Chapter Fourteen: Comforts--Thranduil

The forest was wilting, and I could only watch its vibrance fade.

A councilor spoke before me, for it seemed there was always some issue that must be addressed, but I could only just keep my eyes on him whilst my thoughts drifted.

For years I had watched as the Shadow's reach grew, creeping closer to our walls. Today, however, it was undoubtedly closer than I had seen it in a long time--I only hoped we could drive it back before any true consequence could be dealt. The warriors may fight, their flames of hope burning, but even a candle can only endure so much wind before it is snuffed out.

As the councilor continued speaking, my gaze caught on a movement near one of the side entrances. It was a discreet entrance, used almost exclusively by the messengers and in some rare moments the captains. In this instance, a messenger stepped inside, his expression grim. Immediately, I shifted, leaning but keeping my attention on the speaking councilor. The messenger waited. His nervous stance spoke volumes.

For only a second my eyes flitted down to Galion, my seneschal standing by the stairs that led to my throne. He glanced at me, seeming to have already noticed the messenger. I gave a slight nod, only barely a gesture but enough to signal my request. Understanding evident in his movement, Galion waited a moment before stepping away and walking to the ellon. The two slipped out of the room, and I was left to wait in doldrums of anticipation.

If Legolas had been harmed, the messenger would have made a more blatant entrance and demanded attention. His subtlety was reassuring, but still I could not expel the worry that built in my heart. Retaining a rapt focus on the councilor, making comment when necessary, I engaged in the game of waiting.

Time passed slowly, and when Galion entered again my fingers were tightly curled around the wooden armrests of my seat. My seneschal hung in the corner for a moment, until I finally dared to slip a glance in his direction. In the single passing glance, I absorbed the tightness of his mouth, the lines of barely concealed urgency on his brow. My charade of composure barely held as I breathed deeply, knowing all too well what tone the messenger's news was of--the slight shake of Galion's head conveyed enough for me to discern from.

My knuckles whitened as I straightened in my seat. A cold steel crept into my chest, and I felt a rising ire flash through my eyes. It seemed the elves around me noticed such, as a sudden hush crept into the room, discussion stumbling to a halt. All eyes turned to me. I had yet to speak, but my sentiment seemed to have been discerned. Taking the opportunity, I stood, robes falling around me. My voice carried throughout the room. "Council is dissmissed. We will reconvene early tomorrow."

Hearing my declaration, the guards opened the large doors. The councilors and lords nodded respectfully, turning to exit the room. A slight swish of fabric was the only testament to their departing, none arguing. Disdain was written clearly on a few of their faces, my dismissal bringing some amount of displeasure. While those in my court obeyed my decisions, not all deigned to respect them.

I nodded for the guards to shut the doors as the room emptied of its last person. The boom of the doors' closing still echoing, I met Galion partyway across the floor, and hardly a moment passed before I spoke. "Tell me what's happened."

Galion grimaced. "Legolas and a small company apprehended an intruder this morning. The elf is now in the dungeons--they believe him to be one an assassin."

I nodded, but knew Galion had yet to disclose all that had occurred. Too much concern laced his voice.

"At this time, the assassin refuses to speak. I am sure he will at some point, but... The lieutenant, Forven, was wounded in the attack. The messenger did not know much, but the wound is serious. Not life threatening at the present, but damage has been dealt."

My breath caught at the news, teeth grinding together while my anger grew. "And what of Legolas?" Galion might not have mentioned any injury, but I was more keen to know if my son had remained in the stronghold. While I held Forven in high regard, the lieutenant having gained favor in my eyes long before, I would not let emotion take hold of my actions. Legolas, contrarily, had never dealt with the injuries of his friends well--especially when those injuries had been for his own protection.

"Last heard to be in the armory."

"Good," I said. "Le savfael-nin, mellon." I gripped my senechsal's shoulder briefly, then walking past him. My guard immediately came to attention as I neared the door, hands tightening around their weapons. Imrathon's eyes met mine, and he dipped his head in a silent acknowledgement of what he knew my first task would be.

