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.

*******

3.  Decisions

Ithilden shifted slightly in his seat as Curunír’s mellifluous voice washed over him. He was talking again about the problems of the Men of Gondor. Ithilden was willing to concede that having Mordor as one’s neighbor was likely to be unpleasant, but his concern at the moment was for the state of the Woodland Realm that stretched away behind him toward the darkened land around Dol Guldur.  For more than a week now, the Council had been debating what to do about the troubles that were upon them all. So far as Ithilden could see, however, they had made no progress.  Only Ithilden’s faith in Mithrandir kept him from despair.

Mithrandir’s only contribution to date, though, had been to say that he was worried that the great dragon Smaug, who lived in Erebor, might be under Sauron’s control and would pose a serious danger if Sauron chose to use him.  That had startled Ithilden, for although Smaug had caused enormous death and destruction when he had seized Erebor a hundred and sixty odd years earlier, he had been content for many years to hunt near his home.  As long Thranduil’s people and the Men of Laketown stayed clear of the devastated area around the mountain, they had little to fear.  And indeed, Ithilden had been forced to agree with Curunír when he dismissed Mithrandir’s concerns on those very grounds.

Ithilden returned his attention to Curunír, whose speech seemed to be drawing to an end.  The wizard puzzled Ithilden.  He resisted all calls for action against Sauron, but he also kept the Council meeting going, almost as if he were waiting for something to happen. The manner in which he directed their talk always seemed logical while the daily meetings were in progress, but when Ithilden returned to his camp at night and thought about the day’s events, something always seemed to him to be slightly amiss. The only thing that Ithilden was certain of was that unless whatever Curunír was waiting for happened soon, he was going to miss his brother-in-law’s wedding, and his wife was unlikely to be pleased by that.  He suppressed a grimace.

Across the table from him, Mithrandir cleared his throat. Along with everyone else, Ithilden turned to look at him. “I fear that there are other matters we have not yet considered,” Mithrandir said, and suddenly Ithilden’s heart quickened in anticipation.  Knowledge born of long years attending meetings with his father’s advisers told him that Mithrandir had at last decided that the moment was ripe to say what he had come to this meeting to say.

“I have lately become convinced that Sauron will no longer be content with such half measures as sending Orcs into the Misty Mountains or twisting the life in these woods on whose edge we sit,” Mithrandir said, and Ithilden had to bite his tongue to keep from protesting against the idea that what was happening to Thranduil’s realm was a “half measure.” Eru help them if it were.

Mithrandir implied to you that he knew something that would help us, he reminded himself.  Keep quiet and let him speak.

“I believe that Sauron is preparing to attack either Lórien or Imladris,” Mithrandir went on, “and I believe that Imladris is the more likely target.”

For a second, there was dead silence around the table.  Ithilden looked around the table at the shocked faces of the members of the Council and knew that his own face must look almost equally appalled.  Only almost, however.  He would not wish that any realm should be the target of Sauron’s fury, but he could not help resenting the fact that these people had all taken the attacks on Thranduil’s realm as a matter of course.

“What makes you think so, Mithrandir?” demanded Elrond, his voice tight.

“As the reports we have heard confirm, I have seen more enemy activity everywhere,” Mithrandir said.  “Everything seems to indicate that Sauron is preparing for war, and logic suggests that what would benefit him most would be to destroy the Elven strongholds.”

“But why Imladris?” Radagast asked in bewilderment.  “What is in Imladris that Sauron would choose it to destroy rather than Lórien, which is so much closer?”

Mithrandir shrugged and glanced down the table toward Elrond. Ithilden turned in that direction too and found Elrond and Glorfindel exchanging glances.  His interest sharpened, but he had no time to satisfy it at the moment.

“The destruction of Imladris would wreak havoc with the confidence of both Elves and Men and remove one of the few havens to which they both can flee in times of need,” Mithrandir said, and Ithilden turned back to him.  “We must act now to disrupt Sauron’s plans,” Mithrandir insisted.

Ithilden looked back at Curunír at the head of the table.  “Now, now,” said the wizard, “we must not make our decision too hastily.”

Ithilden studied him in perplexity.  Curunír was saying the same thing he had been saying for over a week, but somehow, something in his manner had relaxed.

***

Legolas knocked on the door of his father’s office and entered at Thranduil’s bidding to find his father at his desk with Alfirin seated next to him.  Legolas put his hand over his heart in formal salute.  Thranduil raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“I am here as Todith’s representative, Adar,” Legolas told him.  “He said you had Home Guard matters to discuss, and, as you may recall, I have been commanding the Home Guard while Todith is busy with Ithilden’s responsibilities.”

