~TA 2608~

Thranduil let out a long breath and turned his gaze from the songbird's nest he had been focusing on to look at his son.

"Why are you asking me this now, Legolas?"

"Adar," he began tentatively, "tomorrow I begin my first patrol."

Thranduil thought his son was a bit over-anxious for his new role in life, but he supposed all young warriors started out that way. He shifted his focus again to the nest. Small beaks were likely opened to the sky. It was too high to see it, of course, but Thranduil knew from the squeakish chirp that the little ones were looking for their mother to return and feed them.

"I know that you do not speak of it often -or rather at all, but I am to be a warrior of the realm. Should I not know the full history of the ranks I am to join? You were there, Adar. Who better to hear it from?"

Legolas had, of course, learned about the Last Alliance during his lessons, but he was never quite content to learn of such things from his tutor and nearly always prodded Thranduil for tales of his own experiences. This was one topic, however, that even now cast a dark shadow on the Woodelf king's heart. It was something that he would rather not discuss.

Thranduil took another long breath. He had carefully avoided this conversation up to this day. That in and of itself had been no small feat. It had certainly come up before, but Legolas had been easily guided to other topics. Looking at his son now, it was obvious that he was no longer an elfling who could be turned from his thoughts by talk of dragons - or even of baby birds.

"That was a very long time ago, and things were very different in those days. Even now when I look to the south," Thranduil began, his voice a barely a hum above a whisper, "I feel a constricting in my heart reminding me of the horrors of that war. Telling me that it is still not over."

He fell silent for a long moment, gathering his thoughts together. If he were going to pass this knowledge to his son, he would do it wholly and without censorship.

"Very well," the king said steadily, "As you know, your grandfather had been in Elu Thingol's court."

A sigh that spoke of beginning exasperation caught Thranduil's ear and he raised an eyebrow at Legolas.

"Yes, Adar, I know. And after the destruction of Doriath he brought the family to Greenwood along with a handfull of other Sindar who were willing to follow him."

"Do you want to hear this or not, Legolas?"

Thranduil nodded at Legolas' mumbled apology and wondered again at his son's impatience.

"We left many of our friends and loved ones behind," he continued. "I would not say that it was a decision any who made the journey regretted, but there was always the knowledge of events happening outside of our borders that were having an enormous impact on those we left behind. And, in a different way, on us.

"We knew Imladris was massing an army of Elves and Men and that a great alliance had been struck between Gil-galad and Elendil. Gil-galad had sent messengers to my father on several occasions, entreating us to join with them.

"We watched the dwarves expand and reinforce their bridge over the Anduin. We listened to them speak of the coming war. They did not wish to fight, and aiding Gil-galad in this way bolstered their egos.

"My father brooded long over the fight to come. Many nights I saw him walking among the trees, for most of the battles of the Age had passed us by. I was content to stay in our woods, but Oropher warred with himself. He never put his own desires above those of his people, but he did still feel a connection to many of those who remained west of the Misty Mountains

Thranduil was not sure he wanted to give Legolas his father's view of Gil-galad and initial reaction to the request that Oropher and his wood elves join in the coming war. Oropher was less than impressed with what he saw as more than just a simple request from someone he termed 'that upstart calling himself the High-King.'

"The alliance had been in place for some four years when the representatives arrived again seeking our help in the struggle. It was the third time they had come to ask your grandfather for aid."

********************************************************************************************

~SA 3434~

Thranduil maintained a quick pace as he strode toward his father's hall. He was leading two messengers from the west, one man and one elf. Thranduil wondered if this was going to end the same way that the other visits had - Oropher enraged and the messenger, or in this case, messengers politely escorted away.

Looking back at the two following him, he noted with some satisfaction that Gil-galad had sent a different elf this time, and Elendil had sent his own representative. Interesting. Hopefully this pair had more sense than the last.

The King's Hall stood in the center of the village and blended into its surroundings as if it were simply a room in the forest, barely discernable from the forest itself. He had seen the way the messengers had both seemed awed by the ornately carved wood of the building. Good, Thranduli thought to himself. They would do well to remember that they were no longer in Lindon or Arnor.

He nodded to the guards, both armed with spears, at the main door to the King's Hall and entered as the doors were opened.

"My lord," he said as he knelt bowing his head, one knee touching the floor before rising again. "We encountered messengers from Lindon and Arnor along the northwestern border."

Oropher showed no sign of surprise at the unexpected visitors, but instead just waved them forward. Thranduil joined his father on the dais holding the king's carven wood throne as two guards stood on either side of the messengers.

Both messengers bowed before the elf spoke first, "Your grace, his majesty High-king Gil-galad sends his warmest regards."

Thranduil nearly snorted. High-king of whom, he found himself wanting to ask. He was certainly not 'high-king' in Greenwood, despite what he may think. A discreet glance at his father confirmed that Oropher's face remained impassive, but Thranduil knew from watching the previous messengers' attempts that they were already fighting an uphill battle.

"And we receive his regards in all the warmth with which they were sent."

