I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien, but they are his, not mine. I gain only the enriched imaginative life that I assume he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.

AN:  At the end of the chapter, I’ve appended a list of OCs who appear or are mentioned in it.

*******

2.  Battles of a Different Kind

Ithilden cinched his belt over his surcoat and attached his long knife in its tooled scabbard to the belt.  Outside the tent, he could hear the early morning songs of a multitude of birds who seemed to be competing to welcome the day.  For a moment, he wished again, as he had the previous night, to sleep under the stars rather than in his father’s tent with the banner of the Woodland Realm flying in front of it.  However, his father’s chief adviser, Thrior, was unlikely to judge that a better idea today than he had when they had arrived after dark yesterday.  Thrior wanted it to be very clear to all the other members of the White Council that Ithilden spoke for Thranduil and was to be treated as his representative.

“I sent two of our escorts to scout the area, my lord,” Thrior was now saying as he picked up his own knife from the tent’s second cot.  “They report that the delegations from Lórien, Imladris, and the Havens are all camped not far from us.  Mithrandir appears to be staying with Elrond’s people.  They saw no sign of Curunír, but he could be staying in Radagast’s cottage.”

Ithilden nodded, his mind on the relations among the other Council members that Thrior had described to him on their week-long journey.  He knew that Mithrandir would already be on his side in arguing for some sort of attack on Dol Guldur.  According to Thrior, Mithrandir had been in favor of such an action at the last Council meeting, for he had somehow found out by then that it was Sauron himself who dwelt there.  But Curunír had persuaded the others to wait.  What they thought they were waiting for, Ithilden could not imagine.  He hoped he might be able to work with Mithrandir to influence Elrond at least.   The two of them seemed to have a reasonably close relationship, again according to Thrior. And if Elrond could be persuaded, then he, in turn, might be able to work on his formidable mother-in-law.

A voice called from outside the tent, and at Ithilden’s bidding, one of the guards put his head through the flap.  “The Council appears to be gathering, my lord,” he said.

“Thank you.”  Ithilden turned to Thrior. “Shall we?”  Thrior nodded, and Ithilden ducked through the tent’s low doorway and out into the summer morning with the adviser at his heels. The guard led him through the trees near their camp until they could see Radagast’s small cottage. Then he pointed to where a long table was set up in the shade to one side of it.  Ithilden could see that Mithrandir and Elrond were already seated next to one another, with two of Elrond’s advisers on his other side, and felt a rush of pleasure to see that one of the Elves with Elrond was Glorfindel.  He had met Glorfindel when he had gone to Imladris with his father for the White Council’s first meeting, and he still felt like an excited elfling on seeing him.

All of their heads turned at Ithilden’s approach.  For a moment, they all blinked at him, as if not believing what their eyes were telling them.  Then Mithrandir broke into a broad smile and rose to greet him.  “Ithilden,” he cried. “It is good to see you again.”  Ithilden could see Elrond and Glorfindel exchange a quick look before they too rose. He clasped arms with each of them.

“Is the king here also?” Elrond inquired.

“He sends his most sincere regrets that he is unable to attend,” Ithilden said untruthfully.  He could have sworn that Elrond’s shoulders relaxed slightly in response to his answer.

At that moment, Galadriel emerged from the trees, accompanied by an elf who was obviously a Galadhrim adviser and another whom Ithilden did not recognize, but who wore the symbol of the Havens on his leather jerkin.  She approached the table and the males all greeted her with polite bows.  Ithilden had met her too at the White Council’s formation, but he felt afresh the power of her personality when she turned her gaze upon him.  “How unfortunate that Thranduil could not be with us,” she murmured.  Behind her, Glorfindel grinned and ducked his head.

“Ithilden, this is Galdor, who has come as Círdan’s representative,” Mithrandir said, and Ithilden bowed to the other Elf.   Ithilden found it interesting that, like Thranduil, Círdan had sent someone else in his stead.  His father had indicated with some satisfaction that he thought that Círdan too was growing impatient with the Council’s endless, fruitless debates.

