Turning to the king, Handir watched as Aradan talked with him and his father listened attentively as he allowed his own eyes to watch the Hall. His father was shrewd, skillful, intuitive like few others, save perhaps for the uncanny Commander General Celegon, and Aradan himself, his own tutor.
There was a lull in the conversation, as Lefnui, their Lore Master, walked slowly into the circle, waiting to be announced, and in his arms, sat a heavy tome.
Three resounding claps of wood upon stone soon immersed the Hall in expectant silence, and yet Handir's mind was full of noise for now was the moment he had been preparing himself for. It was no longer time for timid opinion and insecure words. He had to secure his brother's naming as Warlord, and with it, secure his own place within the Permanent Council.
"My Lords, Ladies, Councillors," began the Master of Ceremonies, Sedren. "This Council is declared in session," he called out, turning to every councillor and guest sitting in the circle.
"We are gathered here today, to discuss and decide upon the request brought to us, by the Silvan people. Specifically, this request is for the restitution of the figure of the Silvan Warlord, and that specifically, this office should be given to Lord Legolas, son of Thranduil King."
There were soft murmurs around the circle, and many glances cast in Legolas' direction, and Handir watched as Legolas simply settled his eyes on Sedren and allowed no emotion to show on his face. He was good, he mused.
"The Lore Master, Lefnui, will read to us a passage from the Book of Silvan Lore, so that we may all understand what it is the Silvan people are asking of us."
"Lefnui…" he said, yielding the centre of the circle to the Lore Master.
Lefnui stood tall and strange as he opened his book and held it open on a page. There, was a colourful illustration of an elf. He stood tall and defiant, his legs and arms open and his face stared back at the reader challengingly. He looked dangerous for upon his back, sat a mighty bow and sword, and at his belt, hung daggers and knives.
His hair was completely braided, adorned with beads and stones and shells, and around his shoulders, instead of a luscious, lordly cloak, were wolf skins. His strong, muscled chest was bare, save for the leather harnesses of his weapons, and there were strange drawings upon his shoulders and his abdomen.
When Lefnui was sure they had all seen it, he brought the book to his face and read.
"The supreme warrior of our people, is named Warlord, for he is good and he is just, his skill at war unrivalled.
Our Warlord travels our forests, rids it of our enemies, protects our crops and animals, defends our Nandorin nature as dwellers under the trees, as lovers of all things growing and wholesome.
His only Commander is the Silvan people for he stands in service of them and in return he is respected, and obeyed in all things relative to his commitment.
The Silvan people have no higher leader, and a Warlord may not be appointed by any other than the Silvan Council. Yet theirs too, is the prerogative to destitute him should they so deem it just.
There can be no Warlord without the Silvan people, and no Silvan nation without a Warlord…"
He closed the book carefully, bowed, and then left the circle.
The Master of Ceremonies spoke again then, breaking the introspective silence that had followed Lefnui's reading.
"The debate is open. Consensus must be reached with a majority vote."
Thorontur was the first to stand and walk into the circle. Bowing, he cast his eyes around the circle as any good Councillor would, and then gave his opinion.
"As I understand this, the Warlord is a warrior who may or may not be a member of the Greenwood army. In this case, Lord Legolas is a lieutenant and as such, if he were to be named Warlord, would have precisely the rank of Lieutenant. I believe the Warlord is a more ceremonial figure, a representative, a spokesperson. At present, the Silvan people have no real, elected leader, indeed only recently in the Greenwood Summit, we saw Lords Erthoron and Lorthil sharing that role. If it is their Warlord to represent them, I have no qualms neither to the creation of this figure, nor to Lord Legolas fulfilling it, so long as he answers to his military rank, and is loyal to this realm."
Returning to his seat, it was Lenwë the Silvan, who next walked into the circle.
