Shakk walked slowly back toward his own camp.
He had much to think upon. First and foremost being the absolutely bat-shit insane plan Thranduil had revealed to him just minutes prior. Shakk also had to consider the promises that the royal blonde had made him.
In exchange for his aid and that of the orc army's, Thranduil had promised to declare an unending ceasefire, and arrange a peace treaty between orcs and elves. As part of this treaty, Shakk and his orcs would take their leave of Rhovanion completely and remove to the lands of Mordor where they would remain unmolested and untroubled by any elven influence. They would also be free to re-establish themselves in Angmar if they so choose - and again, Thranduil had promised he would see to it that none of the elven realms would raise arms to them.
And finally, once the peace treaty was established and both sides had proven true and honoured it for two decades, Thranduil had promised to then establish trade routes and broker deals between the Woodland Realm and Mordor.
Insane promises to go alongside an insane plan.
Shakk could barely wrap his mind around either.
Thranduil's promises seemed utterly laughable - Shakk could not imagine peace between elves and orcs - never mind trade deals. Yet the blonde King had been so earnest…he clearly believed every word that came from his own mouth, and that was causing Shakk to lean toward believing him too. Even when it came to the crazy plan…
Shakk nearly laughed aloud as he re-focused his mind on Thranduil's stupid and audacious plan.
For the Elven King planned to make a grab for the Dark Master's One - his Ring, and use It to free himself from wraith-hood. Thranduil would also free Shakk and his orcs by destroying Sauron by the fell power of his own Ring. Two birds - one stone.
Shakk snorted and shook his head; if only it would be that easy.
Thranduil had glossed over the harder parts of his grand master plan; such as the need for Shakk to convince the entire orc army to stand with him against the Dark Master, and instead aid Thranduil (who was still hated as Orc-Bane by all but Shakk) in his bid to overthrow Sauron. Or the fact that Thranduil needed to get close enough to Sauron to be able to have even the slightest fighting chance - the cocky blonde so sure that his plan of getting Shakk to drag him before Sauron, whilst he played the part of a weakened but still very unwilling prisoner, would work without a hitch.
Shakk dragged his claws through his thick, messy black hair.
When had his life become such a headache? Would he ever know normalcy again?
Shakk gave another snort.
Normalcy was something he ought to kiss goodbye, because no matter how unhinged Thranduil's plan was, or how unbelievable his promises in return for aid with said plan were, Shakk was going to go along with it.
He believed Thranduil would keep his word. The elf was honourable - and Shakk now knew that honour would extend even unto orcs.
For the haughty, murderous, orc-hating elf Shakk had first stalked was no more. Thranduil's slow descent into Darkness had caused him to find empathy for the creatures of said Darkness. He'd come to see the orcs as a people - not just mortal enemies to be mown down. And the past few weeks had shown that orc and elf had more in common than it first appeared; that given the chance they could learn to be allies - even friends.
Moreover, Thranduil was strong - in both body (despite his brush with the wraith-poison) and, most importantly, in magic.
A crooked smile found Shakk's lips as he thought about how the elf who had been such a prissy snob about 'dark magic' was now able to cast and conjure like the darkest of sorcerers after consuming as many books on the matter as Shakk had been able to bring him.
Shakk crossed back into the orc camp and immediately bellowed for his Captains. He had much work to do if he were to indeed follow and aid Thranduil down his chosen path of madness.
The orc Commander had heard the siren sound of the call of freedom, and he would die free or die trying.
~o~
All was in place. And all had, thus far, gone surprisingly well, Shakk mused.
It had been less difficult than he had feared to get the orc army to agree to a rebellion against the Dark Master. For the truth of the matter was deep in their dark hearts the orcs loathed the Master whom they served in fear, the maker only of their misery**, and so to entice them with promises of freedom from Sauron was no difficult feat - even if the path to said freedom included aiding and abetting an elf.
And so they were prepped - the orc army standing at the ready to revolt on Shakk's command, and Shakk doing his best to mentally prepare himself for the huge charade that he would have to take part in, in order to get Thranduil into the presence of Sauron. It would have to be the most convincing bit of play acting he would ever do in his life, but Shakk reckoned he would be able to carry the lie well enough. He only hoped Thranduil would be able to do the same.
As though thinking of the blonde had summoned it forth, a crebain messenger (one of their smaller and stealthier birds) appeared before Shakk with a roll of neat parchment within its beak. The orc Commander did not even need to look at the seal to know the missive came from Thranduil (for who else would send him such fancy and clean stationery) and he felt a flutter of fear deep in the pit of his stomach. For Shakk was sure the letter would be the call to arms, the catalyst of what promised to be a new life of freedom, the signal Shakk had been on tenterhooks waiting for…
Shakk hurriedly dragged his sharpened claws through the wax seal to break it, and let his eyes roam over the most tidily written Black Speech he had ever seen.
A frown crossed the orc Commander's face. It was not the call to action he'd been both dreading and hoping for. It was an agitated note from Thranduil to say that there had been complications.
Complications in the form of the arrival of two wizards and one of the elven Wise.
Complications that meant the Elven King's note was asking for Shakk and his army to remain vigilant but to stand down for now.
Shakk stared at the note for a long moment before he set forth to give his orcs the update, an odd mixture of relief and disappointment within his chest.
~o~
Thranduil was angry. Very, very angry.
For after not showing up in the weeks where he had still held out hope of their help, Elrond, Mithrandir and Aiwendil had all appeared at the elven camp on the very eve Thranduil had intended to put his plan into action.
The blonde seethed. Of fucking course they'd show up now. Right in time to meddle and interfere in his plan of which he was, by now, rather enamoured.
He'd had to hurriedly sneak off a note to Shakk, via their special crebain messenger, to tell the orc Commander to hang fire whilst he dealt with his meddling guests, and tried to mitigate the effect they might have on his plan.
Thranduil gave another glance round his tent to ensure there were no incriminating books or other evidence that might give away anything of the true nature of his plans and intentions, and settled himself into his chair to await the arrival of his tardy guests.
He thought as he waited, and a new idea came to him. It was better than his previous plan to get himself before Sauron, and though there remained great risk, it had a higher chance of success.
A wicked smirk crossed the Elven King's face.
It seemed that the arrival of his guests was timely after all.
~o~
"Mae govannen Aran Thranduil."
"Suilad Thranduil…oh…you really don't look well. Not at all. Oh dear, oh dear."
"Yes, it appears we have arrived just in the nick of time."
Thranduil forced himself not to scowl at Mithrandir's haughty and self-congratulatory words, nor to react to Aiwendil's dismayed reaction to his ailing appearance. Instead, he forced a small smile to his lips and returned Elrond's well-mannered greeting.
"Mae govannen, Hir Elrond, Aiwendil and Mithrandir. A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, and indeed the hour has grown grave, for I am in desperate need of your assistance lest I be lost to the enemy and his whiles forevermore."
"Indeed," Elrond murmured as he looked at Thranduil with something like trepidation and fear in his eyes before he took a deep breath, and after seemingly steeling himself, took a step forward toward Thranduil. "Do you mind if…if I examine you?"
"Not at all," Thranduil acquiesced easily, then watched as Elrond unpacked his medicinal pouch.
The Peredhel Lord's hands shook from time to time and he fumbled once or twice as he unpacked his bag, and Thranduil realised that though he was putting a brave face on it, and was not nearly as affected as his Elite and other elves in his army seemed to be, Elrond was affected by the dread aura that now clung to Thranduil like a second skin. The Peredhel Lord felt fear in his presence, and that was something that awed, upset and amused the blonde King all at once.
