Thanks again to Nilmandra for all her help and patience!

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“Here!”

Thranduil looked down to see a small elleth holding out a piece of bread.  He smiled.

“What is this?” he asked as he dropped down to one knee.

“Nana gave it to me,” the little one replied.

“Did she?”  Thranduil found himself taken by the little girl and could not help but chuckle.  “I cannot take the bread that your nana gave you.  She wanted you to have it.”

“But ada said we have to be…”

The little elleth appeared to be trying to remember the word that she was supposed to be.  It was obviously an important one to her because her brow was furrowed in deep concentration. 

Thranduil waited patiently, only taking his eyes from her to glance at Eldiren who seemed to have become somehow involved in a conversation with a concerned naneth whose son had left the clan enclave the previous week for training.  Eldiren was assuring her that all the new recruits, regardless of clan membership, were being properly housed and fed.

“Generous!”

Thranduil turned his attention back to the little one.  He laughed. 

“It is indeed generous of you to offer me your bread, but I think you should eat it.  I am quite full.”

“But you might need it tomorrow.  We have to be more generous and be ready to sacrifice so that we can give food and things to the warriors when they go away and then they will come home faster.  Ada told me.”

Thranduil smiled and accepted the bread with an incline of his head.  “I thank you for your generosity and will do my best to return with great speed.”

The little elleth smiled happily as she watched him eat the bread.

“Liriel!” A voice called from behind Thranduil and the little elleth started. 

“Here I am, Ada!” she called as she trotted over to an ellon who scolded her gently, reminding her not to run off.

Thranduil stood and nodded toward the little girl’s father before returning to the task at hand.  He recognized the elf as one he had seen earlier in the day pledging himself to the ranks of the warriors.  He also recognized the chieftain's mark in his hand.  Thranduil sighed.  It had been the same in nearly every clan's enclave.  While he was grateful that so many were anxious to join the struggle against the enemy, he feared that there would not be enough capable elves left to defend their forest should the need arise.

Eldiren approached, turning to see what Thranduil was looking at.

“How are things proceeding?”  Thranduil asked.

Eldiren, along with Thranduil and Taldur, had been assigned the task of gathering supplies from the clans and seeing them shipped to Oropher's halls.

“My lord, Tarias says he has given all that his people can spare for the moment.  This area of the forest had a hard winter this year, with more snow than usual, and relied on shipments from the king for a large part of the season to keep his people fed.  I think we will have to content ourselves with what we have for now.  Game is only just returning to this part of the forest and even then only slowly because of the wet spring.”

Thranduil nodded with a small sigh.  This was exactly one of his concerns, and the story had been the same in nearly every enclave.  The only exceptions were the king’s and Sador's.  They both seemed to be in a milder part of the forest – or perhaps it was simply that they were deeper into the trees and were afforded a good canopy from the snow.

“We will take what they can reasonably offer for now, and they can send more as they begin to acquire a surplus.  See to it that the chieftains understand they are responsible for supplying their share when they are able. ”

Eldiren nodded, “Of course, my lord.”

He turned and went to secure the cart.  Thranduil spotted Taldur, looking over the newly pledged warriors.  He was surprised to see so many still waiting.  Of course, the majority of them had likely only recently received the go ahead. 

Tarias was notorious for hand-picking those he would allow to serve as warriors.  Thranduil rather thought those chosen had more to do with family ties than ability.  He would not say so, of course, but it was definitely something that had come up before.  The honour of becoming a warrior was not only a privilege that was enjoyed by Tarias’ subordinates’ sons and the occasional daughter.  He had clearly lifted whatever prerequisites he had used in the past.

“I see recruits are still trickling in,” Thranduil observed as he scanned those waiting to take their oath.  He could not help but notice the majority of those waiting were either female or young.  They must have been the longest holdouts.  Thranduil wondered what sort of promises Tarias had made to their families.

His eyes came to rest on two very young looking elves.  He approached the two in time to hear the taller declaring to his friend that they would be back in time for the first snowfall.  He seemed to think it would not even be a struggle.  Thranduil resisted the urge to grab the young one and give him a good hard shake.

“How old are you?” Thranduil demanded as he approached.

The young ones both bristled..

“Old enough,” the shorter one replied.  “We both reached our majority, that is all that matters.”

Thranduil wondered silently if they had reached their majority that very day.  He eyed them both steadily.  Had Tarias lost his mind?

“No.”

Thranduil spun on his heel and went to have a word with Tarias' representative receiving the warrior's pledges.  He was not taking elflings into Mordor.  A receiving and staging area had been established on the central green in front of the chieftain's hall.

“Why are we accepting the pledge of those too young to give it?!” he demanded as he approached the receiving officer.  “According to your recruitment plan, you will only be accepting the pledges of elves who have reached their majority, and the youngest of them will remain in the enclave to see to the security of those who are staying behind.”

