Chapter Twelve
'Not Alone'
'Herzeleid' by Rammstein
The atmosphere in the enormous chamber was cool and serene. The intricately filigreed arches and columns gave it grandeur, the roots of the colossal trees filled it with the woodsy, earthy aromas. The lanky warriors clothed in elegant armor to match the environment stood motionless rendering them nearly invisible if one did not pay attention. The narrow passageway alongside the throne vault resounded with the light tapping sounds of leather boots. Clothed simply in trousers and a hip length overcoat sans grand robes or his crown Thranduil strode elegantly yet assuredly. He halted by an antique, brass rimmed door and slipped in without a knock. A lovely female Elleth bowed immediately letting her astonishingly lengthy tresses fall forth to brush the ground. She saw the question in the King's eyes. Her own overcast in deep thought which in turn forced a tear to glisten in the corner of her eye.
"I do not know my Lord... It is heartwrenching to witness every day. The pain fills that chamber... Radiates off of..." She simply couldn't finish beginning to quiver with the oncoming sobs.
Thranduil stared into the polished floor, the tip of his leather boot bucked against the tiny ridge in the natural stone. The hope was still alive, yet he couldn't receive an answer from his own heart why he did hope, what did he imagined to transpire..? More pain at yet another loss or... A relief, a memory brought back into the existence?
His pale-blue orbs pointed to the door as they both strode out briskly heading deeper inside the maze of the numerous passages of the Woodland Realm.
x x x
Awaking he leaped to his feet so rapidly his vision overcast, the head ached nauseatingly... The numbened fingers slipped into the matted locks to feel the trickle of coagulated blood. Shapogatâr staggered forth shaking his head vigorously. He was alone atop the hill. Both King and his son were nowhere to be seen or smelled. In a hastened jog he ran up the hillside, leaped upon the crest and slid onto the lucid icy surface, his metal armor aiding his speed greatly. Yet another thing came unexpected. The half-Orc raked the disturbed snow drift checking the ice for a possible tear and darted his glare around the terrain frantically yet the body of his daughter wasn't to be found. The master was taken by his soldiers, who else could have possibly wanted the girl's body... A strained breath left his chest, how many times did he fail her and now even in death...
A several Orcs emerged darting past the icy lake, bloody, exhausted, panicked... Detecting the one of a higher rank the last in line slid down over the edge of the precipice halting the rest of the squad. Pizgal's report wasn't one bit satisfactory and the commander of the forces of Gundabad had already made up his mind. With the lack of the leader and no clear choice to proceed he made one of his own.
"Retreat." The half-blood relayed the command.
The responsibility to save the remainders of the army was now his.
x x x
There were colors. Marvelous, bright shapes, they shifted as if reenacting an odd play. Then began to swirl in an insanely rapid whirlwind sucking her in. Who said death is darkness or a bottomless hole of nothingness... A gushing wave of repose flooded inundating her being. It was as if she floated in that frozen river, except it was warm, so warm... As if her blood didn't run cold. The pain had come back shuddering her in the crushing gusts, the taste of metal overwhelmed. Her weakened mind flashed the last images through the head... And all of it was blood...
Blood...
Her mate's, her enemy's, her own... That was the only thing grounding her in this eternal weightless state. The reality of death. Was she allowed to return, was she even allowed to make a choice... Now the dark came, yet it did not feel insidious, sinister or voracious, it was calming, enveloping her, cradling like a child in soft inky ribbons of obscure opacity...
Her chest rose and fell with a strained breath, the stain of crimson spread the bandages of pristine white rapidly like a plague would a weakened body. The warm liquid spurted the inflating lungs leaking through the chest wound. The bright, thick fluid contrasted sharply against the pallid, deathly shade of her skin.
A slender female darted towards the cot compressing the bandages with a nervous shudder, seeing the fluid pump relentlessly her lips began to quiver.
"Mogumta?" That was almost the last straw for the healer's apprentice as a stertorous whisper left the otherwise motionless lips. "Mogumaz?" It continued feebly sensing the touch of the gentle hands. The Elleth leaped up and darted towards the exit faced with the orbs the color of ink. The wounded flicked her eyes open for the first time in two months.
