Chapter 30: East With All Speed (Legolas)
Note: I know this chapter and the next are bit a longer than I usually drop in one week, but there was a lot I wanted to keep/not cut and they are covering an unusually long period of time for a single chapter pair. Thanks for your forbearance.
(~***~)
"We will wait at Temple Mountain!" they heard their daughter shout across the growing distance. And then the vision ceased. The snake woman, the dwarf boy, the blood and bodies of men and women laying beneath the shadows of bamboo stalks. All gone.
But the song of her soul remained with them. It was quieter than it had ever been at home, as though they were listening to her sing from very far away. But they could feel her. They were connected. As they should be.
"I do not know where to begin," Lossrilleth said. "How did that happen?" The other elves shook their heads at her, just as bewildered.
"I have never heard of such a thing," Thranduil replied. "It must be some boon from the Valar. I can think of no other explanation. This venture – it may well be the strangest thing I have ever lived through," he commented, shaking his head in disbelief and frustration. If they were willing to do that, why wait so long?
Legolas caught his father's eye. "She is so good," he said with a stunned grin.
Thranduil chuckled. "Indeed. She reminds me of a certain someone I once knew," he replied, nodding at his son with a smile.
"Not at twenty-six!" Legolas objected.
"You underestimate yourself," Thranduil insisted. Legolas had done much the same, in fact, when faced with childhood trauma: thrown himself into training and movement. The similarity gave Thranduil much hope for Angharad. She was finding a way through, too.
"How did they get so far East?" Lossrilleth finally said.
"How do you know she is far in the East?" Thranduil asked. Could Lossrilleth know about a place they did not? She knew about the trajectory of human history, not the geography of their world.
"I do not know for certain, but it looked familiar – the type of trees, the language, the fighting style. There was a place like that in my old world. I think she is very far away. We need to speak with someone. We need a map. We need to leave! We cannot delay!" Lossrilleth stood up and wobbled a little. The stress of that vision had not done her any favors.
"You are not ready," Thranduil told her. "You will be soon. There are a great many problems we have to solve. We can begin working on them while you finish healing. I would note that we are without mounts. You must be well enough to hike out to the next town large enough that we might find some. Waiting now may in fact save us time later."
"She will have a long wait, but I told her as much. We can hope she is going to a safe place if you are right about these Brothers," Legolas tried soothing his wife as he guided her back to her seat. "Our daughter looks so strong, does she not? She will endure."
"I think she learned Kung Fu!" Lossrilleth exclaimed, beginning to laugh in amazement. "Maker of Worlds, but she is incredible! I hope she was not in an army."
"She is incredible!" Legolas agreed, grinning. "I do not think she has been in an army, though. She was too thrown when she saw the first man killed."
"And the last three," Lossrilleth said darkly. "That snake Xiaoqing turns my breath to ice."
"She is a strong ally for however long she continues to be invested in them," Thranduil countered. "I cannot say I am unhappy that Angharad has such a person looking out for her." He wondered which of he and Xiaoqing was older – both old enough to know of the world's brutality, in any case.
"Now we have more pressing troubles to address; the ones we can actually do something about," Thranduil told his company. "We will want to move with as much speed as possible, but we have no horses. We need to purchase them to make the best time to Minas Tirith. However, our gems are almost spent. Fast horses and tack alone will take most of the gold we have left. And it sounds as though we will need provisions for a long sea voyage."
"We lost much thanks to that villain Masterson. If it were not a diversion, I should like to ask him just how Angharad went from his care to a rebellion in distant lands," Thranduil added with a dangerous edge to his voice.
"But it is a diversion," Legolas said firmly. He would like to share some choice thoughts with Masterson himself, but they had a job to do. "Why return to Minas Tirith? Surely we should make straight for our ship?"
"I think we should call on our friend Lord Farren," Thranduil said. "If anyone can find us information on the lands in the Far East, I would think a servant of the King could."
"Yes, that is sensible," Lossrilleth agreed. "My lords, when you left this Kingdom, how completely did you strip it bare? Are there storerooms left here with old goods?"
Thranduil shook his head. "We took everything of value, I am afraid. There is not a jewel left in these halls."
"But my lords, you must remember. Every kitchen bowl left behind is now a priceless artifact of days gone by when elves still lived in these lands. We cannot bring crockery with us – but we could bring spoons. Any small containers. Weapons! Did you strip the armory bare? A few ancient swords and daggers could buy us much in the right hands," Lossrilleth mused.
Thranduil and Legolas shared a look of disquiet. It felt like robbing a tomb.