The look on the messenger's face was not masked quickly enough. He was obviously unprepared for such a cold reception. Thranduil wondered if he had been warned at all by the previous messenger. Indeed, it was likely that Greenwood would have joined the alliance sooner had the request for their participation not seemed more like a command from on high than a request. Thranduil knew that his father was torn in matters pertaining to the war being waged in the south, but he also knew that Oropher's pride would not allow him to answer a summons from Gil-galad or anyone else.

The human was next. He bowed a second time before speaking. Thranduil thought he deserved credit there.

"Elendil, King of Men, also extends his warmest regards to our friends, the elves of the Great Wood."

For several long moments, Oropher did not respond. Thranduil wondered if he was trying to find a way to tell the messengers to leave and take their orders with them. He rejected that idea, however, because it seemed to him that his father was rarely at a loss for words. The messengers certainly appeared uncomfortable. Thranduil supposed that was good. Everyone was more cooperative if they thought there was something to gain.

"And what request comes with such warm regards?" Oropher asked at length.

Thranduil thought his father actually sounded as if he did not know why they were here.

Both messengers handed letters to one of the guards, who brought them to Oropher. The king read them, looking unsurprised.

"I will have my response ready for your departure in the morning. Until then, you are welcome to stay and enjoy the blessings of Greenwood."

And that was it. Thranduil was a bit surprised that Oropher had nothing more to say. He had assumed that the usual talks would occur, followed by a quick departure, but there was nothing. He supposed everything had been said before that needed to be said.

As the guards escorted the visitors out, Thranduil turned to his father.

"The usual?" he asked.

"At least it sounds less like a summons and more like a request this time," Oropher grunted.

Thranduil could not help the slight smirk.

"Perhaps they are learning from their mistakes."

"One can only hope."

************************************************************************************************

Thranduil smiled, greeting his parents as he took his seat at the table. The day had been rather long and the next promised to be longer.

"There is a singing this evening, Thranduil," Anirael said lightly as she filled first her husband's and then her son's plate. "Are you planning on attending?"

Thranduil could have rolled his eyes if he were the sort to do such things. He had been down this road with his mother many times before.

"Naneth," he began.

"I am simply asking, dear."

Thranduil accepted the plate offered him, thanking Anirael. He could not help but notice a slight tremor to her hand as she handed him the plate. His eyes moved from her hand to her face. A smile was there, but so was sadness.

“I am planning on attending, yes.”

Thranduil glanced at his father. Clearly, a conversation had taken place that he had not been privy to. Oropher's face, as usual, betrayed nothing, but Thranduil had enough experience to know that the conversation had been a grave one.

“You have already made your decision!” he accused.

Oropher was, of course, not obliged to confer with him, but Thranduil was accustomed to having his voice heard in matters of state. He was appalled to think his father would make such an important decision without him.

Oropher looked at Thranduil calmly. “I have not come to a final decision, Thranduil."

“You cannot be seriously considering this, Adar. We cannot abandon the forest to what may come while we are away fighting in foreign lands.”

“I will have no talk of war at my table.” Anirael effectively cut them both off before tempers could erupt.

Thranduil held his father's gaze for a moment longer, then looked to his mother.

“No,” he replied, “of course not.”

Anirael nodded, momentarily pacified.

A long moment of tense silence passed in which Thranduil desperately searched his mind for something comforting to say to his mother. He noticed his father had slipped his hand over and rested it on hers. .

"I am happy to hear that someone was able to pull you from that cave you spend too much time in this evening."

Thranduil blinked.

"I spend no time in a cave, Naneth."

"You may as well. You spend far too much time behind an office door and not nearly enough time socializing with... people."

"You mean ellyth."

"I mean anyone, Thranduil, and I am serious."

Thranduil sighed, "I know you are, Naneth, and I will try to see more ellyth in the future."

Oropher chuckled..

"I am certain that Thranduil is capable of finding suitable companions for himself Anirael."

Thranduil could do nothing but shake his head at the conversation.

“Perhaps between the two of us we can find someone who meets our son's overly high standards."

Thranduil nearly spit his wine, but managed to choke it down instead. He looked at his mother. She certainly seemed to have recovered from her earlier upset.

"Overly high standards? Surely you are joking!"

"Well, I have introduced you to several charming and very attractive ellyth, but you hardly give any of them a second glace. If you do not take the opportunity to get to know any of them, how will you ever know if one of them is for you or not?"

From the corner of his eye, Thranduil noticed that his silent father was now smirking. Apparently Oropher and Anirael had had this conversation before.

"I just know, Naneth. Surely you and Adar just knew." Thranduil smiled and raised an eyebrow, "at least, that is what you always told me."

Anirael smiled at Oropher. Thranduil thought that her eyes were still not smiling as they should.

“I knew immediately,” Oropher replied, smiling at Anirael.

Thranduil found himself warmed by the thought that at least his parents did not appear to be arguing. Perhaps he had misjudged his father in assuming that Oropher had made up his mind without hearing his counsel.

