A/N: Warning for violence in this chapter.

19 - Terror Under the Trees

The night was dark. There was no moon and the stars were obscured by a thin cover of clouds. What little light there was shone thinly through the canopy, heavy with new leaves and swelling fruits. Turiel was unable to sleep and finally relented, rising to look over the forest from the doorway of her talan. The nearby night critters behaved as ever, their calls poorly muted by the underbrush. However, the trees were uneasy.

She changed into her tunic and breeches, thinking that some time in the trees further from the city might help her relax. Her uneasiness only grew as she moved southwards through the branches, yards above the forest floor. The sounds of the night dropped away gradually and Turiel realized with some alarm that the silence was not natural.

As quickly as she could, she made her way to the nearest guard post. The five soldiers posted there were also tense and listening. Having marked her presence as she approached, they did not flinch when she dropped onto the platform of their flet from above.

"Something comes," she told them, noticing they already had arrows set to their bows. Some of them nodded in confirmation, their expressions grim.

She recognized the soldier Lostor, who had traveled with the king's company to Rivendell. He was the one to walk silently over to her. "Yes, Turiel, but what is it? Nothing moves that we can see."

"That we can see…" she echoed absently, peering once more down through the trees. The air seemed to buzz as silence fell more deeply around them. She closed her eyes to focus on the sound. There was something there, barely perceptible even to her Elven senses — a malicious, fervent whispering that set her teeth on edge. "Lostor," she whispered in a rush with eyes shooting open wide, "there is magic here. We must send for the king. We are being attacked!"

The soldiers snapped their heads to her, realizing Turiel was right. Lostor and another soldier immediately sprinted off through the branches in the direction of the palace.

Another Elf raised a horn hanging from his side. "I will wait a few moments before raising the alarm," he told Turiel and the remaining two soldiers in a near-silent voice. "Lostor and Rosganar will ready more soldiers to launch a more effective attack, and hopefully reach the king quickly. Turiel, you should hide here, whatever happens."

She nodded as fear began to seep into her heart. Turiel was no warrior, and the tense air made her certain it was too late to escape whatever was passing along the forest floor. She knelt on the flet beside the tree trunk and spread her hands over the rough bark. Even the tree felt the threat now. Silently, she willed the forest to hide the Elves that would defend it.

~.~.~

The sound of running footsteps woke Thranduil before Telior and Sulros burst into the room. "Sire, I was just informed there is some force entering the forest," the captain began as Sulros rushed to fetch Thranduil's armor.

"From where? What force?" the king asked, shoving away his blankets and yanking on his boots.

"There appears to be some spell of concealment on them," Telior admitted, helping Sulros strap on the king's breastplate as soon as his leather tunic was over his head. "Nothing can be seen, but our soldiers say it must be a great host, based on the forest's reaction. They are not two leagues from the palace now."

Thranduil cursed under his breath. "Sulros, my sword, now," he demanded. The servant tossed Telior the pauldrons he held and secured Thranduil's sword belt immediately. Thranduil made to walk out but was held fast as Telior and Sulros fastened his pauldrons and greaves.

"My king, once you are armored, I think we need you to try to lift the spell," Telior said. "General Cembeleg is already assembling the warriors."

Thranduil managed to subdue his impatience to focus on the tasks before him.

"Has anything been heard from the outlying villages?"

"No, sire," the captain assured. "It currently seems that the force is concentrated here…or so the trees suggest."

Sulros and Telior finally stepped away. Sulros fetched a sword for himself from the hall as the king jogged out the door, both companions at his heels.

"Has the fighting started yet?"

"The horns were sounded not long past, sire. It is likely that the enemy started to engage once the alarm was raised but we are too far to have received word."

As if on cue, a messenger sprinted up and skidded to a halt before them and a quick bow, before turning to jog with the swiftly marching trio in the direction she came from. "Sire, the enemy has revealed itself, appearing suddenly in ranks. Estimates are six hundred Orcs and a small band of Men. They are headed this way, killing all in their path."

