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.

*******

6.  The Morning After

Eilian shifted, stretching legs that had become cramped during the night as he crouched in the dark evergreen.  The branch creaked ominously under him, and the tree moaned softly.  Carefully, he eased himself down onto a neighboring branch and then scanned the nearby trees to check on how his warriors were faring.  In the deep gloom of this hour before dawn, he found he could see none of them, which was probably just as well, for if Eilian could not see them, then neither could the Orcs.

Their camp was out of the path of the Orcs sentries who guarded the approach to Dol Guldur, but during the night, two different large bands had rumbled past only a few hundred yards from their camp.  Eilian was surprised that the Orcs had not smelled them, but, like those they had seen along the edge of the Anduin, these Orcs had been heading west and had been much too intent on their own purposes to notice anything at all.  Of course, they could not have expected that a party of Elves and Wizards would venture this close to Dol Guldur.  Eilian was still a little surprised by that himself.

As he had done throughout the night, he gave what concentration he had to spare to trying to relax the tense muscles in his shoulders and diaphragm and slow the too rapid beating of his heart.  He was far more nervous than he usually was before going into battle, and he knew that was only partly because of how important this particular battle was to the future of the Woodland Realm.  His anxiety was also caused by the proximity of the dark tower.  The Shadow that crept into everything here was seeping its way into him too, as well as into his companions.  None of them should stay here too long, he knew.

But of course, once day came and the White Council had launched its attack, the situation would soon be resolved.  If the Council was successful in expelling Sauron, then the Shadow should lift, at least to some degree, although Eilian was not really sure how that would work; he had not yet been born when Mithrandir had driven Sauron out the last time.  And if the Council was not successful, then the length of their stay here would be an irrelevant concern because they would all be dead.  His single patrol of Elven warriors would be no match against the unleashed strength of Dol Guldur.  Eilian contemplated that thought for a moment and then shook it off.  The Shadow is affecting you, he reminded himself.  You know what that feels like; the Valar know you have felt it often enough.  Do not give way to despair this time.

He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, and as he did so, he realized that the quality of the darkness around him had changed slightly.  His heart leapt. Dim daylight was beginning to penetrate the thick trees.  Morning had caught him by surprise, for he had unconsciously been expecting to hear songbirds signaling its arrival. Soon, very soon, he would know how their mission fared.

On the ground below him, someone moved quietly through the thick grey light and came to a halt just beneath him.  Eilian’s fingers tightened momentarily on his bow before he realized that the figure was Ithilden’s.  Eilian doubted very much if Ithilden had slept at all; he doubted if any of them had. Interpreting his brother’s presence as a summons, he slid to the ground to meet him.  From a neighboring tree, Maltanaur too appeared and then waited at a respectful distance from the brothers.

“I have heard no Orcs beyond the sentries for some time now,” Ithilden murmured.  “Do you sense any bands nearby?”

Eilian felt a momentary flush of pleasure over the fact that Ithilden trusted Eilian’s sensitivity to the presence of danger even more than he trusted his own.  He shook his head. “No, but I cannot be sure there are none.  The light here is dim enough that they could move about even by day.”

Ithilden grimaced a little.  “The sentries pass by here four times each hour.”

Eilian nodded in agreement. “That is their night pattern, of course,” he added, “but it is similar to the one they were following when we arrived yesterday.”

Behind Ithilden, Eilian could see the members of the White Council beginning to move around their tiny campsite.  Mithrandir stood up and stretched, and even from where Eilian was watching, he could hear the wizard’s joints creaking.  Mithrandir closed his eyes and stood for a moment, leaning on his staff. Then he opened them again and turned an unwavering gaze on the dark tower, just visible over the trees. Elrond had retrieved waybread from his pack and given pieces to Galadriel and Radagast.  None of them looked to be eating much, and indeed, Radagast was actually trying to feed a bit of his to a black squirrel that was regarding him with deep suspicion.  Eilian guessed that Radagast felt the absence of songbirds and most animals even more than the rest of them did.

Curunír emerged from the dusky shadows of a pine tree and appeared to be summoning the members of the Council.  Ithilden glanced in his direction. “I must go,” he said, and his voice sounded as tense as Eilian felt. “Get your patrol ready to move.”

As Eilian watched Ithilden walk toward where the Council was gathering, probably to confer about the day’s course of action, he felt his excitement beginning to rise. Maltanaur appear at his side, bow in hand, and Eilian found he was glad of his keeper’s familiar presence.  “Soon we will know,” he murmured, and Maltanaur nodded without ceasing to scan the woods around them.  Apparently even he was nervous.

Then, resolutely turning his mind to his own responsibilities, Eilian sounded the signal that would summon his warriors, who were scattered around the area, keeping watch.  Despite his own distaste, he had decided to use Warg howls and squirrel sounds as signals.  So few birds inhabited the woods here that using their calls might have drawn unwanted attention.