"Indeed, my Lords, Thorontur is correct. Our Warlord is not a Silvan Commander, as is Lord Celegon. He is a leader of warriors, a defender of our forests, he will be our voice should we need to be heard on a collective level, and it will be us to take that honour away, should he fail in his service to his people. It must not be seen as a threat to the harmony of our land - on the contrary, it is a sign of trust from one people to another - the Sindar to the Silvan, for just as we Silvans serve our King Thranduil - a Sindarin Lord, we ask that you concede this one thing to the Silvan people - our Warlord."
Lenwe bowed and then sat and Handir knew that now, the turmoil would begin, indeed, Merylyth was next, amidst a silence so great even the rustle of her skirts could be heard.
"My Lords. By definition, a Warlord is a leader, and as a leader, he has leave to command. I find it hard to correlate this supposedly ceremonial figure who is subject to the standard military hierarchy, with the definition itself. By conceding a Warlord, we would effectively be creating a co-commander, and even if that is not, theoretically the case, in practice, it would be so.
For now, my vote will be against this petition and against he who is proposed to fulfil it."
Handir glanced at Aradan, whose eyes were narrow and sharp. He knew that look, indeed, Aradan stood and took the floor, and Handir braced himself for a demonstration of pure skill and intelligence that was about to be witnessed.
My Lady, my Lords. Lady Merylyth has effectively summed up the problem I believe to be at the root of many objections. She is against the Warlord because it would be effectively naming a co-commander - a Silvan commander, and you see that as a problem, you believe it should not be allowed. "Why would you think that, my Lady?
You see, I wonder, if it is a purely logical problem, whereby two commanders may or may not work effectively together, or whether it is because one of them - is Silvan…
I hope and pray that this is not the case, my Lady, for the question at hand is not to judge the Silvan people. There must be no question of their loyalty to the crown and therefore, their Warlord, should he come into existence, would also be loyal to the crown. This is not about two sides, it is about one common front against the enemy, for the Greenwood.
Needless to say, I am in agreement with the Silvan people's request and that Lord Legolas should be the one to carry out that role. However, I do see the need to negotiate the exact terms in so far as his specific duties and responsibilities. That, however, is a secondary issue that our Commanders and king must discuss. We, the civilian council, are here to decide whether or not to grant the creation of a Silvan spokesperson, albeit he will be military in nature - it is no more than that, my Lords, and no less."
Aradan bowed and returned to his sit, careful not to let his eyes fall on anyone as he did so.
"You make it sound so frivolous, Lord Aradan," said Draugole in his characteristically droll voice as he floated into the circle. "A Silvan spokesperson… did you see that drawing, my Lord? I did, and I tell you now, that was no spokesperson," he scoffed. "That - was a warrior, a fierce, dangerous warrior - is that what we want as a spokesperson for the forest dwellers? I do not… I see this as an open threat, a way in which the Silvan people wish to gain autonomy for themselves, a schism, a wedge they drive between us. I will not agree with this, and much less the one proposed for it."
And with that, he walked back to his place and sat, his face defiant as it scanned the remaining councillors, only to rest finally upon Legolas.
"Drive a wedge between us…" began Celegon as he strode into the circle. "You, speak of wedges, Lord Draugole? As Commander General, not only do I see no threat, but a true advantage to this new figure. It would drastically improve our military intelli
gence, our planning and strategy, it will bolster the morale of our Silvan warriors not against the Sindar - but in favour of our army - return to them their sense of pride and duty, something they seem to have lost over these past centuries.
You see a fierce and dangerous warrior, indeed that is what Lord Legolas is, but you fail to understand that he is on our side - he is one of us!
Give them their Warlord, for he will be subject to the same military laws as any of us - this is not about Sindar - Silvan schisms - it is about working together. I am highly in favour of this new figure, and I whole-heartedly support Lieutenant Legolas' claim to that office."
"Of course you do," began Bandorion as he stood slowly. "Are you sure there is no Silvan blood in you, Commander General, for you speak like one of them," he said, garnering for himself more than a few whispered insults. "Now, if you need help in the forest, why not create an outpost? Station a regional commander there? That is all it would take and hence, I am against this absurd request. I must also make known my utter horror at the very thought of this - warrior - having any position of authority in our sacred army."