Thranduil frowned slightly.  “Ah, yes,” he said. “I had forgotten.”  He waved a hand toward the chair in front of his desk. “Sit down, Legolas. Alfirin and I have a small matter to discuss with you.”  Legolas obeyed, wondering what business Alfirin could have with the Home Guard.

“Legolas,” Alfirin began, “do you know that clearing that is about a mile southwest of the stronghold, the one with the three tall beeches at one end and the giant oak at the other?”

Legolas nodded. “I believe so.”

“My parents would like to use that clearing for Tonduil’s wedding feast,” Alfirin told him.  “It is has always been my father’s favorite place in the nearby part of the forest.  He nursed the beeches through a bout of blight when they were young, and I believe he proposed to my naneth under those three trees.”  Alfirin’s father was one of Thranduil’s foresters, and he probably knew every individual tree within miles.

“I was concerned when Alfirin told me of her family’s plans this morning,” Thranduil put in, “because spiders have been found so close to that clearing recently. I want the Home Guard’s assurance that it is safe.”

“I had not realized the spiders had approached so near,” Alfirin put in, a little reproachfully.

Of course she had not, Legolas thought.  Ithilden and Thranduil both kept such things from her.  “We have seen no spiders in that area for over a week,” he said, “but the spiders seem to be multiplying more quickly, and it is very difficult to detect small colonies of them.”

Thranduil frowned.  “That clearing is only a mile away,” he said crisply. “Has the Home Guard no control at all over what menaces my people?”

Legolas drew himself erect. “Of course we do, my lord,” he said, a little defensively. He had heard his father use that imperious tone on those who served him, but he had never before had it directed toward himself.   “We can keep a close eye on that area and inspect it on the day of the feast.  That would insure that there were no spiders nearby then.”

Thranduil nodded and seemed to relax. “Good,” he said.  He turned to Alfirin. “You may tell your family that the Home Guard will make sure that clearing is safe, particularly as the date of the wedding draws near.”  He looked at Legolas. “See to it,” he ordered.

“Yes, my lord,” Legolas said. He rose. “By your leave?”

“You may go,” Thranduil agreed, and Legolas left the office, closing the door softly behind him.  He could easily enough send extra patrols to search near the clearing in the day or two before  Tonduil’s wedding, and that should be enough to insure the safety of the area.  He would accompany the patrols himself, he vowed.  If the Home Guard could not keep one clearing free of spiders, then things were at a bad pass indeed.

***

“But surely Sauron is no real threat so long as the One Ring remains lost,” Curunír said. “I assume we have no doubt that it is still lost?”

“No doubt at all,” Elrond agreed.  “If Sauron had it, we would know.”  Ithilden was relieved by Elrond’s assurance, even as he wondered how Elrond could be so certain.

Mithrandir shook his head.  His argument had been growing in urgency as the day wore away.  “As I have already said, Sauron is encouraged simply by knowing that the Great Ring still exists.  We must strike now, before he grows too strong for us!”

There was a moment’s silence.  Along with everyone else, Ithilden turned to look at Curunír, who had been the chief opponent to Mithrandir’s cause.  Indeed, Ithilden thought he was now the only opponent, for the faces of the others all seemed to have taken on the same concerned look that Mithrandir wore.  Ithilden had gradually gained some appreciation for just how powerful a wizard Curunír must be, however, for the Council was clearly not going to act without him.

Curunír sat with his fingers steepled in front of his face, apparently lost in thought.  Suddenly something in his posture made Ithilden’s heart leap.  He is going to give way, he thought in disbelief.

“Perhaps you are right,” said Curunír.  “Perhaps we should strike now.”

They all stared at him, trying to take in what he had just said. And then, as one, they drew in a collective deep breath.  “How?” asked Glorfindel.

How indeed? Ithilden wondered, stunned into silence by what had just happened. They were certainly not going to be able to do it by force of arms. His warriors had tried, much to their cost.  But almost nine hundred years ago, Mithrandir had driven Sauron out by the force of his magic, and with excitement rising in his breast, Ithilden assumed the same sort of thing would happen now.  Curunír, Radagast, and Mithrandir could combine their strengths. Ithilden had no idea what sort of magic Elrond and Galadriel possessed, but they had kept their realms safe for long years, so he assumed they had some sort of power beyond the obvious.  And while he himself was not as connected to the woods as his father was, Ithilden knew he would be able to sense what was going on in the forest in a way that no outsider would.  But he was at a total loss as to how they might proceed.

The others were all looking at one another. “We would need to be within sight of Dol Guldur,” Galadriel said slowly, “but be concealed ourselves. We would not want Sauron to see what we were doing.”

Ithilden found his tongue.  “How close would you need to be?” Now that the unbelievable had happened and the decision had been made, he wanted it put into action immediately.  He did not want the Council to have time to change its collective mind. “Perhaps it can be done from Lothlórien.”