"Do not give me that look," the young mother scolded them. "It is not like we are stealing. Everything in these halls belongs to the two of you if it belongs to anyone. Will you leave a kingdom of unwanted antiques to rot when they could help us save our girl?"
Thranduil nodded tersely. When she was right, she was right.
"There may be some minor weapons left in the armory. There are other store rooms we can look in for items small enough to carry. Although I do not know how you expect to find buyers here in the rough North. Unless we go to Dale."
"Dale is in the wrong direction. If we know we can get more gold in Minas Tirith, then we may spend what is left of our coin freely now without worry," Lossrilleth pointed out.
"Hmm, perhaps you are right. You have a head for money, iell nin," Thranduil commented.
"It was everything where I once lived," Lossrilleth said unhappily. It was frustrating to have to make a living again after getting spoiled in the Blessed Lands for a few centuries, she thought. But yes, she knew all about hustling for money.
(~***~)
Thus it was that the Elvenking of old and his crown prince found themselves looting the aged ruins of their Woodland Realm. Much of what was in the kitchens was too large and fragile to take with them, although as Lossrilleth had suggested, there was some cutlery that could be salvaged. That and a pair of candlesticks.
In a set of craft rooms, they found a brass drop spindle, a set of lace bobbins carved from bone, and a variety of mismatched buttons. Most of the cloth that was left was beyond saving. Mildew had destroyed most fabric or wood items left in the humid caves.
But a set of delicate glass perfume vials had survived, although their cork stoppers had fallen apart. (These at least were replaceable.) Lossrilleth took them although she thought they might be prone to breaking. She had learned how to make elven perfume. If she could find some decent oil somewhere, she could steep some herself with flowers they found along the roads.
They did a little better in the armory. No grand, historic swords had been abandoned, but a few standard-issue soldiers' weapons remained. They fashioned a carrying cloth for the four swords out of a length of canvas tent that had been spelled to resist any conditions a war could throw at it. Most of the armor that could be found was too large to haul around, but they took a few pairs of bracers.
Back in the great cave, Thranduil inspected their haul, feeling unimpressed.
"You are certain these items will get us enough value for our purposes?" He asked Lossrilleth.
She was distracted; she had found a belt dagger that had fallen behind a sword stand. With better light, she was admiring the careful design of its ornamental sheath.
"I am of half a mind to keep this for myself," she said.
"Do," Legolas told her with a half-smile. It made him happy to imagine her with something from this kingdom.
"Only if we do not need it for money. I am surprised there are no more. Daggers would have been very useful," she complained, stroking the fine object before fixing it to her own belt.
"Yes, but they were just as easy for us to carry then. They are all in Valinor," Thranduil replied.
"I think it is a good result," Lossrilleth said, looking it all over carefully. "The swords alone may be worth much," she said hopefully.
Thranduil was not certain. The next day, as the two younger elves went to look in a few more closets in the upper halls, he made his way to his old chambers. There, in a desk on the verge of collapse, he retrieved something he thought he would never see again.
Long ago, in the quiet hours before their departure to Valinor, Thranduil had been sitting at that desk struggling to picture his role in the West, one former ruler among many, now only a subject. He had rolled his royal seal in his hands, feeling the familiar weight of its solid silver handle once more. How many times had he put it to hot wax, sealing an order or important correspondence? But he would need it no more. He had closed it away in his desk once and for all, searching for acceptance as he left to lead the last of his people, one last time, across Middle Earth to the sea.
Now he held it again. He rubbed the centuries of tarnish out as best he could with the edge of his tunic. Maybe it had one more use, this mantle of being the Elvenking. In the right hands, Lossrilleth had said. Indeed, Thranduil thought to himself. Indeed.
The old king's reflections were interrupted when heard his son's voice call out down the long hallway.
"Adar, where have you gone? You will want to see what we have just found," Legolas's voice was filled with amusement.
Thranduil stowed the seal of the Elvenking carefully in his coin purse and returned to the great hall. Legolas had found three old wine goblets and placed them on the table next to – Thranduil could not believe it – two bottles of seven-hundred-year-old Dorwinian wine. Whoever had left that behind had thoroughly failed to follow orders, he thought.
"We are not going to drink it, surely," Lossrilleth said in exasperation. "We could get a lot of money for such fine old wine, could we not?"
"Hmmm," Thranduil replied, sharing his son's look of anticipation. "There are only two bottles. Such old glass could break easily during travel, and it would make such a mess. We cannot even know if it has turned rancid if we do not open at least one."
"My thoughts exactly," Legolas laughed. They did have something to celebrate, after all. They finally knew something about his daughter's fortunes, and there were good reasons to feel hopeful. His sense of relief overpowered everything at the moment.
