Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess
Chapter VII: Echoes of Rebellion
Woodland Realm, 2940 TA, September 21
In the flickering torchlight, the Elvenking, Thranduil, stood with an air of authority, his gaze fixed upon the captive orc, Narzug, held in the grasp of Legolas. Tauriel stood nearby, her stance poised and unwavering. In a pivotal moment, Bilbo orchestrated a daring escape for the dwarves, providing them with the means to break free from their elven confines. As the dwarves made their dash to freedom, the elves, alerted to the escape, hastened in pursuit, their echoing footfalls resonating through the woodland realm.
However, their chase was abruptly intercepted by a cohort of orcs, dispatched by the relentless Azog's forces in their unyielding pursuit of the dwarves. Amidst the chaos of the ensuing skirmish, the dwarves seized the opportunity to slip away, evading both the elves and the orcish menace. In the heart of this tumult, Legolas and Tauriel, displaying remarkable agility and skill, managed to apprehend Narzug, a key figure among the orcish assailants.
Thranduil's voice, a blend of authority and ominous foreboding, pierced the tense silence. "Out there in the vast ignorance of the world, it festers and spreads... A shadow that grows in the dark. A sleepless malice as black as the oncoming wall of night. So it ever was; so will it always be - in time all foul things come forth."
"You were tracking a company of thirteen Dwarves - why?" Legolas asked showing no emotion on his face, glancing deadly at Narzug waiting for his response.
Narzug, his hatred for Tauriel palpable, met her gaze with a twisted smirk. As Legolas probed for answers, Narzug's words cut through the air like a chilling gust of wind. "Not thirteen, not anymore. The young one, the black-haired archer... stuck him with a Morgul shaft... The poison's in his blood, he'll be choking on it soon."
Tauriel, a fleeting emotion flickering in her eyes, recognized the dire fate of Kili at Narzug's hands. His callous laughter echoed as he spat at her, igniting a fierce rage within her. She lunged, dagger in hand, but Thranduil intervened, restraining her with a commanding presence. In Elvish, Thranduil's voice held authority as he commanded Tauriel to withdraw, albeit reluctantly. As Narzug continued to toy with them, Thranduil attempted to coax information, promising freedom in exchange for knowledge. But Narzug, calculating and defiant, reveled in his sinister games.
Legolas, with a sharp gaze, pressed Narzug for answers, revealing the orc's intentions to kill Thorin Oakenshield. Narzug's scornful laughter filled the room as he dismissed Thorin's claim to kingship. The room crackled with tension as Narzug's cryptic words hinted at impending doom. "Our time has come again. My Master serves the One. Do you understand now Elfling... death is upon you... the flames of war are upon you."
Thranduil, grasping the weight of the orc's ominous words, swiftly dispatched Narzug with an almost disinterested swing of his sword. The orc's severed head dangled from Legolas's grip, a stark testament to Thranduil's swift justice. Legolas, bewildered by his father's actions, questioned Thranduil's decision to end Narzug's life prematurely. Thranduil's enigmatic response hinted at a deeper understanding, leaving Legolas with more questions than answers.
As Thranduil departed, his words lingered in the air, hinting at the looming threat. "It means they intend to unleash a weapon so great it will destroy all before it. I want the watch on our borders doubled. All roads, all rivers... nothing moves but I hear of it. No one enters."
In a commanding tone, Legolas directed the guards stationed at the imposing gate of the Woodland Realm, his voice resonating with authority in the Elvish tongue. His King had given the commands and Legolas followed. Keeping their realm safe and hidden, that what his King's commands had been for a long time now. Was it right, or wrong? Legolas never dared to ask the question until now.
"Holo in-ennyn, tiro i devnin hain - na ganed en-Aran," (Close the gate, keep it sealed - by order of the King,) he requested, his words firm and resolute, instructing the guards to seal the gate as per the decree of the King.
Yet, the guards, seeking clarification, inquired about Tauriel, their voices echoing concern in the quiet tension of the moment. As they know how close friends the Prince and Taurial were. "Man os Tauriel?" (What about Tauriel?) one guard asked, seeking information about her whereabouts.
"Man o sen?" (What about her?) Legolas questioned in response, a flicker of concern tainting his tone, seeking to understand the situation.