The apprentice's fingers released the bloody cloth as she was forced to abandon her escape attempt faced with the healer and the King. The nervous girl bowed hastily.
"She speaks, My Lord..." The Elleth quivered out.
By the time the duo was at the cot the injured female straightened tersely. Her gaze darted around the room in an almost feral fashion as a trapped creature surrounded by hunters. Her stare arcane and impenetrable was fixed on the three strangers in the room. Her chest heaved frantically causing pressure, forcing rivulets to escape her nose and mouth, coloring her teeth in crimson as a scowl distorted her face. Unforeseen to the spectators the woman released a visceral wail sinking to her knees she buried her face in her palms, collapsing to her side as the sobs shuddered her entire frame.
"Gorunta..." She wept wretchedly. "Gorunta..." As if just coming to terms with the horrid truth. As the Elves attempted to subdue she resumed her resistance with a renewed vigor of despair until Thranduil's palm landed onto the female's forehead. She stilled, her eyes shut as if she relinquished all hope. As the blood stained lips parted to release a tiny quivering breath the teardrops of pure red fluttered off her lashes. She wept blood...
The gentle hand cooled her forehead emitting the muted shimmering light.
x x x
A thin blanket of fresh snow covered his fur-trimmed hood, his Warg shook his head as the soldier halted the animal. The colossal gates swung open deliberately and Sâkaf trotted in, the vision he beheld halted his progress for one heavy moment. The sea of wounded and dead took over the inner courtyard leaving almost no way through. Many females tended to the injured and fallen, yet he wondered if that would suffice. Spotting his father ahead at the edge near the body of the fortress the young Orc rushed forth overwhelmed with relief.
"You managed to save many." He nodded to his sire in greeting of admiration and approval.
"Many perished yet." The commander's cheek bones lifted when his jaw set taut. "The task?"
"Akh." Sâk's gaze directed into the distance absentmindedly. "All finished."
"Father." His jade stare had suddenly returned to meet the ember eyes of his procreator as the Orc had finally made a decision to reveal what he knew.
"The master... Him and Rimkaur..." Something in Shapogatâr's expression caused him to doubt his confession. "We must find her now father, more so than ever... She might be..." He hung his head blinking rapidly and shaking his head as if to ward off the heavy thoughts crawling into his mind.
"Promise me, Ma won't hear of this." The commander grasped his offspring's armored shoulder as the latter conceded burying the secret of the sister he'd never met deep inside his heart.
The supreme commander's thoughts returned to the pressing matters of the non-existent leadership. He had enough power in the mountainous stronghold, the only trouble might be presented by the Boshoks of the Grey Range. In Moria however the uprising was unavoidable.
x x x
She positioned herself to lean onto the pillows, pulling up as he walked in noiselessly. The pang of the throbbing ache spread across her chest and head, the female's lips morphed into a tight line, they twitched with strain. She will not be perceived weak, she will not allow for it. The fair-haired Elf visited her often, his arrival always quiet, his scintillating eyes always curious. The conversations they had were always neutral when she managed to stay awake, able to combat the faintness and enervation.
His intentions were still unclear.
He greeted her with the usual nod and Rimkaur's eyes flicked to meet the calming blue light of his.
"When will you let me go?" The human forced her voice to sound as powerful and unfazed as she was able.
"The weakness plagues you still, child. It is unsafe." The Elf replied thoughtfully as the female's absentminded glower scanned the carvings on the wall. She expected this answer.
"Tell me the reason, Thranduil. The real reason." She replied coldly.
The King's eyes held a hint of astonishment. Weak, wounded, heartbroken yet the woman did not take the bait of the pure, selfless compassion. There was a hidden reason truthfully why the body of a small female wasn't abandoned to become a part of the wintry, desolate landscape. He wasn't ready to reveal it. Besides he was sure in her eyes that would not hold as a substantial palliation. She was so unlike the one compared to, stubborn, belligerent, unreined, with the determination to move mountains. Even in her feeble state she had already attempted an escape.