"Have you ever been drunk since you've been in an elven body?" Legolas asked his wife with a cheeky grin.
"Well, no," she said. She'd always made a point of drinking in moderation in Valinor. Elven society there was generally formal and dignified. (The Silvans' equinox bonfires notwithstanding.) She hadn't wanted to make a fool of herself. She'd just spent more than two hundred years trying convince everyone she was a proper elf lady, despite her original upbringing. She was highly skeptical of all this.
Thranduil smirked at her as he pried the wax seal off one of the bottles, popped the cork, and smelled its contents. Not rancid. What an excellent, familiar old smell. He poured three glasses and raised his in salute.
"To Angharad the fierce. May her heart never falter," Thranduil said.
Legolas took one of the goblets and raised it back at his father. "Hear, hear!" he cheered. He put the final glass into his wife's hands. If Thranduil wasn't concerned about its effect on her healing process, Legolas was a little curious to see what Lossrilleth would be like good and tipsy.
He wouldn't be disappointed. By the end of the second bottle, Lossrilleth was feeling very handsy. When Thranduil excused himself to the privy, Legolas pulled his wife down the halls to his old bedchamber. He'd checked before – it wasn't too badly off. He could say now that he'd enjoyed the special delights of being married at least once in this place.
Thranduil returned to an empty room with distant noises of a personal nature echoing in the hollow cavern. Those two, he thought, rolling his eyes. You would think they were still newlyweds.
The old king went to find another place to be. On the other side of the cavern. With a good, thick wall between them. He wondered what kind of shape his old library might be in.
(~***~)
Finally, the elves departed the halls of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil and Legolas bade their kingdom goodbye for (truly) the final time. As Legolas helped his company seal the doors behind them, he was surprised to find that he no longer thought of this place as home. It made leaving that much easier.
Home was in Valinor, together with Angharad and Lossrilleth in their little talan at the edge of the Silvan Quarter, a few minutes away from his now-expanded family and the regrouped community of Silvans. Where everyone was safe. Where life consisted of more than fighting and darkness. Where his people were. Thinking of them all together again made him feel so hopeful. When they walked away, he took Lossrilleth's hand and did not look back.
Concerned that Eaben and his pet peacekeepers might have spread the word about their presence, the elves hiked halfway through Eryn Lasgalen before stepping onto the road that followed the Anduin. It was a long way to walk, but they kept up a good speed as much as they could.
When they rejoined the main road, they found that the plague had passed so, much Lossrilleth's relief, they could take the establish throughway in the region instead of returning to the mountain track. It was one small blessing in the midst of numerous challenges. They did eventually find horses and tack in a town along the river, although purchasing them required spending almost all of the money they had left.
They had to resort to selling game and the perfumes Lossrilleth managed to make for the remainder of their journey south. Lossrilleth noted wryly that they were no longer just pretending to be foreign traders. At least they didn't need much cash most of the time.
In Minas Tirith, the 'Northmen' were warmly received by Lord Farren, Lady Amity, and their infant son. Farren's heart twisted as Legolas explained about their search for their daughter, the true reason for their presence in these lands. He could not imagine knowing his child was lost in another realm that it would take months to reach. He agreed to help them without reservation.
As Farren went about the work of discretely learning more about the Longqing Emperor's lands for his friends, Thranduil was working on a scheme of his own. Using his disguise as a lowly merchant to its best advantage, the old king wandered around the markets and the palace grounds, listening to the gossip that buzzed around like so many bees. Eventually, he heard something that would help him with his plan.
The younger elves were curious when they saw a few letters passing between Thranduil and some unknown person. He would only say he was following a lead on a knowledgeable buyer who would pay well for the Woodland Realm's ancient treasures.
Finally, Thranduil received the letter he had been hoping for for some days. The letter had come on a convenient day for Thranduil's purposes. Amity's nursemaid had taken sick a few days earlier, leaving the young mother to handle her fussy baby alone. Amity was near tears after a few sleepless nights. Lossrilleth finally took the little boy and firmly sent Amity to bed.
"My friend, do not worry. Get some sleep," the elf mother encouraged the young lady, already engrossed in making silly faces to make the baby smile. "This little man and I will be just fine for a few hours. As you now know, I have done this before."
So, as Thranduil quietly gathered up all of the ancient treasures of the Woodland Realm, Lossrilleth was fully engaged in playing with the baby while Legolas watched with a nostalgic smile on his face. In elf years, it had not been so long ago that they were doing this themselves. Lossrilleth was emanating joy that it was hard for him not to catch.
