A/N: Warfare ahead, not very graphic. I tried my best with the Elvish in the next few chapters. It's Sindarin, even though they would have been speaking some Silvan dialect in the "actual" Middle Earth, which is one of the reasons I haven't included much of it thus far in this fic. But since parts of this sequence are from the point of view of a Man who doesn't speak Elvish, I thought it only appropriate. Let me know what you think!

73 - Hostage

The word soon spread among the mustered Men of Stony Bend that the rapidly approaching forces were indeed Men of Rhun arrayed for a fight, and that their number was twice what they had been able to gather themselves.

Garren glared briefly at the cluster of Elves a stone's throw away, conferencing among themselves with grim expressions. As he barked out well-rehearsed orders to position his men along the wall and behind the gates, he cursed the luck that brought the Elvenqueen within his walls. If it had been anyone else in the woods… Reluctantly, he admitted that the outlook for his people sick from plague would have been poorer had his messenger needed to travel all the way to the Elvenking's halls instead of finding help right at the edge of the forest. And, from what he had seen in his father's hall, the Elves had managed to stop the alarming death rate among the affected and bring many toward recovery in a few short hours of work.

But now, Garren was certain that the wrath of the Elvenking would be brought down upon whatever was left of his town if anything should befall his queen. It would certainly make his town even more desirable of a target for the invaders if they knew the Elvenqueen was there—a valuable hostage they could use to exact a royal ransom. Stony Bend was doomed to fall, then, either by opportunistic foreign Men, or vengeful Elves.

He halted in his tracks even as he walked across the rampart. Now, there was an idea: he could use the Elvenqueen as ransom for himself!

If the Elf soldier's report were to be believed, King Thranduil was already on his way with relief forces. Perhaps Garren could convince the Rhun men to halt their attack and offer a peaceful exchange: the town's freedom for the Elvenqueen. Such brutes would possibly accept the suggestion to take her for ransom. And they need never know that it was simply a ploy to buy time until more Elves arrived to aid them.

Then again, the Rhun men might believe that they could take the town easily enough, find the Elvenqueen within themselves, and then make their demands for ransom from within the relatively defensible settlement. Garren felt sweat form on his back despite the disappearing sun stealing away the afternoon's warmth. There was not much hope for his people to exit this predicament unscathed…

He scanned the horizon from above the gates. The plains were bare, the green of the grasses faded into browns and grays from the waxing autumn and failing light. But he could see the dark shapes of the oncoming forces clearly now, only moments away from coming within the range of a longbow.

A muted exclamation from one of his men drew his gaze to his left. Six Elven soldiers were setting down their quivers along the parts of the wall most sparsely defended by his men. Another Elf, one of the guards who had been shadowing the Elvenqueen as she worked with his father, was walking toward him. The Elf-soldier's cloak had been removed, revealing bright armor with devices of leafy branches intertwining across it, and his beautiful face held such optimistic confidence that Garren felt the dread in his heart somehow lighten. Once again, he suppressed the urge to think of himself as a flailing youth in comparison to these beings that seemed to move about, graceful as the clouds and steady as the mountains, without ever truly touching the ground.

"Lord Garren," the Elf greeted with a nod, seeming to have forgotten the former tension between them in the chieftain's chamber, "we had not been officially introduced. I am Captain Aurados. The Elvenqueen has instructed half her guards to assist in the defense of this town from here. We were, unfortunately, unprepared for a threat of this scale, but we will do what we can."

"I appreciate it," Garren admitted honestly, hoping he did not sound as desperate as he felt.

"The Elvenqueen does request an attempt to parley," Aurados continued with an encouraging nod. "We will not loose a single arrow until it is clear these Men of Rhun come with ill intent. She has given her express consent for you to mention her presence within these walls, for purposes of preserving peace."

"Very well," he agreed, secretly wondering if they had read his thoughts. "Does she advise it?"

Aurados raised a shoulder minutely in the most elegant shrug Garren had ever beheld. "We do not entirely understand the minds of Men," he said with a smile. "You may know better than we what words are more likely to halt this attack."

"Oh. Very well," he said, trying to regain his dignity. "We'll see how the evening goes."