Their attention was drawn by the sound of the opening of the little cottage door and the emergence of an obviously irritated Curunír, with Radagast fluttering along behind him. An attendant who had been standing quietly nearby jumped to attention and pulled out the chair at the table’s head.  Ithilden assumed the attendant had come with Curunír, given how unlikely it was that Radagast would have such a person about.  With some amusement, he also assumed that Curunír was unimpressed by the accommodations that Radagast had provided for him.  In his gleaming white robes, he looked completely out of place in this rustic setting.

Curunír settled into the chair the attendant offered and swept his eyes over the group as they too seated themselves.  His gaze came to rest on Ithilden, who smiled blandly at him.  Something about the wizard had already set Ithilden’s teeth on edge.  He was startled by his own reaction. He had not seen the wizard since the first Council meeting, and he did not recall reacting to him so viscerally then, but if Curunír had been one of his officers, Ithilden would have been double checking every report he made.

“Ah!” said Curunír. “I believe we have met before, my lord, although it has been some time.  I assume you are here in your father’s place?”

“Indeed I am,” Ithilden agreed. “My lord sends his regrets.” He suddenly felt ashamed of his suspicions.  The wizard’s manner was graciousness itself.  Ithilden had probably been allowing himself to be too greatly influenced by his father’s frustration with the Council.

Curunír smiled thinly.  “I am sure he does,” he said.  He looked around the table.  “Shall we begin?”

***

Legolas entered the small building that housed Ithilden’s office to find his aide Calith and a warrior who served as one of his messengers glaring at one another.  “Do not ever touch the papers on that shelf again, Tinár!” Calith cried, all but breathing fire.

“You are, as usual, being unreasonable,” Tinár responded disdainfully. “Ithilden trusts me to deliver his important dispatches.  He would certainly trust me with papers he lets you handle.”

Calith’s voice sank to a menacing hiss. “Do not touch them!”

Legolas hesitated, not wanting to become involved in whatever it was they were arguing about.  He liked Calith, but he had served in the same patrol with Tinár, and if he had his way, he would never do so again. Calith suddenly noticed Legolas’s presence and seemed to get hold of himself.  He turned his back on Tinár, obviously intent on ignoring him.  “Todith is not back from meeting with the king yet, my lord,” he said, “but he is expecting you.  You may go into the office and wait if you like.”  Legolas hastily crossed the room and entered the inner office which the Home Guard captain was temporarily using as he filled in for Ithilden in his absence.

He had barely sat down in the chair in front of the desk before Todith entered the room and he had to come to his feet again.  “Sit,” said Todith wearily, taking his own seat behind the desk.  He rubbed his hands over his face.  “I swear it seems as if Ithilden has been gone for a year rather than only a week.”

Legolas could not suppress a grin.  Ithilden usually managed the troops with very little interference from Thranduil, who trusted his oldest son completely.  But with Ithilden gone, Thranduil had been overseeing Todith’s actions.  Much as Legolas loved and respected his father, he would not have liked to be in Todith’s shoes.

With an apparent effort, Todith brought himself back to the moment and his daily meeting with Legolas about the running of the Home Guard. “I see from yesterday’s report that our patrols found no new spider nests.”

Legolas nodded.  “I believe we should spend at least one more day searching the area though, just to be sure we have wiped them out. At least for the time being,” he added unhappily.

Todith sighed.  “Very well.  Arrange the patrols as you see fit. You will have to meet with Tonduil today too, to talk about what needs the Home Guard might have for horses.  He spoke to me yesterday, and I told him to see you. Do you have the list I prepared?”

“Yes, Captain,” said Legolas, pleased by the trust Todith was showing in him.  Todith had been the first captain under whom Legolas had served when had been barely old enough for Thranduil to be willing to let him out of his sight.  But Todith seemed to have no doubt at all that Legolas was not only a lethal warrior but also a competent officer. That was in contrast to his father, Legolas thought ruefully, who was still occasionally inclined to think that Legolas should sit quietly by while his elders made decisions to which he should then accede.

“On your way, then,” Todith said.