Before Thranduil could slip out, Legolas noticed and gave him a curious look, but Thranduil just shook his head at his son and departed quietly. He did not want the younger elves involved in this. He was pushing the boundaries of what they were allowed to do. If the Valar decided to intercede, he wanted it to be against himself only.
As he arrived, the elf considered the 'cathedral' he'd been invited to with a critical eye. It was strange to him, how being one of the Faithful had changed among men. There had not been an institution involved when Thranduil was last in Middle Earth. An institution heavily involved in politics, he noted. He was not convinced it was an improvement. Still, he bowed his head respectfully as he stepped through the door, flanked by white stone statues of Manwё and Varda. (The statues bore no likeness to them at all, he thought. At least as he'd seen them.)
Inside the door, Thranduil was met by a suspicious looking man dressed in high quality, practical clothing, and a cadre of guards.
"I have arms with me, but only those which are for sale," Thranduil informed him immediately. "Will your guards take them for safekeeping?"
The man gestured for his guards to take the swords. "They'll search your person and all your belongings, Northman," the man informed Thranduil. The elf acquiesced. He had expected as much.
"Her Highness the Princess is most interested in the letter you sent, but I'm unhappy at how easily an unknown foreign merchant found it to have correspondence delivered directly to her," the man told Thranduil icily.
"I would gladly share my insights into increasing her Royal Highness's security if you would like them, sir," Thranduil said respectfully.
He wasn't sure he should do so, but if he kept his advice vague… he had to remember to keep himself to speaking about the sale of the goods and nothing more. She could not be influenced by his opinions. The Valar had shown a clear and unusual willingness to involve themselves in this venture. He wouldn't do his company any good dead.
"I can assure you my letter was sincere. I'm here only with respect to the unusual objects my company and I came into possession of recently. They require a knowledgeable buyer. From all I have heard of your kingdom, her Royal Highness is a scholar and a woman of means. I believe she's likely to be interested in purchasing some of these goods."
The man was not happy about this, but the Princess had given him a direct order. Having thoroughly searched the tall merchant and taken his wares under guard, Araveth's advisor escorted the Northman into the Chapter House where she had insisted they meet. He thought it was strange, meeting to negotiate a sale of goods in a place of worship. But the Princess was sharp, so he imagined there was a good reason.
When Thranduil caught sight of the Princess standing before a stained-glass window in a very fine velvet gown, his first thought was that she looked so young. How long, he wondered sadly, before the weight of this immense, difficult kingdom of men came to rest on those slight shoulders? On balance, he could not honestly say he missed being a ruler.
The Princess held up the letter she had received. It bore the seal of the Elvenking of Eryn Lasgalen, stamped in wax. Beneath it was a single sentence, written in Sindarin: "This seal is for sale to one who can understand its meaning."
"This is a very interesting letter, Northman," Araveth said dryly. "I had to do some research to identify this mark. You have it with you?"
"Yes, and some other goods from the same source that may also be of interest to her Royal Highness," Thranduil remarked.
"Go and wait in the chapel," Araveth said to her advisor. "This negotiation needs to be conducted with some privacy. Do not protest. I will keep the personal guards I've chosen for this occasion with me."
The man looked very unhappy, but did as he was told. Four young men remained, fully armed and ready to pounce at the first sight of aggression. They were strong, good fighters, and loyal; and they were entirely uneducated. They would not be able to discern Sindarin from the tongue of the Northern men. The Chapter House had a number of features to prevent spying. Araveth had arranged with the cathedral's keepers to have exclusive use of this space for some time.
When they had the room to themselves, the Princess continued in her accented Sindarin. "I thought I would be seeing one of the others I met before. It seems they have broken an oath if you knew of our meeting. I did tell them to leave our kingdom with all due haste," she said a bit sharply.
"With all due respect, your Royal Highness, they have not broken an oath. As I believe you know, I am no man," Thranduil replied. "My son and his wife have had no part in arranging this appointment. They do not know that I requested it, and neither does our host, Lord Farren, I might add."
"I believe this a matter that should be settled between royals," he added seriously.
The Princess looked over the tall elf appraisingly. So, this was Thranduil Oropherion, the ancient Elvenking of Eryn Lasgalen. Fascinating. The things he would have seen… but she knew from the first meeting that the elves were extremely constrained in what they would say to her.
"What would possess you to sell this? Am I not correct that this is the seal of the royal house of the Woodland Realm of old?" she asked.
"I believe my son informed you that we are here on a personal errand, looking for one of our kin. That missing elf is my granddaughter. We have finally discovered her whereabouts: she is in the realm of the Longqing Emperor," Thranduil began to explain.
