The Song Of Sunset

Part 5 - Celebrimbor’s Folly

Posted: September 5, 2008

*****

“Here comes my son”, Oropher said suddenly as Thranduil emerged from a concealed path looking pleased with himself. He halted next to Cirdan as he watched the scene before him with curiosity.

“Ada?” he queried uncertainly.

Amdir stood straighter and spoke in his coldest tone, “Where were you, Prince? We have all been searching for you futilely.”

Thranduil looked slightly bewildered as he replied, “My Lord Amdir, you should not have been concerned but I thank you for it all the same.”

“Were you having one of your rumoured clandestine activities?” Amdir asked harshly.

“I was merely walking with the one I intend to marry”, Thranduil replied coldly before walking to his father’s side.

An outburst of shouts from the Lorien nobles greeted this statement. Even the Dwarves and the men were watching the scene with apprehension now. Gil-Galad was muttering about how his gardens were going to witness a Kinslaying for Haldir and Amdir had unsheathed their swords as had most of the other Sindar nobles.

“How, Oropher!” Amdir roared, “What do you say now? You broker a marriage with my daughter and now your son insults me with his brash words! What does this say about the famed obedient, loving son you brag about?”

Gil-Galad and the rest were looking at Thranduil as if they were seeing the prince for the first time. Even a few of the Green wood nobles were now anxiously watching Oropher and Thranduil.

Erestor said quietly, his clear voice carrying through the now silent gathering, “It is a pity that all this happened before our honoured guests. Now, let us settle this quickly before it escalates further.”

“And how do you propose to do that, son of Maglor?” Haldir sneered.

“That I am”, Erestor replied composedly, “But I now speak as the Chief Advisor to the High King, and as such I am the highest authority in deciding all disputes within the city of Lindon.”

“And what is your decision, Lord Erestor?” Thranduil asked, “I would have this settled amicably before it dampens the festivities.”

“My Prince”, Erestor smiled slightly, “Would you tell us where your walking partner hails from?”

Haldir said in a carrying whisper, “From Erebor”, causing several dwarves to shout indignantly.

“From the Golden Woods of Lothlorien”, Thranduil said simply.

“You cavort with one of my people when you are to be betrothed to my daughter!” Amdir spluttered.

A rustle of robes signalled the arrival of a hooded form that quietly approached Amdir. The figure knelt at Amdir’s feet and a woman’s voice said sadly, “Father, tis me and not the Prince who should face your displeasure.”

Amdir whispered shocked as he raised the figure to her feet, “Anoriel! What are you doing here?”

Celeborn was edging away towards the dwarf contingent increasing his distance from Amdir.

“I wanted to see the Prince for myself atleast once before the betrothal. I called him to the gardens tonight. We talked for a while before he returned here”, Anoriel paused, before removing her hood and bowing to the crowd, “I apologize to the King and Prince of Greenwood for the insults they had to hear. I do apologize to the court of Lorien and Greenwood for causing discord amongst two friendly realms”, she turned back to face an ashen faced Amdir, “And father, I don’t think I’ll ever merit your forgiveness for this.”

Erestor was the first to recover, he signalled the ministrels to begin and pulled Elrond along onto the dance floor. The tension eased as Glorfindel and then Cirdan and Celeborn joined them. Gil-Galad joined them with a pretty elleth and Erestor whispered to Elrond, “Lady Celebrian.”

Elrond looked at her curiously. She had Galadriel’s pale, blonde features. But she had a well-formed, rounded figure unlike the bony figures of Galadriel’s house. That along with a merry expression on her face and bubbling laughter underlined Celeborn’s Sindarin legacy. Gil-Galad was twirling her about easily and she laughed joyfully causing an expression of pride to settle on her father’s features.

Oropher and Thranduil were still facing the Lorien elves.

Amdir said quietly, “Lord Oropher, Prince Thranduil, I apologize for my insulting words and those of my nobles. It seems my parenting skills and not yours are to be blamed for this discord.”

Oropher sighed saying, “Amdir mellon-nin, you should have more trust in me. However I seek no apologies for this. Ion-nin, take the girl to the dance floor, and let me retrieve my wonderful dancing partner, Lady Celebrian, from the Noldor”, he turned back to Amdir with a wink saying, “We should not postpone the betrothal discussions, hir-nin. We have to prove that these Noldor weddings are nothing when compared to those of the Sindar.”

Anoriel smiled nervously at her father before joining Thranduil on the dance floor.

“They make a good couple”, Erestor remarked as Elrond and he swept past them.

“Yes, mellon-nin”, Elrond grinned as Thranduil took a wrong step. It was the first time that he was seeing the self-assured prince falter during a dance. And Anoriel too was blushing each time her eyes met her partner’s.

“Who would have thought that our Prince would settle down with a maid?” Erestor wondered, “Everyone was betting on Lord Galdor or Haldir”, he paused as he saw Glorfindel kiss a brown haired elleth in the middle of the dance oblivious to the surroundings, “Elrond, that is my sister, Melorian that the Balrog Slayer is kissing as if his life depended on it.”

Elrond watched the passionately kissing couple. It was the first time that he had seen such an expression of love and fervour on Glorfindel’s features. His object of love did not resemble Erestor or Galadriel or Maglor or Maedhros or anyone from the house of Feanor or Finarfin that Elrond had met thus far.

“She takes after my mother, it is told”, Erestor interpreted Elrond’s raised eyebrows correctly, “But”, his face sobered, “Glorfindel loves her very deeply. Yet he still does not agree to a binding ceremony saying he is too old for her. It hurts them both terribly.”

Elrond asked curiously, “Why is it that Glorfindel has never told anyone about his love?”

“As I said”, Erestor neatly manoeuvred them away from Gil-Galad who was giddily dancing with the Queen of Gondor, “Glorfindel thinks she is too young. It is ironic that she is in fact far older than her younger brother whose binding ceremony they are now celebrating! He will drive her away if he persists in this foolishness.”

“No, Erestor”, Elrond looked deep into those eyes he loved, “Love may stay hidden, but it can never be driven away.”

“You talk as if you have experience”, Erestor teased him.

Elrond merely smiled before changing the topic swiftly. He wished the night would never end as he glanced at the long fingers interlaced with his own. It felt so right….until Gil-Galad requested Erestor’s hand for the next dance leaving Elrond alone. Not feeling upto watch them dance, he made his excuses and left quietly.

Elrond was one of the few up early the next morning as most of the late night revellers were still sleeping off Celeborn’s excellent First Ager. It had proved to be more potent than the Dorwinion from Green wood. He had stayed away after remembering his own fracas with the wine in Thranduil’s company barely two days ago. He made his way quietly through the deserted hallways towards the stables. It had been long since he had last ridden out at dawn. Anyway it was unlikely that anyone would turn up for work that day. He might as well as enjoy the spring morning all by himself near the seashore.

“ELROND!” an urgent shout from the direction of the road leading out of Lindon roused him from his musing. Oropher was already horsed and rode up to him hurriedly.

“Elrond!” Oropher said relieved, “I am glad I ran into you. I had despaired of finding anyone sensible this morning. I received news at dawn that my realm as well as Amdir’s is under attack from Mordor. They say Eregion and Arnor has already fallen before us. Now, I am riding out with my elves for home. Amdir has already left. So has Celebrimbor. Take news to your elves. I would have told Lord Gil-Galad myself. But I am afraid I have no time.”

Elrond gasped, “My Lord, Will the elves be able to ride hard today after such feasting yester eve?”

“Well”, Oropher said with a resolute face, “Thoughts of your home in peril can bring sense into the most afflicted elves. But I do think that Sindar has a better resistance to the First Ager than the Noldor. We are attuned to the Dorwinion.”

“I won’t delay you then, My Lord”, Elrond said determined, “Ride safe, Elbereth keep you and your elves safe. I’ll inform the rest.”

Oropher smiled at Elrond, one of his few rare smiles usually reserved for his son, and said, “You’ll do, pen-neth.”

Elrond bowed low and kissed Oropher’s signet ring, a gesture he had never accorded the Sindar King ever before. But now he felt a vague sense of premonition and he murmured, “May the Valar be with you, My Lord.”

Oropher scrutinized him before nodding curtly and turning his mount around. Elrond did not wait for the King to disappear from sight as he ran back towards the palace shouting for Glorfindel at the top of his voice.

“GLORFINDEL!” he shouted again.

“Lord Elrond!” Cirdan’s angry voice sounded from behind him, “Some of us are sleeping off yesterday’s festivities. If you would remember that!”

“I have no time for your advice”, Elrond said curtly, “Eregion is under attack. So is Green wood and the Golden Wood!”

Shock freezed the mariner for an instant. Then he quickly replied, “I’ll go find Glorfindel. You run along and find the King!”

Elrond nodded and they parted hurriedly, Elrond running towards the King’s chambers and Cirdan towards Glorfindel’s rooms.

Elrond fidgeted outside Gil-Galad’s bedchamber. He had been knocking without respite for almost fifteen minutes without answer. As he debated whether or not to break open the door, a clear voice hailed him, “Elrond! I had been searching for you since dawn.”

Elrond turned to find Erestor behind him. The Chief Advisor was attired in a black tunic and tight leggings. It made him look younger and more approachable without the formality of his usual ceremonial robes. But Elrond shook himself out of his musings as he recalled the reason for his arrival.

“Eregion”, he began.