The Elf's gaze fell onto the carpeted floor as a few of his whispy, arrow straight strands slipped forth to brush against his cheekbones. A sigh left his lips, the air shifted his locks gently. Suddenly, as if years back he could have sworn he heard the pitter-patter of the tiny feet across the carved stone floors of the underground...
"I have a family." Rimkaur had resumed suddenly, holding her midsection she propped herself higher onto the pillows pulling her knees to her chest.
He met her stare and before his lips parted with an answer she detected a flash of something hidden in his aquamarine gaze.
"I wish for you to select an attire. Leptafinya will return to aid you." He changed the subject skillfully, striding out of the small chamber.
By the door the healer awaited, her hands clasped in front of her. Their stares locked.
"She holds her appearance." She conceded her eyes glistening. "She looks just like my little girl..."
x x x
Her small palms slid to her midsection tentatively until they reached the region just underneath the belly button. The tips of her fingers curved in slightly to make light indentations. She cradled her stomach brushing it gently as if drawing small circles on her skin. The tiny bump was visible barely and only if she stood sidelong to the mirror unclothed. The Elven garb, thankfully, allowed room for such adjustments. The moment of confirming it to herself was when her heart fluttered insanely yet also thumped heavier halting the hastened beating for a brief moment. She was full with his child. The tears flowed free, escaping unreined... How can one be so overjoyed yet unhappy all the same...
Still a relative prisoner in the walls of the Woodland realm she contemplated how long she will be able to conceal it. What would the King do upon realizing who could have fathered the infant..?
"I simply hope the pain I felt will not plague you little one..." Rimkaur murmured tenderly.
The door in her chamber was oddly only possible to lock from the outside, there were no windows, no sound reached there... Filled with more of her persistent strength she could have easily walked far yet she was let out outside the quarters solely three times and always in the company of Leptafinya and a duo of faceless guards. All the instances she brought it up to the King he failed to give her a direct response. She had guessed pretty quickly that Elf was obviously the one everyone answered to. There was an unmistakable aura of regality, strength, unwavering confidence...
Her near constant companion the healer Leptafinya was of no help either, clearly eager to go by anything Thranduil conveyed. She brought her food, brought her books, kept her company yet the human felt the nerves crawl over her back realizing how trapped she was. And for what purpose... The way the duo stared at her there must have been something... The Elves cannot detect scents that well, they have no idea she bears their blood or the one of an Orc... Yet that couldn't have been why the King himself saved her, brought her all the way back to the womb of his realm... Not to have conversations that's for certain!
When the lights had escaped her eyes all the rest she thought and experienced was in her mind the part of death. Yet awaking to the hefty boulders above her head she had hoped she was transported to Gundabad, even if by some miracle... Even if in death... She could have met him again... Was it her destiny to love and to loose in such a short period of time that there was none left to enjoy it..? The nights she spent writhing on that narrow cot... The agony in her chest... Was it possible for a heart to have spent itself so much that it simply fails... It beat against her ribs wildly as if being in this body was something it no longer desired... Yet now, now she had a purpose to continue existing. A tiny, fragile life she was going to protect at all costs. The young human collapsed onto the bed concealing her face, the despair was hard to combat. Yet she wasn't alone any longer...
x x x
The cool air of the underground Kingdom tickled her bare thighs yet she wouldn't have noticed as the pressure in her pelvis had become unbearable. It did not go away only intensifying. The human grunted setting her jaws. When she collapsed onto the cot overcome with another contraction Rimkaur couldn't see over the hill of her stomach. The woman scoot up as quickly as she could aided suddenly by the ever present Leptafinya.
"It's alright, it's alright." The Elleth murmured gently, her voice collected and calming. She rested a wet rag onto the young mother's forehead solicitously.
"It isn't." Rimkaur rasped enraged, the thin rivulets of ink colored her eyes. "I am here." Tears stung her eyes at once. "When his child should be born in..." The woman exhaled audibly, a grimace of agony distorted her features. Her high pitch cry iterated the chamber resonating the walls until it morphed into a pained moan. Panting wildly she pulled herself up clutching the sheet until her knuckles paled. Another strained, powerful push and the tiny body landed into the healer's arms.
