"Shall we start then, Mordil?" Alagaith asks with a merry grin as he moves to pour some mint tea for the hard-working elves that have to answer the reviews. "For one last time?"
Tanglinna returns the grin. "Obviously, you cannot see far ahead of you, Linlote!" he replies enigmatically and winks.
This is answered by a dry chuckle. "I don't even dare!"
The Master Archer grins yet again. "Well, someone wanted to see you tormented by your haunted past...." he announces. "The Time Has Come, O Linlote. Beware...."
At this point, his grin turns into laughter that is quickly stifled when a third voice suddenly pipes up: "What do you mean by that, Master Tanglinna?" This question is accompanied by a rather worried look out of huge grey eyes glancing up at the Silvan.
Tanglinna smiles reassuringly at the elfling. "Nothing at all whatsoever. It is nothing for you to worry about. It was only that we needed a story where your daerada and I got to be the heroes instead of your ada."
This provokes yet another chuckle from the elfling's father. "Nicely put, Mordil." Alagaith says with a glance at his son. "You see, Alagant, it is only Master Tanglinna's vanity that is responsible for everything...." Here, a wink is exchanged between the old and the young Noldo, and Alagant is still chuckling a little when he turns to survey the peacocky archer.
Tanglinna bites his tongue, swallowing an appropriate reply, for they must behave now that Alagant has arrived. "Yes, it is most ... convenient to blame Master Tanglinna's vanity for many things that transpire," he says, shooting a glare at Alagaith before he smiles kindly at Alagant, who returns the smile, quite unaware that his ada's joke has not been too kindly received – or already too much of a Noldorin diplomat to show that he has realized this.
"May I print out the reviews, Master Tanglinna?" he politely asks. "My ada says I must ask you, because the printer likes you best."
"You may most certainly print them out." Tanglinna replies. "I suspect that the printer's allegiance to me will be transferred to you immediately. I think it prefers nice young elflings like yourself best." With a smile, he adds: "But, if it gives you any trouble at all, just take Ptath's advice and wave a screwdriver at it. That might work."
This suggestion brings a grin that is entirely too typical of the elder members of a certain family of Noldor to Alagant's innocent young face. "And if that does not work, may I use the screwdriver then?"
Alagaith shakes his head immediately. "No, Alagant.... That is not a good idea. Master Tanglinna would be most unhappy if his dear friend the printer was... damaged in the process." He winks at 'Mordil'. "And, as Dis Thrainsdotter remarks, he is already 'poor Tanglinna', so we must be nice to him."
This seems to convince Alagant; he gives a quick nod before he moves to approach the printer, looking rather pleased to be the one to carry out such an important and difficult task and too preoccupied with it to notice that the two grown-up elves exchange a grin.
Having watched the terrible fights the adult elves have had with this veritable monster of Angband, Alagant takes no chances – he gently talks to the machine, stroking it ever so softly as he pushes the PRINT button - and, for once, the wicked printer seems to behave! A smile, as proud as delighted, comes to Alagant's face, and it even widens when he hears Tanglinna's comment:
"Very well done! What did I tell you! It obviously likes you best for it has never worked so quickly and wonderfully for either your ada or for me. Wonderful job, Alagant!" He smiles at the child joyfully.
Alagant smiles back happily, but taking the pages from the printer, his expression grows serious once again. "The reviews, Master Tanglinna!" he announces with much ceremony and bows like a Noldorin lord handing his king an important document.
Alagaith watches the scene with a smile that seems almost nostalgic, heavy with memories of the court of Nargothrond, at first, but quickly grows very amused when Tanglinna bows as well, not like a Noldorin lord, but merely like a Silvan versed in the court etiquette of his king.
"We must start with kingmaker as always," the Master Archer announces. "I do not want to break with tradition now. Huzzah to your review, young sir!" He grins and laughs a bit. "I fear that your mention of Gurshak drowning," – he flashes a quick look at Alagant before continuing - "himself in woe, suddenly put a picture in my head of him doing said act in a vat of perfume...rather reminiscent of one poor Duke of Clarence in your own history...only with Malmsey and not perfume." Here, his grin turns in one of wicked delight at the image of Gurshak going to his fate smelling... rather strong – this would truly be a 'Dream of Rhovanion', not a 'Nightmare of Mirkwood'!
"Dorwinion might be easier to come by in these parts than Malmsey..." Alagaith muses aloud, looking as if he wonders how Thranduil and his valiant butler might react to the unexpected discovery of a drowned goblin in the wine cellar of Gladaran Thamas. "But.... You are aware, Mordil, that Clarence was the son-in-law or Warwick, and you are also aware whom we are talking to, yes...? So are you implying that Gurshak...?"
Tanglinna glares a bit at Alagaith, and it is hard to tell whether he is upset by these most impudent suggestion or by the fact that the impact of his most erudite discourse got spoiled a bit by the silliness of someone who has apparently yet to learn how to put his historical knowledge to good use.
