Chapter 3:  dangerous development

“My Lord,” he said with a clearly insulting tone. “I think you misjudge the situation. We no longer ask for permission, we simply ask you to cooperate with us or...“

Thranduil’s face turned into a mask. How dared they approach him in this manner? Their behaviour was open rebellion. Yet he must tread carefully. At the moment they had a clear advantage. Thoran had obviously made sure that the guards would not disturb them. How he had achieved this, Thranduil had no clue.

He had never dealt with such a situation before. How was he supposed to act? He could not look for assistance from his guards and his advisors did not look as if they would intervene either. This was disturbing him greatly but he would deal with this mystery later.

To his relief all four elves did not carry any weapons, at least none that he could see. He had no sword at his disposal either. For his conferences and at the hearing of petitions he had never needed one. He only wore a sword at official meetings with representatives from other races or realms.

Composing himself he regarded Thoran with a stony expression. He would again try to make the other see reason and call to the other’s rationality.

“Thoran, what is the meaning of this? You know what the consequences for such an act will be! Surrender now and I will reconsider how your crime will be answered!”

Thranduil had hoped that his words had an effect on the four elves, but he was disappointed.

Stepping closer Thoran returned the glare unimpressed. “Your Majesty, I think you still have not realized what happened. You are no longer in charge. We are here to accept your surrender.”

Thranduil clenched his fists. The time for arguing and reasoning was over. Thoran had made his position clear. There was no turning back now.

Thranduil took a deep breath. “I will never willingly surrender to a criminal like you, Thoran. If you are here to lay claim to the throne, then you will have to get past me first!”

“Well, that can be arranged,” Thoran answered with a disturbing smile. Waving his hand, the traitor gestured toward Thranduil’s advisors.

Thranduil swallowed. They would go this far? All right! Anticipating the worst but not used to backing down he took a defensive stance.

“Take him to the dungeons. Maybe a night in a cold cell will change his mind,” Thoran ordered with a dramatic gesture.

Thranduil directed his gaze at his advisor Galion, an elf he had known all his life. He had always served him unfailingly. He was a Silvan elf like Thoran but had never expressed any hard feelings against his King. He had never objected to the role of a Sindar King. Had this all been a façade? What had made his advisor turn against him now? Would he follow Thoran’s command?

To his relief Galion as well as Luindil looked more than uncomfortable. Uncertainty and something like fear could be seen in their eyes. Nevertheless the two advisors stepped forward, and approached the King.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes. How had Thoran coerced these two to cooperate? That they were forced against their free will was plain to see. Yet the closer they came, the more unsteady their steps became.

It was one thing to disobey their King, but to arrest him required more courage than they had. After a few steps they stopped hesitantly with their eyes on the floor. Thranduil held his breath.

“Do what I say or you will share his fate!” Thoran snapped coldly.

Looking completely miserable now the two elves stood there frozen, unable to cross the line the King had drawn with his angry eyes and rigid stance.

Snorting, expressing that he had expected nothing else, Thoran turned to the three elves which had entered the great hall after him. He smirked at them.

“Take him,” he commanded. Thranduil’s head snapped around to face the new threat. These three seemed to have no problem with Thoran’s order. They approached the King immediately.

Thranduil ducked his head accepting that this would not happen without a fight.

Briefly he wondered how this could be possible. Would there be any sense in calling for help? What had become of his other advisors? And Galadhion? He should be here by now. What about the palace staff? Had no one noticed what was happening in the throne room?

A look at his advisors told him all he had to know. Thoran had threatened the elves with the only thing that would also make him surrender.

His only weakness: his family.

Thoran would use the always perfect threat: to harm someone dear to you.

His mind begun to race and fear struck him as he thought about his sons. What had happened to them? Had Thoran already acted against them? Suddenly his knees went week. Galadhion and Saeron were able to look after themselves but what of his youngest? What if Thoran had already harmed the very reason why he still struggled day after day against the darkness?

Had his sons been able to react in time or had Thoran taken them by surprise? Yet, when the three elves approached him he was forced to direct his thoughts to them.

He raised his fists and wondered if he was ready. Ready? How could he be ready? After all, it was not every day that you were attacked in your own home with nothing to defend yourself other than your bare hands.

Thranduil was well trained in hand-to hand-combat, but he knew if all four would fight him in earnest, he had no chance. But he would be damned if he would make this easy for them.

……………………………………..

Galion and Luindil stood routed to the spot their eyes wide with shock. They had never thought that Thoran would go this far and make his threat true. But what had they expected? That the King would surrender?

They lowered their eyes in shame, when Thranduil was attacked. They had already failed in their pledge to serve their King. In following Thoran’s command and even worse, in doing nothing to stop him, their fate was already sealed. Both knew that they had no other choice, but this changed nothing in the end.

