21 – Throne Room

Thranduil was glad to meet Turiel before receiving the full reports. Of course, he had heard the estimates of casualties from some whispering Elves as they hurried along their tasks, but hearing the numbers confirmed and seeing the written names would undoubtedly hinder his ability to act with the regality expected for this interaction. He felt, though, that it was just as important to recognize and reward such a great service to the realm as it was to reveal and punish those who would do his people harm.

Turiel surprised him, however — he caught her leaving the throne room just as he was approaching, though it seemed that Galion was trying to convince her to stay. She froze as soon as she saw him, then quickly dropped into a curtsy. He noticed that her clothes still bore the evidence of rushing through the canopy and her eyes were red-rimmed from earlier crying. Galion offered no explanation and simply returned to his nearby post by the wall.

Thranduil decided not to be offended that the elleth would attempt to avoid a meeting with her king. She had likely just heard that a loved one had been injured, or worse. He chose to keep directly to his purpose, ignoring the blush on the elleth's cheeks at being caught.

He stopped before her. "Turiel, I wish to thank you personally for your aid in alerting my soldiers to the nature of the threat," he said honestly. "Without your warning, many more would have perished."

"Of course, my king," she answered with another curtsy. The embarrassment on her face was soon replaced by remorse and her voice cracked as she spoke. "I only wish that I had realized sooner…"

Thranduil held up a hand to silence her and he used a serious tone. "Turiel, listen to me. A Silvan Elf seeing through a spell of concealment is exceptional. I could neither ask nor expect the same from the best of my soldiers. Your relationship with the forest has helped to safeguard our home, and you deserve to be commended."

He could see some of the guilt ease away from her, making room for the grief they all felt, though she was better able to manage it and no new tears fell.

"What reward would you accept as a token of my gratitude?" Thranduil asked. He was not often able to distribute material gifts in his office, knowing that they largely represented the wealth his people had given him to protect. However, this circumstance merited it.

Turiel thought for a few moments before taking a breath and responding. "I would like to serve the realm in a different way, sire, and work in the kitchens no longer," she started. "I would beg the king for the chance to develop a system of gathering news… using birds."

"Birds?" The king was taken off guard with this strange request.

"Yes, sire," Turiel continued. "My family has lived in the Greenwood since long before King Oropher's reign. Some of us have learned to understand the speech of the birds, and they speak more clearly than the trees, since they are more like us. If I could teach them to serve as messengers, they may be able to warn us of similar threats in the future, long before our own senses are aware. They travel more quickly and could even be sent further abroad." She fell silent, clutching her hands together before her and hoping she had not overstepped.

Thranduil considered the idea briefly, then nodded decisively, first to her, then to his steward.

"Turiel, you are no longer a palace servant. You have my leave to pursue this experiment with whomever of your family as are willing. Develop your plans and Galion will ensure you have all you need."

Turiel bowed low, hiding her surprise at his acquiescence.

"But I would have you take rest before you begin," the king continued somberly. "Grief is an ill counselor."

Tears at last sprung again to Turiel's eyes and she simply nodded, not trusting her voice. Thranduil placed a hand briefly on her shoulder as he walked past her into the throne room.

Now that the more pleasant business was concluded, he steeled himself for what remained. He had not dared to ask Turiel whom she had lost, having some idea of who her friends were. The Elves who were to bring him their reports would inform him soon enough. He could wait to measure the depth of his grief until then.

~.~.~

Anarrima knew her nephew's glower was directed at the situation and not at her. She therefore had no reservations as she approached his throne. Absently, she nodded her head in respect for his position, despite Thranduil's many past attempts at convincing her the gesture was unnecessary. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, she waited for the command.

Thranduil had been left alone with his thoughts only briefly, but the short space of time had allowed the realities of the night's events to settle heavily in his mind and on his heart. "Report." The king's voice was soft despite his hard countenance. Anarrima's chest constricted with anguish at the sound, sensing that her nephew did not trust his voice not to betray his sorrow.

"Roughly two hundred dead and about the same number injured so far," she said bluntly, the obvious sympathy in her voice failing to dull the impact.

Thranduil muttered a curse under his breath and brought a hand to his forehead. "How fare the injured?"

"Almost all will survive." It was hardly encouraging. "I have the lists."

Thranduil held a hand out silently, sighing as he started to look over them. His warrior's heart sank into the too-familiar ache as he read the names of his fallen soldiers. His king's heart broke seeing how many casualties were civilians. He squeezed his eyes shut. Too many names he recognized and spoke in times of peace. Steeling his resolve, he read the list of the injured. The healers had placed a code by each name indicating the severity of each Elf's condition.

