The captains shared a puzzled look amongst themselves as Huron answered.
"Yes. He showed much potential, indeed for us to accept a request to train as a second lieutenant, it can be no other way. He is skilled with the sword and shows potential at strategy."
"Then I do not agree with the ruling."
Huron frowned and then circled Legolas as he spoke.
"You abhor one warrior turning against the other, Darion threw a stone at you, a Lord, in public, and you do not agree to his demotion? Tell me then, what would you do with him?"
"I would speak with him. Darion shamed himself, as a warrior of this realm. He also humiliated me, insulted me in the worst possible way and hence he has insulted his own king. Yet I also believe he is following the dictates of others. I believe he could be re-educated."
"So you would simply speak with him, give him a hug and be done with it?" mocked Huron.
"No, General. I agree there should be some form of punishment, but if he is contrite, if he truly sees the folly of his misconduct, can this realm afford to lose the services of an able warrior?"
"And if he does not rectify his behaviour?"
"Then I would agree with the ruling as it stands."
"Would you apply that rule of thumb always?"
"No, only in situations in which a schism is forming, one that threatens to tear our society in two. Situations in which, should weakness be shown, others may take advantage to press their own claims. It is the military that knows this better than anyone. By showing strength we show determination, leadership yet not in detriment of fair judgement."
The captains had moved slightly closer, for Huron's words seemed to be getting softer and softer.
"You believe that is the situation? Here in the Greenwood?"
"Yes, yes I do. The cultural divide is becoming dangerous, fuelled by those that seek their own, personal gain. I believe it is we, who must protect our people from such destructive ambition, bring this land back together, strong as it once was."
Celegon's frown was deeply etched on his face. "You do not believe we are strong now?"
"We are divided. The Sindar throw stones at the Silvans, impede their passage to command, mock their military skills, treat them as second-class warriors and the Silvans - the Silvans cower in resentment and frustration, insult their commanders when they think they cannot be heard, flock together and reject the Sindar for they believe them to be all the same. We are divided and therefore, we are weak."
"You think all Sindarin commanders treat their silvan warriors thusly?"
"Enough of them, yes. How many Silvans are in this courtyard now? How many of our Captains are Silvan? A tenth perhaps. Why would this be? We have the same bodies, the same minds and therefore the same capacities."
"You speak nonsense," shouted a Sindarin Captain.
"Aye," agreed another. "I do not treat my Silvan warriors as you say. They are loyal and disciplined and I have no reason to complain."
"But they do, Captain," said Legolas, stepping forward a little. "They serve for that is their wish, but their complaints are legitimate - however well they serve their chances of a command are remote - they - have reason to complain."
"I do not believe that," said the Captain, less aggressively now.
"Because you cannot see it. They do not show it because to do so is to go against power. How many Sindarin commanders here, are sons of Lords?" he asked boldly now. "How many trainee lieutenants and captains are sons of Lords?"
"You are the son of a lord," shouted another.
"And I never asked for that. You asked me a question earlier, if I would use my father's name to climb the ranks and I said no - never. I have become a warrior and I have lived this discrimination, seen it and as such I do not want it for myself or for any other. I want a command on my own merits, and that is how I believe it should work."
"So," said another captain, walking forward boldly until he stood before Legolas, a little too close for comfort. "I am the son of Lord Draugole. Do you suggest then, that I am unfit for command? That I am a Captain because my father is a Lord?" he asked challengingly.
"I do not state it is your case for I do not know, but that is a possibility, yes."
There were more gasps for this was Brethil Draugolion, Master swordsman,
The Captain's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Someone needs to teach you a lesson, boy. You have no respect for the Sindarin lords. Thankfully, I will later have the chance to show you why you should…"
He smiled, the promise of suffering behind his twisted lips, before returning to the circle.
"I must say - you are pretty," said Captain Barathon drolly as he began to circle the Silvan. "I mean," he said, daring to touch Legolas' long hair, "no male has hair this long - no real, male…" he said challengingly as he let the light blond locks fall through his fingers.
"Have you ever done it, with a male?" he asked, a daring grin growing on his Sindarin face.
Tirion looked to the heavens in despair. Dorhinen's jaw worked furiously and Huron's eyes sharpened dangerously, but they remained silent.
"I will not answer that," came Legolas' barely controlled answer. He had let his control slip, again, and Barathon had seen it.
"You will not answer because it is true? Or are you embarrassed? Perhaps you are a virgin, yet untried?"
Again, Legolas did not answer, for he was too busy trying to quell his rising temper.
"Oh dear - are you angry, my boy?" he mocked, and then flicked one of Dimaethor's Avarin braids. It was too much.
Legolas' left hand shot out and grasped Barathon's wrist bruisingly, pulling the Sinda towards his now, snarling face.
"Do not touch that," he warned.
"Unhand me," came the measured reply from Barathon, and Legolas realized just how far he had let his temper slip.
Stepping back, Barathon cocked his head to one side.
"You must be a virgin, or perhaps a eunuch, for you do not have the balls to strike me, do you?" he goaded.
Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly found the air brutally knocked from his lungs, Barathon's fist buried deep in his mid section.