"Edevin eb enedhor na gû a megil," (She went into the forest, armed with bow and blade,) the guard replied, revealing that Tauriel had ventured into the forest, armed with her bow and blade, a revelation that pierced the air with unexpected defiance against the King's decree.
A shadow crossed Legolas's face, realization dawning upon him that Tauriel had dared to defy the King's command, venturing into the forest against explicit orders. The gravity of her actions lingered in the tense air, leaving Legolas with a mix of concern and contemplation, pondering the implications of Tauriel's bold act of defiance.
The revelation struck Legolas with a mix of surprise and realization. Tauriel, known for her spirited nature and her unwavering convictions, had always stood on the edge of rebellion, challenging the King's perspectives and unafraid to voice her dissent. Yet, she had abided by the rules, respecting the protocol and the authority of Thranduil, despite her disagreements.
However, recent events had subtly shifted the balance within her. Legolas had observed the clandestine visits she paid to Kili's cell, the extended conversations that seemed to transcend the boundaries of their respective allegiances. While on the surface, Tauriel appeared unchanged, a transformation had stealthily taken root within her, altering her priorities and challenging her loyalties.
The depth of her concern for the dwarf, so palpable that it led her to disobey the King's decree without seeking assistance from Legolas, spoke volumes about the magnitude of the change within her. It wasn't merely an act of rebellion; it was an act of genuine worry and care that surpassed the rigid boundaries of protocol and allegiance.
Legolas, grappling with this realization, understood that Tauriel's actions were driven by something deeper than defiance—a concern that had silently but irrevocably shifted her allegiance, placing her on a path where duty and personal conviction clashed. The budding connection between Tauriel and Kili sparked a change within her, setting her on a course fraught with unforeseen challenges and undeniable consequences.
As Legolas rushed through the halls of the Woodland Realm, a simmering anger coursed through him, fueled by Tauriel's audacious decision to follow the dwarves. His footsteps echoed with purpose as he made his way to his chamber, his movements swift and resolute. Tauriel's actions had struck a sensitive chord within him, igniting a fire of disapproval.
The dwarves, a race he held no affinity for, had never earned his favor. Tauriel's lone pursuit of them went against his instincts, triggering a protective urge he hadn't expected. Despite his opposition to her choice, there was an unspoken bond that tethered him to her well-being, compelling him to act against his usual judgment.
For the first time in his life, Legolas was on the brink of defying his father's wishes. The thought was both daunting and empowering. His loyalty to Thranduil had always been steadfast, but today, the prospect of aiding a friend outweighed the weight of his father's acceptance.
He retrieved his bow and daggers with a sense of urgency, driven by an unspoken resolve to ensure Tauriel's safety. In his mind, the risk she faced overshadowed any potential repercussions he might face upon their return. Protecting a friend in need superseded the demands of a King, even if it meant facing the consequences of defying his father's commands.
As he prepared to venture out in pursuit of Tauriel and the dwarves, Legolas braced himself for the inevitable clash with his father upon their return. His determination to safeguard a friend, however, eclipsed the looming confrontation, a testament to the depth of his loyalty and the strength of his friendship with Tauriel.
In the rugged terrain, Tauriel navigated the river boulders, the remnants of a slaughtered deer a grim testament to the orcish presence. As she extracted the orc arrow from the deer's flank, a trail of orc tracks led her to a vantage point overlooking the Long Lake, the chimneys of Lake-town emitting plumes of smoke.
A sudden sound startled her, and in an instant, she found herself staring up at Legolas, his bow poised with an arrow aimed at her. Their terse exchange crackled in the air, their words laced with an underlying tension born of conflicting loyalties and unspoken concerns.
"Ingannen le Orch," (I thought you were an Orc,") Tauriel remarked in Elvish, her guard not yet lowered.
"Ci orch im, dangen le." (If I was an Orc, you would be dead,) Legolas responded, his tone carrying both warning and concern.
Lowering his bow, Legolas approached her, addressing her with a mixture of disappointment and urgency. "Tauriel, le adlatho i theryn Orch na-ú-cheniad." (Tauriel, you cannot hunt thirty Orcs on your own.) Legolas said his voice calm, trying to reason with her.