Telior waved the messenger off with a brief word of thanks. "The spell has been lifted, then," the captain concluded, drawing his sword mid-stride.

"At least in part," Thranduil said grimly, quickening his pace into a run even as his mind evaluated the facts. "Such numbers could not effectively assail the palace on its own. We shall need additional soldiers to scout the flanks in case any fragment of the force attempts to sneak past while still concealed. I will try to lift the spells if I find them. If I am successful, I will need a company of soldiers to attack with me."

"I shall notify the general," Sulros offered. At Thranduil's word of assent, he sprinted ahead.

Thranduil willed himself to calm. He could trust General Cembeleg to have matters in hand at the battle, but in matters of magic… It had been long since he had used such spells, and even longer since he had lifted any. It required a strength of spirit that had been significantly drained in the war against the Dark Lord. He naturally possessed the everyday Elven magic of his people but as a noble of the Sindar, he was instructed in its more complex uses. This great opportunity was given to the Elven-wise: to join in the Song of the Ainur begun in ages past and with words spoken with power, to help shape Arda in some small way according to their own will. Unfortunately, the Ainur that rebelled against the Valar maintained this ability for themselves and had shared their knowledge with others of evil intent.

Thranduil could not allow himself now to consider who the enemy was or analyze the battle. He needed a clear mind, concentrating on the good that he wished to protect, if he was to identify the threat and break through the magic that concealed it. He had been running beside his captain but allowed himself to slow his pace at the edge of the palace grounds, something unseen making a shiver run down his spine.

Telior stopped when the king did, scanning the surrounding forest with his bright Silvan eyes. Sulros would by now have nearly reached the general and a company of soldiers would be joining them soon, likely also carrying a report on the battle. Until then, the captain was Thranduil's only defense while the king's mind sifted through the invisible webs of magic running through the forest to find a strand that had been driven in by a malevolent mind.

The Elvenking closed his eyes to reach out with his other senses. Far ahead, battle had begun. The clanging of blades and the shrieks and grunts of Orcs were intensifying. General Cembeleg's voice boomed out orders once in a while to coordinate the Elven forces. Thranduil dismissed these familiar sounds. Where was it? He willed the sounds of the physical world to subside in his senses, along with the feel of the earth beneath his feet, the armor strapped tightly against him, and the night breeze whispering against his face. He took another breath then allowed his spirit to open. The trees were outraged and frightened, echoing the feelings of their Elven inhabitants. Further still he extended his spirit.

In this plane, he could sense the cords of life flowing through the forest. He heard now the echoes of the bright melodies of Yavannah in the plants, the sure tone of Aule in the rock, the inconsistent humming of Ulmo in the rivers and streams, the shifting overcurrent of watchful Manwe in the air. He could even hear the discordant tones of Melkor of old in everything, in the dying plants and weathered stone, walls of ice and breathless valleys.

Where was it? Thranduil deliberately ignored the faint sensation of sweat beading on his forehead in exertion. His fingers moved in his mind's eye, picking through the refrains. There was a familiar song — the song of the Firstborn, their friendship with the trees and the light as they made their home in these woods. Reverently, he turned away. A newer song — the song of Men. Thranduil nearly disregarded it, as well. Then he heard it. Cleverly blending its tones inside the fluttering notes was the intruding spell. He reached for it, grabbing hold and immediately lifted his own voice to start the countermelody.

~.~.~

Soronume woke his daughter with a firm shake of her shoulder, immediately signaling for her to remain silent when she blinked her eyes and looked questioningly at him. Elluin needed only a moment to realize that something was not right. She had never heard the sounds of battle before but recognized that was exactly what she heard. Instantly alert, she arose to pull on her shoes and overdress, joining her parents by the window that faced west, toward the fighting. It was still a good distance away, and in the dark night, only the animalistic growls revealed that Orcs made up the steadily advancing force.

