Disclaimer:  see chapter 1

Author’s note:

Again many thanks to Erulisse and to Selene Aduial for beta reading this story for me. 

Chapter 10:  more troubles

With a determined knock on the slightly ajar door to Galadhion’s office, the King announced his presence. A frown crossed his face when he got no response. At this time of the day his son was supposed to be here. Looking around, the King realized that the usually bustling building seemed deserted. The desk of the Troop Commander’s aide was also unoccupied.

The King’s frown deepened. What was going on here? When he heard someone enter he turned around, expecting Galadhion to be standing at the door; but instead was surprised to see Galion, a young novice in his first years of training.

As startled as his King, the young elf swallowed. “My Lord, how can I be of service?” he asked while nervously looking around for anyone who was more suitable than he to deal with the King.

Shaking his head about the odd situation the King took a step closer. “I want to speak to Galadhion. Do you know where I can find my son?”

Galion took an involuntary step back and stared at his liege. Did the King not know that his son had ridden out with a large contingent of warriors? It could not be possible that he had to be the one to tell him, could it?

Seeing the disturbed expression at the young elf’s face the King’s irritation rose. Why had his simple question startled the young warrior? His good intentions of making peace with his eldest forgotten, the King stepped closer to the novice. “Galion, I have to speak with my son. And do not tell me you do not know where he is!”

Swallowing Galion accepted his fate and replied. “My Lord, the Troop Commander and twenty warriors rode out not two hours ago. Orcs have been intercepted near the stronghold, right within the borders of the Home Guard. He wanted to investigate how they could get past the patrol and slay them.”

Now it was the King who took a step back. Orcs were at the border of the inner circle? Galadhion was on his way to fight them? Another patrol was slain? His mind reeled. Why had he known nothing of all this? Why had Galadhion not informed him?

His frown deepening he tried to review the last few days which had rushed by in a flurry with all the focus on the plague and the ill elves. He had not really given his son a chance to speak with him since the arrival of the Imladris-elves, had he? Now Glorfindel´s cryptic statement, that he had another son to care about, came back to his memory and he felt that Galadhion had most assuredly overheard his conversation with the blond elf.

The King closed his eyes momentarily. Elarinya had been right about her worry over their son; this all was his fault. First his stubbornness had nearly, and could still, cost the life of his youngest, and now the same could be said for his eldest. What was making him act this way?

Occupied with his own thoughts, the King did not see the bewildered look on the face of the young novice when he hurried past Galion, out of the office and back toward the palace.

After knocking he entered the office of his Steward and nearly collided with said elf when he was about to leave the room. “My Lord,” the dark haired aide cried, “I was just on my way to you. There is some most disturbing news…”

When the King held up his hand to stop the string of words the Steward closed his mouth startled. “Thank you for informing me. I’ve figured this out already.”

Not understanding his King’s sarcastic tone the Steward threw a bewildered look at his Lord, having gained this information himself just a few moments ago. However, having held this position for long enough to gain wisdom, the steward kept silent so as not to raise the ire of his Lord any more.

Thranduil shook his head unwillingly. Over the last few days he had put aside his duties and lost track of what was happening around him. No wonder, he thought wryly. Ill and dying elflings were not an everyday occurrence and this had rattled all of the wood elves, including their King. He decided he would speak to the ones that were responsible for keeping him informed later. They would answer to him.

Making up his mind the King turned his attention back to his still waiting Steward. “Summon my guards. I will meet them in half-an-hour in the courtyard, ready to depart. I want to see for myself what is happening at the borders.” And prevent Galadhion from getting killed, he thought to himself.

Shocked that the King would ride out himself the Steward was wise enough not to question this order. With a nod he quickly turned to fulfil the request and escape the King’s bad mood.

Although he had served his King for many long years, the Steward had misinterpreted the King’s mood. Thranduil was not angry but rather extremely worried. Galadhion was normally level headed and would not risk his life or those of his warriors, but he was emotionally stressed over his father’s rejection and this was not a good basis to go into a fight.

Not daring to lose more time the King turned around and headed down the long corridor. He knew that he had made a mistake in questioning the loyalty of his son. He had hurt him deeply and now he possibly would not have the chance to make an apology. Taking a deep breath he shook his head. No, this would not happen, even if this meant he had to ride out himself and fight at his son’s side. First, however, he had to make another request hoping to gather help from an unlikely source.

