard a distant hooting of an owl, and to him it sounded like a warg's low growl. He turned back to her and said, "Come, we should be moving on."

She shrugged. "If you say so."

Holding out his hand for her, and one still on the reins, Thranduil led her towards the river. He took the first step on the boulder, turned around to assist her, waited until she made her step. Again he stepped, she followed, the horse followed. The Great River sounded alive with the roars of its current. In the middle of crossing, the horse neighed and panicked, pushing Thranduil off his feet. The King staggered and slipped, and would have fallen and washed away if not for Erynlith's tight grip on his hand. With one hand holding on to the horse, she pulled him up with the other. Thranduil found his balance and heaved himself up, panting.

"Sorry," he whispered in her ear, aware of the worried look on her face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He smiled reassuringly and went on.

Upon reaching the other end, the two elves collapsed on the ground and panted.

"That was not so bad, tra-la," Erynlith sang cheerfully as she bolted back on her feet. She eyes feasted on the great forest looming in front of her. She glanced behind her and saw the King still catching his breath, while the white stallion grazed on the grass and wagged its tail. She jogged back towards him, and bent low to peer into his eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, trying to look dauntless. In truth, it had been centuries since he last did something that was physically challenging; as King, he did not have the time to hunt through the woods, ride horses and cross rivers. It was Raithon's duty, not his.

"Should we stop for the night?"

"No camps," he repeated. "We should be moving on." He mounted the horse and waited for her to follow suit. He heard her sigh in defeat while she settled behind him; her arms supported her upper weight.

Once again, they continued towards the forest.

It was late in the afternoon when Raithon heard insistent knocks on the chamber door. Scurrying back to his feet, he spared a glance at the mirror before answering the door and smiling brightly to whoever was on the other side. He found himself face-to-face with Rúmil, who, due to his cheerful nature, smiled back at once to the captain.

"Good afternoon," the young scout greeted, "am I interrupting something?"

"Nothing at all." Raithon shook his head and opened the door wider. "Come in, please."

"Oh, no. I came here under the request of Lord Glorfindel. He bids you to come to the palace."

His dark eyes assessed the scout for a while, and then went down to the ground, where more wardens were gathered, like a flock of sheep. He thought Rúmil was their shepherd, despite being so young; or perhaps it was the absence of his older brother that made him the temporary leader. Whatever it was, Raithon did not fail to notice the scowls on each of the warden's faces, as he followed Rúmil down the flet.

"I am in big trouble?" He knew at once that it had something to do with Thranduil and Erynlith disappearing.

Rúmil glanced at him sideways, sparing him a sympathetic look. "Not with me though, but with Lord Glorfindel, Haldir and the rest of the wardens. They are being very apprehensive right now, and everyone blames you."

"Figures." Raithon sighed. He put his hand over his eyes against the blinding afternoon light, and continued to follow his escort back towards the main keep. There, he also met the glares of the wardens, and it made him feel cautious now. He ascended the winding staircase, entered King Amroth's throne room.

The Marchwarden was the first to react.

Haldir spun his heels, his face contorted into one of anger, and in three swift steps he was upon Greenwood's Captain of the Guards. He would have thrown himself towards the older elf, deliver a strong punch to his jaw, if Rúmil had not caught his brother's fist and shoved him backwards.

"Relax, Brother," Rúmil coaxed, patting Haldir's shoulder to make him less tense. "Don't start a fight that you cannot finish."

"Oh, I can finish alright," Haldir rasped, and glared at the Sindarin elf. "You're supposed to be helping Erfaron, not whisk her away under our noses."

Raithon stood his ground, but made sure his face remained neutral. He completely understood where the anger was coming from—he would have been infuriated should Thranduil be gone—but he remained stern on the fact that he helped Thranduil and Erynlith leave the forest, in order to gain some freedom against the pressures in the forest and of the leadership. He did not regret helping them; it was his idea in the first place and had urged the anxious King to make a move.

He looked across the room and was astounded to see the Grey Wizard. "Mithrandir, how long have you been here?"

"Half a day, at most." Gandalf chuckled, leaning against the long and narrow table. "How are you, Captain?"

"Just fine, although a little tensed as well." Raithon saw the golden-haired Elda standing near the foot of the throne's dais, pensively looking out the window. His back was turned against them, as he continued thinking, whilst it was Gandalf who showered the Sindarin elf attention.

"And Greenwood? I have heard some stories about wargs?"

"Indeed, Mithrandir. The Elven-guard often worries about their increasing numbers. The King also grieves about it."

"It has been a day at least, since Thranduil and Erynlith have gone off. Do you think they have reached the forest by now?"

The captain paused for a while, also thinking. He glanced up and assessed the weather; despite in the afternoon, it was cold and the air was almost as chilling during the night. Knowing Thranduil's cautious nature and Erynlith's excitement to get to Greenwood, both of them would have ridden nonstop.

"They must be in the forest now, perhaps even in the palace, if none of them rested." But everyone knew it was a lie.