"They are entering all the houses in their path," Linalda whispered, her alarm barely contained. "They shoot the Elves that they see in the trees. Shall we hide or try to run?"

"We must run. Get your daggers," Soronume instructed the ellith, moving to tie on his sword belt.

Elluin's heart was racing as she obeyed and followed her parents out of their door, stooping low and moving quietly as they sped toward the nearby trees, crouching amid a cluster of bushes when they felt they had sufficient cover. The sounds of battle were still some distance away, but there was something else in the forest. The hairs on the back of Elluin's neck stood up as she registered the unnatural silence around her. Meeting her parents' eyes, she knew they sensed it, as well. They looked around frantically, hoping to find some indication of a safer place to hide.

"Toward the palace," Elluin hissed, realizing through the haze of fear that the majority of the Elven forces would likely be positioned there. Soronume and Linalda nodded and the three Elves slunk once more through the underbrush, heading north and keeping to the deeper shadows of the dark forest while moving with as little noise as they could. They kept on for several minutes that felt to Elluin like years, feeling despair rising in her chest as the sounds of fighting drew closer. She paused, sensing something else coming up from behind them. Soronume's tug on her arm urged her to move more quickly.

In the distance ahead, they finally caught sight of the gate leading to the courtyard at the entrance of the palace grounds. In the space before it, torches had been almost haphazardly strewn about the dew-dampened earth. There was the king, flanked by Telior and another two dozen soldiers, who were poised to attack as soon as their enemy appeared. Thranduil had his head bowed, eyes closed, and hands outstretched. Elluin was too far to hear but could see his lips moving and realized what the uncanny silence that had been increasing around them had meant at the same time as her parents.

The three Elves sprinted toward the palace for only a few strides before the spell was lifted and chaos fell. They heard the grunts and howls of the Orcs not a stone's throw behind them, and the clanging of their armor and weapons. Other Elves with homes close to the palace were also coming to seek refuge, and many cried out when the monsters were suddenly upon them. Archers beside the king immediately loosed on the invaders, but there were too many and some Elves were overtaken.

As Elluin and her family ran, the other escaping Elves darted desperately toward the king and his soldiers, now charging to engage the foes. Some of the clouds had mercifully dispersed, allowing the weak starlight to glint off their armor. Looking hurriedly around her between strides, Elluin recognized one of the Elves running alongside them a short distance away, and also saw two Orcs at his back.

"Maethon!" she cried. "Behind you!"

A crooked blade sliced through the air where her friend's neck had been just an instant before. Maethon had dodged to the side and now sprinted toward Elluin's family, away from the intruders that were finally visible.

The Elves were all targets, now. Arrows with black fletching started hissing through the air, too many finding their marks while the Elvenking's archers made their answering shots.

Maethon had now come alongside Elluin and her family, careful to look behind them as they maintained their desperate pace.

"Down!" Maethon cried suddenly, pushing Elluin and Linalda to the ground in front of him as a thick volley of arrows hissed overhead. The sound of inhuman grunts and irreverent booted feet grew closer.

Soronume looked back from where he had swiftly taken cover behind a thick tree some feet ahead. His eyes grew wide and he raised his sword. "Get up, quickly! Run!" he shouted, running toward them.

They could not get far. Elluin had gone merely a few strides before she heard her mother scream from close behind her. An Orc had come near enough for the end of his blade to slice across her side. She turned toward the foe and stumbled backward, pressing on the quickly bleeding injury with one hand and swinging her dagger with the other.

Elluin lunged toward her but Maethon grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him, out of the path of a spear she had not seen hurtling toward her. She turned her head to him, then realized with panic that a half dozen Orcs were coming to a halt before them, ready to savor these easy kills, as the rest of the forces rushed past toward the palace. Maethon already held his long knife toward the closest one, who easily swatted it away as the Elves continued to stumble backward. Elluin found an opening beneath Maethon's arm and darted forward, using all her strength to plunge her dagger into the Orc's belly. As it howled in pain and dropped to its knees, Elluin knew it would be too great a risk to attempt retrieving her dagger and turned to evaluate her surroundings.

