Erestor cast a questioning glance at Elrond, then at Glorfindel, before sitting and accepting a glass of wine from the general.
"Father!" came the exuberant voice of another black-haired elf, one that shared the same sparkling grey eyes as Elrond.
"Welcome home, son. We will speak later of your journey. Join us now."
"Of course," said Elrohir with a scowl, before adding, "where is Elladan?"
"Patience," said Elrond as he turned to them all.
"Well then, now that we are all here," began Elrond. "I will sum up the latest events and the news we have, unexpectedly, stumbled across…"
Lainion nodded encouragingly at Handir, whose face remained serious. The boy was worried, for the elves that had escorted him here, for the brother he had left behind - guilt gnawed at him, and Elrond could see it as clearly as the light of day.
"The Greenwood caravan that was escorting Prince Handir here to tutor with Lord Erestor, was ambushed, five days ride out to the south-west."
Erestor and Elrohir sucked in a harsh breath as they sat on the edge of their seats, leaning forward in anticipation.
"Prince Handir was extracted and escorted here by Lieutenant Lainion, leaving twenty warriors behind. One of them, it seems, is Prince Handir's younger brother…"
Absolute silence fell over the room. Lainion and Handir looked down to the floor in misery but Galdithion's eyes were alight and alive, startled yet knowingly so, it seemed, Galadan's strange words now making complete sense to him. Turning to Lieutenant Lainion, the Avari simply nodded the truth of it to the Silvan warrior, before Elrond was speaking again.
"Prince Handir. It is of the utmost importance that you tell us - is your father aware of his presence? of his existence?"
Handir glanced at Lainion for a brief moment before turning back to Elrond.
"He knows but we assume he believes the child is in Valinor, with his mother…"
Elrond scowled and Glorfindel's eyes closed.
"How did you find him?" asked Elrond bluntly.
"Captain Tirion and Lieutenant Lainion first guessed his heritage, as such perhaps your questions would be better directed at Lainion. I was not aware of this, half-brother, at the time, indeed it was Lieutenant Lainion that told me of him."
"Lieutenant?" asked Elrond
"He presented himself as a novice warrior at the barracks that Captain Tirion commands, on the outskirts of the city. There was no doubt as to his heritage, my Lords, for his face is unmistakable…." he trailed of, the memories of those first days temporarily distracting him from his tale.
"Captain Tirion then sent him to me, ahead of the training program as he was. The problem was that being closer to King Thranduil's court, meant that danger of being discovered was a potential threat. The older, higher-ranking Sindar reside there, the ones that would recognise him beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt. We decided then, that precaution was paramount. You see, my Lords. I knew that our king had a child, but the child was supposed to be in Valinor with his mother - 'tis a long story I will cut short for now, if you will allow."
"Go on," said a pensive Elrond. He wanted the entire story, but now was not, perhaps, the time.
"The presence of a bastard child - a half-Silvan child, would not sit well with the Sindarin purists, who would use this information to their own benefit, or worse still, eliminate what they would surely consider to be a threat to their sovereignty…"
"You speak of treason?" asked Erestor in alarm.
"I speak of its potential, my Lord, yes. You see, the child was conceived as a means to prolong his mother's life, see her safely to Valinor, for without that hope, she would have faded…"
"Why?" asked Glorfindel, stepping a little closer to Lainion.
"Because they were soul mates, my Lord, soul mates that could never bond, for King Oropher would not allow it."
Glorfindel shut his eyes once more, and Lainion continued.
"They were desperate measures, but when faced with the threat of his lover's death, the conception of a child seemed - acceptable. Yet in spite of the measures King Thranduil went to, someone found out - and told our queen…"
"Valar!" said Glorfindel, raking his hand through his hair. "This is - convoluted…"
"Indeed, my Lord. We never knew who was responsible but we suspected it would be someone close to Lord Bandorion."
"He was ever in conflict with Oropher, 'tis true. He - disapproved of his acceptance of the Silvan and Avarin cultures," added Glorfindel, his eyes cast away to the side in painful memory.
