Chapter 3: Ill news

Tulus slowly shifted his position, tucking his right leg underneath him and freeing his left to stretch it in front of him on the branch where he perched, all without taking his eyes off Manadhien's talan. He loosed a silent sigh. 'I spent too much of this age in the soft comfort of cottages and palaces,' he thought to himself. 'Guard duty never seemed this unpleasant in the past.'

He had been quite relieved a few days earlier--and not just for matters of comfort--when Tureden confirmed Gwathron and Mornil were the two brothers he remembered from Nargothrond. He was even more grateful to hear the king only intended to give Manadhien one more month of freedom. As much as the king, Tulus wanted her finished.

The long, high note of a tree cricket sounded from a few dozen paces south of him. The following long, low note never came.

Tulus straightened and looked over his shoulder.

The call repeated.

Tulus made eye contact with the spy sharing tonight's duty with him and they exchanged a silent nod. Then Tulus moved off, southward, seeking the origin of that call. After passing through several trees, he saw one of the elves he sent to Dol Guldur. One who was supposed to be watching Glilavan. His return to the village could not mean anything good. Tulus hurried to join him and they huddled together with their backs against a broad trunk, facing away from the village, hidden from it. Tulus raised a single eyebrow in silent query.

"The orcs killed our hawk," the spy whispered.

Tulus frowned. That was ill news. He drew a breath to ask if there was any other evidence that their presence in the south had been discovered.

The spy continued speaking, without pause. "And they have been questioning Glilavan. About the patterns of the patrol's movements and how they would respond to various angles of attack on several villages. They are planning something--something to do with those three groups of orcs we saw move north a dozen days ago, but we cannot get close enough to hear exactly what. It is definitely some sort of attack. They are massing and arming themselves."

"How many?" Tulus asked.

"Twice as many as were in the first groups. At least."

"Can you remain in place?"

The elf shook his head. "We had to pull back. We cannot surround the camp with only three of us. The spies I left are watching for signs of Glilavan and Fuilin moving west or north. We can do no better. We could watch the eastern paths if you could spare one more guard to aid us. The south is hopeless, obviously. We cannot position ourselves between the orcs and Dol Guldur."

Tulus frowned. He did not like it, but with Tureden staying here to help arrest Manadhien when the time came, not to mention Dolgailon and Galithil's guards, he could probably send one more spy south. "I will ask someone to go back with you. Wait here," he whispered.

The elf nodded and Tulus slipped through the trees, back to the village edge, to the tree he and his spies currently occupied while resting. He selected one of their number to go south and then considered the news he just heard. Definitely information the king needed and quickly. Dolgailon needed it too, in order to warn the Southern Patrol and reorder their patrol schedules to confound the orcs. He peered over a branch towards the talans and sounds of evening merrymaking. Dolgailon was right here, in the village. He leaned around the trunk of his tree. He could just see enough of Dolgailon's talan through the branches to be able to tell lamp light still made its curtains glow.

"What?" Tureden whispered, coming up behind Tulus and glancing between him and the village, searching for the danger he feared Tulus had spotted.

Tulus shook his head. "Nothing threatens them. I have news from the south. Trouble is brewing there. I am going to speak to the Troop Commander about it and prepare a message for the king."

Without waiting for Tureden's reply, Tulus climbed higher into the withered trees, as far as he dared while still expecting them to support his weight. The approach to Dolgailon's talan in the center of the village, across from the Hall, would be difficult, especially with revelers still merrymaking in the courtyard. He remained in the uppermost branches until he was nearly directly above his target. Then, he stopped and studied the surrounding trees for the best way down. He searched for the village guards in their normal positions and found them. They would be easy enough to evade from this angle, since their attention was focused on the village borders, not its center. He looked for his own spies. If they saw someone they could not identify descending on the Troop Commander's talan, they would raise an alarm. But they were currently either watching Manadhien in her talan or resting. They would not see him here. Finally, he located the King's Guard. He did not need to avoid them. They knew of his presence in the village. Still, it would not do to surprise them. Not if he wanted to avoid an arrow through his shoulder, at least. Once he had determined the best path down, he waited for a particularly lively piece of music to hold the villagers' attention. When they were all twirling happily in dance, he began his careful descent towards Galuauth, the guard in the trees above the talan.