“My lord, my instructions were to take all those of age who volunteered.  I have accepted no younglings.  Lord Tarias has agreed to allow any who so desire and are of age to pledge themselves.”

Thranduil frowned and took a deep breath.  It would not help things to create a stir.  Well, he thought to himself, that explains why so many from Tarias' enclave have volunteered.  He has taken no care in who is fit to go.  Thranduil wondered if it was an attempt to show the other clans that his was more willing and able to fight for the king.  He also wondered if Tarias was expecting something in return.  He shook his head.  Uncharitable thoughts were not helpful right now.  Damn having to work around foolish and stubborn chieftains.

“We are not younglings!”

Thranduil turned to find the two young recruits approaching.  They had obviously heard his words.

“We are of age and fully capable of defending our homes.”

“Then defend it,” Thranduil replied before turning back to the receiving officer.  “You will abide by the recruitment plan.  If you are accepting the pledge of those newly come of age, make it clear that they will be defending the enclave from home.”

He had hoped to avoid outright ordering the young elves to stay behind, but he would also not argue with them. 

 “The war is far to the south!” the smaller of the two protested.

“And you are a fool!  Do you think that every evil being in Arda will be gathered there? Do you not see the wisdom in attacking an enemy while they are indefensible? Perhaps while their warriors are all away?  Or perhaps you would prefer to be denied the privilege of pledging at all.”

The three of them eyed each other for a moment. Thranduil was tired of attempting to have a similar conversation in every village he visited.  He could not voice his true concern, of course.  If he told the youngest of Greenwood's would-be warriors that he feared for them, they would surely scoff and be the first ones in the pledge line.  No, that would not do.

“I will stay and defending my settlement,” the smaller of the two said at last.

The other nodded.

“I will as well, but if the war begins to go badly, I will be with the first caravan south.”

Thranduil was willing to content himself with that for now.

“Your burden will be great.  We are leaving our families in your hands.”

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Thranduil stood with Eldiren and watched the novices sparring.  It had been over a week since the march south had begun and some of the newer novices were getting as many training tips along the way as they could.  Sweat poured from both their brows.  The slighter of the two spun, kicking the back of his opponent’s knee, throwing him off balance for a split second before he recovered.  The long-handled dagger in his hand clanged against his opponent’s and a sharp upward thrust brought the tip of his second dagger to his opponent's throat.  His opponent blinked in surprise.  He started to say something, but was interrupted.

“Halt!”

The combatants both took a step back, nodding to each other.  Vondil was on them faster than either would have thought possible.  The field marshal was anything but gentle.

“Have you heard nothing I have been telling you?” Vondil barked.  “Your agility counts for naught if you do not use it!” 

He reached over and thumped the unfortunate defeated elf on the forehead.  A flush crept up the young novice’s face.

“I saw no harmony in your movements.  You oafed about like some bumbling orc with no balance.  Think! child.  Remember what you have learned.  It should be second nature by now and lack of both weapons should not affect your ability to use your movements to help you avoid such blows.”

Thranduil glanced at Eldiren in time to see a flush creep up his face.  The object of Vondil's barrage was Eldiren's younger brother Idhren.  Idhren had showed promise during his initial training and was no slouch with any weapon.  Watching Vondil work with the newest warriors and pledges on battle techniques these past few weeks reminded Thranduil why he was glad he was no longer a novice. 

“What do you think?” he asked Eldiren.

“I think Vondil is full of warg dung.”

Thranduil laughed.

“If it had been anyone but Idhren you would be singing his praises and proclaiming his methods as nothing but sound.”

“Perhaps.  I think I will make a point to work with Idhren this evening.”

They turned from the clearing as Vondil took Idhren's weapon and proceeded to defeat the other elf in what seemed a blink of an eye.  Thranduil cast his gaze around the clearing.  Younger warriors, full of energy with their blood hot, were sparring – even a few impromptu wagers had broken out.  All around him, the excitement was high. 

Bivouacs had sprung up throughout the surrounding forest, with the chieftains setting up camp with their warriors.  Some, who were obviously not used to such long treks, were resting against trees, and a good many novices were nursing minor wounds and bruises.  Apparently quite a few novices were sparring.  Cevenion was applying a healing herb paste to scratches and cuts on two novices, while several others seemed to be waiting for a sample for their own injuries.

“We have not even yet arrived,” Thranduil said, noticing several more waiting for a bit of the paste for their own cuts, “and we have wounded.”

“I did not realize Cevenion was working with the healers.”

“He is not.  He just happens to know the right herbs.”

“I would have thought it a better fit for him.”

“He felt his duty to the realm was as a warrior, not a healer, and he is a fair shot.  He will fit in fine with the archers.”

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The sun was nearly fully retreated in the west when Thranduil finally sat down.  After spending the day traveling, he had expected to be exhausted, but instead had found his energy up.  The walk among the warriors had helped, and he enjoyed the atmosphere and camaraderie of the camp.

