In Times of Trouble

Scribbles-on-Parchment

September 29, 2023


Chapter 23 – Old Friendships

Ever since Tamír's surprise return to the forest several years ago, Thranduil had known this day would come. But in his stubbornness, he had tried to convince himself he would never open himself up to feel that kind of pain again – and yet as soon as Êmand had closed the door to his chambers firmly behind him, Thranduil knew that there would be no better time than this to speak with his old friend about what had been laying heavily on his heart for so many years.

"It almost killed me you know," the sindar said this so quietly that Tamír had to lean forward to catch it.

"Hîr nín?"

"I thought you had been taken, tortured, and killed by those foul creatures. I thought that I could have - should have - done something to save you," Thranduil turned his back on Tamír as he spoke, choosing instead to gaze out of the large window that overlooked the gardens, "I forced myself to keep going after you disappeared. I forced myself to try and ignore your absence, but I found that I could not; then after my …," the elven king's voice died away for a moment, "I could not go to you for comfort. I could not go to anyone. But I still forced myself to go on for the sake of my sons, even though I had lost everyone else dear to me. And now even my sons have forsaken me and this land."

Both elves stood in silence for a moment, neither moving nor even seeming to breathe. The tension in the room seemed to be replaced by an ever-mounting feeling of despair and regret. Both eldar seemed to be waiting for the other to break the silence. For a heart-breaking moment, it appeared as if neither would be the first to speak, but at long last, Tamír let out a long sigh.

"I thought that I lost you too, mellon nín. I too had to find the strength to keep going after the battle. You must understand that I had nothing to live for. No wife, no friends, no homeland, no people. I was an outsider and I was alone. Please know, mellon nín, that I understand your pain," the silvan paused for a moment, "But while you had your sons to cling to, I had no one by my side. Therefore, I had no choice, but to find that strength from the only one that I could… Elrond. I never intended to betray you or to abandon my people, my wife, my child."

Tamír watched as the foreboding figure of his king seemed to tense at the mention of the Noldorian lord. He feared for a moment that Thranduil would call his guards to take him away. But instead, the Sinda simply stood there as if waiting for what he would say next. And so Tamír took a deep breath and continued,

"I know that your heart is overflowing with hatred for Elrond and all Noldor," Thranduil stiffened once more, but Tamír pushed on, "I understand. You are trying to find something, someone, to carry your guilt and blame."

"Tamír…," the elven king growled dangerously, "Watch your next words very carefully."

"No."

Tamír watched as Thranduil turned around to face him, the sinda's blue eyes darkening in anger.

"No?" the elven king all but hissed."

"No," Tamír held the king's gaze, unflinching, "I used to be your closest friend – your most trusted friend – and it was not because I held my tongue whenever I was around you, so I shall not do so now. You are so full of pain, mellon nín, and I understand that I am partially to blame for that," the silvan watched as Thranduil's gaze seemed to soften slightly at his words, "You are afraid of being wrong; I can see that now. You are afraid of what will happen when the carefully constructed world that you built around you falls. You are afraid of the kind of life your sons will be forced to lead. You are afraid of Elrond because, though you are loth to admit it, you fear that you were wrong about him the whole time."

Thranduil's eyes widened slightly and Tamír knew that he had finally begun to uncover the truth and show it to his old friend.

"You are not one of the Valar, mellon nín. You will not always be right or just in your actions. Even during my time with Elrond, I witnessed him make errors and jump to conclusions. You need to stop wrapping yourself up in this blanket of guilt and loneliness. You and your people have survived for so many years, Thranduil, it is now time for you to remember how to live."

Thranduil felt the silvan's words cut at his heart. He could see the intense emotions behind Tamír's brown eyes, but he knew that the elf had spoken true. He was afraid of Elrond, yet he was more afraid of being wrong and having made his people, his sons, and his wife suffer for his mistakes.

"Remember how to live?" the Sinda repeated numbly, "How can anyone truly live in these times when there is nothing to live for?"

"There is always something to live for, mellon nín. You have just lost sight of it… as did I. You speak so much of what you lost while you forget what you still have," Tamír took a step closer to the Sindar, "You have a whole army of Silvan elves standing behind you. But not only that, you also have sons, Thranduil. You have two wonderful sons, who just want their adar back."

To Tamír's surprise, the sinda seemed to crumple at his words. Alarmed, Tamír rushed forward to catch the eldar before he could collapse gracelessly to the floor.

"Hîr nín? Are you well? Should I call for a healer?"

But there was no response from the elven king. Growing increasingly worried, Tamír gently lowered the unresisting sinda to the floor, his arms still wrapped around Thranduil.

"Hîr nín?" Tamír asked as he maneuvered the eldar into a more comfortable position, "You must answer me, hîr nín. Are you well?"

But instead of an angered response from the proud king, Tamír grew even more alarmed when he brushed the golden locks out of Thranduil's face and saw tear drops clinging to the king's dark lashes. The sinda's eyes were pressed closed the first of many tears silently slid down Thranduil's cheek.

Tamír instantly felt his heartbreak for the elf. All anger and frustration dissipated instantly.

"Mellon nín," Tamír said softly, "You have carried so much pain on your own, for so long. You don't need to anymore. Trust me… as you once did. You are not alone… you were never alone."

The silvan continued to murmur soft words of comfort in Sindarin to the elven king until Thranduil's tears ceased to fall and he allowed his damp eyelids to open. Tamír smiled sadly down at the elf as he, at last, saw the uncovered pain and torment shown clearly in Thranduil's blue eyes.

"My sons, mellon nín," Tamír felt his heart swell at the soft words spoken by Thranduil," You must help me find my sons."


Deep in the forest of Mirkwood…

Meldir glanced around at the dark forest that surrounded him, his sword held tightly in his hand. If someone was going to attack the princes, they would have to kill him first.

"Show yourself, hû úgaun!" Meldir screamed at the trees, "I know you are here and I will not stop until I find you."

The silvan elf spun around slowly, taking in every part of the forest that encompassed him. Adrenaline and anger were coursing through his veins. Whoever had dared to ambush the king's sons would find themselves at the forefront of his wrath, and this time, there would be no Kélion to talk him down. Justice would be served this day.

"I said show yourself!" Meldir's cry seemed to be swallowed by the dense woods.

Nothing moved, save for a black crow that took flight with a scattering of dead leaves. The would-be assassin was nowhere to be seen.

"Come out, yrch," Meldir hissed under his breath, "I know you are here. You cannot hide from me forever."

"I am no yrch."

Meldir spun around, his sword slicing through the air in a graceful, yet deadly arc. A deafening clang rang out as blade met blade.

"Where is Legolas, Meldir?" the attacker spat, throwing his weight behind his sword, causing Meldir to step back at the force.

"I would never tell the likes of you," Meldir hissed back, rushing forward to attack, "I would rather die."

"That can be arranged, mellon nín. You were foolish to think you could get out of this forest alive."

A clash of metal sounded again, as a deadly dance began.


Elvish Translations:

hîr nín – my lord

mellon nín – my friend

adar - father

hû úgaun – cowardly dog (Sindarin insult)

yrch - orc