"Where are you going?" Galion said, following just behind my shoulder. "You cannot think to speak to the assassin."

"I will do what it takes to preserve my realm. You say he refuses to talk--I will make him."

The messenger was still waiting outside, so with a quick word I sent him ahead of us, a message for Elros with him. He broke into a run, and soon his figgure faded from sight.

Imrathon led the way down the hall, motioning the guards under his command to complete a various number of tasks. Checking the halls--watching behind us--one slipping closer to my side--all were actions that I had come to expect from them over time, but a new level of caution had entered their movements. Our arrival to the dungeons could not have arrived quickly enough.

Elros met me at the stairs, expression solemn. "Aran-nin," he said, gesturing for me to follow him. "We moved him to the large chamber, as you asked. Are you sure it is safe for you to be near him?" Although the question was directed toward me, Elros' eyes flitted to Imrathon, as if searching for the commander's confirmation.

Imrathon dipped his chin, gaze cool. Inferring the action as both his answer and my own, Elros nodded, leading our group down the hall. Two ellyn of my guard stayed at the dungeon entrance, the others staying near behind me. Our footsteps echoed upward, past the winding paths and to the cavernous ceiling, as if an imitation of a doom to come.

We came upon the chamber. The room, heavily watched, had but the barest pattern carved into its top. The wood covering was slid open, allowing me to simply walk to it. My tread was light, but my heart was not as I looked inside, eyes narrowing upon seeing the assassin. HIs head was bowed as he sat on the floor, chained wrists resting on his bent knees. "Open it," I said.

The keys jingled, sliding into the metal lock. A click sounded and the the door creaked open, my hand pressed upon it. The assassin's head moved slowly, eyes rising from the ground to meet my own emotionless gaze. I crossed my arms, raising my chin. Although I could feel the anxious movements of my guards behind me, I remained motionless, waiting. The seconds passsed into minutes, the slightest breath resonating as a roar. Time extended in an anxious battle of will and emotion, but I saw the assassin shift, swallowing hard.

Finally, his voice bit the air. "You will learn nothing from me."

I struggled to conceal a smirk. "Is there something to learn then?" The assassin scowled, turning his head. I walked closer, hands behind my back and robes dragging at my feet. "Do not worry on it. I know enough of you already."

The ellon glared, the bare light in the room cast around his shoulders. He did not speak so I continued.

"You are fighter, that much is clear. A shadow lurks about you, almost like the cloak which you wear. Your fea is dark, and through your years it seems to have only become dimmer." I allowed my voice to lower. "But tell me, assassin, do you remember how it feels? The grip of your sword as you kill one of your own people--the look in your victim's eyes as life slips from their grasp? Honor has fled you faster than a storm's wind."

Denial crept onto the assassin's face and he stood, but I stepped forward, unwilling to give him the luxury of defense.

"Do you believe I cannot see? Your eyes are haunted--lifeless. Perhaps you do not care that your heart lacks goodness, that you are a vessel of malice, but I tell you now you will regret this. Though consequences of your action may not yet be known to you, I know you see what damage you have dealt. Your people, your cause--you have hurt my kingdom, you have hurt those near to me, you have hurt my warriors, and if you believe that you will escape from this unscathed, you are sorely mistaken." I took a step closer, snarling. "You say I will learn nothing from you, but you have already said a thousand words. I see you for what you are: nothing but a cold-blooded kinslayer." The final word I nearly spat, the vile feel of it like a curse upon my tongue.

"You know nothing," the assassin bit back, pulling against his bond, rage burning. "When have you truly felt it? This forest is as good as dead as it is now--or will be in a century. This kingdom will fall one day, whether I am here to see it crumble or not." His voice trailed into a harsh laugh before continuing. "Is that truly what you think? That all we want is you or your people or your son dead?" He shook his head with a mirthless smile. "They are but stepping stones, simple elements of defeat. And if we must use them, then so be it, for their killing will hardly matter to our blades. But as for you... You, my great king. You are the support, the base. We will break you and when you die..."--a chuckle--"then Mirkwood will fail." Apparently finished, the assassin moved toward the wall, pressing his back against it.