"It was, therefore, paramount that Tirion and myself approach the appearance of the child with the utmost caution. As such, we approached the king's closest and most trusted elf, Lord Aradan. We devised a plan, a plan to ensure the boy's continued warrior training, and then send him abroad as soon as possible, where I would then tell him of his heritage, while Lord Aradan would tell the king."
"Why?" asked Elrond flatly. "Why did you withhold this information from the king, from the child?"
"Because, my Lord, there was no telling the king's reaction to the news, no telling what the Sindar would think or do, indeed no telling how the child himself would react. We also have the added difficulty of Crown Prince Rinion. His relationship with his father has - deteriorated - shall we say. Since the queen sailed, he has ever blamed his father - indeed all Thranduil's children have." Lainion stopped for a moment, casting an apologetic glance at Handir before continuing. "News of The Silvan and his prowess in the martial arts caught Rinion's attention, we knew he would seek him out as soon as the boy stepped inside the inner circle of the Greenwood - we could not risk that."
"So," began Elrond, "you waited until the boy was out of reach, and for Rinion to be away, and then included him on this mission."
"Yes," said Lainion. "The king had rewarded the five most talented novice warriors the chance to continue their training here in Imladris - the child is one of these warriors - although no longer a novice."
"How long has he been a warrior?" asked Glorfiindel, slightly puzzled at what Lainion was saying.
"Six months, my Lord."
"What?
"I know, my Lord, but believe me, there is much to say of the child. Suffice it to say he is - precocious …"
Glorfindel continued to stare at Lainion as he resumed his narration of the events that had brought them here.
"And so, I told Legolas of his heritage on our way here - just days before the ambush, and we assume, that Lord Aradan has by now, told the king of the appearance of his son…and, of the implications regarding his lover."
Silence reigned for long moments before Glorfiindel broke it, his voice soft and pensive.
"It would not have been easy - I assume he was brought up by some such family member?"
"Yes," replied Lainion. "His aunt took on the role of mother and brought him up in one of the deep Silvan villages. She never travelled with him, never left that place and neither did her adopted son - until he came of age to train as a warrior and she could no longer hold him back … "
"So he lived his entire life in a Silvan village, unaware of his heritage, believing perhaps his parents to be dead - did this aunt tell him anything at all?" asked Glorfindel, a note of disapproval in his tone.
"Nothing, she would not speak of it - indeed it has been a - problem for the boy that he has, perhaps, yet to come to terms with. The shock of the identity of his father was overwhelming, my Lord."
Handir's face was pulled into a deep scowl and for a moment, Elrond pitied the boy, for of a sudden he seemed so young and vulnerable, his true age becoming evident.
"And so," continued Elrond, "wait, what name does he go by?"
Lainion smiled for the first time that morning and he turned to face Elrond, his deep blue eyes easily meeting Elrond's weighty gaze.
"His given name is Legolas, his warrior name is Hwindohtar, but the people, the Silvan people, simply call him The Silvan."
"Why?" asked Glorfin
del.
"Because he has the face of a Sindar, and the heart of a Silvan. During his short time, first as a novice and then as a warrior, he has excelled - yet more than this the boy has the gift of empathy. For a society such as the Silvan people, relegated by the more radical sections of the Sindar, to second-class citizens, they feel ill-treated. They believe their needs and desires are not being addressed, that their warriors do not ascend to the ranks of leadership as easily as the Sindarin warriors, that they are mere puppets, necessary labour for the designs of the Sindar. In Legolas, they see a spark of hope, a distant light that some believe will one day shine with the force of the very sun, returning to the Silvan people, the role that they should never have lost."
"When they find out who his father is, will he still be that hope?" asked Erestor, somewhat sarcastically. They were all startled though, when Galdithion rose to his feet and lifted his head.
"Yes."
All eyes rested on the Silvan warrior, waiting for him to ellaborate.