Aurados nodded his agreement. Then he turned toward the largest cluster of Men, the hundred or so above the gate and behind it. Raising his sword in a salute, he shouted in his strong voice, "Men of Stony Bend, the soldiers of the Elvenking fight with you!"

Somehow, the hope infused in the statement instantly lifted the spirits of the surrounding Men. Garren heard himself joining in at the chorus of, "The Elvenking!"

Aurados retreated to where the other Elf-men were posted, and like them, re-sheathed his sword in favor of stringing his bow. Garren took the opportunity to look around him, and noted that the brief hail had lifted their morale. He decided not to distract them with his original planned speech of reminding them that they fought to defend the women, children, and the sick and dying within. Their pride at fighting alongside Elves was a much better motivator.

The rumble of hooves could now be heard, along with the occasional shout from the oncoming force. The Elves began a quiet battle chant in their own tongue, and Garren cast them another sidelong glance. Would they hold back their skills in both healing and fighting, under the guise of friendship, in order to exploit his people with their apparent goodwill without sacrificing much in return?

Garren abandoned his suspicions of their intentions. He cleared his throat, mustering his confidence to parley with the would-be invaders even as he heard the scrape and rattle of their weapons grow louder. The dusk revealed three hundred helmets resting on brown and black hair, and well-made breastplates catching the last rays of the sun over light tunics of bright blues and yellows.

"Hail, travelers from Rhun," Garren shouted as loudly as he could, raising a hand toward them, though he doubted he could be heard above the thundering of hooves. "I bid you halt, in the name of Chieftain Borgel."

No sign did the enemies make that they heard him. Instead, two thirds of the force stopped just out of the range of the Men's arrows, while one hundred kept their pace, rushing in two lines straight toward the gates, round wooden shields raised.

Garren hesitated to give orders even as he saw torches passed among the men, kept low to the ground to avoid creating a target for enemy arrows. Was this a negotiating party riding toward the gate to speak face to face?

"Half a dozen flaming warning shots," he finally said once the foreigners were a stone's throw from the walls. The shafts sunk with a satisfying thunk into the dirt before their horses' hooves, burning placidly. But the Rhun men came on without slowing.

This seemed enough for the Elves to determine the foreigners' antagonism. Suddenly, seven of the Rhun men were propelled off their horses with Elven arrows sticking from their necks or eyes, and then seven more a moment later. But by then, the party had come within feet of the walls. Half of the remaining Men leaped off their horses with axes drawn. As the other half grabbed the reins of the abandoned horses and circled back toward the main host, those on foot ran toward the gates to hack away at the wood around the hinges. They were mostly covered by the rampart from above, allowing them to attempt breaking through in relative safety. The gates themselves had only two windows in it. The defenders now slid these open to fit a single spear through at a time, attempting to spur some of the Rhun men back and within shot of the archers above.

These archers were soon hard pressed to find targets beyond the raised shields of the men at the gates, and the retreating forms of the other warriors. Night was descending much too rapidly. Even as another dozen of the invaders were shot down, Garren realized with dismay the brilliance of the enemy plan. The Rhun men could just sit on their horses and wait for their comrades to finish breaking down the gates, safe under cover of darkness and out of arrow range. Then, once the gates were down, they could come charging in with the bulk of their force, and overwhelm them easily. There would be no dawn for Stony Bend.

Aurados' voice reached his ears as he spoke to his comrade. "Remlastor, caro cail adel i rammas. Edratham den." As the soldier slid down the ladder to run to the gate, the Elf-captain turned to him. "Lord Garren, if we can safely open the gate a small amount, we can fight them more easily. Remlastor will make a barrier so it cannot open far. It will be quicker if your men help."

Garren had no choice but to agree, praying all the while that he was right to trust this Elf to act in the town's best interest. But the Elvenqueen was within, and he knew at least that they would act to protect her. More than that, he knew without a doubt that the Elvenking's coming army was his people's only hope. He wondered whether there would be anyone left for the Elves to save by the time they arrived.

~.~.~

Elluin refused to allow despair into her heart, though the thoughts ran like wildfires through her mind even as she soothed the burning brows within the chieftain's hall. There was not enough time to devise an escape for the healthy within the city. She feared that even if a sturdy set of ladders and enough strong people could be gathered to help in the effort, her suggestion would not be accepted, as it came from an Elf and a stranger. As it stood, she was determined to fulfill her pledge to aid the sick.