As Legolas rose, he heard what sounded like someone slamming a drawer shut in the outer office, followed closely by a muffled “mmph!”  He glanced at Todith, who rolled his eyes.

“How does Ithilden stand it?” Todith demanded.

Legolas grinned in answer and then straightened his face and ventured through the door into the outer office.  Calith was seated at his desk looking smug, while Tinár had retreated to his own desk in the rear of the office, where he sat scowling and nursing the fingers of one hand. Not trusting himself to speak, Legolas nodded to them both and then hastened out the door before he broke into a soft laugh.  He had never known Calith in any role other than that of Ithilden’s chief aide, but he had been told that Calith was a scourge to the enemy during his time on the battlefield.  Tinár was apparently learning that the hard way.

The Home Guard headquarters were busy, as warriors who had been patrolling during the night trickled in to report on their actions and those who were to go out this morning awaited Legolas’s orders.  Legolas saw his nephew sitting to one side of the room, laughing at some joke that his friend Amdir had made.  To Legolas’s amusement, Annael was sitting near the two younger warriors, with his eyes fixed on Sinnarn and a faint smile on his face at whatever it was Amdir had said.  Annael had been hovering near Sinnarn ever since he had decided that Sinnarn was courting his daughter.  Legolas assumed he was still trying to decide if he approved of the match.

Sinnarn seemed to be aware of the scrutiny, for he turned to Annael and said, “What do you think, Annael?  Shall we send Amdir to negotiate with the Dwarves for fancier weaponry?”

Annael raised an eyebrow.  “Do you think he has the diplomatic skills?” he asked.

“I would show the stubby little creatures that we meant business!” Amdir protested.  Everyone within earshot laughed.

Legolas laughed too but decided they had all better get to work. “Annael,” he called, and his friend rose immediately.  “Take Sinnarn and go scout out that area next to the river.  Nithron too, of course,” he added.  Nithron was Sinnarn’s bodyguard, and a thankless task he had too, Legolas thought.  His nephew could be careless when he was excited, and he and Amdir tended to egg on another on.  Annael, Sinnarn, and Nithron all picked up their bows and left the building, as Legolas wondered a little gleefully whether Annael or Sinnarn would take the most advantage of their time together.  He set about organizing other small patrols.  By the time he was finished, Tonduil had arrived to talk about what horses the Home Guard might need from among those in Thranduil’s pastures that were now old enough to be ridden.  Legolas greeted Tonduil with pleasure. He liked Alfirin’s brother and saw him too seldom.

“How long until the wedding?” Legolas asked with a grin.

“Three weeks from today,” answered Tonduil promptly and then blushed.  “Not that I am counting,” he added a little sheepishly.

Legolas laughed, and then the two of them sat down at the table and started going over the list that Todith had previously prepared.  Tonduil frowned. “I do not know if I can give you all that you ask for,” he said worriedly.  “We have lost a number of horses lately, and they can breed and grow only so fast.  I would buy more if I could, but the king has said that the means to pay for them are scarce.”

Legolas grimaced.  “Do what you can,” he urged and rose.  Tonduil took the list with him and left, and Legolas turned to where Beliond and Amdir awaited him. “Shall we go?” Legolas asked picking up his bow.  “Perhaps we can find some spiders today, and Amdir can show the stubby little creatures that we mean business.”

Beliond laughed, and even Amdir smiled.  “I would say that your adar should send me to deal with the Dwarves, Legolas, but I do not think I could stand having to spend much time with them.”

Legolas laughed. “I do not think you have to worry about it,” he said.  “I doubt if there are any diplomatic missions in your future.”  And the three of them set off for their day’s scouting.

***

Ithilden rose gratefully from the table; accepted some of the bread, cheese, and cider that Radagast offered to the members of the White Council for their mid-day meal; and withdrew to a pleasant spot under an oak tree to eat, with Thrior by his side.  He eyed the simple cottage in which Radagast lived.  “Radagast cannot possibly feed us all for any length of time,” he murmured to Thrior. “Beginning this evening, we will provide our own food.”  He beckoned to one of his guards who stood discreetly nearby.  “Send someone out to hunt for our evening meal,” he instructed, and then looked around the little clearing into which birds and even a bold fox had ventured during the morning.  He looked doubtfully at Thrior.  “Perhaps we should not be hunting near here though.”