Tauriel's gentle response uttered in Elvish, carried a subtle warmth as she cast a fleeting glance toward Legolas, a soft smile gracing her lips "Ach nîn guin ú-bâd," (But I am not on my own,) she spoke, emphasizing that she wasn't alone in her pursuit, acknowledging Legolas's unspoken presence with a sense of gratitude.
Legolas, struck by her words, pieced together the depth of her foresight. "Lhûg aen, le mae dîn." (You knew I would come.) He realized aloud, understanding that she had already anticipated his arrival. The realization washed over him, a mixture of concern for her well-being and a newfound appreciation for the depth of their unspoken understanding. In his worry for Tauriel's safety, he hadn't expected her to have accounted for his presence in her decision, a realization that deepened the connection between them.
"Arân gwaew, Tauriel. Edrin beneg enyd dôr iôn thîn, thôlith iôn thîn... fehyd iôn I gara" (The King is angry, Tauriel. For five hundred years my father has protected you, favored you ... you defied his orders, you have betrayed his trust.) Legolas matched Tauriel's pace, a silent acknowledgment of their shared path ahead. Despite the looming concern over his father's inevitable reaction to their defiance, Legolas found himself prioritizing Tauriel's well-being over any repercussions that might follow.
His worry for her safety eclipsed any fear of his father's displeasure. At that moment, Legolas made a silent commitment to address his own concerns, determined to ensure Tauriel's safety above all else. The gravity of their situation spurred him into a steadfast resolve, ready to face whatever consequences might arise from their actions, for the sake of safeguarding his friend.
He revealed the consequences of her defiance, the anger of the King, and the breach of trust that had incurred his father's ire. "Dandolo na nin ... le gohenatha." (Come back with me ... he will forgive you.)
But Tauriel, though acknowledging the truth in Legolas's words, stood firm in her resolve. She gazed down at the Long Lake, her voice carrying the weight of her conviction in Elvish. "Ú-ohenathon ... ci dadwenithon, úohenathon" (But I will not... If I go back, I will not forgive myself.)
Her words caught Legolas off guard, the gravity of her determination evident in her resolute stance. She continued, her voice steady yet filled with a passion for justice that refused to be quelled. She expressed her convictions, painting a vivid picture of the looming threat and the necessity of their involvement in the fight against evil.
"Naethon anír an Annûn râs Orch, nedh inadh gannad dôr i 'orch, a gohaed dôr i 'orch ennas a rogo a threni."(The King has never let Orc filth roam our lands, yet he would let this Orc-pack cross our borders and kill our prisoners.) Tauriel added without any remorse for the distinction she took.
Legolas, contemplating Tauriel's words and the weight of her convictions, heaved a sigh. Her reasoning was undeniably just, resonating deeply within him. However, accepting her viewpoint meant challenging the authority of the King, a prospect he hesitated to embrace fully.
"Nîn adlann," (It's not our fight,) he spoke softly, his words carrying a hint of resignation. Despite understanding the righteousness of Tauriel's cause, Legolas grappled with the conflict between loyalty to his father and the compelling necessity of intervening in matters that transcended their realm.
"Nîn adlann. Nedh ui vin min. Edregol, môr a môr, hain bein iûr hain, anír aduial," (It is our fight. It will not end here. With every victory, this evil will grow,) she asserted, challenging Legolas's inclination to abide by the King's orders and remain passive. She appealed to his sense of duty and questioned the complacency that threatened to engulf them.
As she held his gaze, she posed a poignant question that resonated with unspoken truths. "Anír nîn ben i dhâd? Lasto, mellon... pân anír aduial ta na 'môr nîn?" (Are we not part of this world? Tell me, mellon... when did we let Evil become stronger than us?)
Legolas, visibly affected by her words, found himself at a loss for an answer. The weight of her convictions hung heavy in the air, leaving both of them grappling with the unsettling truth she had unveiled.
Legolas found himself at a crossroads, torn between allegiance to his father and the unshakable bond of friendship. Despite the weight of duty and the implications of his decision, he couldn't fathom letting Tauriel embark on such a perilous mission alone.
In that crucial moment, he made a choice that would irrevocably alter the course of his destiny. Ignoring protocol and dismissing the King's orders, Legolas decided to follow Tauriel. The gravity of this decision wasn't lost on him; he understood the implications of defying the King's commands. Yet, the unwavering loyalty and concern he harbored for his friend eclipsed any hesitation or consideration of the consequences.