The townspeople had brought many more victims into the chieftain's hall once word of the impending attack spread, carrying them in on blankets and lying them on the floor in the middle of the space, as there was nowhere else to put them. Since the Elves arrived in the early afternoon, two of the cots set up in the hall had been vacated, their former occupants beyond the reach of Elven healing skills. Another five patients had earlier been healed enough to be sent away with a satchel of herbs to continue their recovery in their homes. But in a twinkling, both the vacated beds and the center of the hall's floor were packed with people. They left only two narrow pathways on either side of the row of beds.

It made for a crowded space, more so because the family members of the ill had accompanied them, hoping to escape from the invaders by hiding within the hall as well. These lined the walls by the door and sat along one side of the stairs up to the chieftain's rooms, trying to stay out of the way. The human healers tried desperately to convince the healthy to leave, warning them that they would breathe in the diseased air and sicken themselves. Most did not obey, fearing the swords of the Rhun men much more than the sickness that was apparently no longer insurmountable, due to the Elves' intervention. Two door wards and a plague was much better defense than kitchen knives in inexpert hands, after all.

Elluin did not blame them. She and Deliril put many to work washing and cleaning, and taking over the duties that the soldiers had done earlier. While Nidhair and Delwion were now constantly at Elluin's shoulders, the other five remaining Elven guards she sent to the door to aid the two door wardens in case the enemy broke through. The wardens needed little convincing to allow the Elven soldiers to retrieve their weapons. One of the ellyn, Amben, had climbed to the roof and was shouting down what he saw at each new turn.

There was no parley. The enemy had engaged. The shouts of Men, the clang of weapons, and the thud of wood could be heard even by the Second-born closest to the door of the hall. Elluin ordered the doors to remain open, allowing townspeople to enter as they would and herself and her soldiers to hear the news.

"How far away is the king?" Elluin demanded loudly enough to be heard from outside.

"Less than an hour away, my queen," Amben called down in answer.

"Deliril, how fares the chieftain?" she asked more quietly.

"He may not outlive the battle, my queen," the healer replied sadly, peeking her head around Borgel's door.

Though the townspeople still eyed them warily as the Elves spoke among themselves in the Silvan tongue, Elluin was granted authority as the mistress of the hall by unspoken agreement. They obeyed when she asked them to roll barrels out from the storage rooms toward the doors in case they needed a barricade later, and to find and set up a ladder they could use to escape through a window at the back of the building, just in case. Elluin thought it best to keep them occupied to prevent panic. Despite the grim nature of the tasks, it was still something to focus on that was not simply fearful anticipation.

"The captain sent Remlastor down to the gate," Amben called from the roof.

"They're trying to chop them down from without," Nidhair surmised as he followed his queen with a steaming pot of brewing tea.

"Valar, save us," Delwion muttered under his breath.

Elluin ordered more lanterns lit, and sent some women in search of blankets against the oncoming cold of night, and old linens to cut up for bandages. There would certainly be injuries among the Men fighting at the gates that she and the other ellith would be obliged to tend along with the women healers, if any soldiers indeed survived. Elluin refused outright to entertain the idea that her Elven soldiers would take any harm. It was her fault they were here—she would not be able to bear the guilt.

The shouting from the gates became louder.

"What is amiss, Amben?" Nidhair called.

Amben dropped from the roof onto the hall's front steps, and bowed as he approached Elluin. "Forgive me, my queen. We have lost the light, and most of the stars, when they come, will be veiled by clouds. I cannot see anything else at this distance. My guess is that the captain has opened one of the gates."

Elluin nodded her understanding. "Nidhair, should I send more soldiers to join them?"

"For my part, I would say no. Your direct defense is my priority."

Elluin sighed. She sent some fast children to drop lit torches around the streets near the hall. At least her soldiers would be able to see any oncoming enemies. Most of their arrows were with Aurados and his ellyn at the gates, but what remained could help defend the hall at a distance if her guards could sight their targets.

There was nothing left for her to do but keep tending to the hall, and wait, and wish. Thranduil, please hurry. Come to me safely.