Thrior grimaced.  “I doubt if Radagast eats meat,” he agreed.

Ithilden turned back to the guard, who was looking at him in open disbelief at what he had just heard. “Do not hunt nearby,” Ithilden ordered, and then added, “and make sure you are downwind of the cottage when you roast the meat.” The guard nodded, saluted, and set off toward their camp.  Thrior seemed to be repressing a smile at this practical course of action.

“May I join you?” asked a familiar voice, and Ithilden looked up to see Mithrandir.

“Of course.  Your company is always welcome, Mithrandir.”

The wizard lowered himself to the ground next to Ithilden.  “What did you think of this morning’s discussion?” he asked.

Ithilden shrugged.  They had spent the morning in hearing accounts of the state of affairs in the three Elven realms.  Ithilden had tried to make it clear that Thranduil’s realm was in far deeper trouble than either Imladris or Lórien was, but he had not yet asked for any action.  He had attended enough meetings of his father’s advisers to know that people needed time to become comfortable with one another before they would even begin to admit what they truly wanted, and he strongly suspected that most of the members of the White Council would never be so frank.  If he could, he intended to wait until there were several issues on the table so that he could try to concede on some of them in order to gain agreement on the one that mattered to him.  He was resolutely ignoring Alfirin’s hope that he would be home in time for her brother’s wedding.  He could not afford to be the Council member who was most pressed for time.  Others could and undoubtedly would use that to their advantage.

“These things take time,” he said.

Mithrandir harrumphed softly, and then they both watched as Curunír accepted a dish of food that had obviously been prepared by one of his own attendants.  Ithilden smiled wryly. “I am surprised that Curunír agreed to meet here,” he observed.  “This setting does not seem to me to be one in which he would be happy.”

“Ah,” said Mithrandir, “that was my doing.  I had reasons for insisting that the meeting should be here on the edge of your father’s realm.”

Ithilden interest quickened and he turned to Mithrandir with raised eyebrows.  “Are you going to tell me what they are?” he asked.

“Soon,” Mithrandir smiled.  “As you say, these things take time.”

Ithilden hesitated. “Not too much time, though,” he warned. “I fear we may not have it.”

“No,” Mithrandir agreed, his smile vanishing, “not too much time.”

***

Sinnarn made another careful survey of the trees above him and concluded, as he had all day, that they were empty of spiders.  Nithron was in sight, a hundred feet or so to his left, and he knew that Annael searched to their right, although he could not see him.  The position of the sun told him that the afternoon was fading, and he hoped that Annael would soon give the signal for them to stop for the day.  He looked forward to riding home with Emmelin’s father and intended to try yet again to make a good impression.

His thoughts settled happily on Emmelin, on her light brown hair and her bright eyes and her sweet smile.  He had known her most of his life, but he had noticed her only recently and was stunned by the idea that he had looked past her for so long.  Surely he should have noticed her before! As it was, he had simply seen her one day and realized that she was the most beautiful maiden he had ever met.

Of course, that did not necessarily mean she had decided whatever the equivalent thing would be about him.  He was still uncertain of Emmelin’s feelings. She tended to be cool and sensible.  And indeed, he was not absolutely certain of his own. He had been struck by the beauty of enough maidens to know that the impression usually faded.  But he rather thought that, given a chance, he and Emmelin might find happiness together.

A bird call from his right told him that Annael was calling a halt to their search, and he chirped to his horse, turning him toward the source of the call, aware that Nithron was following.  Annael emerged from the trees, riding toward them, and Sinnarn straightened, trying to look as responsible as possible.

“We might as well go home,” Annael said.  “We have found nothing, which I would say means we have had a successful day.” He smiled, and Sinnarn’s spirits rose.

“Yes, indeed,” he agreed.  The three of them turned their mounts and headed for home.