He sat quietly as Elrond put him through the same checks as Calelon had all those weeks ago, and as he examined the original stab wound. A wound that was now a deep, unhealed black-edged gouge in his skin, from whence flowed blackened veins that crawled vine-like over his ashen-grey, ice cold skin.
Elrond held a slightly trembling hand over the wound, closed his eyes and concentrated for a long moment before he pulled his hand back with a sound of dismay.
"The shard of the Morgul knife is no longer in this wound but has travelled deep within your body. I am afraid Thranduil that this shall be a task more difficult than I feared, for I reckon the shard is almost near your heart. You are nigh on lost to us."
Thranduil swallowed hard at the reminder of just how perilous his situation was, and forced himself to squash the fear that rose in his heart at Elrond's grim words before he replied.
"I know. I can feel my time, my very life is near its end and I know that you might not be able to prevent it. I have given much thought to my dilemma, have pondered upon it for weeks, and this very morn I have come up with an idea that you three might help me with. I grant it is a crazy scheme and rather dangerous, but truly, at this point what choice do I have?" Thranduil made his eyes large, desperate and pleading. "So will you hear me out?"
The Elven King cast his glance over the three before him. He could tell he had intrigued them. If he could now play things right and get them to agree to his newly cooked-up scheme, then he would yet gain his own freedom and that of Shakk and his orcs.
He need not give up on his plans because the wizards and the Wise had arrived. He just needed to play things right…
"Very well Oropherion, speak. Tell us this plan of yours."
Forcing himself once more not to react to the grey wizard's hauteur, Thranduil imbued his tongue with a subtle spell of persuasion and spoke.
"It is a simple plan, if a tad foolhardy. I present myself to Sauron under the guise of begging for his mercy..."
"What?! Don't be absurd!" Mithrandir cut in and gave Thranduil an incredulous and somewhat scornful look. "Sauron would kill you and snatch away what remains of your soul as soon as look at you!"
"I do not think so - or at least he will not kill me on sight," Thranduil countered. "Rather, I think he will be stunned by my audacity. And that will provide the distraction I need."
"Distraction for what?" Mithrandir grumbled, his bushy eyebrows drawn low in a frown.
Thranduil smiled sweetly. "That is where you three come into play. For whilst our dearest Dark Lord is busy gaping at me, you three will take advantage of that distraction - momentary though it may be - and use your combined powers upon Sauron, to hold him still for just long enough for me to make a grab for the Ring."
"The Ring?!"
Thranduil ignored Mithrandir's furious incredulity.
"Yes, the Ring. For as you well know with It I can swiftly heal myself, and remove the shard that pierces my flesh and steers me into thraldom. Then I give It to you Mithrandir - for you to destroy both It and Its master - as I do not doubt you can do with the use of Its power."
"I do not think that anything concerning Sauron will be so simple, mellon-nin."
Elrond's voice was soft and apologetic - in complete contrast to Mithrandir's, which was loud and filled with disbelief.
"That's because it will not be simple Elrond. Not in the least!" The grey wizard turned from where he had upbraided Elrond to do the same to the blonde King. "You said your plan was foolhardy - not suicidal! How on Arda do you expect any of this to work? Think you that Sauron shall just let two of the Istari waltz into Dol Guldur? The wraith-poison has clearly addled your mind."
The wizard gave a dismissive snort before he continued, "And as for use of the One Ring - that is completely out of the question. For use of It is dangerous beyond belief, and I cannot believe you would be so absurd as to suggest it."
Thranduil swallowed down his rage and pushed a little more power into the spell he weaved about his tongue and his words. Not enough to be noticed by an Ithron but just enough to get them to listen.
"Of course it will not be as simple as us four strolling through Dol Guldur and up to Sauron's throne. That would indeed be suicidal. Nay, you three will disguise yourselves as my Elite."
At their burgeoning refusals, Thranduil held out a hand to cut them off ere they had fully formed the words.
"Nay. I know you - all three - are well able to cast such glamours about yourselves, and so it will not be two wizards and one of the Wise who approach Sauron's throne, but three hapless wood elves and their doomed King. And that will intrigue Sauron - at least for as long as it will take for you three to put forth enough magic to hold him in place. As for use of the One - it is my only chance. Elrond has all but admitted my wraith-poisoning is beyond even his considerable skill, but use of the One will free me from Its master's dark tendrils and evil plans for my fae. Nothing else at our disposal will so swiftly free me and well you know it Mithrandir."
"And so what Oropherion? You use the Ring, free yourself and then you just…give It to me?"
Mithrandir looked at Thranduil with such deep mistrust that it would have been hurtful had the Elven King still cared for the wizard's opinion of him.
"Yes Mithrandir, I give It to you freely - to destroy or become the next Dark Lord yourself if you wish. I do not care. So long as you let me free my soul from Sauron's chains, and do me the good favour of mixing the power of the One with a little of that Istar magic to rid my southern border of Sauron's foul presence once and for all. Truly, I have no need for such evil and Darkness in my life, rather I am trying to free myself from it. The One Ring is yours - only first let me free myself from the doom of wraith-hood."
When Mithrandir remained silent and continued to stare dubiously at him Thranduil sighed.
"Truly Mithrandir, I just want my life back. It has been hard…" Thranduil allowed himself to choke up with emotion, "so hard to be shunned and feared by my own people. To have to cower away in the dark - away from the light for which elves were made. I cannot bear it. Will you not help me be free? Will you truly doom me to Sauron's ill pleasure?"
"Of course not Thranduil. Never, never."
One down.
Aiwendil's soft heart the first to capitulate.
"It is his best chance Mithrandir, and well worth a shot. Who would I be as a healer if I did not do my best for my patients? If I condemned them so easily to death. And more than that, what sort of a friend? Nay, worry not Thranduil - I am with you."
Two.
Thranduil focussed his pleading gaze upon Mithrandir. He needed the grey wizard more than the other two. Mithrandir's powers were key to this entire thing going well.
After another long, tense moment Mithrandir gave a great sigh. "Very well Oropherion, we will try this foolish plan of yours. On one condition!"
"Very well, name it."
"I will be the one to handle the Ring. You shall not touch It. It is far too dangerous. I will be the one to use It to heal you and to deal with Sauron. Agreed?"
"Very well Mithrandir, that is agreeable to me."
Mithrandir harrumphed. "Very well then, it is decided. We shall do this thing." He pinned Thranduil with a look. "Never let it be said that Gandalf the Grey abandons his friends in need."
"No indeed," Thranduil agreed.
Three out of three.
Thranduil bit the inside of his cheek hard in order to suppress the triumphant grin that threatened to split his face in two. There would be time for him to feel smugly triumphant soon enough.
Mithrandir observed him a moment before he spoke again.
"Let us make haste then. If we are to do this thing then I would do so in daylight; for all that you find it uncomfortable just now Oropherion, you shall simply have to weather your discomfort. For I certainly wish to be nowhere near Dol Guldur when dusk begins to settle. So quickly now, let us be on our way."
Thranduil gave a small bow of his head in Mithrandir's direction, before he moved to fully drape himself within the voluminous folds of his cloak against the sun.
At last, it was time.
