Chapter Forty-Seven
"This is absurd," Estela heard the Princess of the Greenwood hiss at her husband. She frowned. Whatever it was, she did not want to know. She trusted Oropher to keep his word and hold to their alliance. She moved away from Thranduil and his wife, determined not to know what they were going on about.
She found Ereinion in his tent. He was alone- everyone else had left, yet he was still pouring over his maps. "It's a long way to Mordor, still." He said, giving her a tired smile.
"Not long enough," she said. "It's the last place anyone wants to be, and it's our destination." He laughed.
"Ereinion," she said gently. "What was that about?" He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"The Wood-elves," she said.
Ereinion frowned. "Estela-"
"Don't try to spare me."
He gave her a tired look. "They are not happy, with the current events. They feel that you, I and our host are taking control and doing most of the fighting."
Estela frowned. But Ereinion spoke before she even began. "I have spoken to them but somehow I suspect discontent." Ereinion continued. "This was is taking a toll on everyone, but the Wood-elves want to share some of the action. Do you expect me to give them the idea that they are meant to be reserve troops alone? Oropher and Amdír would be highly insulted."
Estela sighed. So many kings. So many leaders. So many great warriors. No wonder a lot of egos were flying around. This is disastrous, she thought.
Sauron had only one leader on his side- himself. The rest were puppets and slaves.
He has a significant advantage over us, she thought glumly. "Are they upset with me?" Estela asked dryly. "Do they blame me as well?"
"I think they are mostly upset with me and my commanders, save you," Ereinion replied amused. "You can charm your way out of any situation." Estela laughed, but she wondered at what price.
Mordor. Too close to put the heart at ease, and yet so far away- too much so to accomplish their goal.
What in Arda were they going to do once Sauron confronted them? Stand there and die?
Estela expelled a breath. Even she and Ereinion had no plans for this. Whatever they were going to do, they had better think of something fast.
Of course, she already thought of a solution. But as to how to get that close to Sauron to cut the Ring off…
Estela closed her eyes.
What happened when Nolofinwë fought Morgoth?
He nearly won- before Morgoth killed him with the Grond. Morgoth might have won, but they had come eerily close- too close for Morgoth not to feel secure- they knew it was possible. They knew he could be beaten.
But Sauron was a different person. Less strong in might, but more cunning and more twisted and vile in his schemes. He would have had more tricks up his sleeve.
This was not going to be easy.
Sauron would be expecting great deeds from the elven kings, that she had no doubt. Ereinion and she would be considered the greatest threats. He would undoubtedly try to annihilate the Woodland kings before anything. The dwarves and humans, however, may be overlooked, with the exception of Durin- whom Sauron hated because of dwarves being created by his former master Aulë- and Elendil and his line, because they were of the greatest threat. Sauron had been captured and outwitted by them, then he had been responsible for the downfall of Númenor, and yet still they rose up and built great, dazzling civilisations and stood in might, defiant against his power and will. He loathed them, just as he loathed the elves- and the House of Elendil along with the House of Finwë the most.
But he could underestimate them.
"Shall we?" Estela asked brightly.
Isildur nodded, and raised his own weapon, charging before his blow was blocked and deflected by Estela. She spun to the side, dancing out of the way, and pushing him back. Slightly disorientated, he had barely managed to block her strike, before recovering himself.
It went on and on. Finally, to no one's- including Isildur's- surprise, Estela won. She then asked for another blade while the Prince refreshed himself with a drink.
The blade she had asked for was a human one. Not of Númenórean make- but ordinary steel. It was not something she would have ever touched with a pole. So Isildur raised his eyebrows, after his break had finished.
"A bit unorthodox, Queen Estela." She smiled.
"Still I think I would use it, just this once," she said. "Now," she said, knowing humans needed more rest than they did. "Again?" Isildur nodded and got to his feet.
When the two crossed blades, Estela had the most graceful, inventive and tricky technique. As always it was beautiful to watch. But this time, Isildur had the advantage of the better blade. For metals forged out of Númenórean and Elven metals are far superior to ones of ordinary steel, and others. They did not need cleaning or honing and they were easier to wield.
So it came as no surprise that Estela's blade broke- snapping under the strength of Isildur's one. But to everyone's shock, she placed the broken sword against his throat- the jagged edge just scratching his throat, but not breaking it, or drawing blood.
"A broken sword is still sharp," she reminded the prince of Gondor. "A sword is a sword, even if it is broken." She smiled as he nodded, his eyes wide in surprise.
"You've surpassed me yet again," he said dryly. Estela smiled. "I've been fighting since the First Age," she reminded him.
She handed the sword to the smith for repairing. While they might not be as high in quality as Númenórean and Elven swords, every weapon was needed.
Estela just hoped he got the point.
Somehow, she had a strange feeling he needed to.
But although she sensed something about to happen, she nonetheless ignored another. Soon after, Estela was practising exercises by herself when she heard something.
Later, much later, she would learn a harsh lesson. Only much later would she learn that leaving it be, would be a terrible mistake.
There was angry, or at least frustrated muttering. She paused and frowned, before realising it was Oropher.