He travelled less than half the distance down before an unexpected voice nearly startled him badly enough to cause him to lose his footing.

"Stop where you are," it ordered.

Tulus froze and his heart seized. The voice came from above him. It was one he did not recognize and so could not be a member of the King's Guard, unless it was a new one. If he were caught by anyone that might drag him before Manadhien, the outcome would be disasterous. He could not allow it. He turned his head towards the voice, keeping his hands in plain view, away from his weapons, while thinking fast for something to say to talk his way out of this.

A shadow slipped out of a tangle of old branches until lamplight from the courtyard lit his face.

Tulus tensed. It was one of the newer village guards--an elf come to the Greenwood from Lothlorien after Khazad-dum's fall. One who was loyal, but uninformedly so, to Manadhien. One who had not lived in the forest long enough to know Tulus.

"What do you think you are doing here?" the guard demanded, swiftly approaching until they shared the same branch. "Climbing around so near to lord Dolgailon's talan."

Tulus glanced at Galuauth, hoping for his aid to keep this guard quiet, since lord Dolgailon was who he seemed determined to protect. But no help would come from him. Galuauth made no indication he heard them over the music in the courtyard and Tulus dared not risk attracting more attention by calling to him. He would have to extricate himself from this situation. He drew himself up and adopted his most authoritative expression. "I ask you the same question. I am a member of the King's Guard. It is my duty to be so near lord Dolgailon." A lie, but Tulus doubted this guard would recognize it. The king had not made public any of Tulus's crimes, nor his dismissal from the Guard. Even if he had, this elf would not recognize his face to put it with his name. "What is your excuse for being here?" he asked in turn.

As he spoke, flash of hope surged through him. The guard looked nervous, almost panicked.

"I am Tharil, a village guard," he quickly explained. "Lady Moralfien ordered me to watch lord Dolgailon's talan tonight. To help guard it and make sure no one unauthorized approached it. She said the only people allowed near it were Galuauth," he gestured to him, "Lanthir, Heledir and Galudiron. That I should bring anyone else I saw to her." He eyed Tulus up and down. "What is your name? And why was lady Moralfien not informed of your presence in the village?"

"The King's Guard does what it deems necessary to keep the king's family safe," Tulus replied, ignoring the question of his name.

"That may be so, but how do I know you are one of the King's Guard?" Tharil asked, his suspicious tone returned. "Especially without your name. You do not bear any of the symbols of the King's Guard." He tapped his own buttons and cloak pin while studying Tulus's. Then his gaze shifted to the arrows in Tulus's quiver.

That was true enough. Tulus had given up the ornaments of that office when he left the stronghold for his current duty. He shrugged. "Only the Guards that directly accompany members of the king's family carry those symbols," he lied. "Those of us that are supposed to remain hidden do not. Come with me to lord Dolgailon's talan and ask him if I am one of the Guard. I was going to report to him."

Dolgailon would understand the need to hide Tulus's presence. He would play along. Tulus made to climb down to the next branch.

Tharil grabbed his arm. "Lady Moralfien asked me to keep my watch over lord Dolgailon a secret. And, as I already said, she told me to bring anyone unidentified that approached his talan to her. I think you had better come with me to speak to her."

Tulus wrested his arm from Tharil's grasp. "Nothing can compel me to abandon my oath to the king. If lady Moralfien wishes to speak to me, you can fetch her here." And if you leave to do so, I will not be here when you return, Tulus added silently. "If you intend to insist I leave my post, you must be prepared to do so with force."