Doubling over he struggled for breath, gasping loudly until the spasm ended.
"You, who does not condone one warrior striking out in anger to another, dare to stay your commander's hand?"
"I did not strike you, I blocked you. You struck me," gasped Legolas.
Before he knew what was happening, his legs were swept from under him and he landed awkwardly upon the stone floor.
Dorhinen made to step forward, but Dunorel's arm stopped him.
Rising slowly, Legolas closed his eyes for a moment. He could not allow this captain to rile him, indeed he was ashamed that he had already lost it.
"So is it true - are you a virgin? Do you like boys?" sneered Barathon.
"I will not answer that question."
A fist grabbed at his hair again and Legolas let him. Barathon pulled on it painfully and then threw him to the floor, pulling loose one of his side braids.
"Get up and answer my question!" he shouted, and Legolas could see Barathon was enjoying this too much, and that was his weakness. Legolas had seen it, and he hoped the other captains had, too.
Standing tall once more, he squared himself.
"Well?"
"I will not answer that question."
Barathon's face was turning red and Legolas prepared himself.
A fist connected with the side of his mouth, sending him to his knees. Taking his hand slowly to his cut lip, he stood once more and squared himself.
"Well?" came Barathon's question again, only this time his voice was not steady but bordering on anger.
"I will not answer that question."
Another punch caught him in the temple and Legolas saw stars, unable to stop his body from lunging to one side, just before his knees buckled and he fell once more to the ground. He was not so quick to rise now, for vertigo assailed him - he cou
ld not coordinate himself and for a moment he simply sat and breathed deeply.
"Fool!" spat Barathon, and then he was gone.
Dorhinen and Tirion looked on in unveiled concern as the other captains began to talk quietly amongst themselves. Although it was quiet, it was not enough to be completely ignored, and Dorhinen heard the odd name here and there. "Barathon, Brethil…"
Legolas had moved himself into a kneeling position, deciding it may not be a good idea to rise just yet and so he sat back on his haunches, taking stock of his smarting eye and throbbing lip. His stomach ached from where Barathon had winded him, but he pushed it all away. He needed to centre himself once more and it seemed that the captains realised that too.
Before long though, another elf's boots came into his line of sight.
"You! Get up."
Legolas rose, faltering for a moment before righting himself, albeit his eyes danced involuntarily for a moment until the dizziness began to dissipate.
"Evening is falling. We are hungry and our weapons need cleaning," he said, placing his sword before Legolas on the ground. Before long, a mountain of swords, knives and daggers sat on the ground before him. Someone had left oiled rags and whetting stones and soon enough, he was alone upon the ground, only two guards left to watch over him.
Lifting the first sword, he allowed his eyes to marvel at the design, the beauty of the engravings, the curve of its blade. It was beautiful and so he set to cleaning it and then honing it. An hour passed and still, he rubbed their blades and polished the hilts. His stomach grumbled and his throat was parched but all that mattered now, was the care of these weapons. It was the perfect way to clear his mind and so he allowed the rhythmic movements to lull him into a state of relative peace, distract his mind from the discomfort.
Inside, Huron spoke with Dunorel, Thoron and Lanthir, while Celegon spoke with Tirion, Barathon, Brethil and Forhen.
"You were harsh, Barathon," said Tirion as he sipped on his wine.
"Well, that is what this is about, is it not, to test him."
"And what has his sex life to do with that?" asked Forhen.
"It is a simple provocation, as good as any other."
"Did you honestly expect him to answer?" asked Tirion.
"No," he snickered.
Celegon frowned. "You are enjoying this…" he said.
"Well, just a little," grinned Barathon and then drank once more.
Celegon caught Huron's eyes and their message was clear. Barathon had shown his colours, the others too, had seen it and liked it not, and there would be consequences to be had once this trial was over. The question was, who would be joining him?
Evening was fully upon them, and the wide-eyed runner returned to the king's quarters.
"The duty guard allows no one to pass the gates to the barracks, Sire. He says the Inner Circle is still gathered."
"Thank you," he said and turned inside to his guests.
"What is it?" asked Glorfindel.
"They are still working."
Glorfindel held the king's eyes for a moment before turning back to the magnificent sight of the Evergreen wood that sprawled into the horizon, as far as his eye could see. Beside him, Elladan too, admired its beauty and further out on the balcony, Mithrandir puffed on his pipe, and although his eyes too, seemed trained on the virgin forest, they were unfocussed.
"Well, if I know General Huron at all, they will be giving him a time of it," said Rinion, almost matter-of-factly."
"And that is good," added Handir, for what better way for Legolas to show his worth?"
"I only hope they see sense and do not promote him to trainee captain. Tis too much," muttered Rinion.
"You disagree then, with Commander Glorfindel's report?" asked Mithrandir with a fond smile on his face, one Rinion did not seem to appreciate at all.
"I do."
"Bold words, from a Lieutenant," said Elladan plainly.
"They are true, nonetheless."
"My report," began Glorfindel, somewhat cuttingly, states only what he is capable of, not what would or would not be wise at a given time. I mean what I say - he is capable of that, and if it is not to be, that is because by promoting him, others - would feel discriminated, 'tis that simple, my prince."