~o~
Thranduil glanced at his companions as they creeped ever nearer to the Dread Tower. They had all done a very good job at imitating the outward appearances of his Elite. Mithrandir had arrayed himself as Duron, Elrond as Arodon and Aiwendil as Arthon, and they had arranged themselves in the formation that would indeed be used when escorting Thranduil.
They were convincing enough - at least at first glance - and that was all they needed. To seem no threat, and thus be allowed into Sauron's very presence.
They edged ever nearer the long, pitted and pot-holed bridge that traversed the gaping black maw that stretched between the edge of the forest and the tower itself, and Thranduil could feel the ever deepening Darkness that emanated from the dread ruins.
It was thick and cloying; yet instead of trying to viciously smother him, as it had always done whenever Thranduil had braved coming this far into the Enemy's territory, it welcomed him. Wrapped itself around him in a cold embrace that was a poor mimicry of a hug, and Thranduil did not shiver but let himself lean into it. He would have need of it soon enough, he thought grimly, even as he mentally prepared himself for facing Sauron and all that he was about to do.
"It is very quiet," murmured Elrond. "Strangely so to say that there are four strangers - elves no less - approaching the Enemy's stronghold."
"And yet do not think for even a second that we have not already been seen and reported on." Mithrandir answered matter-of-factly. "Sauron knows we're here."
Thranduil said nothing - for he had long seen the crebain who watched the borders take flight and wheel themselves up and away into the highest spire of the tower. Yes, Sauron was very well aware of them - and the fact they had not yet been accosted, stopped nor yet had any attempt made upon their life lent Thranduil hope that they would yet be allowed to go before Sauron, and his plan might just succeed.
~o~
Sauron smiled, pleased with the report his crebain spies had just croaked out.
Elves were on the way to his tower. And not just any elves but among them was the elf. The elf Sauron had long desired to master, defeat and overthrow. The elf that had proven more resistant to wraith-poisoning than Sauron had thought any elf who had not seen the Light of the Trees in Valinor could be. But at last here he was, and looking but two steps from wraith-hood by all reports.
Sauron cackled - a vicious sounding noise that caused all in the immediate vicinity to cringe and cower in fear.
He wondered at the mental state of King Thranduil Oropherion, that he would dare encroach upon Sauron's side of the border and walk right up into Dol Guldur itself. The Dark Lord laughed again. The poor blonde bastard must be at his wits end if he thought to come into Sauron's domain of his own volition.
Grinning widely, Sauron called for Shakk. For the orc Commander had done good work, and it would only be fair for him to finally see and experience the sweet defeat of their mutual foe.
~o~
Shakk was idly tipping a quiverful of arrows with poison (part of the maintenance of his new weapon of choice - for he had thoroughly had enough of daggers) and fretting over the delay of the plans made with Thranduil.
His orcs had been none too happy to be told to stand down and to wait a while longer. They were restless and angry and Shakk feared that Sauron would notice their aberrant behaviour, or that one of his orcs would tire of waiting and do something ill advised that would see the wrath of the Dark Master brought down upon them all and the plans forever ruined.
So far he'd only had to deal with grumblings and murmurings, but he was anxious that even that would soon escalate.
He was mired in his troubled thoughts when there came a loud pounding upon his door before it was opened and Borlag poked his head into the room.
"The Dark Master's summoned ya, Shakk."
Shakk felt fear deep and true run through him.
Had Sauron divined his heart and found out its true intentions and loyalties? Had one of his orcs done something and let slip the plan? Had Sauron finally tired of him and decided that now was Shakk's time to die?
Shakk stood as one going to the gallows and nodded at Borlag.
"Very well, is he in the throne room?"
"Yup," said Borlag before he gave Shakk a heartening clap upon the shoulder. "He seemed in a good mood when he called for ya though."
Shakk nodded again in appreciation of Borlag's attempted comfort, exited the room and made for the stairs, not for the first time wishing that he were still a simple orc foot soldier back in Minas Morgul who had no dealings with Dark Lords nor Elven Kings.
~o~
"Shakk!"
Sauron's greeting of him was overloud and exuberant in the extreme. Borlag was right. The Dark Master was in a good mood and Shakk was keen to keep it so.
He bowed deep and low before the dark, spined throne so that his forehead touched the floor.
"You called for me, Your Grievousness?"
"Yes Shakk! Come closer and stand by my side. For you are about to witness the capitulation of the heart of elvendom in Rhovanion, the fulfilment of all your labours."
Shakk stared blankly and Sauron huffed a mildly irritated sigh.
"Thranduil Oropherion is about to knock upon my doors. He is making his way across the bridge as we speak. I can only assume he has come to bargain for his pathetic soul." Sauron grinned maniacally. "I shall enjoy his piteous whining, shall see if I can even get the proud whelp of Oropher to beg, ere I end him and press his soul into eternal service to me."
Sauron began to cackle - loud and unhinged - and Shakk forced a pleased looking grin to his face, as though he too enjoyed the thought of Thranduil's upcoming humiliation and death.
What are you playing at you blonde fool, Shakk cursed internally. You promised to set us free but rather it seems you will doom us all.
Shakk was distracted from his despairing thoughts as one of the warg riding border guards approached the throne to report there were elves seeking entrance.
"Let them in, let them in, let them in!" cried Sauron, eyes wild and manic with the glee of his evil intentions.
Them? Shakk carefully kept his confusion at the report from shining through. Who had Thranduil brought with him? And more importantly what on Arda did he think he was doing? He'd told Shakk to stand down the orc army. So did Thranduil really plan to take on Sauron alone?
Don't do anything too foolish you stupid elf, thought Shakk with grim determination. Please don't do anything too foolish.
~o~
The great doors that lead into the Dread Tower proper fell open before them ere they even had time to think on whether to knock or try the door for themselves.
"We are being summoned," Mithrandir intoned darkly before he crossed the threshold over into the palace of evil.
Thranduil stepped forth after him. The oppressive miasma of Dark that hung about the place did not scare him, not anymore, and he wanted to get on with things. Set his plan properly into motion.
With steps that were far more confident that they ought to have been, Thranduil followed along the path that magically opened up before them, until at last he found himself in a cold, drear room that was bare apart from an over-large, spiky throne - next to which stood none other than Shakk - who looked extremely perturbed at his appearance.
And of course, there upon the throne, sat Sauron himself.
~o~
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" Sauron questioned as he looked down upon the four beings before him.
Beings he called them, for though there appeared to be four elves in front of him, he could feel that two were not of the Eldar and that the third, though an elf, concealed his true form.
"With what falsities do you dare to approach the throne of Sauron?"
And truly the Dark Lord was surprised at the audacity of the beings before him - who doubtless had some ruse or other they planned to try against him. He reigned in his anger at the thought and instead of smiting the four where they stood, he spoke again - voice drier than the plains before Orodruin.
"I give you much praise son of Oropher, for you are bold indeed to come before me draped in lies and magic. But it will avail you nothing - for you and your soul are mine - and whatever plans or devices you might have come up with, they cannot stand against me. So come now, no more of this foolishness - show yourselves!"
~o~
The last two words were hissed as a malicious command and Thranduil felt fear and dread skitter up his spine. It had taken less than a minute for Sauron to sense that his companions were not whom they appeared to be. An astonishing sense of perception that could become a problem if Thranduil did not properly take advantage of the situation.
He glanced at his fellows, all three in turn, determining whether they would be ready for his signal, before he turned once more to face Sauron.
"I know not of what you speak, Gorthaur. I have come here alone, save the guards who have sworn their very lives to protect my own. I have -"
Thranduil was sharply cut off by a clearly furious Sauron ere he could say anymore.
