Chapter 31: the fight

Thranduil attacked and parried, charged forward and retreated and with every stroke his opponent delivered, one thing was quickly driven home to him. Thoran was not playing. His intention was to kill!

Until a few moments before, Thranduil had still hoped he could talk sense into him or make him accept his fate but Thoran was not in the least interested in talking or reasoning. It almost seemed as though he had already given up on his life.

That made fighting against him dangerous. Thoran based his actions without regard to any consequences and Thranduil had to adapt to this, quickly.

He was already bleeding from a deep gash on his upper arm where Thoran had caught him with an unexpected move.

Thoran was definitely not the better fighter, he simply lacked experience. He was considerably younger than Thranduil, and he had never fought in any of the great battles. However the King no longer practiced in the saille every day and seldom had to fight for his life now, so the opponents were almost matched.

Even if movements that had been long learned and practised could not be excelled Thoran had nothing to lose, so Thranduil had to alter his tactics. With this in mind he again charged forward, spun around, and forced Thoran to his knees with a twisting motion that nearly ripped the other’s sword from his grasp. Both elves were panting hard from the swift pace of their fight.

While looming over the kneeling elf Thranduil looked briefly into the eyes glaring hate back at him. “Thoran, I do not want to kill you, even though you deserve death. Stop this madness and yield and I will spare your life!”

With a hard push Thoran came back to his feet and his mad laughter was the King’s only answer. Thranduil took a deep breath. The die was cast. He had no time to end his thought before Thoran attacked again. With frenzied blows he hacked at the King, driving him back.

Thranduil had no chance but to retreat. The eyes of Thoran gleamed with an alien light. The King blinked. This had to end, now and forever. He managed to raise his sword to block an exceptionally heavy blow and he was almost driven back to the edge of the clearing.

He saw a fallen log behind him from the corner of his eye; but Thranduil had no time to react. He tripped backward over the log and landed hard on his back. Thoran was already above him his sword raised for the fatal blow.

“No”!

The two elves froze. Thranduil had instantly recognized that the anguished scream had come from his son. He had nearly forgotten about his eldest. Before he had the chance to scramble back to his feet, Galadhion had jumped from a tree and was attacking Thoran with his raised sword.

If Thranduil had expected Thoran to be surprised then he was disappointed. The elf whirled around and faced his new attacker with deadly determination. Thranduil´s heart nearly missed a beat when Galadhion was driven back with a force the younger elf had not expected. Galadhion was an experienced fighter, yet Thoran´s aggressiveness was unexpected.

Thoran had discarded all rules of fighting, had given up on all fairness and dignity, and was now only determined to kill. He had found an even better target for his hate. He knew when he killed the Crown Prince he could increase the sorrow of the King tenfold.

Galadhion was no inexperienced recruit and was a well practiced warrior, yet he was unable to mount a successful resistance against Thoran´s mad barrage of blows. Despite his fierce resistance he was quickly driven to his knees and before Thranduil could interfere Thoran had landed a hard blow to the younger elf’s shoulder breaking his collarbone with ease.

A pain filled cry and the sick noise of breaking bone pierced Thranduil to his core and the King managed at the last second to block a second blow of Thoran´s raised sword that otherwise would undoubtedly have ended his son’s life. Galadhion was kneeling on the ground fighting unconsciousness unable to even lift his head.

With anger he had not felt in a long time Thranduil attacked Thoran anew with a strength stemming from his fear for his child and his fury about the other’s ruthlessness. He drove the elf back giving him no time to recover or even think. Thoran had already managed to injure all three of his sons. Thranduil´s level of tolerance had reached bottom.

Thoran stumbled and tripped backward and soon something akin to fear could be seen in his eyes. Thranduil no longer cared and he did not cease his powerful strokes. He was now beyond the point where he would rethink his actions. This elf had to be removed from the face of Arda and he would not let him catch his breath again. No one else should ever suffer from his hand.

Again at the edge of the clearing, Thoran ducked behind a tree. Another time Thranduil was forced into a dangerous situation momentarily losing sight of the elf. When he had rounded the tree Thoran was just in the process to deliver another hard blow to the King’s chest and would have succeeded but something amazing happened.

Just at the moment when the sword was only fractions from breaking the leather armour the King was wearing, a big low hanging tree limb whipped Thoran in the face with such force that the elf was thrown back, the sword falling from his hand.

Thranduil was as surprised as Thoran, yet he recovered much quicker sensing the empathy from the old sentinel flowing toward him. He briefly placed his palm on the bark and thanked the tree with a nod of his head.

Thoran was like a wounded animal now. With lightening speed he sprang up, ignored the heavily bleeding gash at his forehead, retrieved his sword and was about to skewer the King standing not a feet away from him when a sharp pain came from his chest.

With surprise Thoran looked down and gazed with detatchment at the sword, the King’s sword, sticking out of his chest. His brain actually needed a moment to comprehend that his opponent had been faster and that he was now on the receiving end of unyielding steel.

Instantly feeling light-headed from the fatal wound, his fingers could no longer grip his sword and it fell to the forest floor a second time. Without the power to soften the fall his body crashed to the ground his eyes still holding a bewildered expression.

In a detached manner, Thranduil looked at Thoran now lying on the ground but he could not bring himself to come to the wounded elf’s aid. He felt nothing; no sadness and certainly no satisfaction - nothing! He only stood there staring at the elf he had just brought down.