“Yes, Elrond”, Erestor cut in sharply, “I heard the news from Thranduil today at dawn. I hurried to your chambers, but you were not there. So I aroused Glor and he’s already left with those who could be awakened out of their slumber along with Lord Celebrimbor.”

Elrond sighed relieved. Erestor was probably the most cool headed and logical person in Lindon. No wonder Gil trusted his opinion so much. Gil! He asked anxiously, “Gil?”

“Yet one more victim of Celeborn’s wine”, Erestor sighed, “I think it better for us to assume charge now and let him sleep it over. I plan on leaving Lord Galdor and Lord Cirdan here in charge and then we both should lead the reinforcements as fast as we can to Eregion. If Eregion falls Amdir and Oropher and even Moria will be in danger. They say Arnor has already fallen.”

“Won’t he be angry?” Elrond frowned, Gil-Galad had a tendency to dominate things. Wha would happen if he learnt his seneschal, herald and chief advisor had ridden off to war without his knowledge. Especially when the said chief advisor also happened to be his bonded mate.

“Well”, Erestor said calmly, “We’ll deal with it later. Right now, we should lead the soldiers to Eregion.”

“I think you should stay here”, Elrond said firmly, “Lindon needs someone of authority.”

“The King is here. So is Lord Cirdan”, Erestor replied, “I will be needed at Eregion.”

Elrond raised his voice authoratively, “I think the battlefield is no place for your skills, Erestor! What will Gil have to say when he knows that I allowed you to march to Eregion? No, mellon-in, saes, you remain here.”

Erestor’s eyes darkened almost imperceptibly as he said quietly, “As you say, it is a battlefield there. And I don’t intend to let Glor face it alone. I am his sworn sword brother. And my skills are quite enough to keep me alive, I daresay. Whether I ride with you or alone is the only decision you can take, Lord Elrond.”

“Erestor,” Elrond said softly, “I will watch his back. He will return safely. But please don’t ride to battle. I know you are quite a warrior, but--”

Erestor interrupted, “Elrond, Who will watch your back then?”

“We are not sworn sword brothers”, Elrond said quietly, trying to keep his emotions, that had been so affected by Erestor’s question, under control.

“Do we need to be?” Erestor asked softly, his eyes boring into Elrond’s, “Would you watch someone you care for leave for battle and remain behind?”

Elrond did not reply as he battled with his emotions. It was foolish to think that Erestor would remain unaware of Elrond’s feelings for him after everything was laid bare in Elrond’s eyes.

“We ride together in an hour, mellon-nin. Call your soldiers and I’ll meet with Lords Galdor and Cirdan in the meanwhile”, Erestor bowed and left with his usual sedate pace leaving Elrond drained.

*****

The forces of Lindon rode out that morning bearing the High King’s banner under the lead of Elrond and Erestor.

Despite the urgent nature of their duty and the grim faced elves surrounding him, Elrond found that being on the trail had its merits. For Erestor proved to be more than a worthy companion. The Chief Advisor could talk serenely about the weather even while riding hard alongside Elrond. Once or twice Elrond’s mount threatened to topple him as he laughed helplessly at Erestor’s sarcasm which seemed to have no bounds. Erestor’s black stallion, a gift from Glorfindel, which the Advisor named Ebony aptly was yet another source of amusement. For Ebony seemed to believe that it was the most eligible amongst all the stallions in the army to win the affections of Elrond’s brown mare, Dance.

Now, as they rode across the undulating plains towards Eregion, Elrond watched Ebony inching closer to his mare and tentatively rubbing his nose against hers.

“He seems to think it’s the wooing season”, Erestor remarked as he prodded Ebony back into a straight line.

“It is”, Elrond smiled, “Gil’s mare and Glorfindel’s Aslafoth were fornicating in the stables earlier yesterday. Aslafoth is a good foundation sire. Gil insists on the foals always. I still remember the days when Glorfindel and Gil would wrestle for hours on end. To the winner goes the foal.”

“They are both worse than Elflings sometimes”, Erestor admitted, “Tenacious, hard to manage and hopelessly insensitive. Guess Oropher was the only one who was blessed with the perfect son around here.”

“Thranduil wasn’t so perfect when he was dancing yesterday with his soon to be fiancée!”, Elrond reminded him, “They were both so ensnared by each other. Oropher knows his son more than anyone else!”

“How?” Erestor’s mien became sombre again, “How do you know that the other is the exact person for you for eternity?”

Elrond shrugged uneasily, “Guess you’ll have to ask Celeborn or Oropher. I have always wondered why Celeborn bonded with Galadriel and why Oropher risked damnation for Princess Inglorien. Oropher’s love must have run deep for all that they endured.”

“Yes”, Erestor said pensively, “I have heard Cirdan say that Oropher looked more dead than alive when they returned from the battle carrying his infant son in his arms. He told Cirdan that the only thing that kept him alive was his vow to Inglorien; that he would raise Thranduil as a worthy descendent of Ingwe. And he has succeeded, I daresay.”

Elrond’s thoughts once again turned to his parents. Did his mother love the Silmarils more than she loved her children? Was his father so obsessed by the route to the west that he could not be there for his kin? And did Elros want mortality and kingship more than his brother’s love?

Erestor said sharply, “The outriders are back, I’ll ride on and meet them, marshall our forces, mellon-nin. We are nearing the borders of Eregion.”

Elrond watched uneasily as Erestor galloped towards the two riders hurrying to meet the main host. His mind gave one of its alarm signals as Erestor met the riders and conversed with them excitedly. A shriek sounded from their north and one of the riders fell from his mount limply, an orc arrow protruding from between his shoulder blades. As Elrond watched in mounting horror, Erestor wheeled about instantly to face the threat, his sword drawn. A group of fifteen orcs surrounded him quickly. The remaining rider panicked, broke through the enemy lines and cantered back to the main host leaving Erestor alone.

Elrond raised his sword and shouted, “Archers! Take them down but harm not the Lord Erestor!”

He charged with twenty of his men, their swords drawn. As he rode madly, he could see Erestor swirling about in a deadly circle, trying to prevent the orcs from nearing him, Erestor’s face was set in a death mask, the features cold and so reminiscent of Finarfin and Feanor. Elrond watched with a detached sense of admiration as Erestor took down orcs with a fearlessness and skill that rivalled even Glorfindel’s. Through a gap in the ring of orcs, Elrond rode to Erestor’s side. Together, back to back, they went through the motions of the ancient dance of death, swirling, thrusting, parrying, until not a single enemy breathed.

“We ride in formation!” Elrond bellowed to his captains, before him he could see the walls of Eregion.

All that separated them was almost two hundred orcs, their ugly faces set with determination. Erestor dismounted and ran over to the fallen elf and closed the open, unseeing eyes, muttering a prayer as he did. Elrond watched passively. Death was something he had seen from an early age and it did not affect him anymore.

Erestor vaulted onto his mount and rode with Elrond, his orc-blood stained sword raised in defiance. As the orcs launched their charge, Elrond exhorted his men, “For the King!”

“FOR THE KING!” the elves shouted as one and they plunged into battle.

The familiar battle fury heated Elrond’s visage as he mercilessly slaughtered the orcs that blocked them from the barred gates of Eregion. From the high walls, elvish arrows cascaded in a flurry as the troops within the city aided Elrond’s host. But an hour later, the odds had not improved. The endurance of the elvish ancestors had passed onto the orcs and they fought untiringly. Elrond knew he should get his troops inside before dark. The outriders had news of a bigger orc host from Mordor approaching even as they fought. The elves needed a new idea to change the odds.

Erestor shouted to Elrond, “I’ll get the gates cleared! You keep them engaged here!”

“How many men?” Elrond asked. It was a good idea.

“Forty”, Erestor calculated, “Those who are not afraid to get sprayed by orc blood.”

Elrond grimaced, close combat with orcs was something as Thranduil often commented, the fastidious Noldor of Lindon avoided. They preferred long bows and horses. But still, Elrond watched the sun droop lower towards the horizon, they were running out of time. The horses were tired after the long, hard ride and the riders were not much better off.

Erestor took forty swordsmen with him and slowly circled around the orc host. Elrond intensified the attack on his side. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Erestor swing his sword through the air until it met the neck of an orc. Blood lust maddened Elrond again as he led his elves further into the orc ranks shouting, “For Elbereth!”

Half an hour of exhausting fighting later, Erestor and his group had reached the gates, though more than ten had fallen in the siege. Most of the elves and their horses had sustained injuries. They stood defensively before the gates keeping the orcs at a distance. Elrond sighed in relief as the gates opened inwardly and a fresh troop led by none other than Glorfindel rode out of the city to aid them in dispatching the rest of the goblin army.

“What were you thinking? YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!” Glorfindel roared at Erestor as they slowly made their way from the Healing Halls.

Elrond was sure that even a Balrog would have second thoughts about facing Glorfindel now. The usually calm tempered warrior was almost unrecognisable as he gestured angrily with a clenched fist at the dozens of wounded soldiers attended to by the healers.

Erestor said soothingly, “Glor, You know I’m not inclined to suicide. It was the only way then.”

Elrond kept his eyes carefully averted from Glorfindel as he stitched up a nasty deep cut on Erestor’s hand made by an orc scimitar. Glorfindel pushed Elrond aside impatiently and growled, “You have been wounded.”

“An unfortunate aftermath of battling the dark forces of Mordor”, Erestor shrugged. Elrond wondered how he could be so calm with an angry Balrog Slayer around.

“That doesn’t answer my question”, Glorfindel cut him, “How did Gil agree to let you come here?”