Gandalf smiled and turned to the quiet warrior. "Did you hear that, Lord Glorfindel? Erfaron has reached the King's palace by now. No need to worry. I am sure she is in great hands."

It was not Haldir's continuous glowering that made Raithon feel insecure. It was actually Glorfindel's unaccounted silence that made him more alert. He expected that it would be Glorfindel lashing out like Haldir, and vice versa, but it was nothing like that now. He was on his guard, dark eyes boring through the back of the warrior, preparing himself should something happen. What was in Glorfindel's mind? Was he contemplating whether to punish Raithon or not? Would he be exiled from Lórinand or imprisoned?

When Glorfindel finally turned around to face them, everyone in the room fell quiet. There seemed to be a silent yet vicious ambiance around him, that even Haldir stopped scowling.

"It does not matter to me, whether she is in Greenwood or in good hands, Mithrandir," the Elda spoke slowly, letting the words hang in the silence. "She needs to be back in Lórinand, her people demand it."

"Her people?" Gandalf echoed, not quite fond of the warrior's behavior. "Or do you demand it?"

"What's the difference?" Glorfindel sulked back in the corner again, his eyes focused outside of the window. He spied more wardens in the courtyard, and the thought of the northern borders unguarded made him more tensed. Without Haldir and the wardens observing those dwarves, what would happen?

"I see no trouble if she wants to be in Greenwood," the wizard replied.

"When everyone in Lórinand needs her?"

"It would only be for a while, my friend."

"Winter would be upon us soon; the Dwarves of Moria are threatening to start a fight over Mirrormere, and the one-and-only leader accepted by the Nandorin folk is elsewhere." The warrior walked towards the table, frowning. "If she wanted to go to Greenwood, she should have told me and I would have taken her there, not the Elvenking."

"What's the difference then?" Raithon interjected and met the fierce look of the warrior. "She goes to Greenwood—only the difference is that you are not with her, but Thranduil. What do you have against the King?"

"Nothing that concerns anyone in this room." Glorfindel looked around the room for a while, and finally came into a decision. "I am riding after her."

Gandalf sighed and tried to pull at the blue cape, but the elf was already out of his reach.

Raithon stepped forward to block Glorfindel's pathway. "And then what?"

"I am taking her back with me." The Elda turned to Haldir. "Could you please escort the Elven-guard Captain back to his chambers, and make sure he stays there? I have pressing more matters to attend to."

Nodding, the Marchwarden grasped Raithon by the arm, and dragged him away from blocking the path of the warrior.

The road up ahead was a tangle of trees and overgrown roots. It wound around and around, back and forth, like an endless maze that would make any wanderer give up and turn back. Only in Greenwood, however, that if you turned back, you would still find yourself quite lost. The Old Forest Road was so old that it tangled with narrower pathways; sometimes it disappeared for a few steps, only to reappear after half a mile of aimless walking.

Thranduil loved his forest, but he hated the fact that he had to be lost in his own kingdom. When was the last time he walked beyond his borders? Oh right, never.

"Ah, wait, look at this!"

Groaning to himself, he turned around to indulge his travelling companion.

She was crouching amongst the thorny bushes, her arm outstretched. "Look at these pretty purple flowers, tra-la. Do you know what they are called, tra-lo?" She plucked one flower with round purple petals with red edges.

"Eryn, don't touch that!" He immediately snatched the offending thing from her hand and threw it over his shoulder. He knelt beside her and grabbed her hands, scowling at the dark purple welts on her palms. "It's a poisonous flower and it itches for quite some time. Seriously, what are you thinking?"

"Oh, I only thought they were pretty," Erynlith murmured, looking down on her hand. She laughed it off. "Doesn't matter, tra-la. It only itches."

"Come on." He groaned again and pulled her back to her feet. His hand was still reining the horse, while the other held on to Erynlith's left hand. He could care less if the itchiness passed to him as well. "Keep walking, would you? And stop touching things."

"Okay, okay, tra-lay," she sang and then beamed at him. "Thranduil!"

"Yes, I heard you rhymed." He smiled fondly and tugged at her hand. "Hurry. I want to reach the palace before evening. I am famished."

"Because you do not want to make camps and hunt for food," she admonished. "Why not?"

"It is dangerous here in the night."

"Are we getting closer?" She looked up ahead and saw a swift-running river on their right side.

"If we follow the river, we would soon reach the borders. I have often kept Raithon in-charge of these lands." He pulled her to him once again, approaching the rivershore. He could see silver trout swimming and fighting its way against the strong current. Still, he pressed on, dragging both horse and a curious elf with him.

At dusk, he let go of her hand and noticed the welts were turning into rashes. It was one of those times when he wished he listened to Santien's ramblings in the infirmary, so that he would know what to do. The itchiness spread to both of his palms, from holding Erynlith's hand for hours. She did not seem to mind though; she was more fixated on peering between each tree and boulder, as though she had never been in Greenwood before. He supposed it was only natural for her to be attracted to forests, with her being a Sindarin elf like him, as opposed to the Falmari who loved seas or the Ñoldor who loved their books and weapons.

