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Chapter XXVI: (EXT) The Fall of Dol Guldur (Pt. I)

“Not long after that night, I found myself wandering alone through the halls of my palace. I found myself standing before a window beyond my throne looking outward into glistening waterfalls lit by rays of the sun. Though I felt little pain, I still wore a bandage wrapped securely around my torso.

“What is on your mind, Thranduil,” I heard Fëaluin ask as he approached me.

“Just thinking,” I said. “Nothing in particular.”

He looked at me without saying a word. His face was stoic, but his eyes seemed animated.

“Well, then,” he said. “Should this war end, our time will come to leave this world for another.”

“And if there is no end to war, Fëaluin,” I asked. What then? I should remain here waiting for peace and hoping I see my son again?”

“What of your children,” he asked. “They would not let you go the way of despair.”

“I know,” I sighed. “Especially the little ones. But I will send them to safety no matter what they say.”

“I hardly imagine Legolas or Tarthôn will leave you to your own, either."

“I have lived my life, Fëaluin,” I said. “I have seen a great many troubles. Eternity would only remind me of them.”

“And what of Êlúriel,” he asked. “You wish her to choose between you and those that have sailed and wait to see her again?”

“No,” I said. “I would never force her to choose. I know which she would choose and I could not bear the guilt. Yet, I have not conquered death.”

“And you never will,” he said. “You will change your mind--I know you will. For now, you thoughts are needed elsewhere.”

“Is there word from Celeborn,” I asked.

“No,” he said. “From Dale. King Dáin of Erebor has fallen and at his side King Brand of Dale.”

I was crestfallen—remembering my friend Dáin fighting valiantly during the first battle in Dale not long ago.

“From whom was this message sent,” I asked quietly.

“From his kinsmen,” he said. “You have met him twice before. Dwalin, son of Funduin. His brother disappeared after coming through our kingdom a second time on his way to Khazâd-dûm.”

“I remember. Balin,” I said. “I dare not think of the fate that befell him and his company though I am sure Aiwendil knows well of it. And who shall rise in their places?”

“Dáin’s son Thorin, of course,” he began. “To Dale will sit Bard, son Brand.” I knew it would be some time before their coronations but I knew I had to pay my respects.

“I am sure they wish to lay them to rest swiftly,” I said. “The war has not yet ended and what will come remains unpredictable."

“Who do you wish to accompany you,” Fëaluin asked.

“You, of course,” I answered. “Nimlos and Elranduil. Eldôr should remain behind should word come from Emyn Duir.”

“I wish to go with you as well,” I heard Êlúriel say. I turned to see her smiling at me.

“Very well,” he answered. “We leave at first light.”

Fëaluin bowed and left.

“Who will remain behind with the children,” I asked.

“Who do you think, Thranduil,” she asked. “Isílriel, of course.”

“Of course,” I said.

“I will prepare,” she said. “Please rest some more.”

“I am fine, Êlúriel,” I said. “Stop worrrying so much.”

“Then you have not lived long enough,” he said.

She smiled and left while I took the winding stairs down to the main hall and went into my study where Elranduil waited in my chair.

“We are going to Dale,” he said.

“How would you know of it,” I asked.

“The caverns have ears as well as voices, cousin,” he said. “How could I not have known?”

“The only ears and voices in this palace belong to your wife and her ladies.”

“That is not true,” he said. “Always. I happen to have been with Fëaluin when one of our Marchwardens from the East came with the message from Dale.”

“I have had my fill of death for one life time,” I said. “I suppose men and dwarves see it once and nevermore.”

“Not if they live to see it again,” he said. “Then they leave death for their children to see. It is a cycle that is never-ending. No matter what the old tales say. It is our misfortune to see such things for centuries. I gather we will leave at first light?”

“Yes,” I said. “It will be you, Nimlos, Fëaluin and Êlúriel, of course.”

He rose from my chair and walked over to me.

“We have seen better times,” he began. “It will be far better at the end of them, will it not?”

“Perhaps, but the end will not come soon enough, I am afraid.”