Erestor smirked, “He was sleeping off the First Ager. So that left me in charge, Glor.”

“He’ll have our hides when he hears about your heroics today”, Elrond remarked. Gil-Galad’s reaction was likely to be far worse than Glorfindel’s given his customary lack of self-restraint.

“Don’t tell me you agreed to let him come”, Glorfindel scowled at Elrond.

Before Elrond could think of a suitable answer, Erestor intervened in a honeyed voice, “Glor, where can I find Celebrimbor? We need to discuss matters. Another orc host is on its way.”

Having sufficiently distracted Glorfindel, Erestor made good his escape leaving Elrond to deal with a doubly irate Balrog Slayer.

“Count?” Glorfindel asked wearily, dark circles shadowing his eyes.

Elrond shrugged, “Fifteen wounded enough not to be able to hold a weapon, thirty in the Halls of Mandos, five almost there. The men and the horses need a long rest if we are to ride out for battle soon again.”

Glorfindel sighed, “The refugees of Arnor are headed here as we speak. On their very tails come chasing the host of Mordor burning down everything that stands between Eregion and them. We cannot save the city. But we can try to save the citizens.”

Elrond straightened saying, “We should hold the defences steady until they reach safety of an Elven realm, Lothlorien or Greenwood. Is there any hope of aid from those realms?”

“We cannot expect anything from Amdir. He’s too worried about his borders. I guess he’s right. He’s not a strong King. And the Golden wood has rarely seen peril”, Glorfindel reasoned, “And Greenwood”, he paused wryly, “Oropher has always disliked Celebrimbor for the matter of the rings.”

“But he is honourable”, Elrond said quietly, “And a great King. He will send us aid if we ask for it.”

Glorfindel looked at Elrond curiously, “Since when did you become an admirer of Oropher? The princeling is flexible and I can thus to some extent understand your regard for him, but the father! He is stubborn as an ox! I guess Gil’s nightmares star him regularly.”

Elrond smiled slightly, a picture of the handsome Greenwood King arising unbidden in his mind, he said, “Glorfindel, mellon-nin, Oropher’s an amazing elf whatever differences of opinion he may have with us. We Noldor bear the doom for kinslayings. But he, he suffers the doom for daring to love.”

“Elrond, penneth”, Glorfindel smiled sadly, “Being in love has made you more receptive of others who love truly. But let me tell you, a true love, a true soulmate will not be easily found. It is a torturously long path for any elf to embark on. Most settle on one they like and choose to lead a relatively calm, peaceful and happy life.”

“Will you do that?” Elrond asked Glorfindel challengingly, “I know you are in love with Erestor’s sister. And that she loves you as much. And yet you resist the very idea of a bonding ceremony.”

Glorfindel sighed, “Elrond, she is young. Far too young compared to my age. I’m bitter and tired of Arda. Life here drags on till I can fulfil my vow to you and sail to Aman”, his eyes misted over with a thousand memories each bringing more pain and pleasure than the last, “I cannot force her into a bond where she will not be the first priority in my life though it may be in my heart. If she will receive yet another chance at happiness I want her to choose that person over me.”

“Will you be able to live wholly after that?” Elrond asked shocked, “Will your conscience give up on your love for her?”

“Who are you to counsel me in love, penneth?”Glorfindel smirked, “Untouched are you in matters of this topic.”

“Maybe in body, but not in heart”, Elrond said quietly, “I know what it is to love unrequitedly. To love and lose is what Oropher did. To love and suffer is what Celeborn does. To love and let go is what you wish to do. To love and watch my heart’s keeper love another is what I am content to do. We are all different yet same, mellon-nin.”

“The arrogant, rusty old smith”, Erestor muttered under his breath as he joined them on the ramparts. A frown marred his handsome features further made remarkable by an ugly scowl.

“Why has a diplomat, the best diplomat in Arda, lost his calm?” Glorfindel teased.

Erestor graced him with a baleful stare before saying furiously, “He refuses to vacate the city. Says he is capable of defending it even if the Noldor of Lindon feel afraid to tackle Mordor.”

“Nobody has doubted his capability to do so”, Elrond said fairly.

Erestor shot him an incredulous look before saying, “Nobody ‘insane’ has doubted his capability to do so. I don’t presume to know much about his two thousand artisans’ weaponry skills. But I do know that Celebrimbor’s smithy furnaces will not be an insurmountable defence against the orcs!”

“Come, Erestor”, Glorfindel reminded him, “You speak of the one who crafted your wedding ring!”

“Unlike me, Sauron does not fancy wedding rings”, Erestor said scathingly, “The rings he is interested in belong to a different kind.”

“Since you have had no luck persuading him, I suppose we should call for reinforcements”, Glorfindel sobered up, “We are in trouble. We cannot hope to hold the city unless we amass the whole army of Lindon.”

“I had not luck persuading him as of yet”, Erestor corrected him irritably, “That does not mean I will not succeed ever. He will see sense when he sees battle before the gates of his own keep.Elbereth, may it not be too late then.”

“Shall we send word to Greenwood?” Elrond queried worriedly, “We need more soldiers to hold our lines.”

“And what is it to say they are not in a worse plight?” Erestor asked him sighing, “ Greenwood the Great has always been alone in its battles. If we are to ask help, it must be of Lothlorien. Amdir has more than sufficient forces and the power of Galadriel’s Ring. He has excellent neighbours in Moria and the river Anduin and Gondor lies to his east. Greenwood will have to fall before he is attacked. To his west are the Misty Mountains. He has nothing to fear, yet he fears.”

“ Greenwood will not fall as long as the King and Prince of the Greenwood command their armies”, Glorfindel said confidently, “They are excellent leaders whose men follow them to whatever end. Oropher is too stubborn and proud to be worried by orc invasions.”

“Yes”, Erestor conceded wearily, “That is what I am scared about. Amdir has no qualms about calling for aid. But Oropher and Thranduil would rather die than do so. Before we know of their peril, Green wood would be no more. Sauron knows this and will not hesitate to exploit this weakness as he sees it.”

“Does being the Chief Advisor mean that you have to be the chief pessimist?” Elrond grinned, “Have faith in Oropher. He’s not scared of Sauron.”

“That is his failing”, Erestor retorted, “He does not fear anything. Fear is what makes us prudent. And that keeps us alive.”

Glorfindel laughed saying, “’Res, you are overwrought from your journey and the subsequent talk with Celebrimbor. Go, take a nap.”

Elrond agreed saying, “Yes, Glorfindel is right. You should rest. That will take the sharpness off your tongue.”

Erestor shot them dark looks before slouching back towards the main keep. But he could not resist a parting shot as he remarked, “Maybe my tongue will be the only weapon that retains its sharpness when Sauron knocks on the gate.”

*****

Elrond was exhausted beyond measure. Eregion still stood, barely. Glorfindel and Elrond had ridden out each day with a decreasing host to hold off the orcs until the refugees of Arnor could reach them. The elves he commanded were drained and battle weary. There were too few healers. Due to lack of medical aid, dozens of elves passed into the care of Mandos. But their deaths served no purpose as the orcs steadily approached Eregion, burning down all resistance in their path.

Glorfindel had ordered Erestor against riding with the patrols. Elrond had quickly seconded him leaving Erestor no option other than to obey them. He took and sent messages from other realms whenever riders managed to reach the city.

Amdir had asked atleast six times for the host in Eregion to move to his Woods and make a stand with the Galadhrim. It seemed there had been ‘random warg sighting’ near his borders. Elrond and Glorfindel had been hard put to assuage Erestor after he worked himself into a towering rage on reading that particular missive from Amdir.

From Greenwood fortunately, or as Erestor would say ‘unfortunately’, there had been no missive. None of the riders he had sent thither had returned. Elrond saw this as a sign that Thranduil’s kingdom was faring much better than Eregion. And he could not understand Erestor’s reluctance to ask for Oropher’s aid.

From Lindon, however, there had been a steady inflow of messages. Gil-Galad was being restrained by Cirdan with utmost difficulty as the High King sought to join his army in Eregion. He had not taken matters easily when he was informed of his newly bonded mate’s decision to go off to war without him. Elrond and Glorfindel had both received long letters that promised them a taste of what awaited them in Lindon should they survive the battle. And Glorfindel was heard to remark after reading through a particularly colourful paragraph that he preferred to have a sojourn in Lorien before returning to face the King’s wrath. Elrond decided that he too could profit from a vacation. His cousin would take years to be appeased and he was going to leave Erestor to manage the wrath.

Erestor, however, did not fear Gil’s anger and thoroughly relished his time in the city remarking to Elrond and Glorfindel about how thick headed they both were. It was truly frightening how he enjoyed managing an entire city single handedly as Celebrimbor had long left the affairs in his hands. The ancient elf spent most of his time reading through lore as if hunting for a long lost deeply hidden clue that would save his land. Appeals by Erestor to leave for Lorien had no effect on him.

Elrond sighed as he tossed about in his bed. Celebrimbor had asked Glorfindel to stay with the men in the barracks. So the dinner that night had been a silent one. At the Ring crafter’s table, there were only a few of his advisors, Erestor and Elrond. Erestor had been called away half way through the meal by a messenger’s arrival. That had left Elrond to appease the anxious advisors who had no clue about the futility of continuing to defend the city. He had been relieved beyond measure when the meal finally ended and hastily retired to his bed.

