Chapter 4:  darkness, darkness everywhere

When Thranduil awoke he blinked in confusion when he felt that he was lying on a stone floor. The cold that was creeping into his bones made him shudder. He must have slipped into unconsciousness, but he didn’t really remember that. However, the memory that had eluded him momentarily came quickly back.

Thoran! The rebellious elf had turned into a full blown revolutionist and tried to claim the throne of Mirkwood by force. No, Thranduil corrected himself sarcastically. He hadn’t tried, he had already done it.  

Carefully he rose to his hands and knees and groaned when a sharp pain stabbed him down the right side of his chest. For a few minutes he remained in this ungraceful position in an attempt to swallow the nausea that was quickly rising up his throat. He had a few bruised and possibly cracked ribs then and most likely a concussion as well.

After the pain had subsided to a bearable level he crawled forward and sat with his back against the damp stone wall. Instantly the pain flared up again and he remained still until he could breathe more regularly.

He tried to see around him but the room had no window and the dim light filtering in from the corridor outside the cell provided no clue as to whether it was day or night. His senses told him that it was still night but he would not bet on it. There was no chance to assess his injuries but the amount of pain he was in told him enough. Thoran’s fellows had been rather rough and had not cared about how seriously they might have injured him.

This made him worry, not for himself but for his people and most of all for his family. Thoran needed him alive, at least for the time being, he was sure of that. But what of other elves who might only appear as a nuisance for Thoran? Would he go so far as to kill someone?

Anger flared in him. He had always been open to other opinions as any good ruler should be, but of course he could never satisfy everyone and even he had to take actions which were demanded by necessity rather then emotion or idle wishes. He had to look out for the welfare of a whole populace. Some individual demands, even his own, had to stand back for the well-being of all.

Had he failed in his rule? Had he stirred up so much unrest that a trouble-maker such as Thoran could get so much approval? His stomach knotted when he tried to imagine what probably had happened during the time he had lain here unconscious?

His heartbeat quickened when he thought about his sons. What of them? Had they managed to escape? Galadhion and Saeron were surely able to take care of themselves, but Legolas?

He clenched his fists in frustration. This was entirely his fault. He had looked away for much too long and had not realized how dangerous the situation had become. How could such an act have even been possible? Thoran must have had help; otherwise this could not have been successful.

Calming his thoughts, Thranduil directed his senses at his near surroundings but try as he might he could hear nothing at all. His initial frown turned into open worry. What had become of the palace staff? The whole dungeon level was normally a flurry of activity. Goods and supplies were constantly requested or transferred to the many storerooms.

Also, the opening to the underground river was always occupied. The exchange of goods via the river with Lake Town had to be organized. Where had the elves overseeing this vanished to?

He wondered if they did not expect him to make an escape attempt. But then Thranduil had to smirk. The heavy wooden doors made to keep people out rather than in, did fulfil their purpose nonetheless. They needed no one to guard the door. But was Thoran so sure of himself? Thranduil had only to shout loud enough to get some attention. Hadn’t he?

Groaning in frustration Thranduil folded his long legs to his chest and rested his head on his knees trying to conserve a bit of his body warmth. His worrying was accomplishing nothing. Without proper information all thoughts were futile.

With a sigh he closed his eyes. There was nothing better to do anyway. Before long however, the door opened and Thoran stepped inside. Thranduil jerked his head up and blinked at the light the torch in Thoran´s hand provided. The King tensed. How dangerous was this elf? How far would he go?

Before he had the chance to think any further, the same three elves that had imprisoned him pulled him up into a standing position.

With much effort he suppressed a cry of pain when he realized that not only his ribs were bruised. He momentarily closed his eyes to regain his composure. Then he stared coldly at Thoran who had stepped in front of him with his arms crossed and a wicked grin on his face.

“Poor mighty King,” he teased. “Have you changed your mind? Are you willing to cooperate now?”

Thranduil looked back with a blank expression on his face. What did Thoran expect to accomplish with this question? If he did know him as well as he claimed to then he should know that one night in a cell would surely do nothing to change his mind.

Thoran shook his head in an overdone gesture of exasperation after a few moments of silence. He stepped forward and grabbed the King by the collar of his tunic.

“No?” he cried mockingly. “What a pity! Oh, I am sure you will soon. Maybe we will bring one of your sons down here, and then you will see how quickly I get the right answer. Perhaps the lovely little fair-haired boy?”

Despite his best efforts Thranduil paled. Thankfully Thoran could not see it in the dimness. Was this only an empty threat, or had one or more of his sons really been captured?

Thranduil was fairly sure what Thoran wanted from him. Maybe the guards and warriors had separated into two groups; one group that supported Thoran out of conviction or fear, and the other group which was still loyal to their King.

