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Chapter 53: The Inner Circle II



Evening was fully upon them, and the wide-eyed runner returned to the king's quarters.


"The duty guard allows no one to pass the gates to the barracks, Sire. He says the Inner Circle is still gathered."


"Thank you," he said and turned inside to his guests.


"What is it?" asked Glorfindel.


"They are still working."


Glorfindel held the king's eyes for a moment before turning back to the magnificent sight of the Evergreen wood that sprawled into the horizon, as far as his eye could see. Beside him, Elladan too, admired its beauty and further out on the balcony, Mithrandir puffed on his pipe, and although his eyes too, seemed trained on the virgin forest, they were unfocussed.


"Well, if I know General Huron at all, they will be giving him a time of it," said Rinion, almost matter-of-factly."


"And that is good," added Handir, for what better way for Legolas to show his worth?"


"I only hope they see sense and do not promote him to trainee captain. Tis too much," muttered Rinion.


"You disagree then, with Commander Glorfindel's report?" asked Mithrandir with a fond smile on his face, one Rinion did not seem to appreciate at all.


"I do."


"Bold words, from a Lieutenant," said Elladan plainly.


"They are true, nonetheless."


"My report," began Glorfindel, somewhat cuttingly, states only what he is capable of, not what would or would not be wise at a given time. I mean what I say - he is capable of that, and if it is not to be, that is because by promoting him, others - would feel discriminated, 'tis that simple, my prince."


"Are you referring to me, my Lord?" asked Rinion boldly with a challenge in his eye.


"No, my Prince, not specifically. I say only that others, would feel discriminated. You would know, of course, If I was right," he said, and Handir smiled at his wit.


Rinion, however, did not, but he did nod and did not press the point.


"Well then, let us dine, my friends. I have much to brief you on," began the king.


After a while, when the small talk was done and they had sated their appetites, the king leaned forward to speak.


"It is time to tell you of what the Inner Circle discusses."


Elladan, Mithrandir and Glorfindel shared puzzled expressions.


"They do not discuss my report? His future in the army?" asked Glorfindel.


"They do, but there is more - much more. You see, the Greenwood Summit of which I briefly informed you," began the king, catching Mithrandir's curious gaze, "was much more - transcendental than you may have imagined."


From the look on their faces, Glorfindel deduced that the princes had already been briefed on whatever it was the king would say now, for they held their silence.


"You see, the Silvans have made a request, one I am unsure we can concede - they have requested their own, military representative - they have requested the return of the Silvan Warlord."


Glorfindel's eyes widened as he sat back in his chair, his skin prickling uncomfortably. It was Elladan who spoke first though.


"Where has this come from? Why now? I mean, If I am not mistaken, that figure disappeared with the arrival of the Sindar."


"Indeed, Elladan, but there is unrest, has been for many years for there is a small faction of Sindarin lords that have taken it upon themselves to spread their somewhat racist ways, in favour of a predominantly Sindarin society. It is popular talk that has stuck with many who wish for a return to the elder days of splendour. The result is that the Silvan people, especially their warriors, have been relegated to the lower ranks, in spite of their overwhelming numbers. Unchecked, this discrimination has been allowed to fester, which brings us to this point in time."


"They are rebelling..." guessed Glorfindel.


"Yes..." said the king.


"Do you know, who the instigators are, Thranduil?" asked Mithrandir.


"Oh yes - yes we know, for the most part although we suspect there are more in the shadows. You see it is my own uncle, Bandorion, brother of Oropher. His son, Barathon, is a member of the Inner Circle."


Glorfindel's lip curled at the mention of that name.


"His close collaborator is Lord Draugole, another of those we watch, and coincidentally, his son is also a member of the Inner Circle. I know for a fact that Celegon is eager to root them out, show that they did not earn that right, that their fathers manoeuvred in order to favour their offspring.


"But how did they get the rank in the first place?" asked Elladan, indignant at what the king was explaining.


"They were recommended for it, of course. A lieutenant needs but five Captains to vouch for his ability - these sons of lords had no difficulties in obtaining the necessary backing."