Handir could see the tension in his father's jaw but there was no other sign that he was otherwise annoyed. But one look at Lord Draugole told him that he was not pleased with Bandorion's manner and Handir was not surprised at all.
It was time, and he stood.
"My Lord Bandorion. Your suggestion of creating an outpost and dispatching a regional commander - what is the difference between that and what the Silvan people request? I will tell you - nothing - at - all. Except that of course, the regional commander would be Silvan, or 'one of them' as you have described our woodland brothers. And of course this Warlord would have a ceremonial title which really should not concern you at all. I wonder, therefore, at your reticence and the nature of it for you see, you make no sense. Could you perhaps, elaborate, my Lord?" asked Handir with a pleasant smile on his face as he bowed, and returned to his seat, knowing full well he had just infuriated his distant uncle, but then again, that was exactly what he hoped to achieved for in this he knew Bandorion well, his anger would be his downfall.
The silence stretched on for longer than it had done so far but eventually, Bandorion rose, slowly and carefully, his eyes anchored on his second nephew.
"I will indeed elaborate, Prince Handir, so that you may understand my point more easily. It is not the same thing, for a Silvan Warlord is nothing less than a king to them - it is an unnecessary figure that I feel is threatening to the sovereignty of this land. It feels aggressive. It will rally the Silvans until they turn against us and then what do we do? Rule a land that is divided? No - that would never work and I will not see my realm broken, fractured into tiny pieces all because the Silvans have a whim!"
Handir rose once more but waited for a while for the harsh words to permeate. Only then, did he continue his final onslaught.
"I think we all see your point more clearly now, my Lord. Your choice of words is stunningly revealing. Let me see - ah yes - a Warlord is nothing less than a king to them, or how about a threatening, aggressive figure, or even better, you say the Silvans will turn against their king in favour of this Warlord…
And yet there are no grounds to assume the Nandor want civil war, my Lord. You say too, that you will not see your realm broken - but you see - it already is. The Silvan people are our warriors, they outnumber us five to one and yet you scoff at their culture? You call it a whim, you condone the outrageous prejudice against Silvan warriors becoming officers - you think nothing of that and now, after so much time, they are angry, they are hurt and they want their identity back - you will it or no, Lord Bandorion. This is their land, as much as it can be called anyone's. Who are you to take from them their customs, their beliefs, their rights? Give this council one good reason why a Warlord should not be allowed to exist and I will hear you out - tell me it is redundant, tell me it serves no purpose, tell me it is more dangerous than the situation we already find ourselves in and I will listen and I will think. Until then, I am for the Silvan."
Instead of the shocked silence from before, a mighty cheer went up from the Public area and Handir chanced a glance at them. Their fists were held high and they smiled, while Barathon and Brethil simmered in seething anger.
Handir had played his hand, and Bandorion had allowed his anger to show, and with that loss of control came his true feelings on the matter. Handir hoped it would be enough.
Draugole was back in the circle now, and he pivoted on his heel as he engaged the eyes of every single councillor.
"We surely cannot take this popular talk seriously, indeed we all know why Prince Handir is for the Silvan request. You see, this new brother of his, has him submitted to his every whim. Lord Legolas has played his hand as poor orphan boy and our Prince, admittedly still young, has taken him in. Lord Legolas, is using him to achieve his goals and it is time for someone to open his eyes to the facts. This elf," he pointed directly at Legolas, "hates his Sindarin origins and wishes only to serve the Silvan people - make no mistake," he emphasised, "if we give him this power he will take it, and use it against us, break our nation and everything that our brave king Oropher strove to achieve.
Prince Handir will come to see that, one day. For now it is the responsibility of those of us old and experienced enough to read between the lines, it is we who must guide him on the right path. I beg of you, my brothers, do not give this power to those that will turn on us at the slightest of opportunities."