Recognizing that Thoran was still alive and ripped from his state in seeing the quickly growing red patch on the other’s tunic front he finally knelt beside the elf and waited until Thoran looked at him. “You fool!” the King said softly, yet his voice was devoid of any emotion. “It shouldn’t have come to this.”

With his last breath, Thoran spat at the King. “You will pay for your ignorance, Thranduil. One day you will regret your actions. I curse you. All that you touch shall be rotten!”

With those hateful words the elf breathed his last and Thranduil could already hear the call from the Lord of Mandos. Briefly closing his eyes but without another glance at the corpse or paying any honour to it, the King stood and turned. Only now did he again become aware of his surroundings.

With quick strides he crossed the clearing to where Celeborn was kneeling beside his son. The Lord of the Golden Wood had already created a sling to support the arm of the wounded youngster to minimise the jostling of the broken bone as best as possible.

Galadhion had his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Thranduil grimaced in sympathy. A broken collarbone was extremely painful. Even if Thoran was no longer a threat anger was again boiling up in Thranduil. Once more Thoran had managed to attack and gravely wound one of his sons. The elf had deserved death and Thranduil could not feel much regret at the moment for dealing out this final justice.

Thranduil waited patiently until Galadhion had opened his eyes again. “Is he dead?” the Crown Prince asked and Thranduil only nodded. Too much occupied by drawing in steadying breaths to keep from passing out, Galadhion only glanced toward the spot where Thoran had fallen. Like his father he could not bring himself to feel sorry. He mourned the lost of another life, but not that they had no longer to deal with this particular elf. He had now to answer for his crimes before the Valar.

A light touch on his shoulder reminded Thranduil that another elf was still with them at the clearing. . “My Lord, with your leave,” the guard asked with a thin voice and Thranduil only nodded. He strode into the clearing where his comrade had fallen. Methodically and with a blank expression on his face he readied the body of his comrade for the transport home.

Thranduil knew that he had to do the same for Thoran, yet he could not bring himself to move a finger. The look in his son’s pain filled face stayed his hand. He had to face two wounded sons when he returned home – the fate of his youngest was as yet unknown to him – and Saeron had barely recovered from his severe injury obtained while rescuing the children Thoran had abducted.

Meanwhile Celeborn had administered a pain relieving herb to the prince and helped him lie down on the ground. With this kind of injury there was no way for Galadhion to return home on horseback.

“Stay with him. I will take care of Thoran and will organize transport to take Galadhion back to the palace.”

Thranduil nodded gratefully at his cousin as he sank into the grass next to his son. He gently pillowed Galadhion´s head on his thigh and was relieved to see that the pain killer was already taking some effect.

Before Celeborn strode away he pulled out a small but sharp knife and begun slicing through the King’s sleeve to bind the still bleeding wound Thoran had inflicted.

“Leave it!” Thranduil growled. “It’s not that bad.”

Celeborn looked up irritated but then sighed. “Even if I hope you will not have not to fight with a sword in the near future I think you wish to have use of this arm nonetheless. Now stop complaining and let me see to the wound.”

Apart from snorting indignantly the King did not object further and the Lord of the Golden Wood made quick work cleaning and binding the wound.

“No thanks needed, my Lord,” he said and waved at Thranduil as he saw the guilty expression on his cousin’s face. The King was weary beyond measure and not in his right wits to judge any situation at the moment. He would need time to get over all of this.

When Celeborn had reached the centre of the clearing the guard had just finished placing his comrade over the back of his horse.

“As soon as you return to the palace, tell the Chief of the Home Guard about what happened here and arrange for a wagon or a litter to transport the Crown Prince home. I will see to Thoran´s body and remain with the King until the relief arrives. If possible, please also inform my grandsons.”

He knew he had no right to command a guard of Mirkwood and couched his words carefully, but he also knew that strong words would work through the grief he saw in the young elf’s eyes. He did not want to overstep his authority.

“As you command, my Lord,” the guard replied stiffly and mounted. Without another glance he spurred his horse forward leading Bregolas´ mare carrying the body of the dead guard following along behind him.

Celeborn watched the guard leave and then looked up into the trees. He opened his senses, letting the empathy flowing from the trees flood his being. He could sense no disturbance or evil on the prowl. Knowing that the trees would warn him if things changed, he strode to where the fallen body of Thoran was still lying.

The three of them did not need another unforeseen attack or disturbance. Thranduil would be no help at the moment and with Galadhion being wounded, Celeborn would be hard pressed to protect all three of them.

When he reached the fallen elf, Celeborn crouched down and retrieved Thoran´s few personal items after closing the unseeing eyes. Briefly he wondered to whom these things would be given. As far as he knew Thoran was not married and had no children.

He straightened the body and crossed the elf’s arms over his chest. He grimaced when the large puddle of blood produced a squishing noise under his boots. A variety of insects were already crawling over the corpse.

Celeborn sighed. It was high time to wrap the body and hold his funeral. He shuddered while thinking about the custom of men to bury their dead bodies in the earth.

This task done Celeborn returned to the King and his son. Thranduil had closed his eyes and any casual observer would assume that the King had fallen asleep. Celeborn knew that this was not the case. Thranduil had also opened his senses and attuned his inner self with the trees. He was aware of their surroundings no less then he was.

Galadhion had fortunately closed his eyes and looked relaxed. The pain killing herb had obviously worked. With a troubled expression Celeborn looked into the darkening sky promising rain; just what they needed right now.

`Please hurry!` he pleaded silently with whoever was coming their way to help them.

To be continued……………………………..