They would ride out tomorrow again with the dwindling number of troops and sacrifice more elves for just holding off the retreat that was the only solution. Thinking of the countless lives lost made Elrond’s mind churl. If only Celebrimbor agreed to leave. But a part of Elrond’s mind told him that as the founder of the city, Celebrimbor would die with it. Which left the matter of hundreds of women and children in the city. Elrond sat up in his bed massaging his weary temples. He would not find sleep tonight unless he fixed himself a sleeping potion. As he bustled about with the ingredients, a sharp knock sounded on his door.

Glad of the company, Elrond quickly opened it, finding himself face to face with an anxious looking Erestor.

“Elrond”, Erestor said worriedly, “the orc host is two days’ ride away according to our outriders. Celebrimbor has refused to reconsider. We must do what we can for the rest, buy them time enough to escape.”

Elrond nodded numbly, and asked, “What of the refugees from Arnor?”

“They come. They will reach us before tomorrow noon. We need to be prepared for a siege”, Erestor said decisively.

“Our army is not at its best, Erestor”, Elrond said pensively, “And Glorfindel too has been uneasy. I think he is reminded of the siege of Gondolin. The troops are easily demoralized. And so am I. I see no hope here. And how do I lead my elves into battle knowing that each time the number dwindles?”

Erestor looked at him one long moment before saying softly, “Then I shall hope for us both. Eregion shall be no Gondolin. We will ride together, mellon-nin.”

Elrond stared at him stupidly before he recovered his composure and said quietly, “Glorfindel will not be happy if you ride to battle.”

“As much as I love Glorfindel, I don’t consider my life’s aim to keep him happy”, Erestor smirked, “And”, his sharp eyes caught sight of the half prepared sleeping potion on Elrond’s bed side table, “I would be glad if you gave me something for sleep. It has been evading me for days.”

Elrond smiled and said, “That makes the two of us then, mellon-nin, Come, be seated. It will take awhile.”

Erestor seated himself before the fire and they started talking in a desultory fashion as Elrond mixed up the ingredients. Half an hour later when a pleasant silence had fallen, Elrond, who had been watching the kettle said quietly, “It is almost done.”

There was no answer. Elrond turned back to find Erestor hunched up in the chair, his eyes closed in fatigue. As elves rarely slept with their eyes closed, Elrond could easily understand the chief counsellor’s state of exhaustion. Smiling, he took the kettle off the fire and walked over to the sleeping elf. Erestor’s face seemed relaxed and innocent in reverie. His hair had come loose out of the braids and messily covered his face. Elrond sighed and quietly carried him to the bed. He was amazed to find the slender form heavier than he expected. He silently snuffed out the candles in the room and arranged the blankets over the sleeping form of Erestor. Then he settled himself against the bed pole deciding to watch over Erestor that night.

Elrond remained where he was till the grey rays of dawn permeated the thick curtains. Erestor woke quietly and his eyes roved about the unfamiliar setting till they settled on Elrond. The black eyes suddenly filled with guilt as Erestor sat up in bed saying, “I fell asleep on you yesterday!”

“You were fatigued, mellon-nin. You did not even need the potion”, Elrond smiled, “And Maer Aur.”

“I kept you from your rest”, Erestor said sadly, “You could have just woken me up and sent me to my rooms. I stole your time, rest and bed.”

“You needed the rest more than I, mellon-nin. I don’t mind as I wasn’t sleepy in the first place”, Elrond assured the dubious looking Erestor.

Elrond made his way to the barracks after seizing hold of a loaf of bread from the kitchens. Erestor had left for Celebrimbor’s study wearing a harried look. They had received word that the refuges from Arnor had arrived.

“Elrond!”, Glorfindel called him, “Come here.”

The reborn Balrog Slayer was atop a rampart and staring pensively across the plains. Elrond jogged up the stairs and joined him. When he looked out at the plains he could see a lone dark spot moving fast at a distance of nearly twenty miles away.

“A warg!”, Elrond murmured, “An outrider, then the host approaches.”

“The main host will be there before our gates before tomorrow dawn”, Glorfindel said in a subdued tone, “It is lost.”

“Mellon-nin, let us not talk of losses before we meet them in battle. The Arnorians have arrived and are bring escorted into the city as we speak. Even if Eregion has no hope, we must take the innocents into safety even if we perish doing that”, Elrond said determined.

“Thus it was in the siege and eventual fall of Gondolin. It is ironic how my present life seem to end the same way as my past life”, Glorfindel said bitterly in a rare display of vulnerabiltity.

Elrond was about to say something reassuring when the shrill cry of a bird sounded from above them. He looked up curiously. It was a lone hunting falcon. It swooped down onto the rampart and stared wisely at Elrond.

“A friend of yours?” Glorfindel asked wryly.

Elrond ignored the sarcasm. It was well known through out Lindon that Elrond had no affinity with any creature other than horses. So wondering why this bird should act out of the ordinary, Elrond watched the bird more closely. A note was attached to its left leg.

Elrond said to Glorfindel, “Does Gil feel like sending bird messengers when he gets very angry?”

Glorfindel shrugged, “Its your cousin you are asking about. He shares your aversion for creatures like these. I have never seen him successfully training even a hunting dog far less an intelligent creature like this falcon. Take the letter, it might be from Galdor. He keeps some messenger birds though I had no idea he owned one so magnificent.”

Elrond obeyed Glorfindel’s command and held out his arm nervously for the falcon which came with an alacrity that surprised him. No other bird had ever taken to him so. He gently pried off the scroll from its leg and set the bird back on its perch at the rampart walls.

Glorfindel whistled, “The royal seal of Greenwood the Great. Finally, a message. Erestor will be pleased.”

“For?” Erestor’s disgruntled voice came from behind them, “I am certainly not very pleased about the two of you watching the plains like sentries while I handle the refugees, the messengers, the soldiers and Celebrimbor all at once.”

Elrond unscrolled the parchment saying, “A message from Greenwood”, A familiar scent of pine and fresh dew assailed him, “From our ernil.”

“Read it aloud”, Erestor ordered irritably, “Let us see what excuse the idiot has for not sending back any of the six riders I sent thither.” But Elrond could detect a slight undertone of worry and concern for Thranduil colour Erestor’s irritable tone.

Glorfindel murmured, “Yes, Elrond, read it before Erestor bursts with anxiety over his best friend and teacher in the finer arts of seduction.”

Erestor scowled but remained silent as Elrond started reading, “I hold a certain Peredhel responsible if my falcon does not return to me”, he stopped in astonishment before staring at Glorfindel.

“And?” Glorfindel asked impatiently.

“Nothing else. Just one sentence”, Elrond waved the paper before Glorfindel’s disbelieving eyes.

“I have always said that the Sindar are partly insane”, Glorfindel said wryly.

Elrond would have defended his friend, but even he had to admit Thranduil was not in a right mental state!

Erestor took the scroll from Elrond’s unresisting hands and observed, “Vintage Thranduil. Short, brief and precise. We cannot expect aid from Oropher’s realm. He is probably finding it hard to hold his own border perimeters.”

“Is that why Thranduil wants the falcon back?” Glorfindel asked innocently, “To fight the orcs?”

Erestor spared him a ‘What do I do with these kind of morons?’ look before gathering up his robes and sprinting down the stairs. A minute later, they saw him sending a rider with a scroll to the west, to Lindon.

Glorfindel remarked, “I suppose that explains why he is the chief advisor and we are not and Valar be praised for that. I will probably grow bald trying to decipher stuff from letters like these!”

Elrond looked at the falcon still staring sombrely at them, “Should I send him back now?”

“I suppose so, penneth”, Glorfindel drawled, “Lest you want an angry son of Oropher hunting for your skin. But, wait till you can ask Erestor himself. An angry Erestor is an immediate cause of concern than an angry Thranduil.”

Green wood the Great :

Thranduil Oropherion rode his stallion into the keep of Oropher’s fortress. There was a cold grimness in his usually twinkling jade-green eyes. His tunic and leggings were spattered with blood and dirt and his beautifully crafted quiver was empty. He dismounted with a feline beauty from his horse and nodded to his stable boy who led the horse away. He stretched himself before turning to view the rest of the elves who had followed him. A shadow flickered in his eyes briefly as he saw the wounded and dead being carried in to the Healing Halls. But he composed his features into its customary fearlessness and walked forth to hold counsel with his captains.

Through the window in his study, Oropher watched his son sadly. A mixture of pride and fear crossed his handsome features.

“My Lord?” a low voice reminded him that he was not alone.

“Yes, Thalion?” he sighed not bothering to hide his emotions. Thalion, his healer and fellow warrior was one of the few he trusted with his life and with his son’s life.

“The Prince is a fine warrior and our best leader. We need him on the field where the fight is”, Thalion reminded him quietly, “He knows this and will not stay away from his duty even if you commanded him so.”

Oropher watched the handsome figure in his courtyard once again and said bitterly, “Sometimes I regret that we taught him to honour duty above all else. I have no idea how I endure each time he rides out to meet the Mordor threat.”

“Oropher”, Thalion approached the window and looked out at the Prince who was now checking the next patrol regiment, “Even if we had not taught him duty, he would not have acted otherwise. He is your son.”

“My son, my anchor, my hope”, Oropher said with infinite sadness, “For him I live.”

Thalion turned to look at his Lord and friend and said softly, “It was not always like this, Oropher. Once you lived like an elf, not like a ghost. He loves you and will do anything to see the shadow in your soul lessened. How many times has he asked you to give love a chance again? Atleast for comfort’s sake?”