One by one, the warriors of the Southern Patrol dropped from the trees or ran lightly out of the gloom. Eilian ran his eyes over them, seeing the paler than usual faces and the white knuckles on the bow hands.  Galelas looked particularly edgy.  He was the newest member of this patrol and had far less experience than the others did in recognizing and resisting the effects of the Shadow.

Concealing his own tension as best he could, he smiled at them and motioned them silently to sit in the shelter of a stand of evergreen where they were nearly invisible. They waited.  Behind him, Eilian could hear Galelas’s shaky breath and then Gelmir’s voice softly asking the younger warrior if he thought that the White Council might enjoy eating black squirrel meat as much as Maltanaur had.  Maltanaur’s head jerked around, and Galelas laughed.  Eilian smiled to himself.

At length, the group around Curunír broke apart, and Ithilden came toward him.  Despite his best efforts, Eilian’s pulse quickened slightly. “We need to move just a little closer,” Ithilden said softly.  “Your patrol will scout the way and form a guard all around us.  Keep trouble away, but do not engage in battle unless you have to.”  He looked intently at Eilian. “You understand?  If Orcs are passing, let them pass, as long as they do not trouble the Council. Your task is solely to see to the Council’s safety.”

Eilian nodded.  His patrol had so far resisted their experience-born desire to slay every Orc that came near them, and they would continue to do so. Like him, they understood the goal of this mission and would do anything, no matter how difficult, that might help it to succeed.

“Glorfindel is going to stay with us,” Ithilden added, and Eilian looked beyond him to where Glorfindel stood next to Elrond.  Eilian smiled slightly. He doubted that even Curunír would have been able to pry Glorfindel away from side of the Elf whom he served.  “Get into position and wait for my signal to move out,” Ithilden went on.  “And, Eilian,” he added, grabbing Eilian’s arm as he turned to carry out his brother’s orders, “be careful.”

Eilian looked into his brother’s anxious face. “You also,” he said, gently patting Ithilden’s shoulder.  With a final squeeze, Ithilden released his arm and went back to where the members of the White Council were all regarding the dark tower in sober silence.

Eilian set about the business of deploying his warriors, sending them in pairs to take up positions in all directions from the little group in the center of the campsite.  He sent Tynd to direct the warriors who would be covering the party’s rear, for once they crossed the sentry line, they would be vulnerable from that direction and their line of retreat needed to be kept open.  His lieutenant clearly understood the seriousness of the responsibility being entrusted to him, for his face was grim and set as he nodded and started away.

“I suppose you are planning to do the forward scouting yourself,” sighed Maltanaur as Eilian sent the last of his warriors into position.

Eilian turned to him with a grin.  “What would be the fun in letting someone else do it?” he asked lightly.  And oddly enough, he found he was looking forward to carrying out the risky task he had saved for himself.  Even now, his blood sang with a familiar rush of excitement, and he felt better than he had since they had first entered the woods.  Maltanaur grimaced and Eilian felt a sudden stab of guilt. “You do not have to come with me if you do not wish to,” he offered contritely.

Maltanaur snorted. “Try not to act like a bigger fool than you actually are.”

More relieved than he liked to admit, Eilian laughed and then gestured to the tangled forest in front of them.  “Shall we?”  The two of them slid into the concealment of the thick trees.  All of Eilian’s senses were alert for signs of approaching danger, but he could feel nothing that seemed out of the ordinary in this pain racked part of the woods.  For a tense moment or two, they waited, with arrows nocked in their bows, and then Ithilden’s signal came. Eilian let out his breath and began to creep forward, straining to catch any smell or sound or shift in the air that would tell him that trouble was on the way.

With an instinct honed by long experience, he picked his way carefully among the trees and rocks, halting just before the line that the Orc sentries walked.  He and Maltanaur waited in tense patience and were rewarded within moments by the sound of the noisy tramp of Orc feet.  As had been the case yesterday, three Orcs were patrolling this area together.  With his bow drawn, Eilian waited until they were within easy range, and then, followed swiftly by Maltanaur, he sent feathered death flying through the air to lodge in an Orc’s throats. Within two seconds, all three of them were on the ground, with the life gurgling out of them.

Immediately, Eilian sounded the chittering squirrel signal that meant the way was clear, and he and Maltanaur led the group forward toward Dol Guldur.  Eilian’s ears told him that Curunír was at the front of the group of White Council members, and Eilian was careful not to outpace him.  He needed to be sure that the way was clear for the Council as far as they wanted to come and then take his stand where he could protect them, come what may. 

From behind, Ithilden sounded the signal to halt, and Eilian realized that they were as close to Dol Guldur as they were going to go.  He breathed a small sigh of relief that he heard Maltanaur echo.  His shadow-heightened anxiety had been growing with every inch of ground they covered.  Soon it will be over, he thought, astounded by the idea that, one way or the other, the Woodland Realm’s fate would be determined in the next few minutes.