With a determined resolve, Legolas set forth, knowing that this choice would redefine his path, potentially marking a turning point in his life. The weight of his decision settled heavily upon him, but the bond he shared with Tauriel propelled him forward, regardless of the uncertain future that awaited them.
Bard, a steadfast and determined guardian of his family, had spent years prioritizing the safety of his children above all else. His life had been dedicated to shielding them from the turmoil that raged outside their walls. He understood the difference between right and wrong, knowing how to defend what he cherished, yet his focus remained steadfastly on safeguarding his loved ones.
However, in the chaos of the moment, as Bolg's orcs descended upon Bard's house, everything he had strived to protect was now at risk. The dwarves, once desperate fugitives seeking refuge, were now entangled amid his home, drawing the danger closer to his family than ever before. It was a devastating realization for Bard, watching the sanctuary he had fought so hard to maintain slip away in the face of this unexpected threat.
The skirmish erupted, engulfing Bard's sanctuary in a whirlwind of conflict. In the heat of battle, as Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda joined forces with the dwarves, even the wounded Kili valiantly fought to defend their newfound haven. Each strike felt like a betrayal of Bard's efforts to shield his family from such perilous encounters.
Suddenly, two unexpected allies emerged, their sudden arrival cutting through the melee. Legolas and Tauriel, their Elvish skill and unyielding determination, brought a surge of hope and resilience to the dire situation. Their presence, marked by unrivaled prowess and ruthless efficiency against the orcish horde, provided a glimmer of salvation in the mayhem, offering a chance to turn the tide against the encroaching danger.
In the chaos of the skirmish, Fimbul's abrupt departure left Bolg seething with rage. From across the water, Fimbul's taunting words about Oakenshield's absence incited a furious reaction from Bolg. His eyes blazed with fury as he swiftly ordered the remaining orcs to fall back, regrouping at the bridge.
As the orcs began their retreat, Legolas took swift action. With unparalleled agility, he sent a dead orc hurtling over the balcony, launching Fimbul into the air. In a seamless motion, Legolas brought an end to Fimbul, swiftly decapitating him before he could escape.
With a watchful eye, Legolas observed the orcs fleeing into the night, their retreat signaling a temporary reprieve from the immediate threat. Meanwhile, Bain, Sigrid, and Tilda observed in awe as Legolas and Tauriel, with their remarkable efficiency and skill, swiftly dispatched the remaining hunter orcs, ensuring the safety of Bard's household in the face of the sudden turmoil.
Bain, visibly amazed by the efficient takedown of the orcs, expressed his astonishment. "You killed them all."
Legolas, his demeanor ever-focused, corrected Bain's assumption. "Not all - there are others."
As Legolas turned to leave, a sense of urgency in his voice broke through. "Tauriel, come."
However, Tauriel's attention remained fixed on Kili, lying on the floor with ragged breaths, the dark veins of poison snaking beneath his skin. Oin, the old dwarf, held Kili's wrist, his expression marked by anxiety, as he looked up towards Tauriel.
"We are losing him," Oin voiced his worry, his concern palpable.
Despite Legolas's call to leave, Tauriel hesitated, torn between following and staying by Kili's side. She cast a final glance back at Kili, a mixture of emotions flickering across her face, a silent promise of aid in her eyes. As Bofur rushed up the stairs, clutching the Kingsfoil, he halted at the sight of Tauriel. Her focus, however, was fixed on the herb in his hand. With a determined yet hopeful expression, she gently took the plant from Bofur.
"Athelas," she uttered softly, a whisper laden with a mix of hope and apprehension. Without explanation, she began crushing the herb between her fingers, prompting a surprised reaction from Bofur.
"What are you doing?" Bofur's concern mirrored the confusion etched on his face.
Tauriel's gaze remained fixed on Kili, a blend of determination and vulnerability in her eyes as she softly declared, "I'm going to save him." Her conviction echoed in the quiet space, a testament to her unwavering determination to help Kili, despite the uncertain and perilous circumstances.