Oropher smiled, “Mellon-nin, has he sent you to aid his cause? I loved once and though our time was short, I have never regretted that love though I regret the consequences deeply. I cannot love again, Thalion, not that way. And I don’t regret it. Though sometimes I find myself wishing she had taken the child to Valinor. Maybe then she would be still happy and with her family. And my son too, the innocence would have never left his eyes. His hands would not be tainted so by blood. And I would know he was happy.”

Thalion sighed sombrely, Oropher had always blamed himself for not letting Thranduil go with Inglorien. Maybe the King was right, if she had taken the babe, she might not have lost hope and faded. But Oropher would have reached Mandos’ Halls. He frowned, Oropher rarely, if ever, spoke of the past. Something was troubling him.

“What is it, my Lord?” he demanded quietly.

Oropher turned back to the window and watched his son once again, a bittersweet pain etched across his features.

“Oropher?” Thalion asked again.

“There is a letter bearing Cirdan’s seal on my desk, Thalion. Read it and then speak”, Oropher said wearily. For a moment he looked as lost and vulnerable as he had the day Ingwe’s host had sailed from the Havens.

Thalion complied and unscrolled the parchment. It was written in Quenya, in a hand he recognized not as Cirdan’s. He raised his eyebrows. Not even the Noldor used the Ancient Tongue these days.

“To The King of Greenwood the Great,

We have received news regularly from Cirdan concerning you and your son, my ill-fated grand-daughter’s son. Though my son, Inglorien’s father, has never forgiven you for the grief you wrecked in our family, I have surrendered my anger. He may have lost his daughter, but you have lost more and your innocent son has lost even more. They say he is the pride of the elves, and his father’s son. I am heartened, to know that, despite everything, you did not hate the child for the grief he unwittingly caused you. Cirdan tells me that he is the finest warrior of your kingdom and so much more. He said you love him so and fear for him above all else. Arda’s a bitter place. If you wish, you may send him to me across the sea, I will do all I can to make sure he never knows grief. I know your time to sail will not come anytime soon. Think on my words and May Valar forgive us all,

Ingwe, Lord and King of Aman.”

Oropher said quietly, “He is right. I love my son. And I cannot bear to see him become weary and grieving. It will kill me outright. I am going to send him to his mother’s home.”

Thalion stood stunned and started to retort, but Oropher shook his head, “No, Thalion, I have decided.”

“What have you decided, Ada?” Thranduil asked teasingly as he entered the room and watched his father’s face become softer as they fell upon him.

“I see you have not seen it unfit to bring orc grime into the King’s study, Seneschal?” Oropher asked in a falsely gruff voice.

Thalion smiled at Thranduil and left quietly. As the door closed behind them, Oropher opened his arms to his son who ran into the embrace like an elfling. As their arms enfolded each other, Oropher noted with pride that his son was taller than him by an inch. Thranduil was no longer the elfling he used to rock day and night and told stories to. His son was now a fully grown elf, a warrior, a diplomat and would soon be betrothed. He felt a brief pang of jealousy. He would have to share his son after the marriage. Then he sighed, he would lose his son soon.

“ Ada?” Thranduil stepped out from the embrace frowning worriedly, “You have lost weight and you seem as if you have not rested for days.”

Oropher smiled, “The same can be said of you, ion. Your bones are out.”

“I was on the field, Ada”, Thranduil retorted, “I had a reason. What of you?”

“I had a reason too”, Oropher argued, “I was worried about all of our warriors out there. And not to mention the fact that it has been raining ravens here which come bearing Amdir’s messages. He wants aid.”

“Shoot the ravens”, Thranduil said darkly, “The Lorien army is not even bothering to secure the elf-paths. I have put the best warriors there. If Erestor and Celebrimbor retreat from Eregion, the paths must hold.”

“See to our southern borders, ion-nin, they are weak”, Oropher said seriously, “Maybe I should take charge there while you secure the paths.”

Thranduil said sharply, “You are remaining here, Ada! I will not have you risking your life there at the borders! The only consolation I had was that you were not in the battle.”

Oropher raised his eyebrows good-humouredly, “Isn’t overprotection supposed to be a parental instinct, ion-nin?”

Thranduil muttered glowering, “Sometimes you act like an elfling without thought”, his face became more serious as he said, “I cannot lose you, Ada. Even the thought scares me so.”

Oropher sighed as Ingwe’s words came unbidden to his thoughts once more. He poured out wine for his son and himself and ushered his famished looking son to the dining table.

“ Ada?” Thranduil had not touched the food and was now staring concernedly at Oropher again, “You should tell me whatever bothers you now so much. There will be no peace for either of us until you do so.”

And there shall be no peace afterwards, Oropher mused grimly.

“ Ada?” Thranduil’s voice was gentle.

Oropher took a deep breath and explained, “I am sending you to Aman, ion-nin. Your grandfather and King Ingwe want you there. You will leave for the Havens as soon the roads are safe.”

Thranduil said scathingly, “You were never good at joking, Ada. If you want me to laugh, just say so.”

Oropher watched the golden hair of his son shine blindingly in the dark room and said softly, “I am never good at joking, Thranduil, that is why I never joke.”

The expression of shock, disbelief, betrayal and white hot pain that suffused his son’s features made him lower his eyes in grief. He had never hurt his son all these centuries. Now, he had betrayed his son, and would see it done.

“ Ada?” it was not his proud son’s voice, it was the voice of the scared elfling, whom he had soothed after nightmares, all those years ago. It broke Oropher to hear that voice of helplessness.

“ Ada, how have I angered you so that you wish to send me away?” the voice asked him, “Why have I lost your love?”

Oropher said softly, “My love for you is what makes me do this. I will not see you grieve and lose your happiness in this harsh world. Remain whole and safe in Valinor, and I shall be at peace.”

In an instant, Thranduil was kneeling before him, clasping their hands together. He asked quietly, “How will I be whole when I leave behind you, Ada-nin? Do you wish me to fade even as Naneth did?”

Oropher was shocked by the depth of emotion he saw in his son’s green eyes, that so mirrored his own. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he realized he would never be able to win this argument with his son. A vague feeling of loss and grief pervaded his senses. He wept openly as he realized his son would know sorrow, hate and defeat.

“Ada?” Thranduil’s arms enfolded him securely, “I will never leave you. We need not discuss this if it upsets you so.”

Oropher rested his head on his son’s shoulder and sobbed silently. He begged the Valar to strengthen his son for the trials that he knew Thranduil would face.

*****

Amdir looked out at the mallorn trees from his flet. His chief counsellor, advisors and the marchwarden of the Golden wood stood behind him quietly.

“Amdir”, Celeborn’s voice was sharp, “I see no honour in sitting safely here while Oropher sheds his blood to secure the paths!”

“My Lord Celeborn, you do not understand the King’s burden”, Haldir spoke menacingly.

Celeborn retorted, “Is the King’s burden to let another King sacrifice his elves for the sake of common safety? Marchwarden, I know not how you could retreat when the orcs arrived on the Elf paths leaving our Green wood kin to fend for themselves! But enough of that, Green wood is in grave peril. If you would not think of them, think atleast of your people, Amdir! If Oropher falls, then Lorien stands alone. And what shall we do then?”

Amdir shrugged uneasily, “Oropher will not fall, Celeborn. We cannot risk our warriors in war, not when we are alone. I had expected Elrond’s host to reinforce Lorien. But they are determined to continue their folly in Eregion. I cannot now spare our strength to go and aid Oropher, not when he has not even asked for it.”

Celeborn snorted, “Amdir, when have you ever known Oropher to ask for aid?”

Amdir did not reply. Celeborn strode out of the flet fuming inwardly. Haldir’s arrogant smirk had not eased his temper. But as the cool breeze caressed his face, he felt concern for Oropher, his cousin, shadow all indigence and anger at Amdir. He knew Oropher must be in peril. What could he do to aid him? Tiredly, he rested his head against a tree bole.

“ Ada?” Celebrian’s voice roused him out of his brooding.

“Yes, ‘Bria? Why are you not with your mother?” Celeborn asked wearily.

“ Ada”, Celebrian’s voice was worried, “Will Oropher and cousin Thranduil be all right? I mean, all this fighting is happening the most in their homeland, isn’t it? Naneth said they need more warriors. Will the King send our elves? Anoriel was most worried and she is now with Naneth seeking counsel and comfort.”

Celeborn sighed, his wife had probably looked to the cursed mirror and seen something that worried her. That explained why she had sent their child out to seek him, something she could not do herself these days. He made up his mind. If Amdir would not aid Oropher, he, Celeborn would ride to join his cousin.

“Naneth said the roads are safe and that your mare will be turned out in an half-hour. She also said that you are to not waste time”, Celebrian said quietly, watching her beloved father’s anguished face turn determined, “Will you go to them, Adar?”

“They are our kin, ‘Bria”, Celeborn said in an equally quiet tone, “Not in good conscience can we turn our backs on them.”

Oropher watched his son mount his stallion again. As he tried to paste a smile onto his unwilling face, Thranduil stooped down and gathered Oropher’s right hand in his own ones.

Keeping eye contact with his father, he kissed the signet ring saying softly, “I will return to you, Ada, never doubt that ever.”

Oropher smiled and nodded mutely. His heart cried out as he watched his only son turn into a cold, heartless warrior who would kill to protect his land. The innocence was already lost.

Elrond watched Erestor and Glorfindel bicker.