Reaching the quarters assigned to the Imladris-Elves the King hesitated only briefly when he heard two voices inside the healer’s room. With a determined knock he waited for the invitation to enter. No sooner it was given he opened the door and strode into the room.

Elrond and Glorfindel had stopped their conversation and the Half-elf rose from behind the worktable. Glorfindel kept sitting on the windowsill, nodding his head toward the King in greeting. With a quick look the King took in the situation he had interrupted. The worktable was scattered with jars and glass utensils and many documents lay piled on the edge. As announced the healer was still working on the antidote’s modification.

“Thranduil”, the dark haired elf inclined his head in the King’s direction. “Is something the matter with Saeron?” The healer was startled over the King’s sudden visit.

Thranduil shook his head. “No, he’s still resting. Is the antidote finished yet?”

Elrond looked levelly at the King. “Yes, I’ve made the final changes. I think it will work now. It is ready for administering.”

Having expected some kind of reaction to his statement, Elrond frowned when the King didn’t say anything only staring at the table. The healer stepped closer toward the blond elf. “That’s only half the reason why you have come here, right?” he asked.

Startled out of his thoughts the King looked first at Glorfindel and finally met the gaze of the healer. “Yes”, he admitted, “in fact I’m here to ask for your help…again.” he added, worry now colouring his voice.

Raising an eyebrow the Balrog Slayer rose from the windowsill and stepped beside his Lord. Thranduil had really made a change over the last few days. There was little left of the arrogant and rejecting behaviour from days earlier.

“What happened, Thranduil?” Glorfindel asked while watching the other elf intently. Knowing that now was not the time for holding back any information the King looked straight at the golden warrior.

“A large band of orcs appeared on the borders of the inner circle this morning and a patrol was slain while defending this area. Galadhion has ridden out with a contingent of warriors to fight against them. The group of warriors is not nearly large enough to stand any chance against the orcs.”

Desperation now clearly visible in the green eyes, the King swallowed. Glorfindel´s heart ached in sympathy. He could fairly well understand why the Crown Prince had started this suicide mission. “Galadhion wants to prove himself and this is only because of a few words that were carelessly spoken in anger,” the King added his voice now nearly a whisper and deeply laced with guilt.

Looking at his Lord and receiving a silent consent Glorfindel inclined his head toward the monarch. “Of course I will join you.” Nodding with gratitude the King squeezed the arm of the Imladris-elf briefly in thanks. With the old and experienced warrior at his side they had at least a chance to rescue the desperate group of warriors before it was too late. Sensing the need for haste Glorfindel bowed to both Elven Lords and hurried out of the room.

Turning his attention back to the healer Thranduil was surprised to see a small smile on the dark haired elf’s lips. “And I will take care of your other son and begin administering the antidote.”

Having not expected the open manner toward him from the two Imladris-elves Thranduil relaxed despite his worry over his eldest. “Thank you, Elrond”, he said with real affection.

“You are welcome,” the healer replied grateful that they had at last reached a new level of understanding.

………………………………………….

Ruanal looked at his Lord and friend with concern while they rode through the forest. They raced along the path at the head of the column of warriors towards the area where the orcs had slain the patrol earlier.

Ruanal still could not approve of the Crown Prince deciding to accompany the warriors, even if he could understand the reason behind his decision. They had been friends much longer than superior officer and dutiful subject. He was aware that it was not only his Lord’s desire to be the Troop Commander that motivated Galadhion’s decision. The threat the plague posed was surely something that would even lead the level headed Crown Prince to despair, but behind the anxious and taut posture of his friend must be something more.

When the tall elf beside him nearly collided with a low hanging branch, Ruanal decided that he would have a word with his friend before they reached their destination. Galadhion was preoccupied and this could be dangerous not only for himself but for the entire troop. In this state they could hardly go on much less enter a battle.

After another hour of silent riding Ruanal called for a halt. Galadhion did not notice the command until he was a few paces ahead of the group. Finally aware he rained in his mount and looked bewildered behind him, instantly recognizing what the concerned looks directed at him meant.

Without a word he turned his horse and came back, not willing to look at his aide. Ruanal dismissed the warriors with the order to take a break and rest the horses. Everyone seemed determined to leave as quickly as possible aware that the two officers wished to be alone. After a final glance at his friend Ruanal dismounted and began taking care of his horse. While gathering some water he saw from the corner of his eye, that Galadhion did the same, but still with a distraught expression on his face.