He glanced back to where he could just see the White Council through the screen of trees. So far as he could see, they were simply standing there, looking toward Sauron’s tower. True, Curunír had his hands raised, as if feeling for something, and Mithrandir had raised his staff, but Galadriel stood looking serene, with her hand resting lightly on Elrond’s arm.  Radagast was looking mournfully at the trees, and on either side of the little group, Ithilden and Glorfindel stood with their swords drawn. Ithilden looked as tense as Eilian had ever seen him.  He turned swiftly back to his own task, determined not to fail in his trust.

And then, without warning, Eilian became aware that something in the forest had shifted, and he knew at once exactly what it was: The song of the trees was changing, and they sounded not so much despairing as confused.  Moreover, the air had become heavier, as if a storm were approaching.  The hair on the back of his neck prickled and lifted slightly.  Suddenly, a loud crack sounded overhead, and he and Maltanaur had to jump out of the way as a rotten tree limb came crashing to the forest floor, missing them by inches.

His heart pounding, Eilian started to turn to see what the White Council was doing, but at that moment, another sound caught his ear, and he jerked around to face east.  There it was again!  With no further hesitation, he put his hand to his mouth and howled.  Orcs! Orcs were coming!

***

“Shall I assume that the warriors of Home Guard are completely incompetent or would you prefer to admit that they were badly deployed?” Thranduil demanded icily.

Legolas kept his back straight and his eyes straight ahead.  When he had arrived home the previous night, he had found that his father had already retired, leaving word that he wanted to see both Todith and Legolas in the Great Hall in the morning.  Thus, to his great relief, Todith would be the one to answer the king’s questions now. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that his captain’s body was as rigid as his own was.

“Of course, I accept all responsibility for any mistakes the Home Guard makes, my lord,” said Todith tonelessly.  This was not what he had said to Amdir in the privacy of the Home Guard’s headquarters an hour or so ago.  Legolas assumed that Amdir’s ears were still ringing from Todith’s forcefully expressed opinion on his lack of both skill and sense. Legolas had actually felt a little sorry for Amdir as he witnessed the dressing down, but then he had remembered the exceedingly unpleasant interview he had just had with Todith himself and had hardened his heart.

“So I would assume,” Thranduil snapped.  Legolas could see his hands tightening their grip on the arms of his chair and flinched a little.   His father was well and truly angry, he thought unhappily.  For a second, Thranduil’s eyes flicked to Legolas before going back to Todith again, and Legolas could not help cringing at the disdain in them.

“May I speak, my lord?” Todith asked, impressing Legolas with his nerve. With his mouth pressed in a thin line, Thranduil nodded.  “I regret the Dwarves’ intrusion into the wedding feast, of course,” Todith said, “but I believe that Amdir was right in giving more weight to the possible presence of spiders in the area.”

Thranduil gave an exasperated snort.  “All he had to do with the Dwarves was keep them away from the feast,” he said sharply. “Surely that should not have been so impossible that he failed at it not once, but three times!  And you know as well as I do that the din the Dwarves raised must have been a great part of what roused the spiders.”

Legolas and Todith both stood silently regarding the wall behind the king’s chair.  Any argument they made would only make things worse.  Moreover, Thranduil was right and they knew it.  For a moment, they waited in an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of Thranduil’s fingers drumming on the arm of his chair.

Finally, Thranduil drew a long breath.  “I am holding you two responsible for seeing that the mistakes of last night are corrected immediately.  Get patrols out looking for those spiders.  I want the area around the palace swept clean of the beasts.”

“Yes, my lord,” Todith agreed, his voice completely without inflection. Legolas knew that he had intended to send the Home Guard after the spiders anyway and must have been somewhat insulted that Thranduil spoke as if he did not know enough to do so.  Indeed, two patrols had already gone out hunting, and a third was waiting to depart under Legolas’s command as soon as he returned from the palace.

“And,” added Thranduil with a grim smile, “send someone to fetch the Dwarves’ leader from the clearing where the feast was held.  As a matter of fact, send Amdir.  He will find the Nogoth far more tractable this morning than he was last night.  We will learn what we can about their reasons for being here from him.  I cannot believe that they mean us no harm when they spy on private ceremonies and bring the forces of Shadow down upon us.”

“Yes, my lord,” Todith repeated.  Legolas grimaced.  Todith was still burdened with Ithilden’s duties, and Legolas knew exactly who was going to be charged with carrying out the king’s orders.

“You may go,” Thranduil said, and Legolas could not help letting out a long sigh of relief as he put his hand over his heart and bowed.  He and Todith made their way out of the Greath Hall as hastily as dignity would allow.  There Todith stopped and drew breath.

“That was not the way I would have chosen to start my day,” he said.  He looked at Legolas with his mouth tight. “Take care of this and do it quickly.”  Legolas nodded.  He had every intention of having both the spiders and the Dwarf’s leader disposed of by the time the day ended.