*******************************************************************************************

The cool evening air was filled with elven voices welcoming back the spring after a long winter. Thranduil found himself only able to partially enjoy the evening. His mind was still on the conversation at dinner and he was certain that Oropher was now leaning toward joining the war.

Feeling an elbow in his ribs, Thranduil was pulled from his thoughts to find Taldur watching the approach of two figures. Thranduil was surprised to see it was the two messengers who had arrived earlier.

“Play nice,” he said as he moved toward the two, flanked by Taldur and Cevenion.

After nodding and exchanging niceties, Thranduil introduced his friends and attempted to make light conversation, ignoring the talk of the potential war the new-comers were here to bring them into that was going on around them. It was not something at which he was particularly skilled, but he thought he managed to keep from embarrassing himself.

“Do you have such events in your homes?” Thranduil asked his guests.

The man, whose name he had learned was Poldon smiled at him. “Generally the king's minstrel's are the ones doing the singing, though occasionally later in the evening others will join in - after imbibing in ale a bit too much .”

Thranduil was not certain if the man was insinuating something or not and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

“We do occasionally pass the evening in a similar manner,” Echuir, Gil-galad's messenger, added, “though we are not generally sitting on a few fallen logs or the leafy ground.”

Thranduil saw Taldur open his mouth and was grateful when Echuir hastily added, “It is refreshing to be in the air under the stars.”

He was doubly grateful when the pair decided to excuse themselves to their quarters.

“Do you think the king will answer the call this time?” Cevenion asked.

Thranduil looked at his long-time friend. He could not say for sure, of course, but he suspected that the king would, indeed, agree this time.

“I do not know,” he said at length.

Cevenion was married, but he did not have elflings. Thranduil found himself looking around at the other warriors assembled and thinking of those who had families who relied on them.

As his gaze drifted over the crowd, his eyes fell on the young daughter of Vondil, his father's field marshal in charge of teaching new warriors how to apply their stealth and archery skills to more military pursuits. He had tried not to, but found his eye frequently straying in her direction. She was far too young for him to consider. After all, her life had really only just begun. It had not been more than two summers since she had come of age.

Thranduil shook his head. He did not have the luxury of spending his evening eyeing the maidens. Excusing himself, he rose and turned toward home.

As Thranduil walked toward his chambers, he saw that a light was burning in his father's study. He stopped and knocked on the door, entering when his father called him in.

“You are back early,” Oropher said unsmilingly.

Thranduil suspected he knew why he was here, and dropped into a chair at his father's bidding..

“I would speak with you, Adar.”

TBC

Thanks to both Nilmandra and Daw for beta/proof-reading this for me. 

************************************************************* 

“Adar, I would speak with you.”

Oropher eyed Thranduil for a moment before motioning him to a seat and nodding.

“Very well.”

Thranduil’s eyes moved over his father’s desk. It appeared that he had been preparing his response already.

“You cannot be seriously considering honoring Gil-galad’s request.”

Oropher sat back in his chair, but remained silent. Thranduil took it as an invitation to continue.

“Our people need us here, particularly now when we have so many outsiders wandering the forest.”

Oropher was silent for a long while and Thranduil was beginning to wonder if his father was going to speak at all.

“Thranduil, you are not a fool,” Oropher said at last, “surely you can see that the enemy will not be content to sit back and rest on his achievements if he defeats the alliance. We will be next. Forests are burning, Thranduil. If we do not stop him now, we will all suffer.”

Oropher leaned forward, resting his arms on the large oak desk in front of him. “All of us. Do not fool yourself into thinking that he will not be coming for us next.”

How could his father not see that this course of action was folly? Thranduil had seen the weapons and armor of the armies marching south, and he knew that by comparison the warriors of Greenwood were ill-prepared. He could not even imagine how the volunteers would appear – if they were able to arm them at all. He did not doubt their ability to aid Gil-Galad and Elendil, but he did question the wisdom of rushing off to an unknown land.

“What I can see is that you are allowing yourself to be swayed by a few well-worded letters delivered on bended knee!”

“You go too far with your assumptions,” Oropher retorted.

“If you insist on this, then we will certainly all suffer, and then we come home to... what? Will the ones we leave behind be able to defend themselves if the need arises and who will be providing for everyone? Adar, I do not see mothers and elflings battling unforeseen enemies!”

Oropher sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Sauron is weak and the time to strike is now. Our help is needed and we will give it, whether you wish to or not. Gil-galad has made a persuasive argument.”

Thranduil felt as though his words were falling on deaf ears. In truth, he felt as though his opinion was being ignored.

“Adar! The majority of our people have only leather armor!” He was aware of his rising voice, but he did not care. “And you know as well as I do that if you send out a call, the vast majority of those able will follow to wherever you lead! With nothing but a few scraps of leather, we will be orc fodder!”

Thranduil had never felt so adamant. He continued his barrage.

“You may have the luxury of full plate armor that you dragged along from Doriath, but you are one of only a handful!”