Handir disciplined himself, mercilessly quelling his rising anger lest he make the same mistake that Bandorion had, and so he stood slowly, and walked even more slowly into the circle, taking the time he needed before speaking for he was sure that whatever came out of his mouth now, may well tip the balance.
"Lord Draugole. I am indeed young, but what has that to do with my arguments? As a councillor, my Lord, you will have an intimate knowledge of what is called a 'fallacy.' However, I am confused for you have used more than one in your speech. You call me young and thus seek to discredit my argument - why do you not attack my argument instead? I will tell you why - because you cannot and hence you resort to the use of fallacies, thinking perhaps that those that listen, will not notice what it is you do. This, to me, seems characteristic of a trainee Councillor, not a member of the Permanent Council.
Secondly, you suggest 'this elf,' he pointed at Legolas, "has me under his control, has tricked and manipulated me in order to gain his own evil intentions. I will tell you now, my Lord, that you have not once seen me together with my brother, that you have no way of knowing the relationship we share and so you see, again, your accusations are a non starter, another fallacy…" he stopped here for effect and tutted three times.
"Serious mistakes indeed, Lord Draugole but there is more. You claim that if Legolas is granted the status of Warlord, that he will use that power against us, to break us. Let me tell you what I know to be the facts, facts that many elves in this room will give testimony to.
He dropped back from a broken patrol on the way to Imladris, to defend them single-handedly against the marauding wargs, risked his life to get them to safety. Commander Celegon himself was there, as was Lieutenant Galadan, here present. But there is more… he saved two children, deep in the forest, against all odds, and he saved my life, on the way here to the Greenwood. He then subjected himself to the Inner Circle, earned their respect and their approval so tell me, my Lord Draugole - why - you continue to doubt him, in spite of what your own kinsman say? But that was a rhetorical question for you see I will answer it for you…
You hate him, both you and Lord Bandorion - you hate him because he is a bastard, because he is half sindarin and half silvan, you hate him for jealousy because he will bring splendour to the Silvan people, because he shamed your son in the sparring circle, precipitated his demotion and the stripping of his Master Swordsman title, but above all you hate him because he is Lassiel's son…!" said Handir, his eyes wide and challenging
, for that last accusation was a risk, and he knew it.
"That is your only reason for disagreeing to the request of the Silvan people. It is that simple my Lords," he said, addressing them all now. "We cannot allow this prejudice to continue, it is unhealthy and unbecoming of our people and it disgusts me. Lord Legolas is our king's son, and as such is my brother but that does not influence my beliefs. He is the best warrior we have, he is loyal unto giving his own life, he has the advantage of shared blood - there is no other that would do this job better than him."
Bandorion made to stand but Draugole held him back discreetly by the forearm, his own furious gaze silently telling his friend to hold, that there would, perhaps, be another opportunity, when the time came to vote.
Sedren, the Master of Ceremony stepped into the circle, his great staff clicking over the stone.
"Are there any more voices that would be heard?" he asked in his booming voice. But Handir's words still echoed in their minds, permeated their own beliefs and mingled, rendering them all speechless and in need of deep thought.
"This council will vote in one hour. The session is closed!" he proclaimed, bringing his staff down with force.
Quiet murmuring accompanied the Councillors as they stood, their eyes seeking out Handir, before leaving to ponder their votes, yet those in the public area remained, for should they leave, they would surely lose their places.
As for Thranduil, he stood, and left, together with Mithrandir, Glorfindel, Aradan and his three sons, but they did not speak until they were safely inside the king's offices and the door firmly shut.
Turning abruptly, the king's eyes settled on Handir's. He seemed enraged for his eyes sparkled and his jaw was clenched, his body rigid and his fists balled at his sides. Handir was worried, terrified almost. He knew he had pushed his luck, and this was the proof of it.
He closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself and when he opened them his father was standing but inches from him.
"I am so sorry," whispered the king.
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