He nodded and left my alone. I sat down at my table thought about many things—so long, I had not realized darkness had begun to fall.

**** **** **** ****

Before the sun rose, I went to see about Nenduîl and Tárimë. They slept soundly in their chambers as I watched them—their innocence I protected and coveted. Time had kept from me memories of my youth. I could barely remember when I was their age.

“Ada,” Tárimë said softly as she sat up. “Are you going away again?”

“Yes,” I answered as I sat beside her. “With Nana, but not for long.”

“I do not like it when you go away,” she said.

“Nor do I, Tárimë,” I said holding her. “Do you think I like being away from you, your sister and brother?”

“No,” she answered. “But when you are gone, Nenduîl teases me all the time.”

“I do not,” Nenduîl said as he walked over. “You tease me all the time.”

“Eärluin teases us both,” Tárimë said frowning.

“She teases everyone,” his sister said. “But boys are just awful.”

“Ada is boy,” he said. “You think he is awful as well?”

“No,” she said. “Just you and Aranduil.”

“Come now,” I started. “Be nice. I do not want to leave thinking you are not getting along.”

“We get on alright,” Nenduîl said. “When Tárimë, Eärluin and Auríel are elsewhere.”

“Nenduîl.”

“What,” he asked. “I like my sisters. Sometimes.”

“You wish me to leave and worry about you while I am gone,” I asked.

“No,” they said.

Nenduîl sat beside me as his sister climbed on my lap.

“So I have your word you will be good for Eldôr and Isílriel?”

“Isílriel,” Tárimë asked. “I love Isílriel. Eldôr tells us lots of stories. Just like great grandfather.”

“Is it true you ran around without anything on when you were little,” Nenduîl asked.

“I did no such thing,” I said. “Now back to bed both of you.”

“You did do that,” Tárimë said giggling.

I kissed her forehead and tucked her in as she continued to giggle. I picked up Nenduîl and carried him to his bed and tucked him in.

“Behave,” I said, kissing his forehead. “I will return.”

“Yes, Ada,” he said. As I left the room, I could here them both giggling.

When the doors were shut I made my way down the hall where I met Fëaluin, Nimlos and Elranduil.

“The Queen awaits us,” Fëaluin said.

“Let us leave now,” I said. “Pray we return before the call comes from Lothlórien.”

We made our way out of the gates where our horses were prepared. Êlúriel was already mounted and waiting patiently.

“Elranduil,” I asked. “Where would Nenduîl get the idea I ran around without anything on when I was little?”

He laughed as he and the others mounted their horses.

“Do not look at me, cousin,” he said. “It must have been Father. I did not say a word. I hardly remember, it was so long ago.”

“I heard it from your mother,” Êlúriel said to Elranduil.

“You mean to say it is true,” Nimlos asked. “I thought you were lying.”

I mounted my horse and rode past them without saying a word as they tried to hide their laughter.

“I will deal with you later, cousin,” I said beneath my breath.

We headed down the familiar path of Forest River leading toward Dale. As the sun rose, the city—grander than the ruins we had left long ago with Erebor rising high above nearly touching the sky as it lit up with the coming of a new day. The closer we came to the city, the more figures I could see—men and dwarves alike. The flags of Erebor and Dale flew side by side. Once inside the square, we were met by a man and a dwarf followed by others.

“I knew you would come,” the elder of the dwarves said as I dismounted.

Nimlos helped Êlúriel down as several servants took our horses one way and possessions another.

“Of course, I would come, Dwalin,” I said. “How could I not come? I do believe it has been some time since you have seen my wife, Êlúriel.”

“It has,” Dwalin said. “Still as lovely a lass I have ever laid my eye upon.”

“You are too kind," Êlúriel said kissing his forehead.

“Dale welcomes you all,” the young man said. “I am Bard, son of Brand.”

The younger of the dwarves stepped forward cautiously—a youth at his side.

“I am Thorin, son of Dáin,” he said. “This is my son, Durin. We welcome Your Majesties, King and Queen of Mirkwood and your company.”

“Thank you,” I answered. “I wish it were for a happier occasion.”