"I only found out when Galadan called him 'prince'. I did not understand at the time, but I do now. That he is the bastard son of Thranduil will not change their opinion of him - it will improve it ten-fold. My Lords," he said emphatically, "King Thranduil is highly respected by the Silvan people; it is Lord Bandorion and his circle of Sindarin purists that we disapprove of. They are a minority but they poison the minds of others with their persuasive ways. It must be stopped, and if Legolas is not the one to do it - someone else will."
Elrond stared at the young warrior, respect in his eyes for the elf's confidence, his surety. For some reason this, Galdithion, was loyal to Legolas in a way only more experienced warriors were to their superiors.
"How long have you known Legolas,Galdithion?"
"We met on this journey, my Lord."
"Why, wherefore this loyalty to one that is still so green in the ways of warfare? He is not your superior…"
"In this you are wrong, my Lord. He has not been given rank for indeed, he is new to the army - but when you meet him, when you speak to him, you will see what I see - what Idhrenohtar and Ram en Ondo and Lindohtar see, what Dimaethor here sees… we see a leader, a prince, an extraordinary elf that will, one day, defend those he loves the most - the Silvan people."
Galdithion's bold words rang throughout the study. Glorfindel's experienced eyes studied the Silvan warrior, while Elrond was already ironing out the words in his mind, analysing and weighing up his options.
Finally, the Lord spoke.
"Galdithion. What happened on the road here? How did you get the injured warriors back?"
Galdithion turned to Elrond and smiled sadly. "There were but three of us fit enough to see it done, albeit we were battered and bruised, beyond exhausted, for the battle was fierce. We fashioned structures that hang between the horses. We placed the wounded inside, albeit we knew we would not have the strength to get them back out, not unless we were found. The weather was frigid and storms impeded our progress. Wargs began to hunt us - Legolas knew we would not be able to defend the wounded, let alone ourselves and so he offered to hang back and defend us from behind…"
"Elbereth…" sighed Glorfindel.
"We knew, my Lord, we knew it was nigh on impossible a task, but what else could we do? It was a remote possibility that we could make it to Imladris, that he could buy us enough time to save ten warriors, even if it meant his own demise…"
"How old is this child?" asked Elrohir softly.
"Seven hundred and forty-four," replied Lainon.
"By the Gods," said Glorfindel. "Elladan must have scouted back from your position - he would not be far away…"
"Yes," replied Galdithion. I heard him say that… I just pray …"
"As do we all," came the surprisingly strong voice of Prince Handir, now standing proudly. "I do not know the boy for we have not been formally introduced," he said wryly. "Yet I believe he is alive. If he is as extraordinary as you say, he will have found a way - you will see," he said with such conviction that Lainion was suddenly struck by the worth of this prince. He smiled and then cast his eye on Galdithion who, as yet, was not a member of The Company, but that, he hoped, would soon change, for the Silvan had proven his metal, and Lainon would address that fact as soon as he was able.
Elrond nodded at the prince and Glorfiindel looked on in respect.
"Then we wait," said Elrond. "We wait for Elladan to bring him back and when he does - we will speak again, and then decide what, if anything, should be done. For the moment we must inform him of your arrival and the circumstances surrounding it- I will, however, wait for the missing to return."
"Thank you, my Lord," said Handir, for the first time taking on the role of leader of his people. "I wish to express my gratitude to you and your household, for the attention you have dispensed us with, we are indebted."
Handir finished with a bow, which Elrond returned with a smile. "I must visit the healing wing and check on your warriors, Prince. Will you join me?"
"I will, my Lord," said Handir with a smile.
And so it was, that the Lord and the Prince walked away together, bound for the healing wing, slowly followed by Glorfindel, Elrohir and Erestor, and finally by Galdithion and Lainion. Lainion slung one arm over Galdithion's shoulders and drew him closer.
"You have served well, Galdithion. What say you to a place in The Company?"
"What is The Company?" he asked with a scowl.
"Ah - that, is a long, long story I will tell you about - while we wait for Legolas to return…"
The sky was full of diamonds, sparkling and dimming, dimming and sparkling and then flaring in bright white light that send needles of pain through his eyes and to the back of his throbbing head.