Holding her sword in mid-air, Estela turned. She then bit her lip, deciding that if she interfered, she could very well make it worse. She was supposed to remain unbiased towards the Noldor, Sindar or anyone else. As Gil-Galad's consort, she was High Queen- of all elves, she reminded herself, not just the Noldor. If she tried to persuade Oropher- or even offer him counsel- then it was likely she would be seen as trying to manipulate or take advantage of the King of the Wood-elves. Not good. Trying to bring him and the rest of the Wood-elves further under the Noldor's control. And that would tense things within the Alliance. It was her job to maintain it- not worsen it. Therefore, Estela, the Queen, pressed her lips together, and continued with her exercises.
"This is unbelievable!" She again heard the Greenwood princess hiss at her husband.
What were they talking about? Ugh. Best that she did not know.
She turned back to inspecting the weapons' store.
She held a sword and watched it catch and reflect the light, twirling the hilt within her hand. It was like liquid- not the slightest hint of a blemish, yet not a ripple- nothing the tiniest bit murky or cloudy, nothing to disturb the gleaming sheen and quality, save for the intricate engravings chiselled onto the side.
"Perfect." She said, nodding. The smith beamed. She placed the sword down and began to inspect another.
Nearby, the Crown Prince and the Crown Princess of the Greenwood paused. Thranduil muttered to his wife.
"I know that. But do you think he would listen? He's not foolish, but I'm afraid he would do something reckless sooner or later. I have a really bad feeling about this."
His wife frowned. "It doesn't sound like too much."
Thranduil shook his head. "That's what you think." He turned and saw Estela inspecting the weaponry. In truth she hadn't heard a single thing, but Thranduil dared not risk anything as important as an alliance- when he very well knew that they could not win this war by themselves, or separate. He was trying to convince his father after all. The problem was with Oropher, small things get bigger and things piled up, until eventually- to the Greenwood King at least- small things suddenly seemed monumental, whilst only Thranduil remembered that they were miniscule but yesterday.
What some people mean, others perceive differently and react to it that way.
And Amdír was proud and wilful- even impulsive. He was also close to Oropher. This could- or likely, would- present problems.
Countless virtues they may possess, but misunderstanding is a terrible thing. Particularly if they feel belittled.
"I have to go," he told his wife. "I have to meet with the engineers, discuss new plans for the design." Before his father decided that the Wood-elves were excluded and made useless even there. He left.
The Greenwood Princess' shoulders slumped. She felt an awful sinking feeling, but then she looked up and her eyes widened. There. Estela had approved of most of the sword designs, and she went over to meet her.
"My lady," she said. "You must be the famous shieldmaiden, Estela." Estela turned and saw a very beautiful Wood-elf. She seemed like a porcelain doll, at first glance and had creamy skin, finely-chiselled features, and a delicately-upturned, tiny nose and lush, rosy mouth, with deep, luminous eyes. She appeared delicate and yet Estela saw a tremendous strength and powerful character that radiated charisma. True to form, this maiden had a sword sheathed at her hip, and hunting knives, as well as a graceful bow and quiver of arrows. She was an amazing archer.
"Another shieldmaiden, and if I guess correctly, just as famous as I am." Estela remarked. She smiled at her. "Even among our race, female fighters are rare. And I believe that you are as renowned as I am, to fight beside your king and husband in such a noble crowd. The Wood-elves do not take showy fighters who pose and brag of their strength more than they fight. I do not have to know your name, to know of your accomplishments. I hear your husband has very high standards." Her eyes danced.
The princess laughed. "Indeed, he does. I spent years fighting with him in the north against beasts of terrible dread and orcs, and still, he is not satisfied if someone does anything perfectly- he insists on them exceeding it."
"Well, he may be right." Estela remarked. "There's no such thing as perfection- not for us. He is right when he says anyone can do better."
The princess rolled her eyes. "Don't let him hear you say that," she remarked. "No one would ever hear the end of it- it would be his reason to make the soldiers do extra drills and everything else harder- he'll have us hunting dragons before long."
Estela laughed. The ice broke. The princess did not think the Noldorin Queen as arrogant as her father-in-law said them to be. Over an Age of living under the shadow of her family's arrogance and the consequences of their actions, must have hammered into her a lesson from early on. She smiled as well, and Estela thought her smile was so kind- warm and genuine- not mere glass sparkling but without real substance.
Not all relations can be as easy.
"Do you think we have a chance, Glorfindel?" Estela asked him quietly. They were standing at the entrance of the briefing tent, the flap opened up, as they watched the rain fall.
Glorfindel hesitated. "I think we have a better chance than we did when we fought Morgoth." He said. "We are not hiding away- we are choosing to confront the problem head on, rather than allowing things to become worse by waiting."
"But?" Estela prompted.
"Sauron is very cunning," Glorfindel said quietly. "And the fact is, he has managed to succeed Morgoth as Dark Lord- he has actual power- political and supernatural. He has Dark Powers at his disposal. No one else did that. Not Dragluir, not Thuringwethil, not Ungoliant not even Gothmog Lord of Balrogs. Only him. Sauron."