Galadriel did not even pause to consider that suggestion.  “No,” she said. “We need to be within ten leagues.” Ithilden wondered if that was really true, or if Galadriel was simply trying to protect her own people from whatever retaliatory forces Sauron might unleash.

“We would be concealed if we traveled through the woods,” Radagast ventured.

“That would be exceedingly dangerous,” Ithilden immediately protested, horrified at the thought.  “You have no idea of what the woods south of here are like.”

“We could travel down the grasslands along the river,” Mithrandir suggested, “and then seek concealment in the woods when we drew near enough for Sauron to observe us.” He turned to Ithilden. “Is there a way we can take through the forest there?  Do you know of some path that might get us close?”

Ithilden paused. “No,” he said slowly, “but I know of some one.”

***

Eilian made his way across the camp, glancing left and right as he went, trying to assess the condition of his warriors. They were unstrapping their quivers and unstringing their bows, moving wearily in the pale morning light.  The fever of battle was seeping out of them, and they were plainly tired, but for the most part, their mood seemed good.  As it should have been, of course. They had done well against the band of Orcs they had waylaid in the night.  True, several had escaped, but the warriors of the Southern Patrol had killed most of them and then burnt their bodies so that they could not be used as food by those who had been left behind.  But Eilian was always conscious of the fact that, fighting as they did in the southern part of Thranduil’s realm, the Shadow could lie heavily on the spirits of his patrol members. He knew from personal experience how debilitating shadow sickness could be, so he kept a close eye on those who served under him, trying to make sure the signs of it did not escape him.

And then there were the more obvious wounds from which his warriors could suffer. He approached the area near the campfire, where his lieutenant was crouched checking the deep sword cut on the left arm of Galelas, a warrior who had been newly assigned to Eilian’s patrol.  “How is he?” Eilian asked.

Both Galelas and the lieutenant looked up at him.  Galelas’s face was pale, and he had his lips pressed firmly together. “It needs to be stitched,” Tynd said, “but I could probably do it.  He will not be able to fight for a few days, but I do not think he needs to be sent home to the healers.”

“Good,” said Eilian, smiling and patting Galelas’s right shoulder.  “You will have to do better than that if you want a trip home to see your nana,” he joked.

“Perhaps I will be luckier next time,” Galelas said, smiling weakly.  Tynd began laying out emergency healing supplies, and Eilian went toward his own bedroll, removing his quiver as he went.  He rolled his shoulders, luxuriating in the feel of his back muscles loosening.  He found his friend Gelmir already stretched out on his bedroll, which was laid out next to Eilian’s.

“Maltanaur says he wants to speak to you before you go to sleep,” Gelmir said, a little dreamily. He was obviously half asleep and had probably only waited to deliver Eilian’s bodyguard’s message before he slipped totally away on the dream path.

Eilian grimaced.  “I will wager he does,” he said shortly.  Maltanaur had been Eilian’s keeper for a good many years, but he still occasionally became overwrought if he thought Eilian had been careless, and Eilian suspected that Maltanaur thought that now.  At one point in the night, Eilian had become caught up in chasing the leader of the Orc band and, in his heated pursuit, had left Maltanaur behind.  Maltanaur had not been happy about that and had not yet had a chance to tell Eilian so.

He dropped his quiver and bow on his small pile of belongings, scanned the camp, looking for his keeper, and was not surprised when Maltanaur appeared at his side.  Before Maltanaur could speak, Eilian raised his hands in appeasement. “I know,” he said.  “I should have waited for you. You are undoubtedly right. It will not happen again.”

Maltanaur nodded grimly. “See that it does not,” he said. “I would not want to have to explain to Thranduil or that pretty wife of yours how an Orc put his sword in your back while I was nowhere in sight.”  Eilian nodded, and Maltanaur went on to his bedroll, a short distance away.

Eilian sighed, sat down, pulled off his boots, and laid back on his blanket.  Around him, the camp settled gradually to rest.  Aside from those who would go out to hunt for the patrol’s evening meal, the patrol members would drowse away most of the day and then come to alertness again in the early evening, when it would be time to scout once more for the creatures of shadow who haunted the woods in the night.

Eilian’s thoughts drifted to Celuwen, and he felt for her reassuring presence through the bond they shared.  Sometimes, but not always, he was able to sense her moods. When they had first married, he had been able to do it any time he chose, but they had lived together then and neither of them had yet learned to hide what they felt. Now he concealed his more somber moments from her, and he assumed she hid hers from him. Despite her best efforts, however, he knew that she was lonely and that she worried about him.  He deliberately relaxed and then opened himself to her, so that if she were sensing him at the moment, she would know that he was serene.  The dream path beckoned invitingly, and he ran lightly along it, with Celuwen’s hand in his.