Tauriel returned to Bard's house, forgetting about Legolas and the orcs. Her priority was now to save Kili. She moved swiftly, her hands working deftly as she crushed the athelas leaves into a bowl of steaming water. The urgency of the situation was evident as Bofur, Oin, and Fili carefully placed Kili on the table, his face etched in pain, the black poison visibly coursing through his veins.
"Hold him down," Tauriel's voice was steady, a command as she focused on the task at hand. The room filled with a sense of urgency as Fili, Oin, Bofur, Sigrid, and Tilda endeavored to restrain Kili on the table, their efforts strained against his convulsions.
As Tauriel looked upon the wound, a brief flicker of shock passed across her features, acknowledging the severity of Kili's condition. With determination in her eyes, she crushed the athelas, applying it to the wound. Initiating an ancient healing spell, she began to softly chant an incantation in Elvish, invoking the grace to pass from her to him, beseeching for his deliverance.
"Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin; hon leitho o-ngurth," (What grace is given me, let it pass to him; let him be spared,) her words, filled with fervor, carried the weight of her earnest plea for his salvation.
Amidst Kili's fevered state, he gazed at Tauriel, a radiant light enveloping her form. It was as if she beckoned him back from the brink, calling him with a warmth that transcended the room's tension, offering a glimpse of hope amid the dire circumstances.
As Kili's eyes flickered open, his voice trembled with uncertainty and a sense of disbelief. "Tauriel?"
"Lie still," Tauriel's voice was firm, yet reassuring, as she continued tending to Kili's wounds, her focus on bandaging his injured leg.
His thoughts seemed to drift, the lines between reality and dreams blurring. "You cannot be her ... She is far away, far away from me. She walks in starlight in another world." His words were whispered, a gentle realization dawning upon him. "It was just a dream ..."
Tauriel remained stoic, her expression betraying no emotion, but her voice softened in response to his vulnerable musings. All her former beliefs were now crushed down and she now understood that it did not matter what race you were, if the darkness won all would have the same faith. Elves or not, all were facing the same enemy.
"Do you think she could have loved me?" Kili's whisper lingered in the air, a question filled with longing and uncertainty. Tauriel, caught off guard by his heartfelt question, showed no visible reaction, but her gaze softened imperceptibly. Kili's hand reached out to touch hers, a moment of connection amid the fragile vulnerability of their circumstances.
As Legolas pursued the orcs, a conflicting turmoil brewed within him. Tauriel's choice to stay and aid Kili had struck a chord, making Legolas keenly aware that Tauriel's feelings for the dwarf ran deeper than friendship. It stung his pride to fathom his dear friend harboring affection for a dwarf, something he struggled to comprehend. Yet, amidst these personal struggles, the gravity of the situation demanded his immediate attention.
Bolg, issuing commands in the harsh Black Speech, transmitted urgent messages regarding Thorin Oakenshield's arrival at the Mountain. The screams of orcs being slain by Legolas caught Bolg's attention, prompting a sharp reaction from the orc leader. Bolg swiftly directed the warg riders to depart, urgently fleeing the town. Turning to the remaining orcs, Bolg issued orders for a selected few to accompany him.
As Legolas turned a corner, he found himself face to face with Bolg. A fierce battle ensued between the two adversaries. Bolg, sensing the tide turning against him, chose to flee, leaving behind two other orcs to confront the elf. However, with his prowess, Legolas swiftly dealt with the threats, dispatching the orcs in combat.
Legolas, reeling from the confrontation with Bolg and the blood trickling down from his nose, found himself in a moment of self-reflection. Despite his urgency to chase the orcs and mitigate the immediate threat, Bolg had unearthed a personal vendetta. This wasn't merely a matter of duty; it had become personal.
In these crucial moments, Legolas showcased the inherent pride instilled in him by his upbringing. He was his father's son, bearing the coldness and wrath when necessary, traits inherited from Thranduil. While his immediate instinct was to pursue the orcs and prevent further chaos, the encounter with Bolg triggered a resolve to address this personal haunt.
With determination etched across his features, Legolas mounted a horse and set off in pursuit of Bolg and the escaping orcs. His pursuit wasn't solely about restoring order or fulfilling his duties; it was now driven by a desire for retribution and a commitment to quell the personal turmoil that Bolg's presence had stirred within him.