“YOU ARE NOT COMING”, Glorfindel was yelling.

“Really, Glor, one would have never thought you capable of such drama”, Erestor said pleasantly, fastening the last links of his armor.

Elrond interceded as Glorfindel glowered at him, “Erestor, Lord Celebrimbor may have need of you.”

Erestor raised his eyebrow in a manner that reminded Elrond of Maedhros and said coolly, “The only person whom I am bound to obey is my King, who is not here. I ride with you, with the host of Lindon”, he bowed politely to them both before walking with his customary sedate pace towards the stables.

Galadriel watched her husband ride out of Lorien. His handsome face was determined and concerned. She sighed, how he reminded her of the proud Prince of Doriath who had wooed her so well. He had not changed. She had changed. Which explained why he sought out others for his pleasures. She shook her head firmly, it would not do to think of that now.

But she could not suppress a sob as she thought of her husband’s comfort seeking. Each night she would watch him in the mirror and cry broken-heartedly. For she loved him still. But she was not able to do her duty by him, the ring was draining her, the mirror was draining her, the gift of foresight was draining her. She had aged, but he had not. She breathed a silent prayer to the Valar to watch over her husband.

Gil-Galad fretted about in his study as he awaited the latest rider from Eregion. This was not how he had planned his wedding week to be. He sighed, he had wanted an idyllic fortnight with Erestor, to never get up from his bed. Thinking of Erestor made him grow warmer. Who would have thought that his serious Chief-Counsellor could be so talented in the arts of love? He shuddered pleasantly as he thought of their bonding night. He had been half inclined not to listen to Elrond and leave the room quickly to meet Galadriel. But Erestor, ah well, Erestor had seduced him so thoroughly and had been too confident for an untouched, inexperienced lover. The more he thought about that night, the more sure he was of Thranduil’s involvement. Erestor had a deep friendship with that Princeling. And so had Elrond. Gil-Galad could not for the life of him understand what his bonded mate and cousin saw in Oropher’s son. As far as he had noticed, Thranduil was a faithful copy of his arrogant, fearless father.

“My Lord”, an elf approached bearing three scrolls.

Gil-Galad took the parchment and bade him leave. Hastily, he opened the first one, it bore Amdir’s seal. He sighed, if the King of Lorien made yet another plea for aid, he would personally go there and have a few choice words with him.

“To The High King,

My Kingdom can defend itself as long as Oropher bears the brunt of the onslaught in Greenwood. But if he falls, then Lorien stands alone. By our alliances, I call upon Lindon to rise to the aid of my country.

Amdir.”

Gil-Galad suppressed a snort, Oropher would break off all alliances with Amdir if he ever read this letter. Personally, he could not comprehend why Amdir was so heartlessly letting Oropher bear the attack alone. Granted, that Oropher was a convicted Noldor hater. But then Amdir belonged to the same category. He shook his head and proceeded to the next scroll. His face brightened as he saw the familiar handwriting of his bonded mate.

“To The High King of the Noldor,

I have reasons to fear that Green wood needs our aid. Celebrimbor refuses yet to desert Eregion. So we cannot in good conscience abandon the city and its innocents and ride to aid Oropher. I beg you to put aside past differences with the Sindar and send out a host to their aid. ( As soon as this war ends, I wish to return to your side and well, not leave on any diplomatic or military errand for an year!)

Respect, regards and love,

Your humble Chief Advisor.

(I did not take out the braids you put in my hair yet. But Glorfindel insists I adopt a ‘less intricate decoration’ for the battlefield. I shall not.)”

Gil-Galad lifted the parchment to his nostrils and left the familiar scent of fresh earth and ink waft into his nose. He had no intentions of sending a host to Oropher. An unasked for aid would only make matters worse between them. Taking a deep breath, he opened the third scroll, which, curiously was addressed to his counsellor.

“ Mellon-nin,

I have always been frank, so I say simply, we need aid. Convince your tawny lion to send out your army. I sent a message to Elrond too, but I think he is yet in Eregion. The paths are heavily under attack. They are burning the forest. Amdir has secured his realm and left us to deal with all else. We cannot hope to hold the southern edges, the river, the passes in the mountains, the forest road and our realm all at once. Ada is worried, but mercifully remains unaware of the entire situation.

Stay safe,

Thranduil.”

Gil-Galad automatically called for Lord Cirdan and said briskly, “Prepare our entire host leaving out only the patrols. You must lead the army to Greenwood.”

“Oropher”, Cirdan began.

“He will not be in charge at the field. The Princeling is the one riding the war”, Gil-Galad said tersely, “We cannot let our follies stand in the way of saving our allies. Enough doom rests upon us as it is.”

Elrond and Glorfindel led out the depleted host of Eregion into battle. The orc host sneered at the reduced numbers. The elves were soon joined by the Numenorians under Prince Aredhil. They combined forces and the battle began.

“Kill them all!” Glorfindel exhorted his troops, as he raised his sword in defiance, “FOR ELBERETH! FOR VALINOR! FOR THE FIRST BORN!”

Soon they were fighting with the first line of the enemy host. Elrond soon lost sight of Erestor and Glorfindel as he dodged, parried, thrusted and killed one orc after another. Around him elvish longbows sang true as arrows brought down orcs and wargs alike with deathly precision. ‘Atleast something good came out of Thranduil’s stay in Lindon’, Elrond mused as he grimly noted the improved archery skills of his men.

A few hours later, Elrond’s armour was blood splattered and broken, his strokes less forceful and his body bruised and wounded. His mare was also tiring. Clearly his half-human heritage was making an unwelcome appearance. Shaking himself to dispel his weariness, he concentrate on the battle. That was when a shadow fell on him and a high pitched shriek pierced his ears.

“NAZGUL!”, the elves around him said panickedly, “Archers!”

A huge black serpent like bird landed before Elrond, who had lost all sense of surroundings. Around him, orcs and elves were smashed alike to death by the ugly creature. Elrond’s mare tried to bolt, but he held it steady.

“Peredhel”, a high, sneering voice issued from a black cloaked figure atop the beast, “Why do you tarry among elves, half-blood?” Elrond felt a black envelope filling his mind, throwing out all light and hope. Life was empty. He just had to let go into the void. He fell from his mare. Hands caught him before he reached the ground, however. He frowned. He had enough, he wanted escape from all of this. He was dimly aware of being placed on his mount again.

“Stand aside, for I shall show no mercy to those who stand between me and my victim”, the voice warned.

“Nor shall I”, a cool voice spoke quietly.

Elrond heard the twang of a hundred bows and the high pitched wail of the Nazgul’s mount. He could hear Glorfindel’s voice raised high in defiance. He was gently lifted and placed before someone on another mount. The voice that had defied the Wraith said soothingly, “It is all fine, Elrond, you are safe.”

Elrond drifted off into the darkness smiling. It was so easy to let go of everything. A warm essence crept into his heart suffusing him with light, joy and hope. The darkness devouring his soul fought wildly. But the warmth refused to leave.

“What?” Elrond grumbled.

“Fight it, mellon-nin, Do not give in”, the warmth exhorted him.

“’Restor?” Elrond mumbled.

“Yes, Elrond. Come back to us. Do not give in”, the warmth pleaded.

“Anything for you, melme. Melin lle”, Elrond replied and his eyes focussed sharply as a part of his subconscious realized what he had spoken. Automatically, he blocked Erestor out of his thoughts and gasped, “You should not have done that! You risked your life, you could have been pulled into the void with me.”

“It was worth it”, Erestor said quietly, “I was so scared I would lose you.”

They were still riding Erestor’s stallion and seemed to miles away from the battle. Elrond leaned against Erestor surreptiously relishing the warmth of the other body. Warmth?

He turned around and demanded, “ Where is your armour?” It was then that he realized that their lips were scant inches apart. He turned abruptly reining in his unruly impulses.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to get another mail suit”, Erestor said easily, “It broke under the Nazgul blade.”

Elrond gasped as he realized its full implications, “The wound”, he demanded anxiously, “We should see to it now.”

“Really Elrond!” Erestor said indignantly, “I’m not a hero like Glorfindel to hide my wounds! Or in the first place, to get wounded! I slipped out of the armor when I saw the blow land, luckily the mail suit was too large for me.”

“Still, I insist on a check”, Elrond said dubiously as he noted the other elf’s pallor in the moonlight, “Where are we riding for? Eregion does not lie this way!” he added as he noted the unfamiliar surround.

“We are riding for Eregion”, Erestor said in a testily.

“I have never ridden this way before”, Elrond said doubtfully, “Are you clear-”

“Yes, indeed!” Erestor said huffily, “I have paid sufficient attention to my geography classes! Now sit quiet and let me sing you to sleep, Lord Herald, unless you want to wear my patience thin by more unnecessary queries!”

Soon Elrond was transported back to his childhood when Maglor would sing two unhappy elflings to sleep. Erestor’s voice had the same rich, deep, melodious tenor moving Elrond into dreams of his days with his foster father, when he had felt safe despite the constant nomadic travels and attacks.

Elrond woke only when they were in the keep of Eregion and Celebrimbor’s loud voice broke in his reverie, “What happened to him?”

“Nazguls, my Lord”, Erestor said tersely, “We were separated from the main flanks.”

“Let me send for the healers to attend to him”, Celebrimbor said uneasily.

Elrond focussed his eyes wearily and said firmly, “No, My Lord, I’m all right. Just have someone show me to a bed. I am tired, that is all.”