"It is atrocious, for the system itself is a good one but bases itself on the honour of all those involved. I am surprised so many Captains would lie and allow such unworthy warriors to become commanders, with everything that that implies," said Glorfindel.


"Don't get me wrong, Glorfiindel," said the king. "It is the minority that do it, but the question is, why did they concede to granting a rank to such unsuitable candidates? This is what we need to find out for some of us believe there is - more to their machinations than meets the eye."


"And Commander Celegon is correcting this situation, even as we speak," said Rinion.


"Perhaps, perhaps that is why this trial they put Legolas through is - what it is..." mused Glorfindel. "It makes sense for he too, is the son of a Lord, they will not want to make the same mistake..."


"Indeed," said Thranduil, "I believe that is, indeed the case."


"There's something I still don't understand, Thranduil," said Glorfindel as he tapped his bottom lip with his index finger. "The Silvans and their Warlord... what has that got to do with Legolas?" he asked, but just as he had asked the question, his forehead abruptly smoothed out. "You cannot mean..."


"They want him. They want The Silvan..."


"Elbereth," whispered Glorfindel. "That is what they do - for you cannot make a decision on that without the full backing of your commanders, because the political storm would be devastating without their loyalty..." said Glorfindel, almost to himself.


"That is right, Glorfindel," began Handir. "You see, the king wished to brief Legolas before the trial, but by passing that duty on to our commanders, we give them the weight of the decision. Only that way, can we assure their loyalty when the time comes to decide, and only that way can they be sure that this son of a lord is worthy of Glorfindel's recommendation."


"That was a wise decision, I believe," said Mithrandir. "They will hardly go against their own recommendations."


"True," said Rinion. "The question of course, is that our army will not condone Legolas being the Silvan Warlord if he is truly not capable, or if his loyalty can, in some way, be called into question. I know for a fact that many worry that he will take a negative stance towards the Sindar, in favour of the Silvan people - worsen an already volatile situation."


"He will not, Rinion. I know that for a fact. He has accepted his Sindarin heritage, no longer reneges it," said Elladan.


"You may know that, Elladan, but we do not and more importantly, they - do not."


They were all silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, until Mithrandir spoke.


"How long have we got, before a decision must be made?" he asked.


The king looked at him plainly. "Two days, Mithrandir. We have two days."


"Why only two days?" asked Glorfindel.


"Because the Silvans are coming, Glorfindel. The forest comes to hear the decision of the king. They will be here in two days."


TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS


Hours later, Legolas made one final swipe of the stone over the magnificent blade he held reverently in his aching hand, and then lay it down next to the others. His nose tickled and he reached up to scratch it, only to find it bled.


He sniffled and then wiped it away, just as the captains left the hall and surrounded him once more, their eyes wide at the sight before them, for there, under the light of a waxing moon, lay their blades, presented in a semi-circle, the accompanying knives and daggers beside their larger brothers. They had been placed according to age and origin and their disbelieving eyes spotted their own weapons and took them up to inspect the impeccable work.


Turion smiled and then startled, for he could have sworn that Dorhinen's lips had twitched.


"Get up."


Legolas stood once more, his uniform dishevelled and his braids sticking out on one side. One eye was shadowed and the corner of his mouth was split. A trickle of blood ran from his nose which was slightly swollen and there was a red blotch on his temple.


"What is it you want?" asked Thoron as he stepped forward.


"I want to be a captain."


"Why?"


"To serve the forest and her people."


"And those that do not live in the forest? Those of us that live here? The Sindar?" he said.


"We all live in the forest, be it under the trees or around them - there is no difference."


"You would serve the Sindar then? as fervently as you would the Silvan people?"


"There is no difference."


"Of course there is a difference. We are different, you will it or not."


"The colour of our hair or eyes, or the hue of our skin - what does that matter?" asked Legolas, knowing he was pushing his luck now.