Tharil frowned severely, obviously uncertain how to respond to that. "I am not leaving someone I cannot identify this close to lord Dolgailon's talan. Not after lady Moralfien set me to guard it to keep dangerous elves from approaching it." He looked down at Galuauth, still sitting a fair distance below them on his branch just above Dolgailon's balcony. "I suppose we could ask him to identify you," he said.

"Very well," Tulus agreed, stifling a sigh of relief. Like Dolgailon, Galuauth would understand the need to play along with Tulus's story.

Tharil nodded, satisfied. "Go straight down to the ground. We call Galuauth to us."

"So long as you do so quietly. Without drawing the attention of the entire village," Tulus replied, climbing down at an angle that led towards Galuauth, intending to stay hidden amongst the trees. If no one else saw him but this guard and Galuauth, this situation might yet be saved.

They were half way to the ground when two elves appeared, strolling down the path that led away from the courtyard, past Dolgailon's talan and deeper into the forest. At the sight of them, Tulus's heart raced. It was Gwathron and Mornil. He froze, shrinking closer against his tree while trying to determine what to do. Flee? Little chance of a clean escape with Tarthil in pursuit and raising the alarm. Hope to remain hidden? Again, something Tarthil would likely not allow. Shoot Gwathron and Mornil before they saw him? A fine idea, but attracting the attention of the entire village was what he wanted to avoid, lest Manadhien be alerted. Try the same story on them that he had used on Tarthil? It might work. They might not recognize him. He had never met them in Manadhien's presence. But it they had ever spied on he and Legolas.... One more option: tell Tarthil everything, quickly, and pray he believes enough to be persuaded to remain quiet until they could speak to Dolgailon. That seemed to be the best solution. Tulus spun around to face the young guard, hands outstretched in a plea for silence. Before he spoke, Tharil called and waved to Gwathron and Mornil.

Tulus gathered himself to flee as they looked up to find the person calling their names.

Their eyes widened upon seeing Tulus. Gwathron pointed at him. "Throw him down!" he commanded. "He is one of the elves that threatened the king."

Tulus muttered a curse as he dodged from Tharil's grasp and reached for an arrow in his quiver. At this point, his duty was to do as much damage to Manadhien's web of servants as he could. And to contain her, if possible. He drew a breath to make the call he and his fellow spies planned to use if one of them were discovered. Fingers scrabbled at his ankle, grabbed it and yanked. The call turned into a gasp for breath before it was even made as Tulus slipped. He jerked away, freeing his leg and wrapped an arm around another branch to keep from falling. As he struggled to right himself, Tharil's hand connected with his shoulder, hard, and shoved. Tulus shifted, trying to maintain his footing, but he stumbled against Tarthil's calf. He fell backwards, over Tarthil's leg, off the branch and through the open air.

Forcing himself to relax and roll as his shoulder struck the ground, Tulus grunted as the drop knocked the air from his lungs. Even stunned, ages of experience as a warrior brought his right hand to grope for his weapons, but his body would not obey him. His arm remained immobile. He tried his left arm. It moved as it should and his fingers closed around the hilt of his sword.

Feet rushed in to surround him. The heel of a boot pressed down hard on his left wrist.

"Go tell Galuauth it was only a local troublemaker. Someone who often has a bit too much wine," Mornil's voice ordered, looming over him.

Tarthil's confused, "As you wish, my lord," followed in answer.

That was the last thing Tulus heard before something hard smashed against his temple and blinding pain claimed him.

*~*~*

"They fought three dozen orcs! At three separate times! In the course of three days travel!" Legolas cried, his voice rising with each exclamation.

"Your hearing is clearly intact," Engwe replied with a dry tone. "You have repeated accurately what I just summarized for the king."

In his peripheral vision, Thranduil saw Legolas glare at Engwe before turning his back to him in favor of leaning towards the king at the head of the table. He craned his neck to look over the top of the paper in Thranduil's hands, trying to read the details of Dolgailon's report.

"Did they report any injuries?" Legolas asked, reaching to pull down the top of the paper.