The skies rained fire and despair as Smaug, the mighty dragon, unleashed his wrath upon Lake-town. Flames danced in the night, consuming homes and dreams alike. Chaos reigned as the town's people scrambled for safety, their cries drowned by the inferno.
Amidst the carnage, a lone figure emerged: Bard, a humble man with an unyielding spirit. Armed with an ancient heirloom, the Black Arrow, he faced the colossal dragon. With unwavering determination, Bard aimed for the heart of the beast, the one vulnerability in Smaug's impenetrable armor. The arrow found its mark, piercing the dragon's weakness.
Smaug roared in agony as the Black Arrow struck true. Mortally wounded, the mighty dragon's fiery rage met its end. With a deafening crash, Smaug descended upon Lake-town, his tyrannical reign of terror coming to a cataclysmic close.
But victory came at a steep price. The once-thriving Lake-town lay in ruins, engulfed in flames and despair. Its streets, once bustling with life, now echoed with the cries of the wounded and the mourning. Bard, hailed as a hero for his courageous act, emerged amidst the wreckage, guiding survivors to safety.
Refugees sought shelter, their lives torn asunder by the dragon's fury. Families were separated, and homes reduced to ash. Yet amid the devastation, a resilient spirit emerged, as survivors banded together, forging a bond in their shared struggle to rebuild.
In the shadow of Smaug's demise, the fate of Lake-town hung precariously. Its people faced the daunting task of reconstruction, a collective effort to rebuild from the ashes. As they salvaged what remained and tended to their wounded, their eyes turned towards the Lonely Mountain, where the echoes of Smaug's fall reverberated, reshaping destinies and stirring newfound ambitions.
The aftermath of Smaug's attack marked a turning point—a chapter closed in fire and destruction, yet a new chapter awaited, laden with challenges and the promise of change. At the makeshift camp near the ruins of Lake-town, a somber air loomed heavy over the disheveled inhabitants. Families hastily gathered their meager possessions, salvaging what little they could from the devastation left in Smaug's wake. Bard, their leader, exuded a sense of determined resilience amidst the chaos, orchestrating their departure.
Bard's leadership shone amidst the chaos, his voice a beacon of guidance amid uncertainty. His instructions echoed through the remnants of the shattered town, a call for practicality and survival. "Take only what you need. We have a long march ahead." Amidst the wreckage, families hurriedly gathered their essentials, a stark contrast to their former lives. The abruptness of their displacement left Bard grappling with the unexpected turn their fortunes had taken.
Legolas stood among the dispersing crowd, his gaze following Bard's glance toward the silhouette of the Lonely Mountain looming in the distance. The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of their uncertain fate. "Where will you go?" Legolas inquired, his tone reflective of the gravity of the situation. His sense of duty, once bound by his father's directives, now morphed into a resolve to protect the land and its people.
The resonance in Bard's voice held the weight of their fate as he directed his gaze toward the looming figure of the Lonely Mountain in the distance. His words, heavy with purpose and determination, echoed through the camp. "There is only one place," he declared, a somber certainty threading through his tone, indicating a singular refuge in the face of imminent danger.
Amidst the preparations, Alfrid, ever the opportunist, envisioned a different future for the displaced masses, suggesting refuge within the mountain's walls, blissfully ignorant of the curse lingering within its caverns. "The mountain! You are a genius, sire. We can take refuge inside the mountain. It might smell a bit of dragon - The women can clean up. It will be safe and warm and dry, and full of stores, bedding, clothing...the odd bit of gold."
However, Bard harbored no illusions about the cursed wealth hoarded within the Lonely Mountain. His resolve unwavering, he rejected Alfrid's covetous suggestion, vowing to claim only what was rightfully theirs—the means to rebuild their shattered lives.
"What gold is in that mountain is cursed. We will take only what was promised to us - only what we need to rebuild our lives." Bard never wanted fame and gold like Alfrid, he just hoped that he would allow some of the treasure that the mountain claimed to aid his people to rebuild Laketown.
As Bard departed, Alfrid's opportunistic spirit lingered, shifting the weight of his duties onto others, his disdain evident in the casual dismissal of his assigned task.