“Enough!” Oropher roared. “I will not sit here and listen while you continue to search for reasons to continue this seclusion! You have no faith in your own people! Our help is needed and we will give it.”

Thranduil grimaced before he found himself rising to his feet, not able to sit any longer. He paced across the floor in front of his father’s desk.

“I do not see how you can ask us to abandon our home, Adar. We are singularly unprepared, and your desire to prove yourself to someone who would use Greenwood and her king is leading us to an ill-conceived war.”

Oropher lept to his feet.

“This has nothing to do with me or my desires, Thranduil! Do you think me so ignorant of the greater world around us that I do not know the weapons and armor of those who seek our help? Our people are well known as excellent archers, able to put out even a bird’s eye, and you would stand there and doubt any contribution we could make?”

“If you know, then you must see. Adar, you are asking too much! We defend our homes from the trees, where we have stealth on our side. We drop down and surprise the enemy before they even know we are there. They will know we are there in this war.”

“I see more than you realize, and they will know we are there by the strength of our force.”

“Wait until we have the time to arm ourselves properly and to train! Elrond has been training their troops in Imladris for longer than we have even been considering this! Let us take the same time!.”

Oropher sank back into his chair. He ran a hand over his face and sighed, maintaining a calmer outward demeanor than his son.

“We do not have the time to take. We must strike now, or it will be too late. This opportunity will not present itself again, ion-nín, and I have been told that they march for Mordor in a matter of a few months.. Surely you can understand that we have no choice. If we do not see an end to Sauron now, then we will see Greenwood shrivel and die under the weight of his evil. He will not stop, Thranduil. Those who crave power are seldom satisfied. We do not have the luxury of waiting. We will join Gil-galad's alliance.”

“And leave elflings to protect their mothers at home.”

Thranduil spun on his heel and walked out, letting the door close loudly behind him.

**************************************************

Thranduil woke with a groan. He rolled over, opening only one eye to confirm that it was indeed morning. He rather wished it were not. Oropher had called a chieftains’ meeting for today, and over the last several days leaders from all of the major families had been arriving at the King’s Hall. Today his father would ask for their support in going to war. He suspected Oropher would find little resistance. The people had asked his father to assume the role of their king, and they had, in return, given him fierce loyalty. Not to mention the fact that a collective feeling of superiority kept them feeling more than capable of dealing with a few orcs. Thranduil rolled out of bed and made quick work of dressing. He opted for black. It matched his mood. This was not a meeting he looked forward to.

Taking a deep breath, Thranduil entered his father's council chamber. As expected, every chieftain was present. Thranduil nodded and took his seat. His father has not yet arrived. The room did not fall utterly silent at Thranduil's entrance, but it certainly seemed less animated than it had been. He suspected everyone here already knew why they had been called.

The door opened and Oropher strode in. Everyone rose. Oropher did not sit, but indicated the gathered chieftains should have a seat. Thranduil sat down, turning his attention to his father. The king had been in council with his advisors for several days, and Thranduil knew that he had sent back a response to Gil-galad the day after the messengers had arrived. All that remained was to ensure that he had the support of his people. In this case, Thranduil thought, there was already no doubt of it.

“My friends,” Oropher began, “I trust you all had a safe journey. Safety is, indeed, why I have called you all here. The promise of safety and hope for the future. ”

There were slight mumblings around the table, but as Thranduil looked around, the king seemed to have piqued their interest.

“I have received a request from Lindon, as well as one from Annúminas. Elrond has gathered an army in Imladris and they have been training for an assault against Sauron in Mordor. Gil-galad and Elendil are gathering forces further east to march south later this year. They ask for our help.”

Sador spoke first. “What need do we have to go to war, my lord? Why would we rush to join a battle that is not ours? We have been largely left alone by the outside world, and if we leap into this we will be announcing our presence. We will focus their attention on us. If we stay out of this conflict, we will stay below their eye.”

“The war with Sauron is ours as much as it is anyone else’s and it can no longer be ignored. We have been content to sit back in our forest, largely untouched by the events of the age, but those days are no longer with us. He may be occupied with others now, but mark my words, he will come for us. Who that craves power is ever content with only a portion when they may acquire the whole?”

Sador frowned and sat back in chair, his brow furrowed in thought. He is already won over, Thranduil observed to himself. If that was all the resistance any of them gave, the meeting would be shorter than he had expected.

“According to the information I have been given,” Oropher began again, “Sauron is weak and this is the time to strike at his heart. We have the opportunity to vanquish him to the shadow forever.”

Oropher sat down and folded his hands on the table as he continued, “His armies have suffered heavy losses and he is feeling the strain of war. But if we do not rid the world of this evil now, he will continue to build his forces and we will see the armies of Mordor flooding every land in Arda. The Numenorians have weakened him to a point we have not seen before. The time to strike is now, and our brothers west of the mountains will be doing just that.” The king paused for a moment as he cast a glance at each of those seated before him. “As will our kin in Lorinand.”

