See Ch. 1 for disclaimer.

Ch. 9 Messages and Plans of Rescue

Thranduil stared blindly at the scroll lying on the desk before him. The words danced incoherently before him, but the King made no effort to concentrate on their meaning. He only knew too well the message that was imprinted on the curled and much-handled piece of parchment. In fact, he knew each word by heart, its meaning burned into his memory like an unwanted brand that his mind had no intentions of erasing.

The message had been from Aldeon, received early yesterday morn, and had not brought the much sought-after relief from fear that he and his other son had so fervently prayed for. Instead, it had brought further fear, laden upon that which already filled their hearts to the brim. Legolas had not been found. But what made Thranduil’s blood turned cold were the following words from his oldest son: "The traitors hold him still, and are intent upon delivering him into the hands of the Easterlings."

Even now, those very words sent a fresh wave of cold fear through him, robbing him of breath and clear thought. Legolas in the hands of the Easterlings. Never had he imagined such a scenario, not even in the deepest fears that were aroused when it came to the wellbeing of his youngest. His child in the hands of the Men of Darkness, known for their treachery and cruelty even against their own kind. Deep down, Thranduil knew, knew what the Men would demand of him while they held a knife to his son’s life. Already, the King was preparing himself for the next message that would arrive. That message would not be from Aldeon, or Feren, and Thranduil shuddered at the very thought of the choice that he knew he would have to make, a choice that no father should ever have to make.

As these dark thoughts and fears tightened their stranglehold on his heart and mind, Thranduil heard a sharp knock on the door and instinctively braced himself. So soon. So soon would the last remnants of hope be tore from him. He watched in numbed silence as Tavaro entered the room, white-faced and bearing a parcel in his hand.

"Adar." His son approached him. "This was found near one of the outermost cottages. It is for you."

Thranduil met the eyes of his son, and recognized in them the unspoken fear. The King reached for the package, his hand trembling ever so slightly. For a long moment, he stared down at the cloth-wrapped parcel.

"Adar, open it," Tavaro urged, a tremour in his usually light voice.

Thranduil nodded, his cold fingers reaching for the knot. It seemed to take an eternity before the package lay exposed, and it was Tavaro who cried out as he snatched up the familiar green tunic, tattered and stained ominously with streaks and patches of what could only be blood. Legolas’ blood.

In silence, Thranduil picked up the scroll that lay under the stained tunic. A cold calmness descended upon him as he read the words once, and then read them again. At last he looked up and met his son’s anguished filled eyes. "The Easterlings have Legolas. Unless I agree to their demands within a week, they will return Legolas to me, one limb at a time."

"If they harm one hair on his head, I will kill rip them apart with my bare hands!" Tavaro said in cold fury.

"They have already hurt him," Thranduil said as he reached for the tattered tunic from his son’s grasp. "Look how they have hurt him."

Tavaro quickly scanned the ominous message and looked at his father in beseeching anguish. "Adar, what shall we do?"

From Thranduil, there was only painful silence.

Fear and disbelief filled Tavaro’s heart. "You do not mean to leave Legolas in their hands, do you?"

"Tavaro, I am the King. Mirkwood and its people come first, before all else," Thranduil said quietly, hating the sound of the words in his own ears.

"You would let them do what they threatened to do to Legolas?" Tavaro was on his feet. "You would sit back and do nothing while they torture your own son to death?"

"Tavaro!" Thranduil said sharply.

"I am sorry, Adar. I am so sorry." Tears filled his son’s eyes. "I do not mean those words."

Thranduil drew his son into his arms. "If you but know the pain that is tearing my heart apart now. I would willingly give up my life for Legolas, for any one of my sons. But as King, my duty to the realm and its people comes before my duty as father. Forgive me, Tavaro."

"No, Adar, I should be the one to beg forgiveness. My words were spoken in haste," Tavaro said tearfully, holding tight to the embrace of his father. "But I simply cannot bear the thought of Legolas being harmed. Is there naught that we can do? I cannot live with myself if I sit by idly while they kill my brother. Let me go find him, please, Adar."

Thranduil pressed him down back onto the chair. "Your brothers are searching for him right now, along with all our available warriors. You know Aldeon and Feren will spare nothing in their search for Legolas. We must put our faith in them. No, as desperate as I am to ride out after your brother, it will be folly to do so in blind haste, for even Aldeon and Feren do not know where Legolas is being held hostage, but they will find him. I am certain of it. And when they do, these scum of Arda will rue the day that they drew their first foul breath." Thranduil narrowed his eyes and Tavaro saw a look in them that sent an involuntary shudder through him. The ferocity of anger that burned in the King's eyes would surely burn a soul alive. "I will not give in to the demands of these despicable creatures, but they will answer to what they have done to my son. Aldeon and Feren have been directed to soak the ground with the blood of those vile beings that have harmed their brother. I have no doubt that they will do so."