Leptafinya stared at the child. For a few moments the Elven female could not summon her vocal cords to produce a single sound. Eventually a stream of air left her parted lips. She wrapped the wailing infant expertly heading out the quarters. Her worst fears came to life.
"Give him back..." The new mother cried out feebly as the female paused for a moment yet made a few more steps towards the door. "Leptafinya..." Rimkaur slipped her feet to the floor, she collapsed as blackness obscured her vision. The pain pervaded her entire being once more taking over her insides, numbening her legs. The wet shapeless afterbirth exited her body and she struggled to rise clutching her belly.
"Give me my child!" The woman growled as the stunned healer halted in her tracks, then retreated back to her position by the bed.
"This..." The Elleth had a lump wedged in her throat. "This child... Your son is an Orc." Leptafinya's voice rose to a near high pitch shriek.
"Give him back." Rimkaur's arms extended upwards.
"You... You want him..?" The gaping Golgi sank to her knees relinquishing the mired bundle.
The rising thunder of sobs tore her chest as Rimkaur's cheeks flooded with the scorching tears, the mother clutched her firstborn son. The baby ceased the wailing at once gazing up at his Ma with the eyes the color of the bluest sapphire. The flickering candle light illuminated his alabaster skin, his light grey lips puckered up as if he was attempting to blow a kiss. The Orcling's ears spoke of his parentage. Cuddling her boy to her chest to make him feed Rimkaur tickled the points with her finger. The top of his head was covered with a strip of the bright auburn hair that resembled a Mohawk, something he inherited from his mother...
"You look just like your Da." Her lips brushed the baby Orc's tiny blunted nose. "My Ashlûk."
As obedient as she was the Elven healer darted down the numerous hallways, her steps so light and hastened she appeared afloat. For the first time in her life she entered her Lord's study without knocking.
As Thranduil leveled her gaze Leptafinya felt faint simply at the thought of telling him, the courage and urgency she felt before were now completely dissipated.
"Well?" The Elf pressed on.
"All's well, My Lord. Rimkaur lives." She attempted to avoid the inevitable.
"The child?" Thranduil stepped forth keeping his stare on the healer. It brimmed with curiosity.
"The child is well." She quipped hanging her head. And as the King strode towards the door her fingers clasped his arm. Leptafinya recoiled immediately astonished at her own boldness.
"The child, My Lord..." She attempted to control her breathing still. "Not human... Not Elven... Not..." The Elleth would rather name all other races he isn't than the one he is...
His tranquil eyes met the healer's as the King of Mirkwood pressed his lips barely. "Remember, that's a part of her."
"But... You don't understand he's..." The Elleth hung her head, conceding, as his gesture halted her panting protests. They both vanished into the twilight of the hallway.
x x x
Rimkaur's back leaned onto the smooth wall as she sat on the leather upholstered bench. Ashlûk curled up in her arms, both of his tiny, pudgy hands clutched her breast as he sucked contentedly. Over the two months after his birth the Orcling gained a several pounds already, he supported his weight on his arms and rolled all over the carpeted floor surface. The boy's intent blue eyes watched his mother as he fed. A tear glistened on her lashes, fluttering away it landed onto his nose. The baby sneezed and loosing the source of his breakfast released an irate purr, it shortly morphed into a pitiful wail.
"I'm sorry my love, I'm sorry... I simply can't help it." She embraced the baby tighter, he made her chuckle brightening yet another solemn mood. The breast securely in his grasps once again the infant narrowed his eyes staring up lovingly at the owner of the warm arms and the nice squishy milk filled mounds, he proceeded his favorite task.
The light knock forced her to drape a throw over her chest. Thranduil entered and seeing her position was about to retreat when she shook her head gesturing to the seat. When Ash had his fill Rim repositioned her top expertly pulling the baby out of his makeshift hiding place.
The eyes bright, his belly full little Ash sat on his Ma's lap watching the fair-haired male suspiciously as the latter approached. Rimkaur could not explain the Elven King's fascination with her son. As the Elf leveled his face to the infant's the baby pouted, his lips twitched, nose pitched then a tiny rumble left his chest exposing his only two fangs at the bottom of his mouth. The infant glared at the intruder.