"The orcs were injured," Engwe responded. "Killed and burned. Dolgailon does not mention that he, Galithil or any of the guards were injured, so I assume they were not."

"Hmph," Legolas muttered. "Dolgailon would not be foolish enough to admit it if Galithil was injured."

"He would have to if he were badly injured," Berior whispered. "So we can be sure nothing serious happened, at least."

"Probably true," Legolas conceded, nodding at his cousin.

Thranduil stopped reading and crumpled Dolgailon's report in his fist. Then he took a deep breath to steady his voice before he spoke. "Berior had better be correct," he said softly. But he feared he might not be. Dolgailon might not put such news in a report, but rather send a messenger to deliver it more carefully, concerned for Lindomiel's reaction. Thranduil would react no differently. He had done nothing but worry over his decision to allow Galithil to go south since he watched him ride away from the capital. If he had been injured even before reaching the village....

Thranduil forced his thoughts away from what he could not yet confirm and focused on what he could address. "Do we have any evidence that Manadhien is responsible for this?" he asked, directing himself to Engwe and Hallion. Surely that could not be. She could not have known Dolgailon or Galithil would be near the western border to attack them. But under the circumstances, he had to be certain.

Engwe raised an eyebrow. "Did you have trouble understanding Dolgailon's writing?" he asked. "It seemed plain enough to me."

Now Thranduil glared at his uncle.

Engwe only returned his gaze steadily with an annoyed frown.

"Near the end of the report," Hallion hastily intervened, "Dolgailon mentions forged orders sent to the Southern and Western patrols under the Troop Commander's seal, my lord. Those orders made it possible for the orcs to slip into the western forest. Near Nandoril and Midhion's villages."

Thranduil's attention snapped to his steward before he smoothed out the paper on the table surface and glanced over it again. Near the villages? Engwe said that too, but Thranduil assumed those villages were mentioned only as a reference to describe where the orcs were destroyed. He scanned the report again. Dolgailon did not mention the villages were attacked. They eventually would have been, of course, if Dolgailon had not come upon the orcs first.... Orcs Manadhien sent there! To those villages. This was not an attack against his family. She was now attacking his people. The people he had sworn to protect. Suddenly, his breathing came a little harder.

"This makes no sense. What could she hope to gain?" he asked, refusing to believe Manadhien could have grown into such a threat so quickly. "Why would she risk her..." he struggled over a term. Warriors? Too dignified a description for what Manadhien commanded. Allies? Still too gentle. "Why risk losing orcs," he finally said, calling them what they were, "to attack these villages? They are small, have no strategic value in this forest and were difficult to approach. The southern villages are much more vulnerable and are responsible for holding back the Shadow's advance past the mountains."

"But those villages are her allies," Legolas countered. "She has worked long and hard to purchase their loyalty since Uncle Aradunnon's death. She will not sacrifice them."

Thranduil frowned. That was undeniably true. The swords and horses she gave to those villages' guards proved it. "Granted," he said. "But why Nandoril and Midhion's villages? And why now?"

"Because she grows bored with ruling only the southern part of your realm," Engwe began.

Thranduil's fists clenched involuntarily at the provocative way his uncle had phrased that claim. Manadhien might govern that village, with Dolgailon's permission, but she ruled no part of his realm.

"So she is seeking to claim more of it," Engwe continued without acknowledging Thranduil's anger. "She could rule all of it if the king was killed after being drawn into a battle to defend those villages."

"You cannot believe that was her plan!" Thranduil exclaimed before he could check himself. Engwe was not wrong to at least raise that idea, however insane it might be. Anything was possible where Manadhien was involved. Still, he could not believe she was moving against the entire forest.

"You cannot deny if those villages were attacked, you would ride out, my lord," Hallion said. "Isteth's naneth lives in Nandoril's village. Ollwen's sister lives in Midhion's."

"And if you had, the third force of orcs seemed to be a reserve," Enwe said. "It was not in a position to attack any village, but it could have rushed into Nandoril's once you entered it with a weakened force, having already avenged the damage in Midhion's village."