If they had intervened now Thoran would have made his threat true and harmed his hostages. By not intervening they would be standing on the wrong side regardless how this dispute would end. Either way they were lost.

With detached expressions they watched what happened in front of them. Thoran’s followers had reached the King. Thranduil punched the first elf and dodged a hit from the second, but three were more then he could deal with by himself.

For several remarkable moments he stood his ground against the three trained warriors but the well-directed blows quickly took their toll and he was wrestled down to the floor. Soon his strength was failing under the ever increasing fierceness of the blows.

The only thing left to him was to protect his head and body with his arms to prevent serious or fatal injuries. With dread he registered that they did not care if he survived the attack.

After he had stopped fighting back one of the three elves bound his hands roughly at his back. Thranduil was able to catch a glimpse on Galion´s face. The eyes of the fair-haired elf pleaded for forgiveness and Thranduil knew that they were victims too. Thoran however stood there with a victorious grin plastered to his face.

“Do not be too sure of yourself, Thoran,” Thranduil hissed as he endured another hard punch against his already-bruised ribcage. He doubled over, blood dripping from his nose and split lip onto the floor.

Thoran only laughed when he gestured his fellow elves to take the King out of the room. Two of them grabbed the semi-conscious elf under his arms and pulled him out of the great hall.

Without care they dragged him down the many stairs to the cellar where the dungeons were located. Again Thranduil wondered where the whole palace staff had vanished to.

He could not remember when the last prisoner has been held here. Most of the cells served as storerooms.

With a brutal push he was shoved into one of the empty cells. With a loud creak the door was closed leaving him in darkness.

………………………………

With his hand still clasped tightly over his mouth to avoid letting out a cry of rage and frustration, Galadhion quickly left the open door. He retreated into an alcove further down the corridor.

The emotional part of him wanted to rush inside the throne-room and come to his father’s aid but the more rational part of his mind told him to stay back and explore how to come to his father’s aid without sharing the same fate.

Galadhion had never liked Thoran. He thought he was an arrogant, overly self-confident elf and had mistrusted him from the first minute he had appeared in their presence.

Nevertheless his father had cautioned him to act carefully. The King was not interested in stirring up any emotions between the elves native to this wood and Thranduil’s Sindar Elves.

Over the millennia all had gone well enough but one rebellious spirit could tip the balance. And this very thing had now happened.

He sighed. No one however, not even he himself had expected Thoran to act in this fashion. But the time for regrets was over now.

The crown prince’s thoughts were interrupted when the door to the throne-room was banged open by a boot.

Again the urge to help his father became nearly overwhelming. With dread he observed how two unfamiliar elves were dragging the half-conscious King between them out of the room.

Galadhion wasn’t able to catch a glimpse of his father’s face without revealing his hiding spot. With worry he registered that his father wasn’t able to walk on his own. What had these bastards done to him? The red blotches on the King’s white tunic answered his question a moment later.

Galadhion clenched his fists. His mind was spinning while he was pressing back into the shadow. He felt that he was acting like a coward but what options were left to him? Intervening now would achieve him nothing. The only result would be to share his father’s fate and make the way free for Thoran. This would not happen as long as he drew breath, he swore silently to himself.

Within minutes his world had completely changed. As if he were the criminal, he must hide from view and was suddenly a stranger in his own home. There was only one word for this situation: revolution.

Calming his racing heart Galadhion waited until all of the elves had left the great hall. He needed time to think undisturbed. He had to find out how far this had already gone; who Thoran had dragged onto his side or threatened so they would not act against him.

He carefully left the alcove and looked left and right. All was silent and deserted. Without making a sound he hastened down the corridor toward a side entrance. First he must find his brother Saeron and....he suddenly stopped. Legolas!

Cold sweat was breaking out on his brow. First he had to bring his little brother to a safe place. But was there even a safe place any longer?

He had no idea how reckless the elves would be, but the behaviour against his father left little hope about how they would treat the other family members. Changing his direction he headed toward the family quarters.

While running down the corridor his thoughts were racing. He had to warn the warriors. He had to find out on which side the guards and warriors stood in this situation.

Thoran surely didn’t have all of them on his side, but this mission was a treacherous thing. Who could he trust anymore? A revolution could never be done without help from insiders. It was nearly impossible to guess those involved.

Too occupied with his thoughts he had not chance to avoid the collision with an elf when he rounded a bend. Wide-eyed he stared at the equally startled elf and breathed a sigh of relief the next moment.

“Saeron!” he whispered and grabbed his brother by his tunic-sleeve to drag him down the corridor with him. Struggling Saeron looked at him in bewilderment.

“What in the name of the Belain is going on here? Has everyone lost his mind this morning?” Saeron demanded his voice thundering along the deserted corridor.

Galadhion stopped and quickly covered his brother’s mouth. Shoving him into a recess he waited a moment before he removed his hand.