Celebrmbor nodded and a young elf came to take Ebony’s reins from Erestor. Elrond managed to jump down though with less than his customary grace and watched Erestor dismount stiffly suppressing a wince.

As the door closed behind them, Elrond rounded on Erestor and demanded, “I know you are hiding a wound, mellon-nin,” he crossed his arms seeing Erestor’s too innocent expression, “I am a healer as well as a warrior!”

Erestor mumbled, “Sharp eyes.”

Elrond raised an eyebrow.

Erestor said reluctantly, “On the left thigh, a warg bite. It has stopped bleeding. I think it will heal soon.”

“I shall decide that”, Elrond washed his hands in the basin before spreading his medical supplies on the bed neatly.

Erestor shrugged as he removed his blood splattered tunic and then threw on a light nightshirt before removing his bloodied leggings. An ugly, dark clotted smudge of blood spoiled the otherwise marble pale flesh on his thigh.

“Lie down”, Elrond said soothingly. As Erestor complied, Elrond started to clean and bind the wound, trying to make his touches as brief and methodical as possible. Not for the first time, he envied his blessed cousin.

“Both of us should get some sleep tonight”, Erestor said tiredly, rolling over to an end of the small cot and patting the empty area.

Elrond would not have agreed to share a cot with his desire on an usual day, but his half human nature left him nodding exhaustedly and he plopped onto the rough mattress wordlessly.

Celebrimbor watched the moon in the clear skies from his study window. The ancient smith’s face was lined with worry. He took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do. Emerging out of his study, he asked an aide, “Bring the Lord Erestor to me immediately.”

“Naneth”, Celebrian said anxiously as she watched a single silvery tear trail down her mother’s cheek, “Are you all right? Did you see something in the mirror?”

Galadriel smiled bitterly and said, “All useful things are dangerous, my daughter. Never may you wield one.”

“Anoriel is worried about cousin Thranduil and her kin, Lord Elrond”, Celebrian informed her.

Galadriel nodded, but did not offer any words of comfort as she pondered what she had foreseen.

Oropher was walking alone in his gardens when he heard the hooves of a single mount. Frowning, he turned back as the rider came into view. Dishevelled, dirty and blood spattered, an elf dismounted and rushed towards him. Oropher’s heart lightened as he saw the dancing blue eyes and silver hair of his cousin.

“Celeborn”, he said simply, letting himself be embraced and he rested his head on the Lorien Lord’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming.”

“Cousin, I could never stay away if my heart tells you are in peril”, Celebron sighed as he tightened his embrace, “What happened to you? It is no only the threat of Sauron that despairs you?”

Oropher saw no reason for pretending courage before his cousin and said quietly, “Ingwe has forgiven me and asks for my son to be sent to Valinor. Thranduil refused to go, Celeborn, he will become world weary like me, I cannot have that.”

Celeborn sighed, “The will of the Valar cannot be thwarted, cousin. I too am world weary. If it was not for the forest, I would have taken a ship long ago.”

“Your wife cannot accompany you”, Oropher stated bluntly, “She had the doom upon her yet. Will you be able to leave her?”

Celebron smiled bitterly, “She would not care either way.”

In her mirror Galadriel watched sorrowfully.

*****

Elrond hastily dressed in a clean tunic and leggings that a servant had left him. He threw his armour on and made his way to the kitchens, from where he grabbed a pear and a few slices of lembas. Erestor and Glorfindel were already there, conversing quietly. Elrond joined them worriedly. Glorfindel was as fastidious as ever, dressed in a silken tunic and ivory cream leggings. Erestor wore a loose, flowing brown robe that billowed about his light frame as he turned to face Elrond.

“Any luck with the smith?” Elrond asked him.

“He gave me a new mail suit”, Erestor said wryly, “And gave us the permission to lead whoever wants to leave the city to Lothlorien.”

Glorfindel sighed tiredly, “ Greenwood’s under heavy attack. Amdir’s rider said that they have lost all contact with Oropher’s kingdom.”

“Has Gil sent aid?” Elrond asked worriedly.

“Cirdan has been sent out as the head of the host, Gil wrote to me”, Erestor said in a relieved tone, “Our ernil owes me one.”

Glorfindel sobered up saying, “Elrond, you and Erestor are to manage the refugees. I will hold the defences along with Aredhil”, he said harshly noting Elrond opening his mouth to protest, “NO, you obey me! Get to Lothlorien, we shall retreat in due time, after clearing the trail.”

“We should obey him, Elrond”, Erestor said with deceptive seriousness causing Glorfindel to wrinkle his forehead with wariness, “After all, Glor’s not used to sharing his ‘glory’. But Glor, do leave out atleast one Wraith to the young Aredhil.”

Glorfindel gave a grudging smile before saying authoratively, “I will not allow you both on the field today. If our army fails, you must be there to defend the refugees till whatever end”, the last three words resounded ominously in the air.

Erestor nodded woodenly and Elrond repeated, “Till whatever end. It shall be so, Glorfindel, as you command.”

Glorfindel sighed and exchanged a warrior’s embrace with Elrond. When he turned to Erestor, however, he gathered the younger elf into his arms in a rough embrace and said tersely, “Stay alive, Erestor, and Elbereth watch over you.”

Erestor smiled unconvincingly and pressed a chaste kiss on Glorfindel’s forehead as he entreated him, “Come back to us, Glor, whole and safe. Valar be with you.”

They watched Glorfindel and Aredhil lead the remaining army into battle. The ancient warrior was resplendent in his shining armour and helm, his Eldar heritage casting an aura around him. His long broadsword was raised in defiance against all evil. Elrond knew that he would never forget that magnificent and terrible sight even after thousands of years.

He prayed silently and turned to find Erestor still watching Glorfindel, a single tear glistening down his left cheek. Elrond had never before seen such a heart wrenching expression in those black eyes. It made him do what he had never the courage to do before. He hugged Erestor.

Erestor’s head leaned on Elrond’s shoulder a fraction of a second before he straightened himself saying, “I shall talk to Celebrimbor one last time. You lead them out. Stay safe, Elrond.”

That was how Elrond Half-Elven, Herald and Heir to High King of the Noldor in Lindon, began leading the long retreat out of Eregion.

Thranduil grimly ordered his elves into a defensive circle. They were outnumbered, surrounded and tired. The horses had started collapsing. The elves were out of arrows and now had to resort to swords thus expending more energy and time for each kill. The situation was disastrous, he reflected furiously.

“Ernil-nin?” his second in command asked nervously, “Would it not be better to retreat?”

Thranduil spared him a withering glare before saying aloud to his men, “No foul creature of Morgoth shall besmirch the land of the First Born Sindar! As long as there are still true elven hearts to hold a weapon under the eaves of GreenWood the Great! Spare not a single one of these abominations!”

He led the charge once again to defend the land he loved the most with his flesh and blood. He could only pray to the Valar that he might keep his word to his father, to return to him. If he did not, he was sure that Oropher would follow him soon into the Halls of Mandos.

Glorfindel turned back once to find two dark haired figured hugging on the ramparts. He sighed. Something told him that Elrond’s infatuation, for he believed it to be just that, would soon reach Gil’s ears. And he prayed that he was not with the King that day.

“Lord Elrond is a noble soul”, Prince Aredhil remarked.

“Yes, indeed”, Glorfindel replied cautiously, wondering what had provoked that remark.

“My father used to tell us that one who loves in silence and suffers alone for that love is truly a courageous soul”, Aredhil said pleasantly.

Glorfindel replied in an unemotional tone, “I have no idea what you are talking about, My Prince.” They rode together in uneasy silence each pondering his own thoughts.

“My Lord!” A guard alerted Thalion, “Our reserve troop has rushed to aid the elves the Prince was leading”, he hesitated.

“Is the Ernil all right?” Thalion barked worriedly.

The guard took a deep breath and whispered, “He has been stabbed twice by a Morgul blade. He is already in the land of the black dreams. They are riding here with all haste that his condition will permit.”

“Bring him to the Healing Halls”, Thalion ordered and turned swiftly to find himself face to face with Oropher himself.

“My Lord”, Thalion began uncertainly as he took in Oropher’s distraught features.

“I lead the next sortie, Thalion. Ask Gaeior to manage things in my absence”, Oropher’s voice trembled with anger and fear, “And if my son does not recover, Green wood shall need a new King.”

“Oropher”, Thalion laid his palm on the King’s shoulder, “You are in no condition to be on the battlefield. And who will greet the Ernil when he wakes?”

“I will rather die on the field than die watching my son suffer”, Oropher said bitterly, “I should have sent him away, banished him.”

“That’s enough, cousin”, Celeborn said firmly as he joined them, “I shall lead the patrols this turn and you keep the Prince company this day. Tomorrow we shall reverse roles. And the day after Thranduil will certainly ride again leaving us ancients at home.”

A group of riders emerged from the forest bearing the wounded Thranduil on a litter. Oropher whispered, “Ion-nin”

Thranduil thrashed weakly on his makeshift litter murmuring, “I promised him I would return.”

Oropher said furiously, “Sauron will pay for this!”

Galadriel watched the young Sindar prince fight for his life. She sighed. The Prince was strong in mind and devoted to his father. She had no doubts that he would resist Mandos. But she sincerely wished that he would never regret defying the call of death. For nobody denied death without paying the highest cost. The visions in her mirror changed and she saw Elrond hugging Erestor atop the ramparts of Eregion. She frowned as she considered the implications of Elrond’s ill fated love.

