The drumming of the guards' booted feet on the stone of the passages was insufficient to mask the sound of hissing and curses. Every so often, a wail echoed through the cavernous space that served as the throne room of the halls of the Elvenking in northern Mirkwood. Thranduil rose to meet his guests, eager to deal with them and somehow stop the detestable racket. The guards escorted in a Man and a bound creature he was dragging beside him, unsure if they should intervene in the struggle ongoing between the two. They decided simply to keep close to the pair as the Man stopped before the throne and gave Thranduil an Elven salute, recognizable though ungainly given the hold he was obliged to maintain on his companion.
The creature was simultaneously cowering at the Man's side and trying to dart away, its emaciated form belying a wiry strength that had clearly been taxing his captor. Thranduil sensed immediately its treacherous and corrupted nature, and was repulsed.
"I present Estel, ward of Lord Elrond," Galion announced, "and the creature Gollum."
"Estel, you are known to us," Thranduil said with a bow of his head, though he had to raise his voice to be heard over Gollum's screeching. Elrond had kept him informed of his fosterlings. This one, now that he saw him in person, had an air of prophecy hanging about him as heavy as the crown to which he was heir. "May I have your companion secured elsewhere?"
"I would be most grateful, King Thranduil." He relinquished his burden to the guards, who quickly learned to beware of Gollum's teeth as he lunged himself at their hands. The wailing sound eventually faded, and Estel seemed to sag in relief.
Thranduil raised a questioning eyebrow, willing himself not to take out his annoyance at the dreadful sound still ringing in his sensitive ears on the Man. "Now, Estel, what manner of creature was that? And why did you bring him to my halls?"
"We can only guess at Gollum's original nature," the Man answered wearily. "What he has become is a twisted, pitiable wretch. But he is important to my people's mission. He holds information that concerns our fight against the Dark Lord."
"How came you to this revelation?"
"Mithrandir discovered it, my lord. He bade me track the creature and bring him here, to question him. Mithrandir should be arriving any day now, if our luck holds."
"Why here?"
"Your kingdom is far enough from Mordor to prevent any of the Enemy's forces from reclaiming him or to tempt him to attempt escape thither, and close enough to the pass of Caradhras for the Dunedain or Lord Elrond's folk to aid us if needed. I have traveled nine hundred miles with Gollum, from the edge of the Dead Marshes where I found him to your fortress, my lord. I know that if I attempt to cross the Misty Mountains that were his home for years uncounted, he will at last contrive an escape, and my labors thus far to track him and bring him here would be in vain."
Thranduil noticed how ragged the Man was—even more travel-worn than the other few Dunedain he had encountered before on their errands. Estel was gaunt and his face showed signs of many nights of insufficient rest. Elluin would have seen it immediately, he mused, feeling the usual wave of lament and longing wash over his heart again.
The Elvenking straightened his shoulders minutely more. "The creature will be kept secure and cared for in my dungeons until such time as Mithrandir appears. You have my hospitality, as well, Estel. We shall speak further once you have rested. Galion, give him a room."
"I am most grateful, my lord," Aragorn said with a bow. Thranduil could see his sincerity clearly and nodded him away.
~.~.~
"Mithrandir," Thranduil greeted three days later.
"Elvenking Thranduil," the wizard said with a bow abbreviated by haste. "May I ask if you have received any other guests recently?"
He tried to stifle his impatience. There had been an increase in Orc and spider activity north of the Dark Mountains that he should be investigating with Cembeleg and his other council members. He had little time for whatever plots the wizard was weaving.
"Estel and the creature are here," he said. "Gollum has been kept in the dungeons awaiting your interrogation. You have my leave to proceed. Do you require refreshment before you begin?"
Mithrandir's impressive eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh. Thank you, Thranduil. I may request a small meal be sent to the cell for me while I meet with him."
The Elvenking nodded to Galion, who stood by the door. "It shall be done. If you will forgive me, I have other matters."
"By all means," the wizard wisely answered, departing immediately.
~.~.~
"No, sire. There are fewer, and that is what is concerning. Scouts report they are amassing further south, in Dol Guldur." Cembeleg ran a finger over the map laid out in the king's study.
The name for his father's old fortress still irked Thranduil, but more because of its aptness than for any delusion of the place's virtue. "Do you expect some large-scale attack?" he asked.
"It is likely," Cembeleg answered. "But we know not when, or where. Lothlorien? Here? Do they go to reinforce Mordor, or Moria? Will they make a bid for Rohan or Erebor? We simply do not know."
"The Dark Lord is preparing for something," the king agreed thoughtfully. Again, he suppressed his initial reaction to focus entirely on strength of arms for defense. "I will write to Dain in Erebor and Brand in Dale," he decided, recognizing again the influence of his diplomatic queen. "They must be informed of these developments. I am sure Galadriel and Celeborn have matters in hand for their own realm." He was proud of himself for not spitting the final words, still lamenting the loss of Elvenking Amroth.
"Shall I inform the soldiers to be prepared to ride to our allies' defense?"