"Do you take me for a fool, Elven King?!" The Dark Lord bellowed. "For you come with companions cloaked as humble, piteous elves but they are not as they seem and you two…" Sauron pointed a finger unerringly at Mithrandir and Aiwendil. "There is much power about you two. Far too much! Spare me any further talk of these being your pathetic bodyguards!"
And with that Sauron threw out a hand that saw a wave of power hit them, and cause them to stagger nearly to their knees. Thranduil blinked hard several times as he straightened and gave his head a shake, for he felt as though he'd been soundly slapped across the face; before he turned to the trio that had accompanied him, and saw to his dismay that whatever power Sauron had thrown at them had caused the illusions Elrond, Aiwendil and Mithrandir wore to dissolve like mist on a hot summer's morn.
"Haha," Sauron crowed in glee, "and now we come to the truth of things. Well met Elrond Eärendilion, and to you as well Hrávandil and Olórin. Very well met indeed."
The Dark Lord grinned down at them from atop his spiny throne - a maniacal gleam in his evilly burning eyes.
"You have friends in high places, Thranduil Oropherion. Pray tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of such illustrious company?"
Sauron was openly mocking them now, sneering at them from on high and barely concealing his deep amusement as they seemingly stood helpless and at his mercy. It was exactly the type of distraction Thranduil had hoped for, and with a calm twist of fingers well hidden behind his back, he gave the signal.
~o~
Power, unlooked for and most unexpected, shot forth toward Sauron with such ferocity and speed that he had no time to throw up any shields to block it. Before he quite knew what was happening he found himself bound, very tightly so, by the powers of Two of the Three elven rings and one very determined and surprisingly powerful Istar.
Apoplectic, Sauron made an attempt to burst free from their hold, but the powers that held him were strong, powerful Light magics and he found that his own surge of Dark power had done nothing to loosen the bonds of Light that held him.
He tried again with a larger surge of Darkness to find the same result and a sliver of fear shot through the Dark Lord. He had not thought to find such formidable power that could stand against his own, but then again - the power of the Three had ever been the strongest of all the Rings (barring his One) and were among the most difficult to bend toward evil.
Determined not to be defeated in his own domain, Sauron turned his malicious glare upon the one who held no ring of power and had naught but simple woodland magic at his disposal - Thranduil.
If he attacked the already frail looking Elven King then the other three - pathetic bleeding hearts that they were - would rush to aid him and thus drop their powerful hold on him. And then….
Then they would pay.
Teeth bared in fury Sauron bellowed at Shakk.
"Kill the Elven King, Shakk! Shoot him now - there will be no saving him and there is no thwarting me! Shoot him!"
~o~
Shakk had watched stunned as the trio with Thranduil threw forth some sort of power toward the Dark Master that was bright, and pure, and clean, and it hurt for the purity of the Light in it.
And Shakk had taken several steps backwards before he'd thrown himself to his knees upon the floor and crawled to cower behind Sauron's throne.
For if these three were able to pin the Dark Master, what more could they do to a simple orc that held no magic of his own such as him?
And so Shakk, though ashamed, cowered and when the Dark Master bellowed his name and commanded him to kill Thranduil he heeded him not, and did not move - at that point far more cowed by the display of power from the wizards and the unknown elf than any punishment Sauron might inflict on him for disobedience.
For currently the Dark Master, bound as he was, could do precious little to him; whereas those three…Shakk did not like to think upon the things they might do to him…
And then there was Thranduil.
Shakk let his beady yellow eyes find the Elven King, who had stood to the side as one helpless, but now the blonde approached Sauron's throne with meaning, and there was an odd gleam in his eyes - one Shakk could not quite interpret.
Fascinated, he watched as Thranduil came to a halt directly before Sauron. Sauron snarled at his audacity and Thranduil, mad fool that he clearly was, only grinned.
"What is the matter Gorthaur? Do you not like the company of my three 'illustrious' friends any longer?"
"Thranduil!"
One of the wizards, the one garbed in grey, snapped out the blonde's name like a warning, but Thranduil paid no heed, and as Shakk continued to watch the Elven King stepped all the closer toward Sauron - a mocking look upon his face and a sneer twisting his lips.
"If you dislike their company, then I am afraid oh Gorthaur that you shall like mine even less! For I must say I am most enamoured of my soul, and have no intention of yielding it to you nor any other!"
And with that it was Thranduil's turn to fling out an arm. First toward his companions, who appeared to Shakk's eyes convulse and jerk sharply, before they too seemed to be caught in the same spell of immovability that bound the Dark Master.
All three looked discomforted and surprised gasps sounded from them, but Shakk's eyes were glued to Thranduil, and when the Elven King turned from his companions Shakk paid them no further heed - unable to quite believe what he was seeing and anxious to see what would happen next.
Thranduil turned to face Sauron head on once more, a triumphant grin upon his face and extended his hand toward him - palm facing outward.
"The only one here who shall not be thwarted this day is me."
And with that the Elven King twisted his hand so that his palm faced upwards before he clenched it into a tight fist and drew his arm in toward himself muttering indiscernible, almost soundless words all the while long.
A huge concentrated force of power - heavy with Dark energy - suddenly surrounded Thranduil who once again twisted his arm in an almost painful looking manner, and a black mass of crackling energy, shaped like a sword, appeared in his hand.
Wide eyed, Shakk watched as Thranduil calmly walked up to Sauron.
"No! No! You! You fucking, worthless elven scum! My master Melkor take you! Guards! Shakk! Kill him! Kill that fucking elf!"
The Dark Master roared commands that Shakk knew none would heed.
Seemingly realising this - that none were coming to his aid - Sauron struggled mightily; Shakk could feel it in both the air about him and the floor beneath him, and the throne room of Dol Guldur quaked and trembled, but whatever spell and power Thranduil commanded was greater, and the blonde strode up the spined throne steps with purpose.
Zwing!
With a swing and a flash that set the stones and pillars all about the room to shuddering, Thranduil struck out with his great black, sparking mass of a sword and Sauron's arm - the one whose hand held his precious One - fell to the ground with a dull thump.
~o~
Sauron watched wide eyed – with an odd combination of incredible fury and more than a little fear - as Oropher's whelp bent to retrieve his severed arm and coolly plucked his One from it.
The Elven King held the Ring between thumb and forefinger for a long moment, twirling It this way then that. There was an odd gleam in the Elven King's eyes and Sauron, searching them, knew then that the elf had fallen. An evil that could not be shaken had taken up root in his soul, and the Dark Lord felt a frisson of pleasure at having been able to totally corrupt one of the powerful Eldar of Light, but his glee soon gave way to true fear and no small amount of hatred. For he saw also his own demise.
There would remain a Dark Lord in Middle Earth - but it would no longer be him.
"Th…Th…Thranduil!"
The gasping, desperate shout of the Elven King's name that had burst forth from Olórin's previously numb lips saw the cold, calculating elven gaze go from Ring to wizard.
But only for a moment. The whispers of his One were strong, Sauron knew, and soon Thranduil's eyes were back upon the Ring for one syrupy slow moment longer, before the blonde elf set the Ring upon the littlest finger of his left hand where It immediately re-sized and settled Itself.
"Thranduil! This is madness!"
Olórin's cry was truly desperate now, as were the struggles of his fellows to free themselves from whatever chains the Elven King had entrapped them.