Thranduil ground his teeth together and shook his head. This was mad. "I would have destroyed those orcs, no matter who lived in those villages," he confirmed, his words clipped. "But even if those orcs did lay a trap for me and managed to catch me in it, that would not allow Manadhien to lay claim to this forest. Our people would not turn away from this family to her. I have an heir. This forest would look to him."

Legolas loosed a quiet laugh. "I am not of age, my lord, and I am completely unproven in battle. Manadhien knows she has to act before I am either. She has to make her move while the people in those southern villages do not know me and would not trust me as they do her. If you were killed now, she would urge her allies to argue that she has much more experience in governance and defense than I. At the very least, those southern villages might split with me. And others might be persuaded to follow that lead. Such a division would make this realm very unstable. It would provide an opening for worse schemes and ultimately her domination of the forest." He paused. "And that is all assuming she did not expect you to be without a direct heir by the time she attacked Nandoril and Midhion. If all her recent plans had gone well, I would certainly be dead by now."

Thranduil sat back and stared at Legolas. His reasoning was all too plausible.

"I agree," Hallion said softly. "Dominion of this forest is clearly her goal. Killing the king's family is and always has been nothing more than the means to that goal. We have to remember that her allies are Easterlings and orcs, which means her master is the same as theirs: the power in Dol Guldur. That power, ultimately, wants control of this forest. In exchange for her aid--which is valuable, for now, since very few citizens would expect Sauron's agent to be an elf--he has likely promised her rule over whatever thralls remain once his plans for this forest are achieved. That is what Morgoth promised his captives in exchange for their loyalty."

Thranduil's blood began to pound. He was furious when he thought she wanted to kill his family. The idea that she intended to enslave his people to Sauron was not to be born.

"The Evil One chose a strong ally when he admitted her to his service," Golwon said in the heavy silence. "Manadhien manages the orcs at her disposal much more cleverly than their usual captains. The death of the queen's parents prove that. And, in this instance, it was luck alone that saved those villages. Luck that Dolgailon chose the path he did to travel south."

"Indeed," Hallion nodded. "And she is clever enough to have a new plan in place since her original plan failed. We should be on guard for it."

Thranduil's breath caught in his throat at that suggestion. "That is enough of this," he said, slapping his hand on the table and standing. Everyone else jumped to their feet, but he had already turned towards the door of the Hall. "I will not sit idly while Manadhien threatens my people. It is she that should be on guard. Her end is near at hand. Conuion," he called, pointing to him. "We are leaving. Right now. Gather the guards you want to accompany us and bring my weapons. I will meet you in the stable yard." He turned to Engwe. "If you still wish to accompany me, prepare yourself to leave." Then he faced Hallion. "When we pass to the west of the village, I will send one of the guards to inform Dolgailon to arrest Manadhien and the others we planned to detain, but send a warning with Tulus's return owl that I have decided to move ahead without waiting to identify this last servant." Finally, he laid a hand on Legolas and Berior's shoulders. "Obey Hallion. Help him as you can. And be mindful that a dangerous game is in play," he said to them quietly.

Legolas took a step closer to speak into his father's ear. "Take care that you are not playing into her hands, even without the destruction of two villages to draw you out," he whispered.

"I will be careful," he promised. "Find your naneth and tell her to join me in the stable yard so that I can speak to her before I leave." He did not wait for Legolas's reply. He strode out of the Hall.

*~*~*

"He claimed he was not spying for Thranduil," Gwathron whispered, his gaze darting around the dark Hall, verifying for the hundredth time that no one else had yet entered it. "He said he was dismissed from the Guard and exiled for hiding the fact that Glilavan was allied with us. That does fit with what Glilavan told us--that his father confessed and betrayed him. Glilavan did not know what his father's punishment was, but his own was exile. It could be true Tulus was exiled as well."