“Of course,” Dwalin said. “Come, there is food and drink prepared for you in Dale’s great hall.”

We followed the group toward the grand gates along cobbled streets leading to the of the palace above.

“It has been some time since I saw you last,” said a dwarf with hair and beard red as fire. “You might not remember me. I am Glóin, son of Gróin. I came into your kingdom with a company of others.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. I was still ashamed of my actions.

“I had the pleasure of meeting your son in Rivendell,” he said. “Legolas, I believe is his name.”

I felt a warm feeling run through me that someone had seen Legolas. I could feel my face smiling.

“Yes,” I said proudly. “Legolas is my son.”

“He is out there fighting alongside my son, Gimli,” he said. “I hope both return to us in one piece.”

“How else would they come back,” Durin asked.

“Not good,” said a little boy that had come along side Durin. “Not good at all.”

“Bain,” Bard said. “Quiet.”

“Yes, father,” he said.

I looked around and felt a sense of familiarity again. Bard, though younger than his ancestor, looked liked him—brown hair with soft green eyes—and Thorin looked a great deal like Thorin Oakenshield—his long brown hair and beard surrounding eyes of blue.

We reached two great doors opened by several guards. Before us stood a beautiful maiden with golden hair and sharp brown eyes.

“This is my wife, Aurëwyn,” Bard said, taking her hand.

“It is an honor to finally meet you both,” she said bowing.

“Finally,” I asked as everyone was shown to our places.

“Yes,” she said taking her seat. “I have heard many things about your kingdom from my father. His father’s uncle had been there once. I wish they were here now. They both died in the war.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” I said. “What was his name, if I may ask?”

“Haldúir, Your Majesty,” she said. “He was a very old but dear man. He fell at the gates of Erebor beside King Brand and King Dáin. It was foolish of me, but I think he wished to die. He had not been the same since his beloved wife died. Arímë was her name. I do not remember her. She died a long time ago.”

My heart sank in that moment. I could not help but see Arímë’s face in my mind. Êlúriel’s expression seemed stoic hearing the name of her cousin. I looked across to see Elranduil’s expression—it was the same as my own I was sure.

“Well, tomorrow we shall lay the dead to rest,” Thorin said. “We shall honor them for their deeds foolish or otherwise.”

There was an unsettling silence as we dined together. When we were finished, we were shown our quarters for the night. Lit by lanterns, the stone walls were covered with fine tapestries. Êlúriel prepared for the evening as I watched day fall to night and the moonrise casting a gentle light throughout the valley.

I felt shame again. I wish I had let Arímë see her grandchildren again. I believed it must have taken her life never to see Nenduîl and Tárimë again. As I thought, I heard a knock at the door.

“Enter,” I said. It was Fëaluin. “What is it?”

“I know what you are thinking, Thranduil,” he said. “I always do.”

“You are worse than Eldôr,” I said.

“Then might I suggest you think more quietly,” he said.

I could hear a soft laugh as Êlúriel walked into an adjoining chamber.

“I wonder if Aurëwyn knew her father’s father’s uncle was married to one that was once one of us,” I said. “Perhaps that is why she told us her story.”

“No, she does not,” he said coming to me. “Bard said as much.”

“I do not understand,” I said.

“Men may die never to return, but they leave many tales behind from one generation to the next. His father told him and his father before him and his father before him.”

“Bard knew of this?”

“Of course he did,” Fëaluin said. “Whether he knew of her relation to Êlúriel I do not know.”

“I feel horrible,” I said. “Arímë must have died of a broken heart.”

“Your conscience is clear,” he said. “She died from whatever took her daughter.”

“Is there any place left in this world where death does not linger,” I asked.

“I am afraid not, Thranduil,” he said. “It will always linger for it has nothing but time to do so.”

We spoke no more that night. After a while, he left me alone with my thoughts. Êlúriel watched me from across the room. Looking into the shadow of Erebor, all I wished to do was return home.”––TKWR:BII The Saga of Thranduil (EXT. VER.) by J. Marie Miller 12-20-17

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