Slowly, the diamonds dissipated and there was white fog, and then grey, until colour defined the objects that lay before his barely open eyes.
Leaves, twigs, branches and beyond, a blue, cloudless sky. He remembered rain and frost, and then mist and yellow eyes, gnashing teeth and stinking hides, pain…
He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the sudden wave of nausea as agony flared in his side and he gasped, in spite of himself.
The trees rustled and creaked and suddenly, he felt colder even than before, strangely bereft and a brief flicker of a distant memory brushed his mind. A child sitting in the lap of an oaken sentinel, a feeling of bliss as he looked to the tree and pressed his cheek deeper into the brown bark and felt overwhelming love…
Scowling, he turned his head and resisted the urge to shake it, for before him, was the image of a Noldorin lord of old. A river of blue-black hair, fashioned into buckles and loops before his ears, piercing grey eyes that sparkled with a wisdom far beyond the years he counted. Rich fabrics of blue, grey and black, and thick leather armour across his chest. The sword at his side was no ordinary blade - nay - for Legolas was learned in warfare, recognised the metal of the first age…
Funny though, he thought, for the image did not disappear and as time spread on, Legolas began to think it may be real, that there really was an elven lord of old, standing before him…
Stop, concentrate - on the road ahead and not on what you saw in the forest. Don't - don't even think on it, for it will lead you astray; I cannot risk that, he will not last.
Foul weather, I can hardly see for the incessant rain and the frigid wind that slows my pace and stings my eyes but I cannot close them, I cannot allow that, for he will not make it should I err on the path.
Cold, so cold, even for early winter; do you purposefully hinder me? Do you test my endurance? and his? What have we done to deserve such punishment?
Where did it come from? that tree with the upturned roots? I have not seen it before and I know this land well, too well. If a storm had twisted it out of the Earth, I would have known, father would have known. No - I cannot fathom its existence, its shape and its …. no - stop; do not even think on it, for it will lead me astray… it is not yet time.
Du
sk had settled upon the house, and inside, the occupants of the healing wing sat and talked quietly, while others lounged in their beds, or picked at their evening meal.
Candle light blazed strong and still, shadows were cast upon the carvings and wooden panels that decorated the walls of this, Noldorin safe haven. It was beautiful, but Idhrenohtar could not concentrate on that now - he was too worried, too focussed on the slightest of disturbances that may come from outside, a sign that someone approached, that Legolas had been found, for two days had now passed and the weather had done nothing but deteriorate.
Together with the Wise Warrior, sat Lindohtar, somewhat awkwardly, and Ram en Ondo, his head still bandaged; in soft chairs to each side of the bed, Galdithion sprawled miserably as he pushed the remains of his food about his plate, and Dimaethor watched him, his foot moving rhythmically.
"I have asked Galdithion if he would join The Company," he said, almost as if he spoke to himself, for his eyes fell on nobody's.
"And what did he answer?" asked Ram en Ondo softly, as if Galdithion were not there at all.
"He asked what it was - what The Company is…"
"Ah, said Lindohtar somewhat theatrically. Now there, is a story…" he said with a soft smile. "I am not the most veteran of those, brave warriors," he said as his smile widened, "Ram en Ondo or Idhrenohtar, together with Legolas, founded that venerable institution, one I am proud to belong to!" he said mischievously, and Galdithion watched him with a bemused smile of his own. His eyes slipped to the Wise Warrior then, and so the story began.
He spoke of childhood in the deep villages of The Greenwood. He spoke of a friendship that would not be broken, a pledge to protect and to respect, a shared destiny of service and obedience. He told of anecdotes that made them laugh, hardship that was shared, burdens that were lessened by the simple presence of another - he spoke of brotherhood beyond the bounds of blood and by the time he had finished and the night was dark, Galdithion sat staring at the four wounded warriors with newfound respect, and with a profound desire to be a part of what they had. Ever had he served the King well, but never - had he received a kind word of acknowledgement for his service. To belong to The Company would change that, it would fuel his calling, push him to new limits, motivate him to do the best job that he was able to do.
The Sylvanus Page 27