"But you, are Silvan! You make a point of it, don't you. You are ashamed of your Sindarin heritage - aren't you, admit it you half-breed bastard - you can't stand the Sindar people because they are your father's people, the elf that swept you aside without a thought, abandoned you to a life of shame and ridicule - that -is why you hate us, isn't it!" he shouted mercilessly, and Legolas flinched at his words. But he did not fall for it, for while that had been true, it no longer was.


"I am not ashamed of my Sindarin heritage."


"You lie!"


"No. I do not lie. You would be right had you asked me that question a year ago. But it is no longer so, the name the Silvan has simply stuck because it is ironic - I do not look Silvan, it seems..."


Someone snorted in mirth but was summarily silenced, and Thoron returned to the circle of captains.


Another took his place and circled him, his arms clasped behind his back.


"They say you single-handedly protected a caravan of wounded elves on your way to Imladris. Why single-handedly?" he asked curtly.


"It was the only way. Four injured and impaired, three injured but unimpaired and the threat of wargs but hours away. Had they attacked we would all have been killed. By falling back I would indeed be alone but I would have a chance at distracting them."


"With the smell of blood on the air, you would not have been able. You put your own life at risk and left the caravan with its only able-bodied elf to defend them."


"No. I knew my chances of defending them were increased if I moved away from them and towards the enemy."


"It doesn't make sense unless you explain why your chances were better - so tell us - why?"


There was no way Legolas could answer this question without making reference to his abilities, but then he would have to discuss that, sooner or later. The question was, that if they were already attacking him, after he told them of his status as a Protege, they would all but tear him apart.


"My chances were better because I was able to predict the enemy's movement."


Silence ensued until Thoron spoke once more.


"How - would you do that?"


Legolas' eyes slipped to the onlooking captains of their own accord - hesitating visibly before he spoke.


"I - have an ability."


"Another one!" exclaimed Thoron - "What a star you are!! Pray tell us what this new skill is!" he asked sarcastically and Legolas mentally cursed. This was the second time he had had to explain something so difficult, under the pressure of mockery.


"I can communicate with the trees," he said simply, hoping this would be enough, indeed it had to be. Too much information on his status was not going to help him.


"You are a listener?" asked Thoron.


"Yes," said Legolas quietly. It was not a lie, just a gross understatement.


"What? Speak up you fool, what did you say?!"


"I said yes, I am a listener."


He tried to steady himself, harden himself. Hs eyes strayed to the warriors still watching from the first floor, and then to the Inner Circle.


"So you see, Silvan," spat Thoron. "You are not Sindarin for you have the magic of the Silvan people - you are loyal to them, not the Sindar."


"I am loyal to my king," said Legolas, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice for he was tired, and they had gone over this so many times already.


"So you say..." said Thoron. "Kneel, and do not move until you're ordered to," he instructed and with that, the captains disappeared once more.


Inside, a heated argument had begun...


"There were rumours, Thoron, that he was a listener. Dimaethor said this himself, and Turion - you would know, you have ridden with him," said Dunorel.


"If you would let me speak, I would shed some light on this, yes.


"Go on," coaxed Huron.


"I knew he was a listener, yes. He had various episodes while we served together. He was still unaware of his ability and it frightened him. Dimaethor was there too. He successfully warned us of enemy presence and he was not wrong. That he is a listener there can be do doubt, and a good one at that.


"Why did you not tell us of this before, Turion?" asked Huron.


I arrived only the day before yesterday. Lainion perished and I had time only to prepare myself for today.


Celegon nodded. "The same happened on our way to Imladris. He tried to warn us of a double ambush but Silor wasted precious time antagonising him, with the results you all already know of. I would also share with you something I myself witnessed in Elrond's study, as we took council together. There was a moment in which Legolas had a - somewhat strong emotional response - and I swear I saw a drooping plant move itself, until it stood upright. It was speculated even then that the boy had some sort of - ability - green magic, perhaps."


"Then there is certainly enough evidence to at least give Legolas a chance, would you not say?" asked Turion, pushing his advantage now. "I say we move on, measure his skills as a warrior and strategist and then we take council together."