***

Legolas entered the family’s sitting room and realized too late that, for the second time that day, he had walked in on a heated discussion.  His father and Celuwen were apparently still arguing about whether the settlement where her parents lived should be required to move closer to Thranduil’s stronghold so that his warriors could protect them better, a discussion that they had started at morning meal, much to Alfirin’s disapproval. She tended to believe that meals should be free from talk of the problems that all of them dealt with during the rest of the day.  Legolas wished she had preceded him to the sitting room. Both Thranduil and Celuwen would have known enough to cease arguing in her presence.

“They do not need to move, Adar,” Celuwen said.  “I grant you that spiders have been seen closer to the stronghold of late, but the Home Guard seems to have driven them back.  Moreover, as I told you after my last visit there, the settlers have been forming their own patrols to keep the area around their homes safe.”

Thranduil snorted. “How effective do you expect those patrols to be, Celuwen?  Even the Home Guard warriors are sometimes surprised by the spiders.”  He seemed to suddenly become aware of Legolas’s presence. “Legolas,” he said, “how likely are untrained Elves to be able to spot spiders?”

Legolas groaned inwardly.  He hated being asked to take sides between Celuwen and Thranduil because he could almost always see both of their points of view.  “It would depend on how much experience of the spiders they had,” he answered.

Thranduil frowned. “Surely they would be less able than trained warriors?”

“Probably,” Legolas agreed.

“But these Elves have spent years in the forest and have a real feel for it,” Celuwen argued. “They know every tree, branch, and leaf, and they know when something is amiss.”

Legolas rather thought she was right, but he kept his mouth shut.  Celuwen did not need his help in standing up to Thranduil, and he did not want to mar the good standing he currently seemed to have with his father, who was openly pleased by the way Legolas was performing as an officer in the Home Guard.

The door opened, and to Legolas’s relief, Alfirin entered.  She smiled at them all, and peace descended.  “I hope you are all hungry,” she said. “Cook tells me he has made roast duck.”

Thranduil visibly softened.  “Let me pour you some wine, my dear,” he said, and Legolas relaxed.  That day’s battles were ended and the evening would be serene.

***

OCs newly mentioned in this chapter:

Thrior: Thranduil’s chief adviser. Appears in “Question of Duty” and very briefly in “Spring Awakenings”

Calith: Ithilden’s chief aide. Appears by name in “The Warrior” and “Paths Taken,” and in glimpses in other fics

Tinár:  Boastful warrior.  Appears in “One Year in Mirkwood,” “The Warrior,” “Growing under Shadow,” “Spring Awakenings”

Amdir: The best friend of Ithilden’s son, Sinnarn.  Also younger brother to a dead friend of Legolas.  Appears in “In Mirkwood/Prodigal Sons,” “Question of Duty,” “Fire and Shadow”

Nithron: Sinnarn’s bodyguard. Appears in “Fire and Shadow”

OCs already mentioned in previous chapters:

Beliond: Legolas’s bodyguard.  Appears in “The Tide of Times,” “The Warrior,” “Fire and Shadow,” “Sacrifice under Shadow,” “Spring Awakenings,” and "Question of Duty" 

Annael: Legolas’s best friend

Emmelin:  Annael’s daughter, a forester. Mentioned in “Spring Awakenings.”

Ithilden: Legolas’s oldest brother

Alfirin: Ithilden’s wife

Sinnarn: Ithilden and Alfirin’s son. Appears in “One Year in Mirkwood,” “The Tide of Times,” “The Warrior,” and “Fire and Shadow”

Eilian: Legolas’s second brother

Celuwen: Eilian’s wife

Maltanaur: Eilian’s bodyguard

Gelmir: Eilian’s best friend

Tonduil: Alfirin’s younger brother. A horse master for the troops.  Roughly the same age as Legolas. Appears in “The Novice,” “One Year in Mirkwood,” “The Tide of Times,” and "Paths Taken"

Todith: A Mirkwood captain.  Appears sporadically, including in “When Shadow Touches Home” and “The Warrior"