Sauron's own struggles were no longer so obvious - brute strength had availed him nothing, and so he now desperately sought subtler means to free himself and reclaim both Ring and elven soul - Dark tendrils of power desperately seeking a chink in the blonde King's armour.
Alas, he was not as subtle as he thought.
For Thranduil's eyes were suddenly upon him, and then the Elven King was there - right in his face.
"For long centuries have you been the doom and plague of my people, for far too long have we suffered under your mal-intent and Darkness. No more. Gorthaur, be cast into Everlasting Darkness and trouble Arda no longer."
And with that the huge, black sword that had been used to main him and steal his One was plunged to the hilt into his heart.
"A plague upon you son of Oropher."
Sauron hissed the curse with his last breath and strength.
Thranduil only smiled.
It was a pearly white, broad and malicious smile, and it was the last thing Sauron ever beheld in Middle Earth.
~o~
Thranduil watched as Sauron's body and spirit diminished before him, though not before he'd taken a deep draught of the former Dark Lord's powers. They were sweetly intoxicating and the blonde nearly swooned at the surge of power through his veins. That and the fact that he, Thranduil Oropherion, had at long last defeated Sauron were heady delights indeed.
"The Ring Th-Thranduil! R-Remove the R-Ring!"
Mithrandir's voice rasped with the effort he was using to be able to break past Thranduil's immobilising hold to speak.
Thranduil took a moment longer to revel in his newfound powers before he turned to face Mithrandir - always so demanding, always so damnably irritating. He loosened his powers upon the grey wizard's mouth though he doubled his hold upon the Ithron's magic and his body then spoke.
"And pray tell why should I want to remove It? I find I like It exactly where It is, and besides - I've not yet had chance to heal myself of the wraith poisoning."
"We agreed Thranduil. We agreed that I would be the one to handle the Ring, to deal with Sauron and to heal you. The Ring is dangerous and not made for the likes of you to be able to control It."
Thranduil glared at the grey wizard coldly.
"Do you not yet see it Mithrandir? Truly? Do you not yet see that you have already been all the use to me that you will ever be? I only needed you three as a distraction, and as an extra source of power - for though I have been dabbling in the Dark arts and exercising the newfound powers which wraith-hood bestowed upon me, it still would have been deep folly to confront Sauron myself. I did in fact have another plan…one organised with the yrch…"
Thranduil broke off to turn to where he'd seen Shakk take cover.
"Come forth Shakk, come forth and be free. For I keep my word, and you and your orcs are free to leave for Mordor and so rule and establish yourselves there."
Thranduil ignored the flabbergasted noises Mithrandir was making behind him, and focussed instead on the orc Commander who now clambered from his hiding place, behind Sauron's erstwhile throne, and approached him with trepidation.
"You would still keep your promise even though we did not help you overthrow the Dark Master in the end?"
"Our plans changed, yes, mostly due to the interference of these three," Thranduil waved a hand at the trio he still held tightly in place. "Yet it worked out well in the end; for there is no loss nor blood spilled on the part of you and your orcs, and what's more you've helped me out plenty enough already. Without those books on the Dark arts you brought me, I would never have been able to hone my powers enough to be able to ensorcell, capture and bend to my own will the powers of three so mighty as these. Much thanks do I owe you, Shakk Elf Friend."
Thranduil smiled at the shocked look on the orc's scarred face.
"Go mellon, let your orcs know the good news - they are free."
Shakk scrambled toward him and bowed so low his forehead touched the stone floor. He then reverently took Thranduil's left hand in his own callused ones before he kissed the One Ring.
"All fealty to you forever, Thranduil Orc-Deliverer."
Thranduil smiled at his new moniker, and watched as Shakk left the room to spread news of the orc's freedom to his fellows.
"So, you treat with the yrch now?"
Mithrandir's scathing voice broke into Thranduil's pleased feelings and he turned to regard the wizard.
"Shakk Elf Friend?" Mithrandir continued on, evidently scandalised and in disbelief. "You would name an orc elf friend and set them forth to freely live and do as they please in Mordor of all places? Have you taken leave of all your senses Oropherion?"
"You've not listened to a word I've said, have you Mithrandir? I have been telling you that I planned to come here and grab the Ring for myself with the aid of the orcs, but upon your tardy arrival, changed my plans to instead harness your powers and use them collectively to end Sauron and take his precious One. Yet here you are - still asking me insulting questions. As though I am under some duress that makes me act so, when this has been my plan all along."
The grey wizard stared at him, for once at a loss for words and Thranduil smiled nastily.
"Less wise and more dangerous. So you have always mocked us - but I have turned out to be wiser and craftier than you ever imagined, and far more dangerous than you have ever thought to fear."
Thranduil gave an experimental wiggle of the fingers on his left hand before calling forth power as he waved his hand over himself; returning his skin to its golden tan, forcing out the wraith poison from his veins, healing the wound in his thigh, and most importantly locking deep within him the miasma of Darkness and dread that had been leaking from him. He would go back to his people - as beautiful and as elven as ever - they need never nor would ever know the truth of his soul.
He tossed his head of once again healthy silver-gold hair, and let the dark robe slide off him, he feared the sun no longer and would once again greet Anor happily; neither would his people have any further cause to fear or shun him. He would return - their beloved King once more.
With a beauteous smile he cocked his head and regarded the trio that had accompanied him into the Dread Tower.
"Well, would you look at that?" Thranduil spun in a small circle, arms outstretched and paraded himself before them. "It seems as though I've healed myself." He came to a stop and faced them again. "Tell me then…what use do I still have of you three?"
~o~
Gandalf stared at the blonde before him, speechless with incredulity at all that had happened in the past few minutes. He was shocked at the ease with which Thranduil handled the Dark powers of the One Ring, and used them to destroy Sauron and heal himself; aghast at the way he spoke with the orc who had been cowering behind Suaron's great evil throne. He'd named the beast elf friend, and had spoken as though they'd known each other for some time - and more than that, the orc clearly held Thranduil in high regard.
Gandalf shuddered as he thought of the implications of Thranduil having Sauron's orc army now at his own beck and call…
Then shuddered again at the feel of the Dark-tinted power that had snatched control of his own magic and bound him in place. He focussed on the feel of it, on the feel of Thranduil…and though tainted, the blonde was not yet fully given over to evil. His powers were now a strange twisted and forced melding of Light and Dark - a powerful thing indeed - but also a thing that showed there was yet hope for the Elven King.
Gandalf would try again to reason with him - he had to make Thranduil see sense. Insults and decrying his ability to handle the Ring had been the wrong move; the grey wizard could acknowledge he'd made a mistake there - borne out of horror and shock. He would endeavour to tread more lightly this time…
"So indeed you have healed yourself, and proven that my estimation of your ability in handling magic of all kinds was incorrect. I underestimated you Oropherion, and I apologise for doing so. I should have known that one who has long kept at bay the evil in the south of Rhovanion would have done so with more than just stubbornness, grit and swords."
"And blood."
Thranduil sidled up closer to Gandalf, a fell look upon his beautiful face.
"Do not forget all the blood of my people that has been spilt over the centuries for the sake of keeping Arda safe; for the sake of holding back the evil that we knew all along was Sauron…though of course none believed us…called the evil that manifested south of my woods a 'Necromancer', a human sorcerer and left it at that. Left us at the mercy of that dread Darkness and evil miasma that poisoned my woods, forced us to hide away from the light and spend our blood in hopeless pursuit of defeating it…"
Gandalf floundered for a moment as he sought the right words to dampen the flames of anger that were clearly beginning to grow within Thranduil.