Saeron’s upset grow. “Ah, including you!” he joked, but when he saw the desperate expression on his brother’s face he quickly became serious.

“Galadhion what’s the matter?” he asked considerably softer. His brother was always much too stern and serious for his liking but this time something felt wrong.

Galadhion looked back and forth the corridor and when he was sure that no one was within earshot he turned back toward his brother.

“Thoran and his companions have taken control over the realm!” he whispered. He had decided to make it as blunt and quick as possible. There was no time for much explaining.

Saeron gasped and instantly stilled his struggling. He looked at his brother in shock. After some moments he clenched his fists.

“As I always said, Thoran is a rat!”

Galadhion nodded his head ruefully. Saeron had always warned against Thoran, but neither he nor his father had really thought that he could grow this dangerous. Now it had happened but now is was too late.

“Hey!” Saeron called and shook Galadhion out of his reverie. “What are you going to do now? What says father to this?”

Unwilling Galadion wrenched his arm out of his brother’s grasp and snorted at the jovial tone of his brother. Saeron had obviously misjudged the gravity of the situation.

“He didn’t really have a chance to argue,” he answered not able to avoid a sarcastic undertone. His brother made always light of everything. He wanted to adapt the world only to his wishes.

Saeron grabbed him by his shoulders. “What do you mean by that? Where is he?”

Galadhion sighed and looked at his younger sibling with sadness in his eyes and his voice was now filled with desperation, something not even Saeron could miss.

“They attacked him this morning in the throne-room and fought him down. Afterwards they dragged him out of the great hall and...” Galadhion trailed off.

“And?” Saeron hissed while unconsciously tightening his grip on his brother’s arm.

When he got no answer Saeron asked again. “Gal, did they hurt him?”

Galadhion could only nod. “Yes but I couldn’t see where they took him.”

Saeron released his grip when he recognized his brother wince.

“Who is ‘they’?” he asked in a dangerous calm tone.

Galadhion had expected this question. His brother might be a cheerful soul but he had a quick and sharp mind. “I saw Galion and Luindil and of course Thoran this morning but the other three were unfamiliar to me.”

“I will kill him!” Saeron stated and was about to turn.

This time Galadhion grabbed his brother’s arm hard in return. Anger was blazing from his green eyes. This behaviour was exactly what always infuriated him with Saeron, acting without thinking.

“Stop, Saeron, you will only make the situation worse.”

“Worse?” Saeron hissed while turning again back to face his brother. “How can this get any worse?”

Galadhion, quickly reaching the limit of his patience, sighed.

“Saeron, please, calm down and think first. You help no one if you run off and……. think of Legolas!”

Saeron paled and ceased his struggles altogether. In the heat of the argument he totally had forgotten about his little brother. Suddenly an icy fist grabbed at his heart. How far had this mess gone already?

“Where is he?  Saeron asked swallowing the lump rising up his throat.

Galadhion looked nervously over his shoulder expecting any time to be discovered.

“Still in his rooms, I hope. I’m on my way to fetch him. Saeron listen to me. You have to leave Mirkwood and inform Lord Elrond of Imladris!”

Shocked and surprised Saeron glanced sharply at his brother.

“My dear brother,” he said with this imposing tone Galadhion hated so much, “we have more than enough warriors to drive away these few rats. We don’t need any help from outside.”

Restraining his urge to punch this presumptuousness from his brother’s face Galadhion made a conscious effort to stay calm. As always, his brother was too agitated to think clearly. Saeron had always been short-tempered and impatient.

“Saeron, we don’t know how many of the warriors are on Thoran’s side and who we can trust anymore. This process to find out will take much time. I’m not sure that we can stop what havoc Thoran is able to create. The other Elven Realms have to be informed!”

Saeron slowly nodded despite being really convinced. Why should Lord Elrond or the rulers of Lothlórien be inclined to help them and how should this work anyway? Neither Rivendell nor Lothlórien had an army at their disposal, after all! And it would take much time to reach Rivendell, explain the situation, organize help and return.

Yet he considered his brothers words carefully. What other option did they have anyway? “I think you are right, but what of Ada? First we must help him.”

Galadhion nodded, relieved that his brother was relenting. “That we do! We cannot help him personally right now but I’m quite sure they need him alive.”

“Oh yes“, Saeron said sarcastically, “to use him against us as a hostage. Wonderful! I hope you are right with your assumption, because if they do him any harm they will only live to regret it. Please get Legolas out of here and take care of yourself. I will leave before it becomes impossible.”

Galadhion nodded and embraced his brother. “Be careful and take no chances!”

“Always, you know me,” Saeron replied and hurried away. Galadhion briefly closed his eyes. Oh yes, I know you, brother.

Galadhion prayed that this mission of his brother would not end in a disaster.

After Saeron had vanished from sight Galadhion left the alcove and quickly headed toward his little brother’s chambers.

To be continued…………………….