Thoran could not act until the opposite group conceded.  Therefore he wanted to force him to order the rebellious elves to cooperate. This he knew he would never do even if it would be his death sentence.

Of course the situation would change if Thoran would use one of his sons against him.

When Thoran received no answer he snorted and turned. He sent a dangerous look over his shoulder. “I will give you one more night. If you will not cooperate then, you will regret it.”

Before Thranduil had any chance to react Thoran´s companions pushed him roughly back against the wall and hurried after their master.

Thranduil gasped as the air was pressed out of his lungs. He slid down the wall and tried to banish the stars that flashed in front of his eyes. He squeezed them shut for a moment before he struggled to a more comfortable position. The door closed and he was alone once more.

Alone with the darkness. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his concerns.

……………………………

For two days nothing happened. Thranduil was sure that at least 48 hours had gone by. No one had come to provide him with food or water. This he could tolerate but much worse was the suspense. He strained his senses again, but to no avail. No noise could be heard. This could not be. Thoran could not have scared everyone away.

Taking deep calming breaths he tried to suppress his anxiety as well as his growing anger. What was happening while he sat here in the dark? What had happened to his Kingdom? He felt nearly sick at the thought that the foul creatures, ever pressing against their borders would perceive that something was changing. They would instantly seize the opportunity.

The constant stabbing pain still radiating from his left side every time he took a breath did nothing to let him relax either. They must have hurt him more badly then he had thought at first; his healing ability should long have kicked in.

Again, he directed a desperate gaze into the gloomy dark. He had not even had a chance to look at the stars or the sunlight. The storeroom was located inside and did not face the outer wall, therefore it had no window. If nothing else would break him, not to be in contact with nature would affect him sooner rather then later.

Then without warning the door burst open and Thoran stood in the frame. Thranduil blinked at the light that shone into the cell.

Without hesitation Thoran rushed through the cell, his fellow elves, as always, on his heels. Stopping short in front of the seated King, Thoran bent down and grabbed Thranduil by the collar of his tunic.

With one jerk he pulled him to his feet. Again Thranduil suppressed a cry of pain. When he opened his eyes after momentarily squeezing then shut the King’s face was only inches away from Thoran’s. The rioter’s features were distorted with fury.

However before Thranduil could even think about why his opponent could be this furious Thoran dealt him a brutal blow which threw him back against the wall. The air was knocked out of his lungs and Thranduil coughed while trying to catch his breath. To his dismay, the coughing produced blood which splattered not only his but Thoran’s tunic as well.

Thoran did not so much as to raise an eyebrow while Thranduil swallow quickly to suppress another coughing fit. He was not willing to display any more weakness, yet to fight Thoran would be futile. The ever present three elves would nip any attack in the bud.

When Thranduil had regained his breath Thoran stepped forward and clenched a hand around the King´s neck. Thranduil stiffened. The grip was suffocating but left him enough room for breathing so that he would not faint.

He felt Thoran´s hot breath against his cheek when the tall elf leaned in closer. “My patience grows thin, Thranduil,” he hissed. “Order your troops back now!”

And something else seemed obvious. Thoran had not yet managed to capture one of his sons to blackmail him. He would surely have seized this opportunity by now, if possible.

The indifferent look Thranduil directed at Thoran brought the enraged elf over the edge. He released his bruising grip and punched his opponent full force into the stomach. Thranduil could do no more then crouch down to protect his already injured right side. The blows continued to rain down on him. After a while Thranduil only noticed them with a detached awareness.

Just when he was ready to embrace the welcoming pain-free darkness Thoran stopped and knelt down beside him, his face no longer contorted in rage. With a none-to-gentle grip he forced Thranduil to look at him.

“This can be easy or very difficult. It is entirely up to you. Cooperate and the torment ends now. Fight and this will go on until your spirit is broken. It is your decision.”

Mustering his last reserves Thranduil returned the gaze coolly. “I will never cooperate with you!” he spat between clenched teeth.

Snorting, Thoran release his hold and stood. With a dangerous gleam in his eyes he regarded the kneeling figure. Thranduil was so stubborn. The people of Mirkwood would only follow his rule if Thranduil supported him.

For millennia Thranduil had been able to hold evil at bay without the power of an elven ring. This had only been possible with the support of some of the best soldiers among all elves in Middle Earth. Those warriors would be dangerous if they decided to stay loyal to their King.

Only if Thranduil surrendered to the new authority could this be avoided. He only had to relent and abdicate. Then Thoran would grant him and his family freedom to leave.

“You will regret this decision, this I promise you,” Thoran hissed before he left the cell accompanied by his companions.

Thranduil simply remained lying down where he was. He did not have the strength to sit up again. Once more he was alone with only his worries for company.

To be continued…………………..