Manadhien loosed a scornful snort. She could barely contain her fury at the news that Tulus had been spying on her. If it were not for him, she would have enough allies left that such a feat would have been impossible. But Tulus, she snarled the name in her mind, betrayed everything to...the mere thought of Thranduil's name made bile rise in her throat.

"If he was exiled, why was he hiding in a tree outside Dolgailon's talan?" she reined herself in enough to ask.

"Oh, he admitted that rather than obeying the king's order to leave the forest, he came here to hunt you down," Mornil replied, affecting boredom by pretending to sort through the petitions stacked at the end of the meeting table. When he dropped the last paper, he looked back at Manadhien. "He swears he is acting alone. Solchion and Baranil searched. They found no one else they could not identify."

"So you believe him?" she asked. If either Gwathron or Mornil was that stupid, she was enraged enough to slake some of her anger on them right now.

"He could not be made to confess anything else," Gwathron replied.

"We questioned him as thoroughly as we dared without doing permanent damage. We thought it best to avoid that, as yet. In case more important questions arise," Mornil added. "He is probably conscious again by now, if you want to speak to him yourself."

Her face contorted in disgust. She did not care to look upon Tulus, much less speak with him. She repeated her original question. "You believe him?"

They both shook their heads. "Between the owl in this village and the hawk in Fuilin's camp and Dolgailon's sudden return and now Tulus's appearance..." Gwathron said, leaving his sentence hanging.

"It is completely unbelievable that the king is not behind Tulus and Dolgailon's presence," Mornil finished. "He has to know we are here. And by now, he must know about the attack Dolgailon ruined and suspect we are behind it. He will be planning a counter-attack."

"Our choices are retreat or strike much more definitively than we originally planned," Gwathron said.

"I am not retreating. Not when I am this close," Manadhien snapped, pounding her fist on the table to punctuate her words. This close to avenging the many evils the House of Oropher had wrought across the ages. This close to using the very people that wronged her to accomplish all her father sought to achieve when he sacrificed her mother on the Grinding Ice to come into this forsaken exile. Rule of this forest would be hers. At any cost.

At any cost! She had already paid all that was most dear to her.

She leveled a cold glare on Gwathron. "We must act, while the information Glilavan gave us is still accurate and, therefore, useful." She swept aside the petitions and sifted through the other papers on the table until she found a map. She pulled it towards her and passed a finger over several villages. "Send the orcs here." She let her finger drop on Maethorness's village on the eastern border. "Send all of them there. Raze that village to the ground and kill every elf in it. None of them are useful to me. Not with the way Maethorness has always treated me. Besides," she added with a shrug, "they deserve it for helping Thranduil hold Fuilin and Mauril when he rescued Legolas." She paused and pointed between Mornil and Gwathron. "You tell Fuilin that I want him to lead that attack personally. No mistakes. Destroy the village and then pull back and wait. Thranduil will not fail to respond. When he does, kill him. Dolgailon will likely also lead some of the southern patrol to go after the orcs. I want him dead as well. You see to that," she nodded to Mornil. "I will use this attack to persuade Selwon, Leithor, Pellion and Nindir to move farther north. They should move when my village does and the horses will make it easier to do so. Bringing those villages further north will expand His territory and my influence into Thranduil's. Legolas is too weak to withstand that. The forest will fall quickly after this attack."

"What about Galithil?" Gwathron asked.

Manadhien's eyes narrowed at the name. The little filth. He played her for a fool. He would pay for that. Dearly and for a long time. "I will manage him," she responded. "By his own admission, he has served the Troop Commander's office for years. Imagine the information he could be persuaded to supply. Once Dolgailon is eliminated, we will take Galithil to Dol Guldur and let people assume he was lost when he followed his brother into battle."

"What about Tulus?" Mornil asked. "What if he is not alone? And how do we make sure Thranduil does not suspect we have him. If he does, he will act faster on whatever plans he has for us and we will lose our advantage."