I stood still, unmoving. Even as the assassin looked away, I did not blink, but instead stalked towards him, one slow step after the other. It was only when I was a breath from his face that I opened my mouth again. "Why?"

"Why? Ah, is that what you do not know?" He began to laugh, slow but raucous. "You don't see... You don't understand... You wouldn't. It's your fault... All yours. Everything. Your fault..." His rambling turned to mutters, mindless but nonetheless unnerving.

I stepped back. Naught else would be learned today, but if the exchange had provved one thing it was that the assassin could be made to talk. Turning, I walked out of the cell, meeting the steady stares of the elves around me. I had only just taken a step outside the chamber when his voice pierced the air.

"Morinaur." A pause. "My name is Morinaur. That is what you wanted to know isn't it?" HIs tone was that of cruel glee. "It's all they've been asking. And do you know its meaning?--dark fire. And such will be the state of the forest, for Mirkwood will burn. You will see, one day. The flames will consume it, and nothing will be left but shadows and embers."

Breathing deeply, I stiffened. My thoughts spun, all blurring into one, and I only just glanced over my shoulder. "We shall see, Morinaur, who in the end shall be burned."

The door's echoing boomed behind me, and I made my exit, my footsteps joining the ominous pound.

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Legolas had yet to come, and I did not know when he would, but still I waited. The time was not of waste. I had papers, should I need a task to complete, but for the present I was caught in my thoughts. Despite the warmth I knew was present, I felt cold. Chin resting on my fisted hand, I sat by the wall, pondering. Morinaur had confirmed much, whether he had chosen to or not. Much of the newfound information dissettled me, but still I was glad to have heard it. A battle was coming and I could near smell it. So lost was I in my ponderings, that I was abruptly jolted from them by a slight movement only an arm's length from me--it was small but I noticed it.

A short time before, I had come to the healing halls, knowing Legolas would come eventually. He would not leave his wounded lieutenant alone for long. My waiting, it seemed, would not be in vain. Forven's head moved, the shift almost imperceptible. Despite the slightness of the gesture, I slipped to the edge of my seat, hand outstretched. After so many centuries, the coming of a nightmare had become easily found by my eyes. Forven's movements began to escalate, and I quickly brought my hand to clasp his shoulder. "Forven," I murmured, "sidh, all is well, you are safe..."

Moments passed but his upset was not quelled, continuing to rise.

With caution, I brought my hand to rest on his brow, heat greeting my touch. "Hush, maethor. Be na idh, ennas tolo al-goth." I paused, waiting before continuing. "Be taug." A steady flow of comforts flowed from my mouth, nonsensical but continuous

Forven stilled as I spoke, raspy breathing quieting. He did not awaken, yet his head turned toward me, features relaxing.

My voice trailed away. The warriors all carried burdens in their dreams. Too often had they been forced to witness the death of their friends or darkness of the enemy. The more skilled warriors had learned to hide their memories, burying them deep within, but it was in times like this that they had no choice but to feel those memories run rampant.

Forven, I had known for many centuries. He had been under my charge for much of that time, even if not directly. I had watched him grow, seen him overcome the glooms of his past. Now he was a skilled warrior, and loyal friend and near brother for Legolas, and his strength was something I would forever respect him for.

Looking to Forven, my eyes traveled from his face down to his tightly bound side and arm. The wrappings were a stark contrast to his skin, and I could see where blood still leaked onto the cloth, a dark spot upon the white. Although I could not say for how long, I knew that the injury would be a hindrance for some amount of time.

I was just leaning back from the bed when Legolas entered. There was a brief moment of inattention before he became aware of my presence, but I saw the slouch of his shoulders. I had not forgotten the blow he had taken to his head, and instantly I searched for any indication of wavering. He seemed steady enough, but I doubted that he had stopped moving since he had first stood in the morning.