Thranduil sat up. He had to give his father credit. Oropher knew how to get what he wanted and needed from his chieftains. They would be much more likely to join a battle they were uncertain of if they knew that their cousins across the river supported it.

He could see Aeglos frowning. Thranduil had expected that if any of the Silvan lords gave Oropher trouble, it would be him.

“This is a war that is being thrust upon us from outside,” Aeglos said. “We defend and protect our forest and that is enough. Strangers from other lands have no right to divert unwanted attention from themselves onto us.”

Even Thranduil was surprised at Aeglos’s attitude. Yes, he too was opposed to joining this war, but his primary concern was a desire to wait until his father was in a better position to equip the Greenwood warriors more appropriately – not ignore their kin from over the mountains completely. Before he could speak, however, Lathron spoke up.

“Have you taken leave of your senses, Aeglos? Even if you think the attention from the west will cause Sauron to cast his attention in our direction, you cannot deny the benefits of being rid of him forever. The time has come for us to take our place among those willing to sacrifice in the name of peace.”

Tarias nodded in agreement. “I see no reason for us not to join this war. Our warriors are capable and fierce. We instill fear in those who would come to our forest to do harm and we would do the same in open battle.”

“You are fooling yourself!” Aeglos was hearing none of it. “You would have us join with the likes of men and the exiles from the west - those who spend their days contemplating war, not peace.”

“We would join the free peoples of Arda in the final struggle again the enemy of this age!” Oropher snapped. “This war,” he accented his words with a firm tap of the end of his index finger on the table, “will put an end to war. A secured victory will see an end to the threats that continuously linger over us, and will banish Sauron’s minions from these lands forever.”

The mood was swinging to the king’s favour. Even Thranduil was finding himself more convinced of the urgency of this war.

“You would send our sons to this foreign land with nothing but deer hide to protect them and then place them under a banner than is not their own?”

“I will not only send my son, but go myself,” Oropher interjected. “I have no intention of placing the warriors of Greenwood under a foreign banner. We are going to war, not sending our sons to join a foreign army.”

Sador, who had obviously been holding his tongue for the last while, seemed no longer capable of silence. “We take our orders from you, of course, my lord, but from whom will you be taking yours?”

Oropher turned a steady look on Sador. “Greenwood answers only to herself.”

**************************************************

“We spent the majority of the day in council, and while there was no serious opposition, there were plenty of concerns. Many of them echoed my own. It was well known that if the King sent out a call for able-bodied elves to enlist, most of them would. We had skirmished with many roving bands of orcs and even men who were in the ranks of Sauron's army. Our warriors as well as our settlement guards all felt that it would be no different than what we had already faced. It would simply be on a larger scale. Your grandfather fostered that bravado. It helped him secure all the support he needed, and when we left the council, we were preparing for war.”

“Were you still against the war?” Legolas asked.

“In some respects, I was. I felt that our place was keeping our forest secure and providing for our own. But my father was adamant. He made it clear that if there was any hope of defeating Sauron, then the Alliance would need everyone. We also received news that Lorinand had joined the Alliance. Amdir sent his own emissary to Greenwood, hoping to secure our help as well. In the end, I suppose they were right. We could not sit back in our forest while others fought battles from which we would all benefit. But there was still much work to be done before we would be ready for war.”

**************************************************

Thanks again to Nilmandra for all her help and patience!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“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.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: It has been forever since I have updated, I know.  I think I might be back on track with this story.  A big thanks to Daw the Minstrel for beta reading for me.

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The faint murmurs of the forest reached him before the scouts. Had they not, the acrid smell of scorched trees told him all he needed to know. The normally content forest song that had accompanied them on most of the day's march had become mournful-almost painful to hear. A ball of apprehension welled up in Thranduil's gut. Each step stirred up a billow of ash that assaulted his eyes. The trees around him slowly began to take on a different look as they walked further on. Some were completely burned, with only a charred stump remaining, others only scarred on what was obviously the side facing the fire.

Thranduil led his patrol onto the scene in utter dismay. Stepping into the clearing, he found himself gasping for breath as the ash that had been stinging his eyes swirled into his lungs. He closed his mouth and fumbled for a cloth to hold over his nose. A pain surged up in his stomach. After stepping over a fallen tree-one more that did not survive-Thranduil looked out across the clearing. Everywhere he looked lay the fallen and charred remains of what was once home to beautiful gardens tended by the Entwives. In the bordering forest stood charcoal branches where once there had been old growth forest. Smoke still rose in areas where the fire had burned the hottest. A painful feeling of loss, only faint at first, but now nearly overwhelming, descended upon him. The few remaining trees in the area were mourning, he realized. Not a single growing thing remained in the soil where the gardens had stood. Having regained his breath, Thranduil lowered the cloth and moved further into the clearing.