"Mir Org!" Rimkaur laughed darting a satisfied stare at the Elf.
"Ferocious indeed." The King straightened pacing the room as the narrowed sapphire eyes watched his every move. Bending at once he brushed his finger under Ash's chin gently and the Orcling could not contain a giggle. The Elf repeated the gesture then glid his finger left and right through the air landing it on the infant's nose, forcing the latter to stare at the tip cross-eyed. The King retreated in time as Ash was clutching his digit attempting to pull the newfound teething toy into his mouth.
x x x
His back against the slick tufted leather of the armchair in his private chamber Thranduil nursed a glass of the crimson liquid. What a turn of fate that was, that he happened to have the only known offspring of their enemy under his roof, in his grasp and, he hoped, control in the future as well. And birthed by her... Out of all possible females, the Pale Orc had to take her... The boy's blood wasn't easy to conceal. She had never revealed the truth, yet laying his eyes onto the newborn he came to a realization immediately. That froze the blood in his veins, an even bigger twist of fate...
She won't let up her pleas... And he knew, her sire lived, by the mercy of his sword he wasn't slain by his overzealous offspring.
The massive oak door creaked lightly. Instead of the light brown of his usual visitor Leptafinya he was a bit astonished to see the dark copper strands peek out from beneath the black cloak. Rimkaur lowered onto the seat quietly revealing the dozing Ash in the front-tied sling.
"Leptafinya is asleep." The woman smirked with a hint of the dark satisfaction holding a tiny vile to the light of a single candle on his desk. The healer had a lot of herbs in her work room and Rim's years in Fangorn did not pass without a thorough education.
"You know why I'm here." She added before he could offer something in return. The King nodded.
"Yet this time I have an offer to propose." Rim let out calmly in an undertone as if attempting not to wake her son.
"As if you posses anything of leverage." The Elf's mouth tipped into a teasing smirk.
The human met his eyes, her own glowed in an assured, calm light. It's as if the decision she came to could not be swayed by none.
"...The gems of pure starlight..." The woman did not break the eye contact. "Oakenshield wasn't good about keeping anything in secret." The human's lips contorted. "You know they are still there. Tossed carelessly as if they were glass not priceless treasures."
The King of Mirkwood straightened so abruptly his loose shimmering robes swished against the edge catching the candle light they scattered the tiny lights all over the quarters. He leaned forth his eyes alight with feelings brought from very deep inside.
"I will get them for you." Rimkaur straightened in turn. "For that you will grant me and my son freedom."
Breaking the eye contact the Elf grasped his chalice once more taking a few steps from behind the table.
"Do you know why?" The male slowed his pace cocking his head barely. "Why you are here?"
"First, I must have reminded you of a long lost someone... Yet now it's Ash you after." The human's guess was as blunt and as straightforward as they came. What was the point of dancing around the truth, she knew and he did...
In an unexpected reaction Thranduil bowed his head with a light-hearted smile. Yet the joyous gesture vanished rapidly.
"Legolas wasn't my only child... Once..." The male lowered heavily onto a seat as if the strength holding him up had suddenly abandoned him yet his posture retained his ever present elegance.
"I had a daughter. Her hair as bright as the freshly molten copper, eyes as green as the moss after a Spring shower..." The Elf confirmed Rimkaur's suspicions.
"Narquelion... Half-Elf, half-Human." He continued his lips moving barely. "It seems as if yesterday... She simply faded. Leaving nothing behind but a long lost child." His eyes filled with the scintillating hope had lifted finally.
I"You."/I
Note: Orclings mature slightly faster compared to human children
Black Speech:
Pizgal - Corporal (Commanding a company of ten)
Mogumta - Where is he?
Mogumaz - Where am I?
Gorunta - He is dead.
Akh - yes
Golgi - Elven female.
Ashlûk - First son, firstborn, one son.
Mir Org - Good Orc.
Leptafinya - (Quenya) Clever
Boshok - Highlander