In the backdrop of uncertainty, Legolas, his concerns etched upon his features, conversed with Bard, hinting at the imminent ripples of Smaug's demise, and the growing specter of covetous eyes upon the mountain. "News of the death of Smaug will have spread through the lands," Legolas stated the outcome of Smaug's death.
Bard paused and gazed at the Prince of Mirkwood "Aye."
Legolas, drawing from centuries of training and wisdom, felt compelled to offer a cautionary note to Bard. His experience spanned not just battle prowess but also an understanding of the intricacies of governance and diplomacy, shaped by years of observation and learning.
"Be wary," Legolas interjected, his voice holding a hint of concern. "Other eyes may turn toward the mountain, drawn by its wealth or strategic position. There are forces beyond our sight, and what they seek might not bode well for our sanctuary."
Bard's inquiry prompted a solemn response from Legolas, whose concern was palpable as he grappled with the weight of what might transpire.
"Nothing for certain," Legolas admitted with a measured tone. "It's what I fear may come." His words carried a sense of foreboding, an unease about the looming uncertainty that lay ahead. With a solemn gaze fixed upon the horizon, Legolas contemplated the uncertain future, his thoughts mired in the brewing storm that threatened to engulf the once-thriving lands.
As Tauriel and Legolas traversed the Laketown camp, a sense of urgency lingered in their steps. Tauriel glanced at Legolas, sensing his troubled demeanor.
Tauriel spoke up, her voice laced with concern. "Lasta ennas na erin." (You saw something out there.)
Legolas's gaze hardened with grim resolve. "Orch na dûr edrin, iâr Bolg, i obel Azog u 'loghrû. Nan i vogui ennas i 'lôn arail i Esgaroth. Sîrthaen i vorn. Si boar athen erin a dhûven - a boar na Gundabad." (The orc I pursued out of Laketown—it was Bolg, a spawn of Azog the Defiler. There was a warg pack waiting for him on the outskirts of Esgaroth. They fled north. These orcs... they were different. They bore a mark I hadn't seen in a long time—a mark of Gundabad.)
Tauriel halted abruptly, shock etched on her face as she turned to Legolas. "Gundabad?"
Legolas nodded gravely. "Boar Orch-ost ennas i annûn i Hithaeglir." (It's an orc stronghold in the far reaches of the Misty Mountains.)
The elf from Mirkwood rode swiftly, his urgent message commanding the attention of Legolas and Tauriel mid-conversation. Both elves halted, turning their attention to the messenger as he approached.
"Hîr nín, Legolas. Celin 'winiath o adar lín." (My Lord Legolas, I bring word from your Father.) The elf's voice bore an air of respect and urgency. " Cân i hi danwenidh na le." (You are to return to him immediately.) The elf's tone remained formal, delivering a direct order.
Legolas's brow furrowed, a mix of surprise and concern etching his features. "Tolo, Tauriel." (Come, Tauriel.) He gestured for Tauriel to join him, but their conversation was interrupted. Remaining fully aware of the impending questions and inevitable wrath from his father and king, Legolas chose not to turn a blind eye to what lay ahead.
" Hîr nín. Edlennen Tauriel." (My Lord, Tauriel is banished.) The elf's words pierced the air and caught Legolas' full attention.
"Edlennen?" (Banished.) Both Legolas and Tauriel were taken aback, their expressions reflecting disbelief.
The swift decision to banish Tauriel for choosing to aid those in need rather than confining herself within the Elvenking's hall felt unjust to Legolas. He anticipated his father's harsh judgment but couldn't reconcile with the unfairness of banishing her for such a noble act.
Legolas's resolve solidified. "Cuio i âd i Thranduil: Man leithiant i Dauriel, man leithiant i aran nîn." (You may tell my father: If there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me.) Legolas stated, his words absolute.
"Legolas, Boar i ben gwaith i aran nîn," (It is your King's command.)" Tauriel stood by Legolas, a gentle reminder in her presence. She had chosen her path, willing to defy the king's orders, even if it meant Legolas joining her in aiding the dwarves. However, she never anticipated the situation to escalate this way. Defying the king now might mean a heavy price for Legolas.
