Chapter 21:  won and yet lost

Saeron held up his hand when he had reached the bottom of the steps. He peered along the corridor leading to the dungeons of the underground palace.

For as long as he could remember these “dungeons” had been used only as storerooms. Never had any prisoner suffered here. Many tales revolved around the dungeons of King Thranduil and told of the fates of unfortunate prisoners that had vanished here. Such stories were nothing but a pack of lies.

Yet the King had never done much to dispel such reports. He deemed it an appropriate method to hold all too curious investigators at bay.

Twenty warriors had followed Saeron down here, while the remaining ten warriors secured the palace hall and the entrance to the cellar. Saeron would not risk being surprised on two fronts.

Any minute now he expected to be attacked. Somewhere this mangy dog had to be hiding. Saeron had only taken two steps into the corridor when he saw that an elf was blocking his path with a raised sword. Saeron raised his sword in defence but hesitated when he recognised his counterpart.

“Luindil?” he asked annoyed while he lowered his sword, yet he did not entirely drop it. The chief advisor of his father however did not look surprised; in fact, he seemed to have awaited them.

“My Lord,” Luindil said with a thin voice. “Please turn around and go no further. I beg you to heed this warning.”

Saeron narrowed his eyes. His father’s councillor appeared extremely uncomfortable. What was Thoran thinking to achieve by sending one elf to stop them?

Feeling Galion at his back and knowing the warriors crowding the corridor behind him Saeron saw no real threat in the single elf blocking his path.

Looking back at the face of Luindil, Saeron took a deep breath. “You know I cannot do this. Clear the way, Luindil!”

Without making any new attempt to stop them, Luindil stepped aside and lowered his sword. Saeron passed by him without looking at the advisor again. Luindil kept his eyes downcast.

His senses on high alert now, Saeron walked further down the corridor the grip on his sword firm. “Where is he?” Galion whispered and Saeron snorted. If Thoran had retreated into the wide tunnels beneath the palace then he would be able to hide without a chance for them to ever find him. But what would this achieve?

Saeron was sure that Thoran was waiting for his chance. At the end of the corridor Saeron and his men entered a wide circular area from which tunnels spread out in all directions.

The prince looked around but again could detect nothing out of the ordinary. “Where are you hiding, you bastard?” he growled softly while the warriors streamed into the open space securing the many tunnel entrances. The tunnel just opposite where they had entered led to the storerooms where Liriel had indicated the King and children were being held.

Saeron made a quick decision. Ordering four warriors to remain in the staging area he signalled for the others to follow him down the corridor which would end directly at the underground river. He was no longer willing to wait until Thoran decided to come out of the hole he had crawled into.

When he had reached the storeroom where Liriel had said his father was imprisoned he stopped with a pounding heart. There was still no sign of Thoran. This could not be true. Could it be this simple? To just come here, break open the door and release his father? Saeron narrowed his eyes. All of the hair on his neck stood on end again.

Signalling Galion and the men to watch the corridor Saeron placed his ear against the door of the storeroom and listened intently, but try as he might he could hear nothing. Although it was absolutely quiet in the corridor, the wooden door was thick and so it was plausible that no noise could be heard from the inside.

Out of impulse he tried the door handle and grimaced when he found that the door was locked. Yet what had he expected? More feeling then seeing Galion rolling his eyes Saeron stepped back and raised the hilt of his sword. With a mighty blow he broke the handle away and the door swung open. The broken handle clattered onto the stone floor with a loud clank.

Saeron did not care. He was eager to finally engage Thoran; the sooner the better. Saeron hesitated to step across the threshold. The room behind the door lay in absolute darkness. He swallowed. “I’m right behind you,” Galion whispered and Saeron took a deep breath.

The prince stepped over the threshold and stopped just inside the room to give his eyes time to adjust to the darkness. He stood, deliberately blocking the entrance. He did not know what condition his father would be in and he was not willing to expose the King to curious eyes, even if these eyes belonged to his sworn and loyal warriors.

At first Saeron could see nothing when his gaze wandered around the room. At the opposite wall he could make out a heap of light fabric crumpled on the floor.

Saeron swallowed and stepped further into the room. At the back of his mind he recognized that the warriors kept their distance out of respect and he was grateful for that.