“I was wondering where you had gone.”

Thranduil looked up and smiled.  “I was waiting on my lazy friends to join me before settling in for a meal.”

Taldur snorted and dropped down next to Thranduil.  “I will say this for being included in the king's warriors instead of some of the chieftain's – we eat much better.  I passed Aeglos' encampment, and I would call their meal nothing short of gruel.”

Thranduil laughed.

“Some of the chieftains are even more tight-fisted than my father, which, quite frankly, comes as a surprise, but you are exaggerating.”

“I mean no offense, Thranduil, but I find it difficult to believe that someone could be more tight-fisted than the king.”

Eldiren flopped down beside Taldur and Thranduil with a grin. 

Thranduil shook his head. “He is not that bad, you know.”

“No, but I still enjoy giving you a hard time over it.”

Taldur laughed.  “I do seem to recall him giving you a hard time over losing your dagger at a gambling table.”

Thranduil looked at Taldur.

“That was a very long time ago!”

Taldur could not stop the slight smirk.

“Do you think the results would be any different if it were to occur again?”

“Do not be ridiculous.”

“If I recall correctly, the problem was less to do with the fact that you lost and more to do with how irresponsible of you it was to lose something that came with such a steep replacement cost.”

Thranduil snorted in an undignified manner.  “You do not know what you are talking about, and you would not know gruel if a bowl were emptied on your head.”

“A white paste.  It was nothing short of a white paste.”

“You were watching them knead frybread batter,” Thranduil said dryly.

Taldur snorted in an undignified manner.  “I know the difference between batter and gruel.”

“Really…”

“Thranduil, I think you are getting cranky.  Do you need to go to bed?”

There was Eldiren again.  Sometimes Thranduil wondered how he ever came to be friends with these two.

“You two can sit here giggling like elflings, but I am going to the food line.”

The mass of warriors seemed to stretch on for miles along the eaves of the forest.  It was made even larger by the force from Lorinand that had joined them just two days ago. 

Thranduil caught sight of Oropher on his way to the cooking area and was beckoned over.  He approached and bowed before sitting next to his father.  Oropher offered Thranduil the remains of the venison from his plate.

“You should eat more, Thranduil.  I see you wandering the encampment every night instead of seeing to your own needs.”

Thranduil looked at his father with a wry smile.  “I was on my way to the cooking area when you called me over,” he replied before beginning on the venison.

Oropher chuckled as he surveyed the various groups of warriors.  “I have been meaning to speak with you for several days now, but Amdir has been taking up the bulk of my time.  I have been attempting to convince him to join with us to present a united Silvan front, but he refuses to do anything that he thinks may compromise Lórinand’s autonomy.  He is possibly one of the most unreasonable elves I have ever encountered.”

Thranduil silently wondered if his father had ever gazed into a looking glass.

“You are insolent, you know that?”

“Adar,” Thranduil looked at Oropher in shock, “I said nothing.”

Oropher chuckled again.  “You did not have to, ion-nín, it is written on your face.”

Thranduil shook his head and continued eating, but could feel his father's eyes on him.  He looked up again.

“Adar?”

Oropher's expression was one that Thranduil found difficult to read.  His father was clearly pondering a heavy subject.

“Walk with me, Thranduil.”

Thranduil set the now empty plate aside and rose, finding himself led away from the encampment.  It was obvious his father was looking for privacy, and the encampment afforded little to none.  The darkness grew as they ventured further away and the lights of the fires became small dots through the trees.  They walked in amiable silence before Oropher stopped and turned to face Thranduil.

“I am not known for my ability to dance around an issue, Thranduil, so I will simply say it.  There is a chance that I will not return, and I want you to know that should that happen, you should not hesitate to accept the crown.”

Thranduil blinked.  He opened his mouth to speak but Oropher silenced anything he would say by raising his hand.

“You are a strong leader and know a great deal of what is involved in ruling the Greenwood.  I only hope that I have prepared you for such an event.”

A silence descended over them and for several minutes Thranduil fixated on the distant light of a fire.

“Why are you saying such things, Adar?”

He could not believe they were having this conversation.  If either of them were to fall, he was certain it would be him, and he would gladly do so for his father and king.

“War is unpredictable, Thranduil.  We must be prepared for whatever the outcome.”

Oropher began walking again and Thranduil fell into step with him.

“I have not been able to shake the feeling that this is the last I will see of Greenwood.”  Oropher said as he stopped again and looked at Thranduil.  “In that event, you will be called on to take my place.”

“If you are having doubts, what do the rest of us have?”

“Thranduil…”  Oropher gripped Thranduil’s arm tighter than was probably necessary, “promise me.  If I should fall, do not carry my weight. Put the good of our people first.”

Thranduil took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nodding.

“I will do as you ask, Adar.”

He did not like the conversation, but he would not deny his father his word.

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