Araveth raised her eyebrows in surprise, interrupting. "That is very far, sir. We have some trade dealings with the Middle Kingdom. The expeditions to exchange such goods can take years to return," the Princess commented.
"I had suspected as much, although we are still seeking better information about that realm. Perhaps if you have such knowledge, it should be a part of our discussion," Thranduil suggested.
"You see, we wish to do as you ask and leave as quickly as possible. We had some misfortune near our old homeland and find ourselves wanting for sufficient funds to finance such a journey. It is for this reason that I offer this seal for your consideration, as well as some other items we have salvaged from my kingdom of old," Thranduil explained.
Araveth was satisfied by this explanation. It was very intriguing to her to own this historic seal, and whatever other artifacts the Elvenking had to show her. It seemed she would not even have to pay solely in gold – information and maps could be a part of the price. The Princess gestured that the Elvenking should join her at a long table, where she had had some wine set out.
"Then let us get business, your Majesty," she said. She knew he was not really a king anymore; she didn't have to use the title. But they were negotiating over the last remnants of his reign. She thought some solemnity was due.
"That would be my pleasure, your Royal Highness," Thranduil replied smoothly. He was suppressing a smile he imagined she would find condescending. She was so, so young, but he thought it already showed: she would be a good ruler. Diplomatic, for one thing.
(~***~)
Thranduil returned to Lord Farren's apartments late. It had taken some time for the Princess to inspect all the goods, determine she would take the lot, and for them to negotiate a price. They had waited for her manservant to go and return with the cash price she had finally agreed to pay.
Thranduil had thought he was being quite aggressive about price – to the point of absurdity – but he had taken into account Lossrilleth's notes about the likely value of objects humans considered ancient. He had found less resistance than he expected to the amounts he proposed. He came back with quite a lot to show for his efforts, including a full and detailed map and docket of information about the Longqing Empire that were to be delivered to the apartments the next day.
After their hosts went to sleep, the elves convened and Thranduil finally told his companions about what he had done.
"Adar, you are lucky to still be with us," Legolas told him with chagrin. "The Valar did not intervene at all?"
Elbereth had already interceded once when it came to the Princess – her instructions to keep their mouths firmly shut had been very clear. After what they'd seen in Eryn Lasgalen, there was no reason to believe their death threats had been idle, either.
"They did not," Thranduil confirmed.
He had been meticulous about restricting the discussion to trade, despite some wheedling from the Princess. He had not had to witness the rather tense scene at the court of the Valar while he did so, or even he might have lost his nerve. Nienna had become invested in their success and had advocated convincingly on his behalf.
Lossrilleth was looking through the bounty of gems and coins Thranduil had returned with in disbelief. It was more than she could ever have hoped for. She had not known about the royal seal when she had been estimating what they might hope to make from selling their goods.
"If we are careful, this could be enough to get us through to the end," she mused. "I think we will need to try to fish for ourselves while we are at sea so we do not have to rely too much on purchased food," she said. Her mind was churning away at their logistical problems before she knew it.
While she thought, Legolas considered his father carefully. "The royal seal, Adar?" he asked softly.
He wondered if it had been hard to let go of. He had never thought about what happened to it after they'd all gone West. He hadn't actually travelled with Thranduil.
"It is worth it," Thranduil replied simply.
There was a time he wouldn't have been able to believe he would come to think such a thing. But he could see that time was now in the past. The Elvenking was gone. Thranduil the husband and father and grandfather had taken his place. For the better, he thought to himself.
(~***~)
The Princess's map and docket of travel accounts in the Longqing Empire proved invaluable. She had even pulled a letter to the top that discussed the location of the "Ghost Bay" and the local legends that surrounded it.
The elves thanked their hosts profusely for their assistance and took their leave, riding to Anfalas with all possible speed to retrieve their ship. They were beyond relieved to find that it had weathered well in the hidden cove. Cirdan certainly knew what he was doing. He made his ships to last.
In the coastal regions they purchased what they could to prepare for what looked to be a very long sea journey Eastward. Until, finally, they set sail.
The story of their sea journey is long indeed, and beyond the confines of this telling. It is enough to say that these elves were not experienced mariners before they left, and they made a few errors along the way that cost them time. They did not know the fastest routes used by such experienced navigators as the Collector, which prevailed upon helpful winds and currents to make good time. But one day, just over a year after their departure from Eryn Lasgalen, the elves finally arrived on the shores of the Ghost Bay, where they were greeted by demons.
(~***~)