Thranduil regarded his son. "I too regret not being able to partake in that blood bath, but we are needed here, Tavaro. Aldeon fears that the Easterlings may launch an attack on our stronghold should I not give into their demands. We must prepare for the worst."

"Our people have not yet recovered from the last orc attack, and yet they must now face a threat from Men," Tavaro said bitterly.

"Mirkwood has survived many threats in the past, and it will do so again," Thranduil said with cold grimness.

"Mirkwood may survive, but will Legolas?" Tavaro asked.

Thranduil flinched as if the words were a physical blow. He stared at the familiar tunic in his hands, feeling his heart break into a thousand pieces as his trembling hands fingered each stain of rusted crimson, each bloody tear in the once soft leather. Forgive me, my son. Were that you are not the son of a king. Forgive me, Legolas.

****

"The tracks are leading us back to the way of the settlement," Feren said, frowning, as he studied at the line of trees looming before them. He looked at his older brother. "Should we continue to follow them?"

"We have little else to go on. We will follow them for a while yet, and if they come to naught, then we should split into two groups so that we can cover more area. We should send forth scouts to check out the path ahead. I do not think it wise for all of us to ride into the woods together. It may be a trap," Aldeon said.

Feren nodded and dispatched two of the warriors. In anxious silence, they waited, watchful eyes scanning for any sign of danger or threat. Sooner than expected, a shrill whistle reached their ears, signaling clearance.

Aldeon and Feren urged their horses forward, followed closely by the others. The scene that greeted them was not one that they had expected to see. The bodies of three elves laid strewn in pools of congealing blood that stained the forest ground a dark rustic red. Another elf crouched by the bodies, a knife held close to his throat, wielded by one of the two scouts sent by Feren. The other warrior stood by warily, his weapon drawn.

For a moment, Aldeon thought his heart had stopped until he realized that none of the dead had golden hair. He watched, his heart pounding still in reaction, as Feren turned one of the limp bodies over with a shaking hand, and knew that he had not been alone in his initial breathtaking fear.

"What happened here?" Feren asked after studying all three bodies.

"We found him by the bodies. He has not spoken," the elf who was wielding the knife answered.

Feren approached the crouching elf. "Manveru, what happened? Ambartur lies there dead with two others. Who are they? How did they die?"

"Manveru?" Aldeon repeated. "And Ambartur?"

Feren nodded grimly. "Yes, we have found our traitors. Where is our brother, Manveru? What have you done with him? Answer me!"

"They are dead! They are all dead! My brother and nephews. They killed them all!" the elf said brokenly, suddenly breaking into a torrent of wild sobbing. "What will I tell Adar?"

Feren grabbed him by the tunic and shook him with bone-rattling force. "Speak sense! Who else is dead? Is Legolas dead? Where is my brother? Answer me before I end your miserable life!"

"They are dead. We gave them the prince. Why did they kill them? Why?" The distraught elf paid him no attention as he continued to weep, heedless of all else around him.

Aldeon stepped forward and touched his brother's shoulder lightly. "Allow me, Feren."

Feren shoved the sobbing elf away with disgust, and the latter crumbled to his knees like a rag doll.

"Manveru, the Easterlings have killed your brother and your nephews. Tell us where these Men are and we will avenge their deaths," Aldeon forced himself to speak calmly, though he too desperately wanted to shake the elf before him for information of Legolas.

"Avenge their deaths?" Manveru looked at him blankly through tearful eyes.

"Yes, lead us to the Men and we will avenge the deaths of your brother and nephews. Tell me, do they have my brother?"

"Ambartur was to deliver your brother to the Men in exchange for my nephew, Merimon." The elf looked down at one of the still forms and his breath caught on a sob.

"Then the Men must already have Legolas. Where are they holding him?"

Manveru shook his head in misery. "I do not know. Once he delivered the young prince to them, Ambartur was to ask for aid from the Men to free our settlement from your hold."

"Free the settlement from our hold with the aid of Men?" Feren asked incredulously, feeling a nameless rage washing over him. Angry murmurs broke out also among the warriors as they too reacted with fury to the near blasphemous words.

Aldeon looked at the tearful elf with total disdain. "It would appear that the Men had no intention of freeing your settlement. They were too occupied killing the very people who had requested their aid. Do you then still place your trust in these Men? Or will you now lead us to them?"