Another smell wafted in on the breeze. To his horror, Thranduil realized it was the smell of burning flesh. It was only then that he noticed the bodies. Some were obviously orcs-he could tell by their gear-what was left of it anyway. He side-stepped one of the aberrations to approach remains that were obviously not of an orc. Who were these people? They were burned beyond recognition, and there did not seem to be anything to identify them.  The remains appeared to have been stripped of anything of value before being burned.  Thranduil took a deep breath and crouched down to examine one of the bodies. Several orcish arrowheads were strewn around the remains. Thranduil's face twisted in disgust as he looked over the blackened remains. Very little flesh was left. He realized the extreme intensity of the fire when he looked a bit closer and saw that parts of the exposed bone had taken on a blueish-white hue. He closed his eyes and turned his head, needing a moment to get control of himself.

When he opened his eyes, a flash of something metal caught his attention. He leaned over and picked it up, turning it over in his hand. The silver had been tarnished by the fire, but Thranduil recognized it as one of the buckles of Elendil's soldiers. The pain in his stomach intensified.  This was the advance scouting party sent ahead by Elendil. Judging by the burned bodies that were strewn across the clearing, there were few if any survivors. His patrol was now the forward party.

He sent two squads out to scout the area. If there were survivors, they would need to find them quickly. Thranduil looked up to the sky. The setting sun reflected off the smoke as the last vestiges of the fire still smoldered. It was a fiery red sunset. He did not doubt the dawn would be the same.

Most of his patrol stood in stunned silence surveying the damage done by the enemy as they were pushed down the Anduin in advance of the Allies. Most of Thranduil's patrol had never witnessed such wanton destruction. A loud wail sounded, and Thranduil jerked his head to attention.  A scout approached and saluted.

“Women and children, my Lord. None of the men who came to their aid survived.”

Thranduil gave a short nod and walked toward the sound as a woman ran up from the banks of the river, followed by two small children. Behind them, a trickle of survivors-both old and young-climbed up the bank.

“Alert the King to what we have found,” he ordered.

The scout saluted and dashed back the way they had come.

“Taldur! Eldiren!” The two squad leaders approached. “Begin the search for more survivors and set up a temporary camp. When the healers arrive they can tend to any wounded.”

Taldur began organizing the search while Eldiren gathered his squad and began setting up camp just inside what was left of the scorched trees. Thranduil could not help eyeing the dead as the rest of his patrol began collecting them and making burial preparations. They had been severely overwhelmed, he thought to himself. A second scout ran toward him from the south.

“Orcs, my Lord, along the western banks, just to the south. They appear to be searching for something.”

Thranduil looked toward the south. He could not see them from his position. “Looking for survivors, no doubt.”

The scout was young and his excitement clear. He was anxious for battle. Thranduil waved two squad leaders to him.

“Take your archers and position yourselves along the eastern banks behind the line of brush. See to it that we have a secure position, but do not engage them if we are outnumbered. We can keep them at a distance until the rest of our troops arrive.”

The squad leaders saluted and called their archers together, then spread out along the bank.

“Get this filth out of here!” he barked as he stepped over a slain orc. Three warriors who had been staring at the scene in silence were wrenched from their thoughts and began working on ridding the area of the dead orcs.

Thranduil approached the huddled survivors. Nearly all of them had at least minor burns and several appeared more seriously injured. Working hard to mask his horror, Thranduil listened attentively to the story of the attack. An old woman who seemed to be spokesperson for the group pointed around the former gardens with her walking stick.

“They burnt it all! Some o' them Entwives was taken-who knows what'll happen to 'em! The rest of 'em was burned with tha gardens-they might be tha lucky ones. There was nothin' we could do but hide and watch tha slaughter!”

Thinking back to the arguments he had had with his father, Thranduil realized that Oropher had been right. These people had done nothing to draw the enemy's attention to them, yet here they were suffering nonetheless. I was wrong, he thought. This could easily be my home.

“We will provide you with food and shelter for the night,” he said to the old woman. “We have enough to spare.”

The woman seemed reluctant to accept their aid, however, and eyed him suspiciously.

“Greenwood will do everything we are able,” he added.

He supposed the suspicion was somewhat founded. They had never had too many dealings with men. Oropher preferred to keep to themselves as much as possible, and Thranduil found he agreed with the sentiment. Of course, that was before the last messengers arrived requesting their help. They had somehow managed to convince his father to act.

At length the old woman relented, and Thranduil saw to it that by the time the rest of Greenwood's forces had reached them the camp was set up and the dead were cleared away. With the increase in warriors, the orc patrol was dispatched without major injuries, but the talk around the encampment that night was joyless, and very few harps found their way into the hands of harpers. A long day's march had ended with a first hand view of what they were truly fighting for, and then a battle.

Thranduil found himself seeking solace among the branches of the remaining trees. He leaned against the trunk of a partially burned beech and watched the activity on the ground. Cevenion seemed to have once again settled in to working with the healers. Thranduil rather thought his friend was better suited to the healing arts than the killing ones, but he had not been able to convince Cevenion of it before leaving, and he doubted he would be able to do it now. He supposed it was for the best anyway. It would be good to have someone among the fighters with knowledge of herbs and healing in case the healers themselves were unable to reach them. Thranduil thought back to the argument he and his father had had some weeks previous. How could he have been so blind? He had even gone so far as to throw insults at his own father. He looked toward where Oropher was sitting with several advisors, and watched him for a moment. Oropher always seemed to end up with what he wanted in the end. Thranduil had occasionally thought that was because his father was relentless and would push until he was satisfied. He now realized it was more than that. Oropher was not only relentless, he was generally right.