"Alright," said Celegon. "Turion is right and we do not have much time. Scouts have already reported the approach of the Silvans. They flock to the fortress by the hundreds and they will want their answer. We are together in this. We stick to the facts and we put him to the test, but I want no repetition of any prejudiced behaviour," he warned, his eyes lingering on Brethil and Barathon.


"We move on then, to phase two. Standard protocol applies as of now and," he emphasised, "we have a wounded warrior in our midst. Guard! Send for a healer."


"Sir!" saluted the guard.


It was all Turion and Dorhinen needed to stride into the courtyard and hoist Legolas onto his feet.


"The worst is over, Legolas," said Turion as they steadied him, and then took him inside, to a room with a small bed. Someone had lit candles and fresh water stood in a bowl in one corner.


Sitting slowly, Legolas allowed his eyes to slip shut, and by the time he opened them once more, fingers were in his hair, letting it down and unravelling the untidy braids at his temples. Yet he startled when he realised it was neither Turion nor Dorhinen, but Captains Dunorel and Lanthir.


The smell of food reached his nose and his mouth watered. He did not care what it was, he just wanted to eat it, fill his empty belly and drink his fill of cool water.


There was one thing though, that he would not do - he would not think - for his mind was too full of the incredible things that Celegon had spoken of. Should he start to think of them he knew he would not stop, and although Turion had told him the worst was over, he knew, nonetheless, that it had not finished.


His tunic was unlaced and his shirt removed. Cold water bathed his face and chest, and kind hands prodded his nose and his cheek. Opening his eyes for a moment, the deep blue eyes of Llyniel stared back at him and he startled momentarily, before smiling widely, and then wincing when his cut lip told him not to.


Friendly hands squeezed his shoulders and soon, he was left almost alone, save for Turion and Dorhinen, standing just outside the door.


"Eat," smiled Turion, watching as Legolas grabbed for the bread and cheese, making short work of it before biting down on a pear, its sweet juice running down his chin unchecked.


He chuckled. "Well, you are still a growing lad, I suppose," said Turion and Legolas smiled ruefully. He had not been able to eat breakfast for his nerves had gotten the better of him.


"Are you surprised, Legolas? Surprised that your own people could treat you as they have?"


"Somewhat, perhaps," said Legolas. "I understand their need to judge me, I know they have little time but it just seemed..."


"Cruel?"


"Yes...those captains, they are the commanders! the warriors I have always looked up to. I know their names, their deeds. I have only ever wanted to be like them, Turion."


"I admit there were times, when I wanted to intervene, when Barathon and Brethil had you. But listen to me, Legolas. Their cruelty has not gone unnoticed. You saw Lanthir and Dunorel here now, but had we allowed it, most of those captains out there would have done the same. This is not easy for them, but the responsibility, the consequences should they fail to judge you truly, could mean civil war."


"I know, Turion. It is just me and my childish ways, I suppose. Strange that one slap from a captain, can be more harrowing than all the insults they threw at me..."


Turion stared back at Legolas, his words sinking in, straight through his heart.


"Sleep, Legolas, for at dawn you will be called upon once more, only this time you will face us in tactics and combat - and here, we do not use training weapons..."


TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS


That night, Legolas slept fitfully at the barracks while the Captains debated the day's procedures, and at the Fortress, Handir was long to find reverie. The king slept not at all, and neither did Glorfindel, who chose the gardens to wander aimlessly, give free rein to his tumultuous thoughts.


Elladan sat with The Company, talking quietly of the king's revelations, and further away, in a tent, but two days ride away, Erthoron spoke quietly with Lorthil and Golloron, and Amareth smiled in joyful anticipation.


Across the plains, further still, a female elf sat amongst the trees, her light blue eyes trained on the stars above, marking their passage as she reminisced of times gone by, her eyes young yet resolute, sparkling with the thrill of adventure.


And when the night was darkest, an elf tossed and turned in his bed, his face twisted in pain as his head twitched from side to side until his eyes flew wide open and from his mouth a single word was whispered.


'Aglareb.'

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