Estela said nothing. She simply watched the rain fall.
"And the Ring gives him incredible powers. Considering the fact that Sauron will keep it on his finger at all times, I do not doubt this will be very difficult."
"Unless we can remove the Ring from him," Estela said quietly. "And if we can't outfight him, we outsmart him. Sauron is arrogant. He thinks the bigger the armies, the more power he has. The more power he has, he believes the likelier he is to win. He has grown arrogant and we must nurse that part of him- we fight to win, Glorfindel. We fight for good and for freedom, but we fight to win- Sauron won't play honourable with us- we cannot afford to do the same to him, can we?"
Glorfindel shook his head. "No." There was a time when he had been foolish, he thought to himself. Time when he spared a man of Darkness, or rather hesitated. He learnt things the hard way.
They may be fighting for goodness, but the other side will use whatever they could to get the upper hand. No time for bravado, or anything of the sort. They had to use whatever they could to survive.
And allow others to live.
Estela browsed through a book. Flipping through the pages, she reminisced sadly, all the times she had had.
After the end of the War of Wrath, and the death of her parents, Estela had wandered around the world. She met, lived amongst, learned about them and recorded every aspect that she could about their culture, language, traditions, architecture, even style of dress and food, as well as life cycle of every race she could find. She started with the Eldar- Vanyar elves, the Noldor, and the Teleri- but also put in the Umanyar with them- the Sindar, and the Nandor, including the Silvan elves. Then came the Avari.
Estela remembered the friends and close ties she built with certain Avari- including Glinien- the Sindarin name of a maiden whom she had been incredibly close with. A century later, she learned that Glinien had died from an Ungol's bite.
Estela sighed. Grief and sadness welled in her, but she had to keep it down. She already missed and longed for her daughter- and her son- more than anything, it threatened to tear her to shreds inside. She flipped through the pages.
The Dwarves came next. The Men and the Ents. Even orcs and trolls had their section, along with other creatures found during the War of Wrath and her travels all over Middle-Earth. She was very thorough.
And she was finished. She hoped for those that read it to put aside all disputes and dislikes of races that were good, in general. She hoped her daughter would somehow know, this was her legacy- not just war, weaving and even beauty- but unity and understanding- firm friendship and alliances unbroken.
This will be the war of my life, whether I live or die, I feel as if I should prepare to pass my legacy on. I may not want her to fight wars, but I do want that part of my legacy to continue.
Estela closed the book.
It's over, she thought.
They stood at attention. Wrapped in cloaks against the biting wind, Thranduil- tall and imposing, thought graceful- with his wife beside him, watching as the kings walked out from a distance away, where they consulted each other once again.
Oropher was still upset- but his anger had abated slightly. Amdír looked sulky. The beauty of the Greenwood Princess was not lost on Thranduil who admired his own wife. Her creamy skin remained unaffected by the cold, but her hair blew in strands, in the wind. He noted that she stood proud, despite being petite for an elf, and seemed to glow with an inner strength. Estela stood tall and proud, regal and awe-inspiring, with a power few could match. She did not inspire this by merely holding her head high, and straightening her back, it radiated from within. These shieldmaidens, he thought to himself. If the whole world knew their secret…
The kings returned. Estela nodded to her husband, and he whispered a few words to her.
They were moving out.
And as Estela mounted her horse, she was aware that hundreds of thousands of elves, men and dwarves followed them, riding with them on horseback. The greatest alliance and host that had ever been formed in Arda out of free will.
And she felt awe and pride that she was able to take part in this- whether or not she was a leader. She felt awe and pride, along with overwhelming love for her husband.
And on they rode, onto history. And only the All-Father knew how their parts would play out when they were written in the stars and Vairë's tapestries.
And on they went. East. To Mordor. The land of Shadow loomed ahead, a dark cloud with an evil light, the flames of Mount Doom, touching the soot-coloured cloud that hovered above the Ephel Dúath that bordered it. But Estela knew, that Sauron would not be able to keep them out.
Yet, what if they were trapped in?
She prayed to the All-Father and the Valar not to allow this to happen- for the sake of Middle-Earth and the good soldiers here, she prayed. If not for me.
Now, fate would await them. In Mordor.
I am truly, truly sorry for the long wait! But there were many other things to do. I really hope I've satisfied people's fill for lack of drama. I got a lot of reviews saying that drama is good, just not in every chapter! But my chapters are getting significantly smaller, now. This is a sign that the end of the story is approaching- it might not be the next chapter, but it's coming soon! For those bored with this, I'm sorry. For those that actually thought she was a flawless Mary Sue- I think we all know she definitely made a mistake in ignoring this and not attempting to make relations between the Wood-Elves and the Noldor better. The consequences will come soon enough.
Next chapter will be battles. They're going to Mordor, and they will reach the Black Gates next chapter. Expect things to get epic then.
Thanks to The Enchanted Stream- Much appreciated.
Harlie Ishmael- Thanks a lot! I'm glad you appreciate this.
To everyone else, including kksambo- I hope I've satisfied your fill for lack of drama- and your fill for romance.