"Yes," the grey wizard spoke at last, slow and contemplative. "Much has the Woodland Realm sacrificed for the good of us all - and deeply are we thankful for those sacrifices."
"Oh yes," sneered Thranduil, and Gandalf, much to his dismay, realised that somehow he'd said the wrong thing again.
"Yes, you were so thankful that you excluded us from the almighty 'wisdom' of the White Council - deeming us beneath your lofty standards of knowledge. You were so thankful that you ignored all the warnings we sent telling you that the evil in Dol Guldur was far more than it appeared, and ignored us further still when we asked for help to defend ourselves against it."
"We -" began Gandalf but Thranduil cut him off with a snarl.
"Thirty letters have I sent over the centuries to your wonderful White Council Mithrandir, Elrond. Thirty! And do you know, I only ever got one response - one! From that haughty prick Curunir, telling me not to worry nor meddle in things that were outside of my influence and understanding; to worry myself instead with the cleansing of my own Realm and leave the 'Necromancer' to the wise and learned -that it was under control."
"Well Saruman -"
"No! Not just Saruman but all of you! All. Of. You. None of you cared a whit for the plight of my people; you did nothing to help us, and stayed locked away safe in your enchanted realms protected by your own precious rings whilst we bled and died. So spare me now all these fake platitudes Mithrandir. You only begin to speak so because I now have a Ring of my own and It is far more powerful than any of yours."
Gandalf felt himself grow frustrated with the blonde before him and he cursed the line of Oropher's stubbornness and pride.
"That Ring is not yours Thranduil! Nor will It ever be - It has and answers to but one master -"
"A master who is no more! I am Its master now and well you know it, which is why you try to mollify me with your fake gratitude and sympathies. I am wise to you Mithrandir."
"There is nothing to be wise to Thranduil. And I am sorry if you have not felt our thanks before and if you felt the White Council wronged you, but none of this gives you the right to the One Ring. It must be destroyed - lest Its evil takes hold of another and extends ever further over Middle Earth. There are greater things at stake here, Thranduil."
Thranduil's look was glacial.
"And am I supposed to care for any of those greater things, Mithrandir?"
"I should hope you do - but even if you do not - giving up the One is what is best for you as well. You have not yet fully fallen prey to It and Its malevolence, and if you give It up now, you will, in time, heal fully from all of Sauron's evils. Now come, enough of all this - let us loose and turn the One Ring over to me."
"Hmmm. I think, instead of doing any of what you've suggested Mithrandir, I shall instead take a page out of the White Council's book. I will ignore your warnings of dire threats to Middle Earth that I should investigate, and I will instead use my Ring to make my realm a beautiful elf haven - free of evil and protected from all outside influence - and live my life in ignorant bliss of any suffering beyond my borders." Thranduil gave a small, pleased smile and nodded as though thoroughly satisfied. "Yes, I think I shall do just that."
Gandalf stared at Thranduil; it was clear that the blonde would not be reasoned with, and that however loathe he was to stoop to such things, force would be needed to retrieve the Ring from Thranduil.
Slowly, Gandalf began to gather what little magic of his that remained free of Thranduil's powerful hold. If he could just gather enough he might be able to tackle the blonde…or at the very least break-free from his hold. That would then give him a great many more options. He needed to keep Thranduil talking though - keep him focussed on anything but the magic Gandalf was slowly but surely pulling together.
"I do not truly believe you could completely turn your back on the rest of Arda and its peoples…that is not who you are, Thranduil."
~o~
Thranduil gave a great sigh, feeling rather abruptly tired of Mithrandir and his tiresome words…which were really just faithless lies that he used in a shameless attempt to mollify him.
For Mithrandir was scared of him, of what he might be capable of now that he had the One Ring at his disposal. Aiwendil and Elrond were scared of him too, and their fear was an almost tangible thing; something Thranduil could feel as surely as he could feel the way Mithrandir slowly gathered power to him. Conniving, bastard liar that he was.
Thranduil had had enough of his games, and with no warning he extended his hand, palm facing outward toward Mithrandir, before he clenched it tightly and watched how the wizard's hands flew up and around his throat in alarm as he began to choke.
The blonde King sighed heavily once more.
"Even now Mithrandir, even now you hold no respect for me. Even when I wield the One you think yourself the better, the stronger."
"I…d-don't -" the wizard gasped.
"Silence!" Thranduil thundered. "Do you think I could not feel you pulling your powers together, planning to strike against me?" The blonde shook his head, "I tire of these games you play, Mithrandir; I tire of you. I will be a pawn in your machinations no longer."
Thranduil pulled his hand back toward his body, which had the effect of dragging Mithrandir toward him, until the two were face to face and so close their noses almost touched.
Thranduil stared into the now panicky blue-grey eyes of one who had so long professed to be his friend, but who, in truth, had only ever had his own wizardly interests at heart.
"Goodbye, Mithrandir."
Thranduil whispered the words and without giving himself time to think on it, summoned once again the black mass of crackling, sword-shaped energy, and slipped the long blade up and under the ithron's ribs and straight into his heart.
~o~
Elrond stared as Thranduil let Mithrandir's body fall carelessly to the ground before he moved with intent toward Aiwendil, energy sword still in hand and buzzing viciously.
He struggled hard then. Desperate to free himself of the strange bond Thranduil had entrapped him and his powers within, yet he was not strong enough; had never been anywhere near as strong in magic as Mithrandir was…had been…and so where the grey wizard had been able to regain his voice and some modicum of movement, Elrond was constrained to silent paralysis.
And with rising helpless horror he could do nothing but watch as Thranduil came to a stop before Aiwendil, face to face, almost nose to nose as he had been scant moments ago with Mithrandir.
Thranduil was looking at the brown wizard sorrowfully.
"I am truly sorry it has come to this mellon-nin. And I call you friend truly, for you alone out of everyone truly cared for me and for my people. You would ever lend us whatever aid you could, and bring us tidings that we otherwise would never have had. You love my people as deeply as I do - which is why I must do this. For if I were to set you free you would try to stop me; because you do not understand what it is I do, and you would try to stop me for the sake of my people - the very people that I promise you, I promise you mellon-nin, I will look after. Trust me when I say that they shall have no need of fear from me. My people will be safe now - free from the oppression of Darkness and its creatures, free to live their lives as elven lives should be lived: without death, pain and suffering."
"And I promise you I will take care of this great Wood that I know you love as much as I do. I'll see it green and great once more - no shadow of Darkness shall creep upon this place ever again. I will make it as fair and as beautiful as Doriath was. I am only saddened that you shall never see it - for you worked as hard as me for such a vision to come to pass. Alas…"
Elrond watched as Thranduil bowed his head and took a great deep breath, before he looked back up at Aiwendil with tear tracks clear upon his cheeks.
"Navaer mellon-nin. Savo hîdh neñ gurth."
Sickened that the blonde King would wish the brown wizard peace in the very death he was about to cause, Elrond turned his head firmly away, unable to watch anymore of Thranduil's descent into murderous madness.
Aiwendil made no noise and there was at length only the soft shuffling of robes.
Cursing himself for his weakness, Elrond turned to look once more and saw the noise was the result of Thranduil laying Aiwendil gently upon the floor and arranging his limbs with far more care than he had shown for Mithrandir.