Taking a deep breath, Thranduil looked around for his friends. He spied Eldiren off near the edge of the encampment with his brother, Idhren, and nearly snorted a laugh. Eldiren was not going to give his brother one moment's peace until he was satisfied with Idhren's fighting skills.

“I am doing exactly what you are saying!” Idhren nearly shouted.

The look on Eldiren's face made his dissatisfaction clear. “You are not, and what is more, you are not even trying. I do not know why I am bothering! If you are that determined to be sloppy with your footwork, then I should just let you be.”

Idhren spun around and stalked off. Thranduil shook his head. Eldiren had been so critical of Vondil just a few days earlier and here he was doing the exact same thing. Still, he supposed if he had a brother he would want to ensure that his brother knew what he was doing.

“What are we doing here?”

Thranduil came out of his thoughts with a start and looked down to the next lower branch. Galion was on his way up, and judging by the look on his face, was looking for an argument.

Wonderful, he thought. Galion was in Sador's clan. As Sador's main advisor, Galion had always been against the war, arguing that Greenwood would be better served if they stayed where they were and defended the forest. If Galion had his way, there would be no contact with anyone outside of those who dwelt in the forest, and the Elves would simply retreat in the face of enemies. Then again, Thranduil sometimes felt the same way-but there was only so far that they could retreat. At some point it was necessary to take a stand. After the last few days, he was beginning to see his father's reasoning in a much clearer light than he had previously.

He also suspected that Galion had always been a bit jealous. It seemed to Thranduil that Galion had only really become contrary after Oropher had become king.

“We are doing our duty to our king.”

Galion settled onto the same limb on which Thranduil now sat. “Is it really our duty? We are going to some unknown land to fight an enemy who has left us largely alone. Why would we make this our fight? To prove ourselves to those with whom we have no contact already? Or perhaps to show our kin in Lorinand that we can be as brave as they, even without the benefit of Noldorin influence.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing, really. It just seems to me that we ran from the wrong people. We left our home to move north because of a couple of dwarves and a strutting Noldo elleth? I sometimes wonder what the king is really concerned with. Is it truly a concern with Sauron-who has not bothered us at all-or is he afraid of appearing weak to...”

“If you do not wish to lose your tongue, I strongly suggest you hold it!”

Thranduil clenched his fists at his side. The temptation to knock the fool next to him from the tree was nearly overwhelming.

“If we do not stop Sauron now, we will find ourselves fighting him in our own homes. ... or would you rather see Greenwood burn like everything here?”

Galion's head nearly spun clear around as he fixed a glare on Thranduil.

“I would rather see the young ones who are newly of age back in their own enclave, with their own kind, flirting with their love interests, not marching off to war!” Galion spat back.

Thranduil bristled. He wanted those things as well. How could this infuriating elf think otherwise?

“And camping here,” Galion continued, “does nothing but expose us to more aggression! There is no real cover here, save a few burned out trees. We should not be out in the open like this.”

“We are in as much cover as is available!” Thranduil countered. “It is not as though there are many options in a burned forest!”

“We should have pressed on.”

“How can you possibly think it wise to press on when we have survivors to care for?” Thranduil wondered why he was even bothering to speak to Galion. He had no sense whatsoever.

“They should be handed over to men to care for. We have our own to look after,” Galion replied matter-of-factly.

Thranduil looked at Galion as if he had grown a second head. He took a long deep breath. It will not serve any purpose to knock him from the tree, he reminded himself.

“If you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to.”

Without waiting for an answer, Thranduil leapt to the ground and stalked away. Arguing with fools such as Galion was not going to serve any useful purpose, so he would simply refrain from doing so.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thranduil kept his expression schooled, but it was obvious to him that Oropher was nearing the limit of his tolerance. He glanced from Amdir to his father before his attention was drawn back to the king of the Noldor. Thranduil did not want to admit it to himself, but he found Gil-galad impressive – imposing even. Elendil was no less so. It was an interesting assembly. Amroth was standing slightly behind where Amdir was seated and Elrond was standing slightly behind Gil-galad. A host of other lords both elven and human were in attendance as well, some of whom Thranduil recognized, some of whom he did not.

Celeborn's appearance may have helped soothe over tension between Amdir and Gil-galad, but it had only increased Oropher's immovability-something that Thranduil himself could not quite understand. Whatever had occurred between his father and Celeborn had been painful enough to Oropher that he rarely spoke of his cousin at all-even of their youth.