Soronume had reached his wife and was fending off the Orcs that were quickly surrounding him even as he gave ground. Linalda was limping at his back, her red blood now pouring generously from the gash in her side as black Orc blood from her husband's sword spattered onto her. Although her father was just feet away, Elluin knew that the Orcs in front of her and Maethon would overtake them quickly. With a hand on Maethon's side even as he slashed at the attackers, she guided them closer to Soronume. Still, the Orcs came on, slashing almost leisurely and not caring when their fellows were hewn down by her father's sword or wounded by Maethon's knife.

The battlecries of ellyn nearby stirred hope in her heart. The Elvenking's soldiers were not far, now. If they could hold out just a few moments longer…

But they had been surrounded. Elluin realized that her mother's blood loss made her too unsteady on her feet and darted to her. Her movements were instantly stopped as she fell to the ground and felt claws like iron grasping at her ankles. They jerked and she was rolled onto her back. She screamed in pain and fright as she saw the monster crouching at her feet. It started to jump up onto her, but its motion halted abruptly as Maethon threw himself onto the Orc. She tried to crawl backward and kick out of its grasp as it roared and thrashed under the Elf. In a spurt of strength it swung its arm and dug its claws fiercely into Elluin's thigh, piercing deep past the skin. She cried out as her vision swam, her strength failing momentarily as she dropped back, flat on the ground. Maethon continued wrestling the Orc, trying to pull it away from Elluin as he desperately whirled his knife at the other foes still encroaching on them. Elluin felt the claws scrape down along her leg as Maethon pulled hard at the armor on the Orc's back. The Orc grabbed for her leg once more but only managed to grasp her briefly behind her knee before Maethon yanked it away completely, quickly slitting its throat before resuming his defensive swings.

Elluin felt a cool hand on her forehead — her mother was lying on the ground near her now, frightfully pale beneath the gore of the escalating battle around them. Elluin saw the flash of bright armor in the trees close by and felt relief flood over her as Elven soldiers started to engage the Orcs that had been assailing them. As a line of fighters formed between them and the Orcs, one of the soldiers shouted at them to run to the palace.

Now that the immediate threat was gone, Soronume finally turned to his family. Linalda's survival was uncertain if she could not reach a healer soon. Her daughter's wounds were not as severe but she was still losing blood. Maethon had several superficial gashes on his arms. He was kneeling by the ellith, looking them over and asking whether they could stand.

Soronume's eyes burned. "Maethon, can you take them to the palace?"

Realizing that Soronume would join the Elvenking's soldiers, Maethon nodded and the two of them struggled to get the ellith to their feet.

Soronume unceremoniously tore a long strip of cloth from his wife's underdress. "Linalda, my love, keep pressure on your side," Soronume said as he bound it around her, the words insistent but his tone tender. Once he finished, Maethon draped her arm over his shoulders and instructed Elluin to lean on him as they started moving once more toward the palace.

"Father, be careful," Elluin called weakly over her shoulder. Her father raised his sword in her direction in acknowledgment before running to engage the Orcs again, this time fighting in a coordinated attack side by side with the other Elves of the Greenwood.

The skin on Elluin's back was stinging as they hurried onward. She must have scraped it on the ground when the Orc had jumped onto her, she thought, and shuddered. The wound on her thigh was burning and her dress clung to her leg, wet with blood. She dared not look down. Casting a glance behind them, her heart rose to see the flashing blades of the Elven forces as they advanced. She spotted the king among them and nearly wept for joy that he had survived thus far. But there was no time for those thoughts, now. She could only think of taking the next steps toward the palace and the healers who would be ready to receive them there.

A/N: I wanted to take a moment to say hello to my reviewers (I love hearing your thoughts!) and followers! Just a heads up that I update every Friday night and Sunday, western US time. I hope to continue this until the end of the fic...we'll see where life leads.