The Elven King still cried freely, and knelt beside the body of the wizard for a long, long moment before he finally turned his attention upon Elrond.
The Peredhel Lord swallowed, and forced all the trepidation and fear he felt at Thranduil's slow approach as far from him as possible, determined to face his end with dignity.
~o~
Thranduil made his way, slow and stately, toward Elrond - who, despite trying desperately to look brave, emanated a sense of fear so heady and powerful that Thranduil almost felt drunk off of it.
(Indeed, he already felt light headed from all the power he'd so recently absorbed. For with each death, he'd drawn upon and absorbed some of the powers of the fallen. Not that it was a conscious decision by him - but rather something that seemed to happen of its own accord - perhaps a feature of the Ring.)
And so the Elven King took slow and steady steps toward Elrond - not to menace the other, or at least not intentionally - but rather so that he might keep his feet under him and his wits about him.
By the time he stood directly before Elrond, the other trembled so hard that Thranduil felt compelled to ease his worry.
"Fear not Elrond, even now, though I wield the One formerly of Sauron I shall not kill you. Kinslaying shall continue to remain a stain upon the Noldor alone. Nay, I have instead a message and a task for you."
And with that Thranduil let loose some of his hold upon the other so that Elrond might regain his voice, though it took a long moment before the Peredhel Lord realised he was able to speak freely.
"A-a m-message…for who? A-And what sort of t-task?" Elrond's voice was tremulous yet filled with suspicion.
Thranduil gave the Peredhel a wicked grin before he answered.
"The task is a very simple one: you are to help me in convincing my people that what happened here today - the overthrow of Sauron - was the result of our dear, brave wizard friends, who so sadly paid the ultimate price in order to win us our freedom from the Dark Lord. There will be no mention of my role in it - for we were but innocent elven bystanders who managed to survive a titanic battle of Maiar proportions. Is that understood?"
When the Peredhel Lord only blinked at him, Thranduil leaned in toward Elrond - this time with the intent to menace.
"I said, am I understood, Elrond? You are to back me in the tale that I weave for my people of how Sauron, Aiwendil and Mithrandir's demise all came about."
"I-I understand and will do all you ask…I will back you in this lie."
Elrond finished his words with a defiant little tilt of his chin, but Thranduil only scoffed, utterly unmoved. He cared not one whit what Elrond thought of him nor his methods - only that the other would obey him and do as he was told. And Thranduil was sure that he need not have any fear on that front - not now when he possessed the One that was connected to the Three.
"I care not for your moral scruples Elrond, though I find it rich that you pretend to have any - after all the harm you Noldor have inflicted upon the world, and after the way you personally have sat for centuries untold in your safe little valley, with no care for those of us without who had to suffer the harsh realities of life without a Ring."
"All this time Thranduil and I had no idea you were so bitter, so jealous, so downcast about the Rings - had you but said something -"
"Then what Elrond?!" Thranduil exploded, voice filled with rage. "Hmm? What exactly would you have done? Would you have volunteered Vilya to me for the protection of my own realm?" Thranduil scoffed. "No, you wouldn't would you? Or perhaps you would have asked Mithrandir to give up the elven Ring he wrongly held to an actual elf? Somehow, I hardly think you'd have done that either. And why should I not be bitter or jealous? When I watched the other two elven realms still upon Arda flourish in peace and prosperity while mine grew ever darker, and my people's blood watered the lands. What else was there to be besides bitter, angry and jealous?"
"And it would not even have been half as bad if any of you had deigned to help us! But nay, we 'Moriquendi' did not warrant such care, and you left us to battle Sauron on our own whilst you sat and idly fretted in your meaningless White Council."
Thranduil paused and pulled back and eyed Elrond with all the contempt he had ever felt for his fellow leader.
"I want none of your paltry attempts at placating me now; now you will do as I tell you or you will bear the consequences - for fate has finally seen fit to intervene for the benefit of me and my people. I now hold the most power, I now hold the One and I would bid you remember that the Three are beholden to the One. So, after you have helped me convince my people of what 'really' happened here today, you will go forth and remind your dearest mother-in-law of the fact that Nenya has a Master. A new one who will not be shy in bringing about the ruin of her and her precious kingdom should she show any form of defiance. I hope I make myself perfectly, crystal clear?"
Elrond looked at Thranduil for a long, searching moment before he finally hung his head in defeat.
"Yes, I understand completely and will see to it that Galadriel does too."
Thranduil smiled.
"Good."
~o~
Thranduil watched as Elrond readied himself, snapping on vambraces and securing his travelling cloak, to depart. The Peredhel Lord had been his 'honoured guest' the past three days as he'd helped Thranduil tell the tale of Sauron's great defeat and the ithryn's sad but heroic fall. Elrond had been surprisingly good at embellishing the tale - adding little details that made the entire thing all the more believable - and Thranduil was very pleased with the work they had done together.
His people were fully convinced - especially so as Shakk's orcs had begun to dismantle their camp and a few had even begun to leave - slowly, platoon by platoon.
As for Thranduil's side of the battle zone…his warriors, after holding solemn vigil on the first night of his return in respect for the fallen wizards, had then spent the past two days making merry - producing alcohol from seemingly thin air, and singing and celebrating Sauron's downfall from dusk to dawn and then all over again. Thranduil had happily joined in, pleased beyond measure to see that none shied away from him in fear any longer.
He'd forced Elrond into the merry-making as well; Sauron's end was something that should be met with gladness by all in Middle Earth, and Thranduil had harshly reminded Elrond of that fact. And, after a small display of Thranduil's new and tremendous power, the Peredhel Lord had fallen into line and rallied once more to Thranduil's cause of making their tale seem completely true and believable.
Now, after three days, Elrond was all but champing at the bit to escape his presence, and Thranduil wasn't about to stop him; utterly tired as he was of the Peredhel Lord's reproachful and accusatory looks whenever they were alone.
"All ready to go?" Thranduil chirped overly and falsely bright.
Elrond gave him another of those disapproving looks, the ones Thranduil supposed were meant to make him feel bad, before the Peredhel spoke.
"I have been more than ready to be free of your presence ever since what happened at Dol Guldur."
Thranduil rolled his eyes hard.
"Oh do spare me your piety Elrond. I have told you before and shall tell you again - I care not for it." Thranduil paused to smile in the sinister way he'd come to know discomforted Elrond greatly, before he continued. "And you will never truly be free of my presence ever again."
Thranduil wiggled the hand which bore the now glamour-concealed One Ring. "I do trust you will remember that, and that you will impress that fact upon Galadriel as well."
Elrond gave him a long searching look before he asked plaintively, "Have you truly changed so much Thranduil? Have you utterly fallen? Have you really no remorse?"
Thranduil stared back steadily.
"Remorse for what mellon? Whilst it is sad that Mithrandir and Aiwendil are no longer with us, I cannot regret their great and loving sacrifice."
Thranduil smiled placidly and watched as Elrond's deeply concerned face slowly morphed into a mask of horror.
Good. The sooner Elrond realised that Thranduil did not care even a single, tiny bit about any outside perception of him and his actions the better. Long had others looked out for their own interests and people - it was high time he did the same.
When Elrond made no further move to gather his remaining things nor say anything else, Thranduil gave a loud impatient tut.
"Come on Elrond - be off with you now. You have a very important message to deliver, don't forget, and I have an amnesty to declare and a war to dissolve."