"Naw aran nín, mal ú-gân innas nín." (Yes, he is my King. But he does not command my heart.) Legolas's voice held determination and emotion. "Nedh ceneithon leithia i dôl aduial ben nîn." (Wasn't it you who taught me not to let Evil become stronger than us.) Turning away from the elven messenger, Legolas spoke firmly. "Lasto i 'aear. An odh i le?" (I ride north. Will you come with me).
"Man na" (To where?) Tauriel inquired, unsure of their destination.
"To Gundabad." Legolas's decision was resolute, and without hesitation, he and Tauriel rode out of the Laketown camp on his horse.
It was the day an elf reached the King's halls, bearing unsatisfactory news. Both Tauriel and his son had defied his orders. Thranduil took his time contemplating the situation. Tauriel's defiance didn't surprise him; he had anticipated it. She carried rebellion within her, waiting for the right reason to oppose him, a reason he already knew.
Tauriel's recent visit to Kili's cell and their extended conversation weren't secrets within the kingdom. Yet, the focus wasn't solely on her now. It was about his son. As the Elvenking, he needed to address both matters. Punishing Tauriel might have been straightforward, but dealing with his son, his only son, presented a far more complex situation.
Thranduil paced inside his study chamber, his frustration palpable. "Ni naer diheno i Legolas i maed nîn." (I cannot understand how Legolas defied me!) His words echoed through the room, his agitation apparent even in his soliloquy. "Hado vi," (Leave me,) he dismissed the guard absentmindedly, forgetting Nienna's presence.
"Maer na lín, aran nîn, rochiant dîn nîn, iâr ben nîn, i moe ben dîn, iâr ben nîn," (If I recall correctly, my Lord, there was once a Prince who defied his father as well,) Nienna's words pierced the air, her boldness earning a deadly glare from Thranduil.
"Ni naer diheno i ben dîn; ni naer din dîn nîn, ar gwedh dîn, a phirio i ben-edhil nîn," (I did not defy my father; I followed my heart and chose my Queen,) Thranduil retorted sharply. "Legolas is not doing that. He's chasing after a Silvan elf and some dwarves, defying an order of his king."
Nienna's laughter, an audacious response reserved only for her position and familiarity with the king, filled the room. "Thranduil, nîn na-erui Legolas na goben i idhrinn. Man na-ûl dôr i 'wain erin? Amdir, auth ni diheno i 'wain." (Thranduil, Legolas is not far from what you are. For how long have you confined him within these halls? One day, he may rebel against you.)
Though the Elvenking would have punished anyone else, he held back. Deep down, he acknowledged her truth. "Ni auth dîn naeg. Si aroch Legolas, a nôr or i 'wain auth, a nôr dhâd bant or i 'lôn ennas. Achenos na arod Legolas, os i 'wain na-ûl, i anír o dîn dîn nîn... " (I've allowed him freedom. He's played the archer, and spent more time outside than within these walls. But riding away with Tauriel, disregarding his obligations as a Prince...)
"Le achen." (You know him,) Nienna interrupted. "Si auth renia i thal i 'wain a nôr dîn ennas a 'wain nîn. Ama i guin, ben aran nîn, diheno i ion." (He's always adhered to protocol and his princely education. But in his heart, he hides a warrior like his father.)
Thranduil's mind drifted to the past, reminiscing about a time when he wasn't confined within his own walls and Legolas was but a young elf. His memories reflected moments of training Legolas not just in royal education but in archery and swordsmanship, instilling in him the strength and resilience characteristic of their lineage. He wanted his son to embody the same fortitude that defined him and his ancestors.
Legolas mirrored those traits yet held a uniqueness, a deviation from the expected path. It could have been his mother's influence or simply his inherent nature, a blend that set him apart. Legolas's act of defying his own father and rushing to aid a friend struck a dissonance within the king. As a King, such actions were unacceptable, yet as a father, a sense of pride swelled within Thranduil's heart.
Thranduil sighed, exchanging a final glance with Nienna. The recent events had stirred something dormant within him. He instructed the guard, "Êlitho i thiliath. Ni egoramin. Ni na-ûl i-guren. Ni na-ûl bant or i 'lôn ennas. (Prepare the guards. We are riding out. We've hidden enough within these walls.)
Nienna beamed, seeing a glimmer of the old Thranduil resurfacing. Change might not come easily, but at least he was choosing a different path.
((Upcoming Chapter Eight))
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