When he had finished brushing down his mount Ruanal took a ration of food from his saddlebag and sat down beside his Lord still a good distance away from the others. Not really knowing how to address his friend but determined to not let it go before they continue the journey, Ruanal laid a hand lightly on his friend’s forearm.

“I’m here, if you need someone to listen,” Ruanal said, silently watching his troubled friend. He still had not determined why his Troop Commander was so withdrawn all of a sudden. The plague was wracking all of their nerves and he knew that his friend’s little brother was among the newly infected, but all of this did not seem to be at the core of his friend’s distraction.

Taking a deep breath Galadhion eventually looked up and met his friend’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Ruanal. I know that I’ve endangered this group. I will pay better attention from now on.”

Taking a deep breath Ruanal was glad for this admission. It did indeed show that Galadhion was not as unobservant as he had thought him to be, but it was no explanation at all. Knowing that they must come to level ground again Ruanal plunged ahead bluntly. “Galadhion, will you not tell me what is bothering you? Has the state of your brother worsened? Could the healer from Imladris not provide any help?”

When Galadhion did not respond, only breathing in sharply, Ruanal lowered his eyes in defeat fearing that he had gone too far into private matters. But then the Crown Prince looked up and Ruanal was taken aback by the sadness and at the same time anger he saw in the blue eyes staring at him now.

“Saeron fares better. This is only due to Lord Elrond. He is really a miracle healer.”

Ruanal frowned. Not the answer he had expected but a good one nonetheless. But where was the problem then? Somehow sensing that he was on the right path he tried again.

“Then it was the right decision to call him, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but……” Galadhion trailed off.

“But your father thinks differently?” Ruanal guessed now seeing to reach the source of all this anguish.

Galadhion nodded. “Not for calling Lord Elrond but for my insubordination.”

Ruanal gasped. He could imagine how furious the King must have been. Every one in Mirkwood knew that the King and the Lord of Rivendell were not on friendly terms, although the reason for their estrangement was not known to many. Momentarily at a loss for what to say, the silence stretched again between the friends. Ruanal regarded the King’s reaction as hardly fair, but he was in no position to utter such a thought, not even in front of his best friend.

“He will change his mind,” Ruanal finally said at the same time cringing at how hollow the words sounded. Galadhion only nodded but Ruanal saw clearly that he was not really convinced. Ruanal too couldn’t believe that Galadhion could put this aside so easily. Now he knew the reason for his Lord’s anxiousness but they were as far away from a solution as before.

……………………………………..

Crouching low on a sturdy branch Ruanal breathed deeply to calm his agitated nerves. Ten minutes ago they had abandoned their horses and had leaped up into the trees when they had realized the orc band was not much further ahead of them. With a quick glance around he made sure that all of his warriors had taken their positions, waiting as he did, for the arrival of the beasts.

Against such a large band they must ruthlessly use their advantage of surprise and the benefit of firing hidden from the trees to have at least a chance to take as many of them down as possible. Ruanal was experienced enough to know that their chances to survive this, were slim if no miracle happened.

This thought brought his attention back to the elf crouching right next to him and the feeling of dread about the Crown Prince´s presence in this mission was back in his stomach. Said elf, however, was not aware of the worried gaze at his back. He stared ahead as if able to conjure up the orcs by his will alone. At least Galadhion was now concentrating and no longer distracted with his thoughts Ruanal thought grimly.

When the orcs could not only be heard but also smelled Ruanal gave the signal to ready their bows. He did not need to look to know that each projectile was accurately aimed at the still arriving orcs.

As always they didn’t try to hide their presence and trampled through the undergrowth without paying attention to either the plants they were destroying or to their surroundings. “All the better,” Ruanal thought and after a last coordinating nod with Galadhion he gave the signal to attack.

Twenty orcs were dead before they even noticed they were being attacked. All too soon they recovered from their shock and began firing back. Unfortunately such large bands always had many archers with them making it all the more dangerous for the elves. The poor aim of the orcs and their exposure on the ground did help to even the odds marginally.

The process of the attack always followed the same pattern. The elves eliminated as many of the foul beasts as possible while still keeping the advantage of being concealed by the trees and easily dodge the poorly aimed arrows. Soon, though, the group of warriors ran out of arrows and were forced to continue the fight with blades on the ground. Then the orcs had the benefit back onto their side. The elves still outmatched them with their sword fighting skills but the orcs compensated for this unbalance with their greater numbers.