Surprise shone in his eyes as he saw me, but his focus shifted to Forven. "Suilad, adar," he said, rounding the bed and taking another chair from the wall. "Have the healers said anything?"

I shifted nearer to him. "They have now put him under the charge of one of the younger healers, so I would say that is a good sign. Otherwise, they say he has a slight fever but it should pass quickly enough."

Legolas sighed in relief. "Good... He shouldn't have been hurt."

"You know what my answer to that is, ion." I kept my voice soft, but did not allow the strength of my words to drift.

A chuckle shook Legolas's frame, and the sound was like a distant song of lighter memory. "That it is not my fault? Aye, so you have said before." I could not help but smile with him, just for this passing instant. The joy was short lived, however, as Morinaur's words entered my thoughts.

Mirkwood will burn.

Although reluctant to destroy the moment, I knew it to be inevitable. "The assassin spoke. His name is Morinaur."

"What? But Elros said he would tell me if--"

I interrupted. "It was not Elros nor his guard who provoked a response." Gradually, I divulged my tale, telling him all that I could, though some of the words were painful on my lips. Some of what I said was the words of the assassin, the rest being my own thoughts. Several minutes passed, murmurs from Legolas being evidence of his attention. When I finished, Forven's hard breathing filled the void of sound left in the room.

Seeming to think on the newfound information, Legolas nodded, light hair falling over his shoulder. "They cannot think to set the forest ablaze. Heartless though they may be, even they would not be immune to the trees' anger..."

"I agree. We must be vigilant, though. Once a fire catches, we can hardly keep it from spreading."

Silence again captivated the air, but it hardly lasted. "Did he..." Legolas hesitated. "Did he speak of an accomplice? Someone perhaps here, amid us in the stronghold?"

I shook my head. "Nay, not of one specifically inside. It's not unthinkable... We can't know for certain either way though, until we have spoken more to him."

"Aye." Legolas said, biting his lip.

When he did not continue, I raised an eyebrow. "You suspect someone then?"

"I do not know for certain, and after the conversation I had with him just now I almost positive that he is not but... You recall Earandur? He is still a novice, and has never truly engaged in combat. Despite such, he has always fought hard, giving all his worth to training. Of late, though, I have hardly seen him. Since this ordeal began, he has either been a hindrance or entirely absent, spending his time at the armory instead. While I do not wish to doubt him..."

I nodded in understanding. "You cannot but wonder?"

Legolas's fingers drummed against his leg. "Aye. Speaking to him, he seems entirely innocent. I don't believe he so much as knows what the assassin's true intent could be, but my discussion with him has brought me to believe--nay, in fact be certain that there is a spy in our midst. Perhaps even in my warriors. The enemy would have had to be careful, but they could have placed one among us."

"And do you know what you will do about it?" His revelation did not surprise me. Spies had been flushed out of the court often enough, but I wished to hear my son's own thoughts.

Legolas bit his lip before nodding. "I don't believe there is aught that we can do. To question everyone in the realm's motives... It would anger even the innocent."

"Ah, you are learning, ion-nin. Do you recall what I said just few short days ago?--I said we would cut off the head of the snake. The spies, the assassins; they are but the tail, not leading, only furthering the head's cause. For now, we must leave it be, lure the enemy into safety. Only then will their poison cease seeping into our people's realm." I leaned to my son, pressing a kiss to his forehead in a rare display of my affection. "I would stay with you, if not for the needs of the kingdom. Tell me if anything changes--and do not blame yourself, for any of this."

I departed from the room, new purpose in my step. The torches were dim in the halls, fading enough for me to see the light's shadow dance upon the walls.

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To be continued...

Hush, maethor. Be na idh, ennas tolo al-goth : Hush, warrior. Be at peace, there comes no enemy.

Le savfael-nin, mellon : you have my thanks, friend

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