Men were in attendance as well. Elendil was seated at the table where large maps were spread, while Isildur and Anarion stood off to the side watching their father. Assorted aides were gathered outside of the command tent. Elendil had been rather quieter than Thranduil had expected. He had really left most of the talking to Gil-galad. Thranduil supposed that the two of them had already hashed out the battle plans without input from the other realms in attendance. Indeed, given the current conversation, that seemed to be exactly the case. Thranduil glanced at the map again, where stone carvings representing different battalions were spread across at various intervals. Someone had also written on the maps, and arrows were drawn in all directions.

“Oropher, we appreciate your concerns, but we really must insist...”

Oropher slammed his hand down hard on the makeshift meeting table, bringing Thranduil's attention back to the discussion. Anarion exchanged glances with Isildur.

“The Woodland Realm does not send her warriors into battle under the command of other lands. We march under our own banner. All of us! Had you not assumed otherwise, and drawn these plans without our input, you would have known that and we would not be having this conversation now!”

Thranduil rather thought that, even if Oropher had agreed to send a number of his archers under one of Gil-galad's commanders, they would likely not only balk, but, at first opportunity, return to their own ranks. It had not only been the Chieftains who had made it clear that the elves of Greenwood fought for Greenwood.

The look on Anarion's face spoke volumes, as did Gil-galad's. Apparently Oropher's reaction was not wholly unexpected.

“The warriors of Lórinand will not allow themselves to be split regardless of where you believe you need more support,” Amdir added, rather calmer than Oropher.

Gil-galad shook his head. “With increased archery support in key positions, we will stand a better chance of holding off melee combat longer. If we thin their ranks first, we will be in a much better position when it comes to it. Combining our forces in the center...”

Oropher leaned forward, heat rising in his face as his frustration increased with nearly every word Gil-galad spoke.

“If you think for one moment that the warriors of the Greenwood will stand in straight lines behind your ranks simply because you command them to do so,” he sat back in his chair, “well, you will be sorely disappointed.”

It was Gil-galad’s turn to anger now. Thranduil felt the corner of his mouth twitch, and he was forced to suppress the desire to grin at the look on the Noldorin king’s face. It would be completely inappropriate, of course-and this was no laughing matter. Gil-galad's face reddened, nearly matching Oropher's.

“I am in command here, Oropher, and your warriors will do are they are ord...”

Oropher stood abruptly.

“We were under the impression we were here on our own accord, not to subjugate ourselves to your will.”

Gil-galad jumped to his feet as well.  “What sort of king does not have control over his own people?”

Thranduil blinked before masking his surprise as his father leaned forward threateningly, his face red and his expression stony.

“What sort of person becomes a king in order to control those around him-whether they will it or not?”

Oropher spun and marched from the command tent. Thranduil followed him out. Behind him, he heard Amdir and Amroth following suit. Voices in the tent rose, but Oropher ignored them all and turned toward their encampment.

“Oropher! Wait!” Thranduil recognized Celeborn's voice. He turned around to see Celeborn coming toward them.

“What do you want?” Oropher snapped.

Celeborn held up his hands. “I am not here to argue with you, Gwanur.”

“Why are you here, Celeborn, and more importantly,” Oropher glanced around, “I do not see your leash-holder.”

Celeborn reddened, but Thranduil had to give him credit for not rising to the bait his father had obviously thrown out.

“They do not understand, Oropher. That is all. Gil-galad does not understand how a band of warriors will not fall into assembled discipline as his own troops do. Elendil has similar problems understanding how things work in Greenwood and in Lorinand. They do not understand the finer points of directing woodland elves in the way you would have them go.”

“Nor have they tried!” Oropher retorted. “These plans were drawn long before we arrived, Celeborn, and I see your hand in it as well. I will not have it!”

Oropher turned to go. Thranduil looked at Celeborn. This was not the first time Celeborn had attempted to approach Oropher over the last few days only to be rebuffed. Thranduil's own memories of his father's cousin were generally good ones. Of course, he had been very young when events at the end of the last age had created the rift between Oropher and Celeborn. He nodded to the older elf before following after his father.

 Thranduil waited until they were far enough away to speak.

“Have we come all this way for nothing?”

“They will be calling this evening, mark my words. And they will be doing it with less pretension than we have seen thus far.”

“But if they do not?”

Oropher quirked an eyebrow at Thranduil.

“They will.”

“My lord,” Thranduil hesitated. He was not absolutely sure that his words would be welcome. Still, they needed to be said. “We have come all this way to take part in this alliance-you yourself said that it was something we needed to do. Now we are walking out of the planning meeting.”

Oropher whirled. “The alleged planning meeting that you accuse us of walking out of is nothing less than another attempt to place us under someone else's direct command. The plans were made long before we arrived, Thranduil, surely you saw that.”

“I did see that, but we were...”

“We were to be assimilated-separated and placed in the rear echelon along with the incompetent! Do you think for one moment that any of the--”

“I do not mean to imply that we should follow their battle plan, Adar, but should we not at least have heard them out? Or given them the opportunity to change it?”

“That is what we are doing.”

Thranduil looked at his father for a moment, then nodded. They were almost to their encampment. It would not do to be arguing with him in public anyway. He only hoped that the morning would bring the alliance back.