The room was still too dark to make out anything. He took another few steps his eyes fixed on the spot on the floor. His heart was pounding loudly and he moved as if he was controlled by another. He stepped nearer.

“Adar?” he called softly but the sound exploded into the silence. The fear about why he was getting no answer suddenly ripped all restraint from him and with quick strides Saeron crossed the distance and sank to his knees just in front of the heap of clothing.

Now he could see that the heap only consisted of a rumpled and dirty linen tunic. As glad as he was to not find his father lying there, he was shocked nonetheless.

The tunic was undoubtedly that of his father. He recognized the little golden leaves embroidered around the collar. His mother had made it long ago. What made his outstretched hand tremble however was the great stain of blood on the right side of the garment; in fact the tunic was soaked with blood all over.

A hand was suddenly placed on his shoulder, making him jump. “Saeron?” Galion asked not taking his eyes from the fabric Saeron was holding. Slowly Saeron came back to his feet and looked with burning eyes at his friend. ”Where is he?” Saeron whispered his throat already hoarse from the acrid stench in the room.

Saeron had trouble imagining how someone could hold out for long in this dreadful place. Judging by the bloodied tunic in his hand his father had been injured badly. He swallowed and the cold fear crept back up his spine. His father was not here but that did not guarantee that he was out of danger. He was still alive, that he could judge, but he could tell nothing more then that.

Taking his prince by the arm Galion dragged Saeron back toward the door. “Come out of here,” he said. Galion send a last look around to make sure that they had not overseen anything. Back in the corridor Saeron leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Where was his father?

Saeron had nothing to explain to the waiting warriors. A look at his face did spoke volumes. “Maybe Thoran expected us and took the King to another cellar?” Lathron, commander of south Mirkwood suggested but without much conviction.

Saeron nodded and accepted the offered comfort. Although he could sense his father’s presence; their bond was greatly diminished. If his father was down here then his condition was dangerously weakened.

Opening his eyes and straightening his shoulders Saeron stepped back from the wall. “The King is down here. Let us continue to search for him but first we will try to find and release the children.” Saeron’s voice betrayed his anxiousness. What if the next room they looked at revealed another disaster?

He swallowed while he thought about the little ones. Had they been required to abide under similar circumstances? He could hardly bring himself to think about that.

With determined strides he followed the corridor until he reached the next door. Liriel had told him that the elflings were held in the room next to his father’s prison.

Again the warriors secured the corridor and again he placed an ear on the door. This time he did not even try the handle. As before, he could hear nothing. He frowned. He had been told that more then ten children were being held here. It was impossible that they would produce no noise at all.

“Watch out, please clear the door!” he called out loud enough for every elfling to hear inside. He would not risk injuring any of the children by breaking the door. When he deemed to have waited long enough he raised his sword hilt and broke the door handle away.

When he had expected a sound from inside – either surprise or fright – he was again disappointed. As before only darkness and silence greeted him.

Directing a worried gaze at Galion he stepped over the threshold. This time the warriors did not hold back. They were both curious and anxious to free the little ones.

Yet they stopped when Saeron inhaled sharply. Galion, just behind his prince, stepped up to look over Saeron´s shoulder.

What he saw froze the blood in his veins. Toys were set in regular intervals aligned against each of the four walls. Saeron did not move, only his fists clenched and unclenched. What perverse game was Thoran playing? What had he done to the children?

Where he could tell that his father was somewhere near he had absolutely no idea where Thoran had taken the children. His mind did not even make the attempt to think about the possibility that the children were no longer alive.

With quick strides he crossed the room and picked up a stuffed rabbit sitting there forlorn and bereft of its owner. His brother had a similar one but at least the youngest prince of Mirkwood was in a place of safety, or so he hoped with all his heart.

Stuffing the cuddly toy in his tunic pocket he turned and left the room, quickly passing the warriors which had also come into the storeroom. He would no longer waste any time here.

Thoran had designed the conditions but Saeron was no longer willing to grant any mercy to this mad elf. He would not rest until he had laid hand on this bastard.

When all of the warriors had re-emerged from the room Saeron settled the rabbit in his pocket and gave the signal to depart. He would find his father and the children even if had he to turn over every stone in the palace and he was determined to return the stuffed animal to its owner.

To be continued………………………