Thranduil sighed, not missing the slightly doubtful undertone in his general's question. "This enemy does not come against simply one nation, or group of nations. He seeks dominion over all of Middle Earth, Cembeleg. Every foothold he manages to gain is a blow against us all."
Both of them felt powerfully their regret at having lost Dol Guldur to that evil. But that conversation had been held many times and needed no repetition.
"As you say, sire," Cembeleg relented. "I shall draft plans with Feren and present them to you tomorrow."
Thranduil nodded his dismissal, and walked to the throne room, where he had been informed Mithrandir was waiting for him. Thankfully, the wizard wasted no time on needless words.
"I have a favor to ask, Thranduil. Will you keep Gollum here?"
"Has this past week not been enough of a torment to my guards?" he barked. "I would as soon have the screeching, slippery wretch crawl back to his mountains."
Mithrandir shook his head. "He is much too dangerous left to his own devices. I beg of you, Thranduil. I have managed to extract enough information out of him to be certain of that much. It is a matter of the utmost importance in the fight against the Enemy. Please."
Thranduil sighed and sank onto his throne, rubbing his forehead.
"I realize it is a tremendous burden," the wizard continued. "Trust that I would not have asked had it not been entirely necessary."
Elluin would not have hesitated, he knew. She would have seen the logical points and the honesty of the wizard's words, and eagerly agreed to help. She would have considered the guards' difficulties a small price to pay, and reward them for their service with some thoughtful token of recognition.
Thranduil himself was inclined to agree. If Mithrandir were to be believed, it was an easy contribution to hindering the progress of the Dark Lord. But…
He ordered the room emptied of everyone but himself and the wizard. "You know," he said quietly once they were alone, "no matter what happens, Gollum will eventually escape."
Mithrandir frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You certainly recall Cirdan's prophecy:
When pilgrim's quarry flees the dell
And Greenleaf stands where grandsire fell
Cast down will be old enemy
And Greenwood evermore be free
"I assume you are the pilgrim, as that is the meaning of your name, Mithrandir. And Gollum is your quarry."
The old man's expression was thoughtful.
"In setting this prophecy in motion, you are tying my kingdom and my son into the events that will take Legolas to the Black Land," Thranduil said coldly.
Mithrandir leaned heavily on his staff. His eyes were sad as he spoke. "Thranduil, you must understand my task. I was sent by the Valar to aid the Free Peoples in the fight against Sauron. I know that your heart is good—and not only because of the effects of the departed Elvenqueen, but because it has always been so. I recognize that there is a risk to your son as the doom of our time approaches. But that is true for everyone in these darkening days. And he is an Elf of many virtues, of which I am sure you need no reminding. There is hope for our success. It has been spoken."
Thranduil stared long at him. Eventually, he muttered, "Very well." He leaned forward in his throne, then, pinning the wizard with a frozen glare. "But if anything happens to Legolas and you dare to return to my kingdom, you will pay for it in blood."
Wisely, Mithrandir said nothing in reply, but bowed low and saw himself out of the throne room.
~.~.~
Summer was waning when Legolas came shamefaced before his father, bringing the report that the Elves under his command had been unsuccessful at relocating Gollum after his escape. Thranduil had no need to feign disappointment, though of course it was not because of the escape, but because of its consequences.
Thranduil ordered his son to prepare a small delegation to inform Lord Elrond. Rivendell had become the headquarters in the North for the fight against Sauron, to which the White Council and the Dunedain reported. His only words to comfort Legolas were, "I know you will make this right."
~.~.~
The king fled to his own chambers soon afterwards, settling himself on an armchair in the small receiving room. Maethon brought him a cup of tea. The body servant watched carefully between stitches as he repaired a tear in the sleeve of Thranduil's sparring shirt. He noted that the tension did not leave Thranduil's shoulders even after the tea had gone cold. The king's eyes were closed as his head tilted back against the chair, and he had that faint upward turn of his brows that Maethon recognized so well.
"What would you say to her now?" Maethon asked impertinently, knowing his king was thinking of his queen.
Thranduil sighed, by now used to the ritual that became a sort of secret between them. They spoke quietly, and never really looked at each other during these conversations. Somehow it made it easier for them to pretend they never happened.
"I would tell her I am sending our son to meet our great Enemy."
Maethon ruthlessly suppressed his own fears. He had seen the signs just as well as anyone. Action against the rising darkness was inevitable. "She would tell you Legolas is a fine warrior whose heart has always resisted the shadows. She would say he is ready."
"I would tell her that he may fall in the effort."
"She would say it is better to die fighting than to await the tide of darkness and do nothing to stop it. She would say you know this, and have shown you believe it."
"I do."
Maethon made no reply. He carefully worked a knot into the thread, nearly finished with his task.
"I would beg her not to blame me if anything befell him."
"She would say she misses him, and that she trusts you both to come to her in Valinor as heroes, however it may happen."
"It may be soon," Thranduil said, a note of dread in the near-whisper. The words were for his servant.
"We are ready," Maethon said.