"Galion," he managed to call steadily enough for his steward to hear from the hall and swiftly appear to bow before him. Wordlessly, Thranduil handed him the lists. Wordlessly, Galion bowed and looked them over, fighting through his own grief to analyze them, somehow mentally making the necessary staffing adjustments in the palace's service duties.

Thranduil used the long silence to regain some of his composure. The people of Greenwood had never been attacked on their own lands so ruthlessly before, with such a large force, so close to the center of the kingdom. Thranduil admitted inwardly that he felt like a failure for not stopping the threat earlier. He had to remind himself that the Orcs had been working under an intelligent leader, with the purpose of entering the kingdom undetected. Greenwood's forces would have been utterly triumphant over a rabble of mindless Orcs, but any kingdom could be harmed by a well-planned attack with large numbers assisted by a sorcerer.

By the time Galion had handed the lists back to Anarrima with a respectful nod, Thranduil was able to briefly meet his steward's watery gaze before dismissing him with a nod. Anarrima remained silent, expecting the questions.

"Berenil's wife, Foriel," Thranduil ventured, his voice still husky with emotion as he recalled the names of the Elves on the list of the dead.

"It was quick," Anarrima said quietly. "An arrow to the chest. Berenil's injuries were superficial."

He did not need her to clarify that only the physical wounds were superficial.

"The blacksmith, Angwedhon," Thranduil said.

"Broadsword to the abdomen," Anarrima supplied. "He did not suffer long. He secured his family's escape."

"How is Elluin?"

"Her wounds were many but most were not severe. They were...mostly from claws."

Thranduil's jaws clenched.

The clanking of armor suddenly grew louder until Cembeleg strode into the room, knowing the king would not object to the interruption.

With Thranduil's quick wave of permission, he saluted and also wasted no time in reporting. "My king, our soldiers pursued one remnant of Orcs southward towards Amon Lanc. The rest of the Orcs fled down the Old Forest Road toward the Anduin and are also being pursued. The Orcs will all be destroyed."

"I want another force dispatched to Amon Lanc to make sure it has not become a breeding ground," Thranduil commanded, his voice regaining its authoritative tone. "How far can we be stretched across the eastern vales of the Anduin?"

"Some leagues, sire," Cembeleg answered with regret. "If we are to maintain a steady perimeter around the areas close to the palace, guarding the Road will require most of our remaining warriors."

"Scouts to report, then, for now," Thranduil amended. "I will have an account of the entire western edge of the forest and a survey as far as the river. They have as long as they need, but they are to return if they find any Orc nests."

"Yes, sire," the general confirmed and took his cue to leave.

Thranduil called a servant in from the doorway. "Have Lord Derion draft a letter to King Amroth in Lorinand. It shall include a summary of events here, a request for news, and a recommendation for vigilance along the Anduin." The Elf saluted and left.

Silence descended in the throne room once more. Anarrima's mournful expression was due to her nephew's sorrow just as much as her patients' lamentable wounds. "Thranduil, have you eaten? You have endured a great labor with both body and spirit."

He lifted his bowed head to look at her with empty, tired eyes. Receiving no reply, she waved for a servant, who immediately produced a platter of food and scurried to set it beside the throne with a bow. Anarrima decided not to comment upon realizing that he must have previously refused the prepared tray.

The situation had now been handled in the official capacity. Since Thranduil had set himself up in the throne room a few hours earlier, soldiers had been given updated assignments, service in the palace rearranged, refugees accommodated, an account taken of fatalities and injuries, and inventory made of damaged buildings and supplies. Thranduil knew that the rest could wait until tomorrow. It weighed on his heart that visits would need to be made to the families of fallen soldiers and preparations made for burials. His aunt's lists would certainly grow as his soldiers helped more of his people make their way to the palace and his court members toured the further villages to inquire and assist. He doubted General Cembeleg would receive any reports from the scouts for another few days, at least.

Thranduil forced himself to take a few bites of cold meat and a honey cake, recognizing somewhat distantly that his aunt was right. Remembering she was still there with him, he glanced over. "Thank you, Aunt," he said kindly. "I promise I will eat and then retire for what remains of the night. If you will not do the same, I am sure your patients need you more than I do."

With a half-hearted smile of satisfaction, Anarrima curtsied. "Very good, my king." She took advantage of her familial right to step up to the throne and kiss her nephew's cheek before withdrawing again. "Rest well. I will see you tomorrow."

Thranduil watched her leave and found himself grateful for the reminder that despite all they had lost, he did not need to face the aftermath of the attack alone.

A/N: Howdy! Some of you have noticed Thranduil's lack of overt interest in Elluin's welfare specifically. There's no denying she did a great thing for him in Rivendell. But he has lived for sooo long and he knows sooo many other Elves that were impacted by the attack. An especially helpful servant (as he currently thinks of her) would not take priority for his attention given all the other things he has to think about right now. Fear not - this story is far from over.