"Are we there yet?" She scratched her palm, prompting him to slap her hand away.

"Stop scratching," he repeated for the umpteenth time, and then gazed at the dark orange hue of the skies. He listened to the howling of the wind and the rush of the river. He was certain the outpost of the Elven-guard was somewhere around here. He went back to the horse and pulled out the white bow.

"Should we hunt now?" Her face brightened at the thought of hunting.

"I need you to fire a warning shot," he instructed, tossing the bow and an arrow to her lap. He was given a puzzled look. "If you do so, the guards would find us. I have had enough of wandering without knowing where to go."

"But aren't you the King, tra-la?" She stood up and aimed towards the darkening skies. "You should know your kingdom; and why am I doing all the shooting?"

"Because you're the master archer between us." He crossed his arms and sighed. "Just... fire away, would you?"

"Fine, tra-lo." Stretching the string of the bow back to her cheek, Erynlith released the arrow, which shot up above the trees like a silver projectile. Birds cried out and flew off, the pierced leaves and branches falling back to them like heavy rain. She blinked and turned back to her companion. "What happens now?"

"We wait."

It was not so long until quick scurrying steps resonated from where they stood. Footsteps crunching over dried leaves, movements as swift as arrows, dreadful as the foreboding night were the Elven-guard of Greenwood. A large group expertly descended from the trees, swinging across branches, their bows held up. Some of the guards circled around them, prepared to strike, until someone from the head of the company lifted up his fist and signaled the others to halt.

Halt they did; once the Elvenking stepped forward, they dropped to their knees.

"Vedui, Aran nín," the leader of the company spoke, "Lend and?"

"Mae govannen," Thranduil returned, as he beckoned his companion to come closer. He introduced her to them. "I eneth dîn Erynlith o Imladris. Est Erfaron estar."

The Silvan guards stared at her in disbelief.

Erynlith smiled and bowed to them. "Mae govannen."

"Come." The King took her hand again, as the leader of the company shouted a command in Elvish and led the way back towards the palace. "Enough formalities so we could proceed to dinner now. I am really famished."

One of the guards took the reins of their horse; another one stepped forward and volunteered to carry Erynlith's pack and weapons. She agreed, albeit reluctantly, and followed the escort as they wound their way through the thick burrows and column of trees. The current of the river was stronger now, and she could see lights in front of them. When the leader cut off the branch that was blocking their path, Erynlith finally beheld the palace of the Elvenking.

"Can't you be any slower?" Thranduil hid his mischievous smile from the guards and tugged at her hand again, his pace quickening. "Careful though—you wouldn't want to fall off the bridge and drown yourself, would you?"

Nervously, Erynlith cast her eyes down and gasped. She was walking across the narrow bridge, and below it was the frightening watery abyss, with white foams and strong water sprays. The strength of the waves hitting the boulders scared her enough to tighten her grip on his hand and press herself closer to his body. She clung to his arm and took small steps, while the King beside her was casual and striding with outmost grace.

"If you keep walking that way, we wouldn't be in time for dinner."

"But look at this height!" she whispered sharply in his ear. "If I fall here I could never come back in one piece!"

Thranduil laughed and used his finger to lift her chin up, forcing her to gaze into his eyes. "This is why you should look at me instead."

"Ah, stop it!" She tried to cover her blushing face, pushing herself away from him, but then she remembered the narrow bridge and the river and the thought of crashing against the boulders. She shrieked and clung back to him, closing her eyes tightly.

"You are hopeless." He sighed and wrapped his arm around her waist, and used his free hand to make her head lean on his shoulder. He began to walk again, while Erynlith's eyes remained close. "You would not fall down, Eryn. I have guards at the gates to watch over, and you have me to make sure you would not fall. Stop whimpering like a child."

"But if I fall and drown, Erestor would be sad. Glorfindel and Lord Elrond would be sad. I do not want to leave the same way Amroth did..."

The very thought of her leaving the world scared him. "Hush," he scolded. "Look, here comes the gates." He nodded to the armoured elves flanking the great entrance, and waited until the doors were shut behind him. "We're inside now. Look."

Once her eyes opened, Erynlith gasped in amazement. She decided that Thranduil's underground palace was better than King Oropher's palace in Southern Greenwood.

*Greetings, my King. Long journey?

*Well met. This is Erynlith of Rivendell. They call her Erfaron.

Next Chapter: Meetings. Reminiscing. Troubles.

Author's Notes: I have been gone for a month, so I plead mercy from all of you. It has been such a stressful month filled with exams, research papers, and whatnot. School is such a force to be reckoned with. I tried my best to be able to update today, because it's Lee Pace's birthday! *wears party hat, throws confetti* Happy birthday to the incredible actor who brought Thranduil to life! You are an amazing human being, Lee, and thank you for giving us an awesome Thranduil!

But wait! There's more!

Today's the Battle of Morannon, the destruction of the One Ring, and Sauron's downfall! So that's a lot of reason to party today!

Aside from my excitement for the events, I would like to thank everyone who has patiently waited and read this chapter. Now let's party!