Manadhien frowned. That could not be allowed. "First of all, find that owl. Find out what message it carries. If it proves Tulus is in communication with the king, forge an 'all is well' message and send it to the stronghold. That should give us the time we need. If the owl's message is not from the king or if it is not for Tulus, we will decide how to best respond once we know what it contains." She paused and smiled. "Turn Tulus over to Luggluk. Take him to Dol Guldur. He was a member of the Guard for years. He might be useful. If not, they will finish him." She waved her hand towards the doors of the Hall, quite pleased with the plans they had made. "Go get rid of him now. Before anyone sees him. And make sure you keep him well concealed in case we are being watched. Bundle him up in a sack and make him look like trade goods."

Gwathron and Mornil stood and bowed. "As you wish, my lady."

She nodded her permission for them to leave before Galithil arrived for morning petitions. It would take effort to restrain herself in his presence and she needed a moment alone in which to master herself.

*~*~*

"What is happening?" Glilavan asked, coming to stand behind Fuilin in their dark camp. All around them, orcs scurried like bugs under a rock suddenly turned up into the sunlight. Fuilin was behaving in much the same manner.

He did not stop stowing items in his pack. Spare shirt, spare leggings, their remaining stale bread and dried meat. Glilavan refused to contemplate its origin. Or to eat it. "We are moving," was Fuilin's only answer.

"I gathered that," Glilavan replied, looking around at the orcs. Their captains, or what passed for them, were driving their underlings into ranks, readying them to march. "Where?"

"To attack Maethorness's village," Fuilin replied. He shouldered his pack and reached for his bow and quiver.

Glilavan's jaw went slack. "You are going with them?" Surely not.

Fuilin glanced up at him. "We are going. We are going to lead the attack to make sure the village is completely destroyed. No survivors."

Glilavan released a sharp breath, as if one of the orcs had driven a sword into his gut. He wished, and not for the first time since Fuilin 'rescued' him, that one would. "You cannot think..." he began, shaking his head and taking a step back. He nearly ran into an orc that was ambling across the camp to join its fellows. He jumped away from it as it growled at him. "That is a village of elves..." he tried again. He could not finish that sentence as visions of the orcs overrunning the village assaulted him. There were far too many orcs here for Maethorness's guards to manage. "I am not..." he could not even breath. He had to fight not to be sick. "You have completely lost your mind if you think I am going to attack a village of elves," he finally managed to say. He was almost satisfied with how level his voice sounded.

"Very well," Fuilin replied, not pausing as he strapped on his sword. "You can stay here. Someone needs to go with Luggluk to take Tulus to Dol Guldur. You can do that. Keep a low profile. They do not know you there. You would not want them to mistake you as another prisoner."

Glilavan felt his whole body go numb. "Who did you say," he breathed.

"Tulus," Fuilin replied, matter-of-factly. "I am very disappointed not to be able to take him myself. I owe him. You do to, since he betrayed you. So you should enjoy seeing him off."

Glilavan swallowed and struggled for breath. He was still furious with his father. He was the reason Glilavan was here, amongst these orcs. He shook his head. But Dol Guldur? No one deserved.... He could not allow that.

There was nothing he could do about it. He had nothing to bargain with. Nothing they would value enough to release his father.

He could try to help him escape....

"I would like to see him off to Dol Guldur," Glilavan finally replied, trying to speak stoutly. "Serves him right."

Fuilin studied him narrowly. Then he laughed. "As you wish. Luggluk ought to arrive with Tulus within a day. I will leave Radhak here with you. To keep an eye on you. And to make sure our friends here do not make a meal of you." With that, he marched off, shouting orders. In the orcs' foul language.

Glilavan clenched his jaw and collapsed on a log. It rolled back slightly, from the force of his weight, and he put his hands out behind himself on the ground to steady himself. Just as quickly, he pulled them up and wiped them on his leggings.

As he did, a little gray mouse squeaked in alarm and scurried from behind the log and into the nearby ravine, disappearing.

*~*~*

Naneth/nana -- Mother/mum