Manveru stared at the bodies before him, his fists balling. "Yes, I will lead you to them. They will be heading east, taking your brother back to their stronghold." He looked up at Aldeon. "I will lead you to them, on the condition that I am allowed to spill their blood as they have spilled the blood of my loved ones."

Feren spoke up, his voice cold and hard. "You are hardly in the position to demand conditions. You will do as you are told or I will tie you to a tree and leave you here, to deal with once my brother has been found."

"I care not what you do to me so long as you allow me to avenge their deaths first," Manveru said determinedly. "I have no more to lose."

Feren eyed him coldly and nodded to the nearest warrior "Tie him up firmly and set him on a horse. We must be on our way, quickly!"

"What about my brother and nephews?" Manveru asked frantically.

"We cannot take them with us. They are beyond our help now. We will deal with them when we have rescued my brother, and you better pray that Legolas has not been harmed, or worse, killed or you will be the first to follow him in death. Now lead us to the Men." Feren then turned to his troops. "Keep a close watch on him. If he attempts anything foolish, bring him down, but do not kill him."

As it turned out, the tracks left by the departing Men were many and all too clear to follow, and Aldeon and Feren were thankful that they would not have to rely solely on Manveru in locating the humans. Once again, scouts were sent ahead to ensure that the tracks would not lead them into a trap. It was not long before the Men were sighted, trudging their way noisily through the woods, completely unaware of the watchful eyes that followed their every move from amidst leaves and branches. Satisfied with what they have learned, the two scouts retreated noiselessly from their perch and made their way back swiftly to report their findings to their commander.

"How many are there?" Feren asked.

"Thirty at the most. Their leader was urging them to move quickly so as to reach the main camp before dark."

"These must be the Men who killed Ambartur and my nephews," Manveru cried. "We must get to them before they reach camp. Untie me at once and let us move out!"

Feren looked at him icily. "We will not move out until I give the order. You will remain tied to the horse until such time that I feel it appropriate to release you to fight. These Men are not to be touched at this time. They will lead us to the main camp where I hope we will find Legolas. If you raise any alarm at all and jeopardize our chances of rescuing my brother, I will personally put an end to your miserable life in the most painful way possible."

Feren then turned to four of his waiting warriors. "I want you to follow these Men to seek out the location of their main camp. Study the camp carefully, take count of the number of humans, the location of trees from where we can attack, and possible escape routes, but above all, ascertain whether Legolas is being held there. As soon as you have completed your surveillance, return here immediately and we will plan our attack accordingly."

Having received their orders, the four warriors saluted and disappeared quickly into the trees. Then the anxious waiting began. For the first time in days, Aldeon and Feren dared to hope that their long pursuit might at last be coming to an end. Mingled with that hope, however, was also the unspoken fear that their brother may not be at the camp, or worse, may no longer be alive. To be thrown so suddenly into such inaction, in the wake of hard pursuit, was more trying than either of the princes could imagine. And yet, there was naught that they could do but to await with forced patience for the return of the scouts and their report.

In the end, the scouts did return bringing with them the news that the main camp was no more than an hour away.

"And Legolas, did you catch sight of him?" Aldeon asked anxiously.

"I am sorry, my lord, but we could see little beyond the peripherals of the camp as we dared not alert them to our presence. We did not see the young prince. It is likely that he is being held deep inside the camp," one the scouts answered.

"And the number of Men?" Feren asked.

"It is a large camp and there are many humans. I would guess the number to be close to one hundred, if not more. But the camp set in a large clearing surrounded by trees from which we can launch our attack."

Feren frowned. "We will be greatly outnumbered. We will attack at night, when we will be aided by the darkness. We will be able to see the enemies whereas they will have difficulty sighting us. Aldeon, I want you to go into the camp to search for Legolas. It is imperative that he is found before the Men are alerted to our presence. I will send two warriors with you and we will hold off our attack until you have found him."

Aldeon nodded. Though he was the elder of the two, Feren was the commander of the troops and he felt no slight in taking orders from his younger brother. "I will signal to you once I have located Legolas. Give me time to get beyond the clearing before you launch your attack." Aldeon did not want to consider the consequences should he fail to locate his brother.

"We will hold off for as long as we can, though should the alarm be raised, we will protect your retreat with our arrows. Leave all fighting to us. The most important thing for you to do is to get Legolas away."

"If I find him, I will get him away. You can be certain of that." He regarded his brother and added quietly. "Feren, show the humans no mercy."

Feren nodded. "I do not intend to. By the Valar, I do not intend to."

TBC