“Mother?” Celebrian’s voice issued in the glade.

The images in the mirror changed abruptly and Galadriel saw her daughter on board a ship. Her heart wrenched. The expression on Celebrian’s face struck her to the core.

“Mother, naneth? It is time for dinner”, Celebrian approached her.

Galadriel turned away from the mirror wearily.

Glorfindel retched miserably. He had been feeling sick and nauseous ever since the encounter with the Witch King that day in the battle. While the rest of the army had almost revered him after that, Glorfindel was not in mood to appreciate the ululations. He had been afraid, very much so, it was like facing the Balrog again. Dying once did not make dying any easier, however people reasoned so. He would have turned tail and run, but duty kept him there, not valour or courage. Duty, he thought wryly, duty was the strongest chain that bound a person to his destiny.

“My Lord”, an aide peeked in, “The captains wish to call you for dinner.”

Glorfindel wiped his mouth irritably and said, “I will not be joining them.” How could people think that he was immune to weariness?

A few moments later, the tent flap opened again and a deep voice asked him, “May I join you, My Lord?”

Glorfindel turned, it was Aredhil. He said plainly, “I am not in a good temper nor in good health. You should not join me.”

Aredhil smiled. Glorfindel noted abstractly that the Numenorian King, for King he was, now that his father was dead, was handsome when he smiled.

“My Lord”, Aredhil said easily, “Neither temper nor health can be improved by solitary brooding.”

Glorfindel was about to reply with a choice barb when nausea arose again. Struggling to his feet, he emptied his stomach into a pail. Dry heaves punctuated his breathing. As he bent over with pain, a strong hand gently massaged his back and then quietly helped him stand straight. Glorfindel was really bad tempered now. He hated to be weak before others and now he was rendered so low before a young human!

“We all need help from time to time”, Aredhil remarked as he wet a cloth and gently wiped Glorfindel’s face, “Certainly with your long life, you should acknowledge that.”

“Let me be and leave the tent”, Glorfindel said tiredly, “I am in no mood to argue.”

Aredhil did not reply as he quietly led Glorfindel to the small camp bed and made him sit on it. Then he proceeded to remove Glorfindel’s boots. Glorfindel was too tired to protest. He dully noted Aredhil removing his tunic and then slip on a nightshirt onto his unresisting form. Then he was gently eased onto the bed.

Glorfindel murmured as he drifted off into a healing sleep, “Thank you.”

Aredhil smiled, “Now I shall leave you and let you be, my friend.”

He sighed as he watched the ancient warrior sleep exhaustedly. But even in this very weak state, Glorfindel of Gondolin and Lindon was a majestic presence. And very beautiful and desirable, Aredhil noted. Glorfindel tossed about restlessly in the cot clearly under some nightmarish dream.

Aredhel moved towards the writhing elf and smoothed his brow soothingly saying, “You are safe, Glorfindel. Rest.”

“’Res, you should not be here”, the elf murmured sadly, “but don’t leave me alone now. I am scared.”

‘Res? Aredhil mused, who was that? Glorfindel’s lover? He shook his head tersely. He did not understand why the idea of Glorfindel having a lover upset him so.

“Stay with me, ‘Res”, Glorfindel said plaintively.

Aredhil let go of his doubts chiding himself. Glorfindel was not in a condition to be left alone. Even if the warrior would be most displeased come morning, Aredhil knew instinctively that he could not let Glorfindel be alone to face his nightmares tonight. He slowly lowered himself onto the cot and gathered the elf into his arms. Glorfindel’s breathing became more calm as he relaxed and snuggled closer to the human King. Aredhil thought that the elf looked so like an innocent child in his repose. He smiled ironically, to describe Glorfindel, the mighty Seneschal of the High King of the Noldor, as an innocent, vulnerable child was preposterous.

Thalion vainly attempted to hold down the thrashing Prince. Even with three powerfully built elves aiding him, he was finding it very hard to ease Thranduil back onto the bed. He sighed. Thranduil was slipping further into the blackness.

“My Lord Healer”, his assistant, a young elf maiden barely past her majority, said quietly, “I think he is weakening.”

Thalion said decisively, “Burn the athelas. If that does not work, nothing else will”, he paused, “Elbereth! That must work, or Green wood shall be left without a King as well as a Prince!”

Oropher stood outside the Healing Halls with Celeborn who had returned after leaving Cirdan in charge. The retreating orcs no longer posed any trouble. But Cirdan was hunting them down mercilessly. Celeborn did not understand why the ancient mariner was so furious when he heard that Thranduil was hurt.

They could smell the pungent fragrance of the athelas as the healers prepared the vapours within. Oropher waited silently refusing to give in to his own despair. His son was strong and he was fighting tooth and nail against the darkness that threatened to claim him. He would recover, Oropher told himself, even Fate could not be this cruel.

“Cousin”, Celeborn said quietly, “Your son is a fighter and a survivor. He shall not give into Mandos’ call.”

Oropher nodded bleakly. Seeing his son injured had been seeing his worst nightmare come alive. How could he go on if…He shuddered inspite of himself.

Then an aide came out and told them smiling, “All is well, My Lords. He shall wake soon.”

Oropher prayed a silent thanks to the Valar and slumped against the wall exhaustedly.

“However”, Celeborn said more solemnly, “The fact remains that he has chosen his lot to be with you. In Middle Earth. You do not need me to tell you that peace shall not last longer in our realms. Sauron will wage war soon. And all of us shall need to ride against him, cousin, even your son. You may decree him against it, but he will follow you.”

Oropher nodded again saying determinedly, “I have thought of it, Celeborn, and I think that I have a solution. Amdir’s daughter, she has a strong heart. She can pull my son through and keep him alive if they bond. So I intend to get them married as soon as possible.”

Celeborn said wryly, “Marriage bonds are for safety and not for love, eh?”

“Of course not!” Oropher said indignantly, “You should know better than saying so. My son loves the girl and so does she.”

“A lot of people love your son, Oropher. He is the most eligible bachelor around now”, Celeborn smirked.

“I know his mind. He loves the Princess and she, well, she is of noble blood on her mother’s side. The Line of Elu Thingol and Melian the Maia. She will marry only if she loves him truly. I have heard fiery tales of her. She will suit him well”, Oropher said wisely.

“Ah! Atleast you are not hindered by a wife who insists her mirror tells her that your only child should marry a person who is already in love with another”, Celeborn said sadly, gazing out of the window as he thought of his beloved daughter, so young, yet a pawn in her mother’s plans.

“Galadriel is messing about with your child’s heart?” Oropher asked incredulously, “In what way?”

“She wants her to marry the Peredhil, Gil-Galad’s heir”, Celeborn wrinkled his nose, “Tell me, how sane is that?”

Oropher shook his head disbelievingly, “Galadriel may be many things, but she is no fool. She sees more than the rest. Certainly she must have seen that Elrond is doomed to end up my way, his is a tragic love. What benefit shall Celebrian have from marrying one who cannot even guarantee her his heart?”

“It is when Galadriel says things like these that I feel like sailing west with my child, cousin”, Celeborn sighed, “She’s changed.”

“Even elves change. But the hearts remain true”, Oropher said steadfastly.

“Why are you supporting my Noldor wife?” Celeborn asked ironically, “You should say ‘I told you so’. After all you have been proved right. I love her still. But she, I can no longer see what she feels. The mirror holds her in thrall.”

Oropher shook his head before saying, “I think you need to speak with her openly before either you cross the point of no return. I saw her at the wedding. I thought for a moment that she was fading. She has become but a shell of herself, cousin. I see no good in this. Destroy the mirror before it destroys you both.”

“She might be feeling that she made a mistake in marrying me”, Celeborn said woebegone, “Do you think so, Oropher?”

“You are a fool”, Oropher’s lips twitched slightly as he took in his cousin’s expression, “Both of you are fools. And both of you are still in love with each other. After all the centuries both of you spent swooning over each other, now you think you have made a mistake? Well, I still think you made a mistake in marrying her, but that is just because I mistrust Feanor’s house. I have been proved wrong, once by Maglor, who took care of those two elflings and now young Erestor. So I have been proved wrong. But as I have a reputation to uphold as being stubborn, I will continue to criticize them.”

“I have not been faithful to her and our vows for centuries”, Celeborn confessed openly, “And I fear the mirror shall be always between us.”

Oropher smirked, “I do not need your confession, cousin”, he lowered his voice, “My son rarely talks about his bed partners. But even his reticence was thawed after he spent a season in Lothlorien. And he talked the most about the activities of a certain prolific Silver Tree.”

A light blush tinged Celeborn’s cheeks as he murmured, “He should not have told you that! I am sorry. It was a mistake.”

Oropher waved aside his apology saying, “My son is capable of making even very ancient elves commit mistakes, if the much filtered tales about a certain mariner that reached my ears are true.”

Celeborn felt sudden understanding dawn, “Oh! That was why Cirdan was so angry after I told him the Prince was wounded!”

Then the doors of the healing chambers opened and Thalion faced them, a huge smile on his careworn features.

Oropher grinned like a fool as he asked, “May I see him now?”

“He will have no other watch over him, as you well know, My Lord”, Thalion grumbled, “The proverbial will of Thranduil Oropherion saves the day again.”

Celeborn and Thalion watched amusedly as Oropher practically bounced inside the chamber. A moment later, they could hear a joyous shout, “ ADA!”

All was well in Green wood the Great again.

*****

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