“Eilian,” said Tynd, and he came instantly awake, reaching for his weapons.  “No, there is no danger,” Tynd said hastily, and Eilian relaxed.

“What is it?” he said, sitting up and rubbing his face tiredly.

“Messengers have come from Ithilden,” Tynd told him.  “They said it was urgent.”

Eilian looked toward the campfire and, to his surprise, he found one of Ithilden’s messengers and one of his aides looking in his direction, with impatience on both their faces.  His interest quickened.  Something plainly was afoot, something out of the usual.  His body began to hum pleasantly with excitement, and he rose to his feet and approached the visitors.

“Mae govannen,” he said, extending his arm to them. “You have a message for me?”

“Yes, my lord,” the messenger said. “Lord Ithilden asks that you bring your patrol to him in Rhosgobel with all possible speed.”

Eilian blinked. “Why?” he demanded.

“The White Council is meeting there,” the aide put in, suppressed excitement in his face. “I believe that plans are afoot that require your patrol’s help.”

Eilian stared at him, with his heartbeat accelerating. What in Arda was Ithilden doing with the White Council?  He was sure that the aide would not tell him; possibly he did not know himself.  But like Eilian, he evidently knew that whatever it was promised to be exciting.  He turned. “Tynd!” he called.

“Yes, Captain?”  His lieutenant was at his side immediately.

“Get everyone ready to move,” he ordered.  “Can Galelas ride?”

“Yes,” Tynd said.  “His arm is hurt, but he is certainly strong enough to ride.”

“Go then,” Eilian ordered.  “Everyone comes.”  Tynd ran off to set his commands in motion, and Eilian turned back to the messengers.  “We will be ready in half an hour,” he told them and strode away to gather his own gear.

***

“My lord?”

At the sound of his aide’s voice, Ithilden turned from the campfire. “What is it?”

“Lord Eilian is here.”

And indeed, a smiling Eilian was striding toward him with his arm outstretched.  With a cry of pleasure, Ithilden rose to clasp arms and then embrace his brother.  “Where is your patrol?” Ithilden asked.

“I left them camped a half mile or so away,” Eilian told him, as they both sat down on the sawed off logs that had been drawn up around the campfire. “But they are all here and ready to serve you.  What is going on?”  His eyes gleamed with excitement, Ithilden noted.  Trust Eilian to be looking forward to a fight.

In as few words as possible, Ithilden told him of the White Council’s plans.  “Your task is to get the White Council members as close as possible to Dol Guldur without being detected,” he finished.  “Your warriors will need to keep them safe, but it would be best if we can move as stealthily as possible given how large a group we will be.”

Eilian was still gaping at him.  “They are really going to cast Sauron out of Dol Guldur?” He sounded incredulous.

“They are certainly going to try,” Ithilden answered a little grimly.

Eilian frowned. “What about his Orcs? What about the wargs and spiders?”

“I suspect that the Council believes that those are our problem,” Ithilden said dryly.  “Still, they will be without direction, which should help us. And the woods, Eilian! Think of the woods.  Perhaps they will be made wholesome again.”   The two of them looked at one another, scarcely able to imagine such an event.

“Who will be going?” Eilian asked, clearly ready to get down to business.

“The three wizards, plus Galadriel and Elrond,” Ithilden answered.  The members of the Council had spent the last five days planning as they waited for Ithilden’s messengers to find and fetch Eilian and his warriors.  “Círdan’s representative will stay here to pass along messages.  The other advisers will stay here too.  My guards will go with your patrol.  Oh, and Glorfindel,” Ithilden added. “He will go too.”

Eilian’s mouth fell open again. “Glorfindel?” he squeaked.  Suddenly he broke into a wide grin and slapped Ithilden on the back.  “Introduce me to him,” he demanded.  “My poor brain can scarcely take in the idea of Sauron being gone from Dol Guldur. But meeting Glorfindel!  That is something I have fantasized about.”

Ithilden could not help smiling back and realizing, not for the first time, how much he enjoyed his brother’s company.

*******

OCs appearing or mentioned for the first time in this chapter:

Galelas:  A warrior.  Was a novice with Legolas. Has the great misfortune to be the younger brother of Tinár.  Appears in “The Novice,” “One Year in Mirkwood,” “The Warrior,”  “Fire and Shadow.”

Tynd:  A warrior.  Was in his last year as a novice when Legolas was in his first year.  Appears in “One Year in Mirkwood,” “The Warrior,” "Growing under Shadow"

OCs already mentioned in previous chapters:

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”

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

Eilian: Legolas’s second brother

Celuwen: Eilian’s wife

Maltanaur: Eilian’s bodyguard

Gelmir: Eilian’s best friend

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

Annael: Legolas’s best friend

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

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,” “Paths Taken”

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

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”