"Are you referring to me, my Lord?" asked Rinion boldly with a challenge in his eye.
"No, my Prince, not specifically. I say only that others, would feel discriminated. You would know, of course, If I was right," he said, and Handir smiled at his wit.
Rinion, however, did not, but he did nod and did not press the point.
"Well then, let us dine, my friends. I have much to brief you on."
After a while, when the small talk was done and they had sated their appetites, the king leaned forward to speak.
"It is time to tell you of what the Inner Circle discusses."
Elladan, Mithrandir and Glorfindel shared puzzled expressions.
"They do not discuss my report? His future in the army?" asked Glorfindel.
"They do, but there is more - much more. You see, the Greenwood Summit of which I briefly informed you," began the king, catching Mithrandir's curious gaze, "was much more - transcendental than you may have imagined."
From the look on their faces, Glorfindel deduced that the princes had already been briefed on whatever it was the king would say now, for they held their silence.
"You see, the Silvans have made a request, one I am unsure we can concede - they have requested their own, military representative - they have requested the return of the Silvan Warlord."
Glorfindel's eyes widened as he sat back in his chair, his skin prickling uncomfortably. It was Elladan who spoke first though.
"Where has this come from? Why now? I mean, If I am not mistaken, that figure disappeared with the arrival of the Sindar."
"Indeed, Elladan, but there is unrest, has been for many years for there is a small faction of Sindarin lords that have taken it upon themselves to spread their somewhat racist ways, in favour of a predominantly Sindarin society. It is popular talk that has stuck with many who wish for a return to the elder days of splendour. The result is that the Silvan people, especially their warriors, have been relegated to the lower ranks, in spite of their overwhelming numbers. Unchecked, this discrimination has been allowed to fester, which brings us to this point in time."
"They are rebelling…" guessed Glorfindel.
"Yes…" said the king.
"Do you know, who the instigators are, Thranduil?" asked Mithrandir.
"Oh yes - yes we know, for the most part although we suspect there are more in the shadows. You see it is my own uncle, Bandorion, brother of Oropher. His son, Barathon, is a member of the Inner Circle."
Glorfindel's lip curled at the mention of that name.
"His close collaborator is Lord Draugole, another of those we watch, and coincidentally, his son is also a member of the Inner Circle. I know for a fact that Celegon is eager to root them out, show that they did not earn that right, that their fathers manoeuvred in order to favour their offspring.
"But how did they get the rank in the first place?" asked Elladan, indignant at what the king was explaining.
"They were recommended for it, of course. A lieutenant needs but five Captains to vouch for his ability - these sons of lords had no difficulties in obtaining the necessary backing."
"It is atrocious, for the system itself is a good one but bases itself on the honour of all those involved. I am surprised so many Captains would lie and allow such unworthy warriors to become commanders, with everything that that implies," said Glorfindel.
"Don't get me wrong, Glorfiindel," said the king. "It is the minority that do it, but the question is, why did they concede to granting a rank to such unsuitable candidates? This is what we need to find out for some of us believe there is - more to their machinations than meets the eye."
"And Commander Celegon is correcting this situation, even as we speak," said Rinion.
"Perh
aps, perhaps that is why this trial they put Legolas through is - what it is…" mused Glorfindel. "It makes sense for he too, is the son of a Lord, they will not want to make the same mistake…"
"Indeed," said Thranduil, "I believe that is, indeed the case."
"There's something I still don't understand, Thranduil," said Glorfiindel as he tapped his bottom lip with his index finger. "The Silvans and their Warlord… what has that got to do with Legolas?" he asked, but just as he had asked the question, his forehead abruptly smoothed out. "You cannot mean…"
"They want him. They want the Silvan…"
"Elbereth," whispered Glorfindel. "That is what they do - for you cannot make a decision on that without the full backing of your commanders, because the political storm would be devastating without their loyalty…" said Glorfindel, almost to himself.
"That is right, Glorfindel," began Handir. "You see, the king wished to brief Legolas before the trial, but by passing that duty on to our commanders, we give them the weight of the decision. Only that way, can we assure their loyalty when the time comes to decide, and only that way can they be sure that this son of a lord is worthy of Glorfindel's recommendation."
"That was a wise decision, I believe," said Mithrandir. "They will hardly go against their own recommendations."
"True," said Rinion. "The question of course, is that our army will not condone Legolas being the Silvan Warlord if he is truly not capable, or if his loyalty can, in some way, be called into question. I know for a fact that many worry that he will take a negative stance towards the Sindar, in favour of the Silvan people - worsen an already volatile situation."
"He will not, Rinion. I know that for a fact. He has accepted his Sindarin heritage, no longer reneges it," said Elladan.
"You may know that, Elladan, but we do not and more importantly, they - do not."
They were all silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, until Mithrandir spoke.
"How long have we got, before a decision must be made?" he asked.
The king looked at him plainly. "Two days, Mithrandir. We have two days."
"Why only two days?" asked Glorfindel.
"Because the Silvans are coming, Glorfindel. The forest comes to hear the decision of the king. They will be here in two days."
The Sylvanus Page 62