Ruanal looked frantically around when the number of orcs seemed to not lessen regardless of how many the warriors slew. For every slain orc two new ones seemed to take their place. With a quick look at his Lord, Ruanal was relieved to see the determined expression on his friend’s face. With practised movements the Crown Prince held his ground but even he could not do this forever.

Forced to direct his attention back to the two orcs attacking him at once Ruanal knew that the elves could not hold out much longer. They would soon tire and the orcs, still great in number, even if reduced by now, would happily finish off the rest of the desperate group.

…………………………………….

Galadhion slashed and hacked at the orcs, thrust and parried the blows with his sword, and all had long become a blur of motion. For nearly an hour they fought against the band of orcs and Galadhion had long lost track of time or the number of their enemies. The advancing bodies however seemed never ending in spite of how many he had taken down so far. Although the growing pile of corpses around him spoke a clear language the Crown Prince was beginning to get desperate. He had no time so far to determine how his comrades were faring.

Galadhion did not feel the muscles in his arms or feet any longer. His whole body ached from exertion and he was bone tired. He did not know how much longer he could hold this pace before he would make a mistake that would lead to a severe injury or would kill him outright. No sooner he had finished this thought, when he felt a searing pain in his right thigh. Having no time to let down his guard and look at the damage that had been done, he felt warm liquid trickle down his leg.

“Wonderful,” he thought. This would surely help him to get to the point where he simply would have no more strength to even raise his sword. He stumbled forward when no scimitar met his thrust and blinked, surprised, when no orc attacked.

With a quick look he gazed around to determine how many warriors were still standing. Amidst the heaps of orc bodies he could also glimpse the bodies of some of his fellow warriors. His breath quickened when he recognized Ruanal kneeling on the ground, pressing his hand to a wound in his side.

The short respite was over; he was again forced to parry the blow of an orc. With renewed fury he struggled to come to the young elf’s aid but realized with panic that his movements became slower. A sharp pain stabbed through his leg every time he moved and the blood loss made him dizzy. They would all die here, if no miracle happened. With relief he saw Ruanal on his feet again but if his friend was as tired as he was and injured too, he would not hold out much longer.

When another orc attacked him he suddenly felt an agonizing pain in his chest. With astonishment he looked at the orc retrieving a bloody sword from his chest. At the same moment and without conscious thought he dropped to his knees and tried desperately to draw a breath. His vision blurred and pain overwhelmed all his other feelings. With great effort he lifted his head and looked at the orc standing not a foot away from him with his sword raised for the final blow. He knew he had no chance to prevent the blow from landing.

Preparing for the call of Mandos any second he blinked surprised when he heard a choked cry and felt a heavy body dropping nearby on the ground. The expected blow never did come. Too tired to think clearly he didn’t feel the hands that grabbed him and lowered him carefully to the ground.

He heard agitated voices around him but was not able to understand the words. He felt cold and wanted nothing more than to just sleep. He closed his eyes, ignored the shouting voices around him and embraced the welcoming pain-free darkness.

………………………………………………………………..

When Ruanal saw his Lord fall his heart nearly missed a beat. With shock he watched the orc retrieving his bloody sword from his friend’s chest. Although what caused him to gasp with horror was when the orc raised his sword to end the Crown Prince’s life.

Without conscious thought and no care for his own life Ruanal dragged the bow from his shoulder, knocked an arrow and fired at the same moment he had taken aim. Shaking from both the adrenalin rush and with relief he realized that the orc dropped dead before he could deliver his blow.

Seeing that no orc was attacking him at the moment, Ruanal rushed to his friend’s side. When he knelt beside Galdhion he took a deep breath when his own wound fiercely protested against this movement. Ignoring this he reached out a trembling hand afraid what he would find; afraid that the orc had already succeeded in killing the Prince.

Shutting out the battle noise around him, Ruanal carefully turned his friend over and gasped again, when he saw the deep wound in the other’s chest. This wound was beyond his skill to treat, nor could any other in the troop heal it. But it didn’t matter anyway. The next orc that would attack them would end both of their lives. Ruanal no longer had the strength to stand much less fight for both of them.

With a weary sigh he hung his head but looked up a moment later sharply when he heard some one or something approach. If he had still hope a moment before it was extinguished now. If the orcs did get reinforcements now it would be their end.

To be continued……………………….

A/N: Please, let me know what you think and review. Lai