~o~
Shakk hovered nervously in the black shadows near some thickened bramble as had been requested of him by Thranduil's messengers. Thranduil's messengers who, despite the look of loathing upon their fair faces, had thus far not shot him full of arrows as per Thranduil's amnesty instructions.
(Though that did not mean Shakk wanted to be any closer to them and their Light than he needed to be, and thus he lingered in the darkest part of the shadows he could find.)
The amnesty had taken place the previous day, and Thranduil, cocky, showy moron that he was, had made a huge song and dance of it. Declaring that the orcs, now free of Sauron, would be suffered to return to Mordor where they would live at peace and no longer seek to cause harm to any of the fairer races of Middle Earth.
Papers had been drawn up and signed before the watching legions of orcs and elves, and just like that the war was over. Shakk and his orcs were truly free, and both sides were now packing up to leave and return in peace to their respective homes.
Thranduil's crazy, nigh suicidal plan had worked, and what was more he'd even kept his promise to set the orcs free. Shakk could still barely get his head around it all.
Shakk had no more time to ponder though, as none other than Thranduil himself arrived. He was flanked by two bodyguards who regarded Shakk with as much wariness as the orc Commander regarded them.
Thranduil, seemingly oblivious to the awkward exchange, merely flapped a hand at both his bodyguards and messengers in lazy dismissal.
"Please give us a moment - one leader to another - I promise you I shall be perfectly fine."
The quartet of elves glanced at each other nervously, before they at last acquiesced with bows to their King and hateful looks toward Shakk.
When they were out of what Shakk assumed to be elven hearing range, Thranduil spoke.
"I am sorry about that Shakk, centuries of hate shall take a while to be overcome, but do not worry about it too much. I promise you I shall see to it that the amnesty and peace treaty holds."
Shakk gave Thranduil an appreciative look.
"I am certain that you will do just that, Thranduil Orc-Deliverer. You have more than proven yourself to be an elf who keeps his word. I will fear no retribution from your people and I promise you, you need have no fear from mine. We are simply happy to be free - to have a chance to really grow our society and develop our culture - away from the madness and evil enslavement of the Dark Master."
Thranduil smiled. "I am really glad we have been able to come to this conclusion Shakk - that all the needless bloodshed has come to an end. This is truly the beginning of something great - you'll see!"
Shakk gave a small laugh at Thranduil's evident and fervent excitement.
"I do not doubt it for even a moment you great blonde menace, for I have come to see that if you wish for a thing then you pursue it to the end. I am very glad to no longer call myself your enemy but rather your friend."
"As you are mine Shakk, as you are mine. We have wasted too many years in hatred and acrimony - but the one who caused it all is no more and we can at last move forward into better times. And to that end, tell me, what plans does Shakk the Great Commander - bringer of peace to Rhovanion and the orc peoples - have in mind to do with his newfound freedom?"
Shakk watched Thranduil for a moment and could see that the Elven King was genuinely interested to hear whatever Shakk's answer might be. The elf really and truly did mean it when he called Shakk friend, and the orc Commander found himself shaking his head and laughing at just how insane and completely topsy-turvy his life had become. And to think it had all started with an opportunistic stab of a dagger he'd never been meant to have.
"What?" Thranduil was looking at him curiously, head tilted to one side like some sort of great golden bird. "What is so funny?"
"Life, Thranduil; I laugh because my life has turned out so absurdly and hilariously well. As for what I shall do once we get back to Mordor - well to be honest I don't want to do much of anything at all - to hand over all this responsibility that has been mine for far too long to someone else." Shakk sighed, "What I truly wish is to go back to Minas Morgul - I had a good life there - a simple one but a good one. Hopefully my apartments there are still intact and I can settle down once more; maybe finally take a wife, now that there is chance to do so, and have an orcling or two. Who knows - we'll have to see how things go I suppose."
Thranduil's answering smile was kind and he clapped Shakk on the back.
"Those sound like fine plans indeed, Shakk."
"What about you mighty Elven King? Now that you'll have no poor, innocent orcs to harass, what on Arda will you do with yourself?" Shakk sassed.
A laugh burst from Thranduil - rich and melodious - and Shakk was pleased to have caused it.
"Well, now I've no more orcs to molest," Thranduil paused to throw him a sharp grin, "I shall turn my attention to cleansing the Wood. Making it Greenwood the Great once more; then after that - I don't know, I suppose I shall rest - drink Dorwinion, host feasts, hunt and just generally watch my people recover and enjoy their new lives free from Shadow and fear and fighting."
Shakk gave an acknowledging nod of his head. They were not so different - he and Thranduil - they both essentially yearned for the same things. Peace for themselves and their people. And now it was no longer a fantastical wish, some far off possibility, but their new and very present reality.
Shakk shook himself from his thoughts before he straightened up and bowed, one clawed hand upon his breast.
"Thank you once again Thranduil Orc-Deliverer. You have helped us to freedom - a thing we had never even dared dream was possible - and in recognition of it and as part of our deep thanks, I will remind you again - that all the orcs of Mordor owe you all fealty. You have but to ask and we will come."
"I thank you Shakk - the loyalty of the orcs means much to me and I shall not take it for granted. Go now and enjoy your freedom."
Thranduil held out a hand which Shakk readily grasped before he was pulled into a half embrace in the odd elven style of greeting and farewell.
"Safe travels mellon."
"Be well Thranduil."
Shakk pulled away and strode off back to the orcish side of the former battlefield where his warg was saddled and waiting for him.
His head was filled with wondrous daydreams of setting up a lair fit to raise orclings in, of perhaps pursuing his interest in all things shiny and pointy - mayhap becoming a smith of some kind. He truly did not know exactly what he would do - only that his life was now blissfully Sauron free.
~o~
It was not until much, much later - long after he had left the borders of the Woodland Realm - that it occurred to Shakk that he'd been easily able to hold Thranduil's hand and even embrace him despite the Elven King's alleged healing and return to the paths of Light. Yet his grasp had not burned Shakk or caused him to so much as flinch; whereas he'd cowered away from the Light that emanated from the elven messengers and bodyguards of the blonde King.
The orc Commander pondered on the little mystery for a while before he gave it up as no concern of his. If Thranduil had decided that he wished to keep a little bit of Darkness within his life then who was Shakk to judge?
And besides, so far, the blonde was proving to be an excellent successor to the previous Dark Master.
TBC.
Mae Govannen – Well met
Aran – King
Suilad – Greetings
Hir – Lord
Peredhel – Half Elven (sing.)
Mellon-nin / Mellon – My Friend / Friend
Istari – Quenya for Wizards (plu.)
Istar – Quenya for Wizard (sing.)
Ithron – Wizard (Sindarin – sing.)
Ithryn – Wizards (Sindarin – plu.)
Fae – Soul / Souls (Sindarin - both sing. and plu.)
Eldar – Elves
Gorthaur – Sauron (Sindarin)
Hravandil – Radagast (Quenya); lit. – Wild Beast Friend
Olórin – Gandalf (Quenya); lit. – Dream / Vision One
Yrch – Orcs (Sindarin - plu.)
Anor – Sun
Navaer mellon-nin. Savo hîdh neñ gurth – Farewell my friend. Have peace in death.
Maiar – A Quenya name for the lesser Ainur i.e Gandalf, Radagast etc. (plu.)
A/N: So Chapter 3 – Thranduil's made his move and things are looking up for him, his elves and his new orcish pals. I hope you enjoyed this chapter; I had a lot of fun writing it. Do drop me a one liner and let me know what you think. KimicT