"I know who George of Clarence was and whom he was married to and whose daughter she was, yes, but I was not meaning to get into all this tangled ancient history, Linlote," he replies with dignity. "I am not entirely certain which side young kingmaker lands on - Lancaster or York, so perhaps we had better leave it at that....Warwick was known for taking both sides of the question, after all, and Tree is decidedly on ONE side and not the other."
He clears his throat a bit before he begins anew: "Lutris was quite right. You were very brave to come to Mirkwood, Linlote. Your decision must have been a most difficult one to make."
Alagaith smiles a bit. "It was not easy, no..." he admits, casting a brief glance at Alagant. "But as you already said, one must decide which side to take at some point, what really matters... And although the evil witch queen claims that it is very clear where I belong, that may have changed since." Still smiling, he raises his eye to look at Tanglinna.
"Life is filled with constant changes, Linlote", the archer wisely replies. "Let us hope this one is a change for the better for all concerned. I think daw the minstrel might agree with the evil witch queen though. Sometimes certain decisions don't always look like the right thing to do at the time, since it is much easier to not change anything."
"Yes...." Alagaith agrees with a sigh. "It is much easier .... But not necessarily better."
At this point, Alagant feels he has to comment as well. "But Miss Aranel and Little One are right!" he exclaims before he turns to smile and wave at his pen-friend. "Changing everything was NOT good at first. And it might have been better at Rivendell... But" – here, he grins at Little One – "in Mirkwood, we have squirrels! And spiders! And Master Tanglinna!"
Having listed these impressive attractions of Thranduil's realm, he falls silent, confident that this is more than enough to match 'puppets and ducks and Glorfindel'.
Alagaith smiles. "Yes, 'and Master Tanglinna'", he repeats. "Phoenix Flight is very right that this is about Linlote visiting Mordil, to a certain degree." He winks at Mordil, receiving a chuckle in return.
"It is good to know that I am in that list of ... interesting things in Mirkwood...along with squirrels and spiders." the 'interesting' Master Archer says, grinning and ruffling Alagant's hair a bit. "I agree with Ptath, Linlote. My 'knight in slightly stained armour was on his way to rescue me...again. It is a very good thing that you did decide to come to Mirkwood...." Glancing at the chapter, he frowns. "Well, I believe it was a good thing...." He does not sound entirely convinced, though, and he shakes his head with a strange expression that conveys some bemusement... or disbelief?
Alagaith laughs a bit at that. "'Rescue' you indeed.... I got you further into trouble, that is everything.... But, as Dis Thrainsdotter observes, I was worried for you.... I could not know that my arrival.... Well - it will be told soon enough." He glances at the chapter. "Now be a good elf and don't forget to tell wellduh... when the chapter starts!"
Tanglinna grins. "Never fear! I will! wellduh thought our last chapter was brilliant and I would do anything she wished!" He throws a kiss to wellduh, looking slightly peacocky once again. "And the last - can I say that, Linlote?"- he winks - "chapter begins....NOW!" With a grand gesture, he points below where it reads:
Epilogue – The Second Prologue
But - - - the chapter does not start yet, for suddenly, Tanglinna seems to hesitate. "...Epilogue - The Second Prologue," he murmurs with a grin. "That is rather confusing!"
"Perhaps a few words of explanation are in order, Mordil?" Alagaith suggests, grinning back.
Tanglinna laughs. "Very well, explain to us what this new devilry is!" he answers with a smirk, obviously pleased to have won this small verbal battle.
Alagaith smiles ever so innocently. "'Devilry', Mordil? Very well - as we are sitting here together quite peacefully, it should be obvious that I was not thrown out of Mirkwood again post-haste.... So there is yet a tale to tell, and it is too long to fit in the last chapter of this story."
"We have never hesitated to write chapter in excess of thirty pages before, Linlote. Why this sudden reticence?" Tanglinna asks, still grinning, but then, he continues: "Very true. There was a much longer tale in here than we realized. One does not simply waltz into Mirkwood unannounced, and be welcomed with open arms by everyone - everyone knowing that said person has a ... questionable past. Of course there is more to this tale than meets the eye."
Alagaith smiles a bit. "No, one should never underestimate a 'questionable past' - it might come back one day and destroy the bright and hopeful future one could have hoped for..." He sighs long-sufferingly before he adds: "What else is to be said? Oh - you get to be the hero, of course!"
"With a lot of help from the growing pack of...Noldor that reside in Mirkwood now." Tanglinna reminds him. "Is that a sufficient explanation for this anomaly?"
The Skulking Cutpurse nods. "I think it is, Mordil."
"Very well then...wellduh, I apologize", the Silver Peacock says. "The chapter really begins now where it reads "Epilogue - The Second Prologue. Is that not right, Alagant?"
Alagant nods with a grin. "Yes, right there!" he agrees as he points at the real beginning of the chapter quite merrily.
"Wait, wait!" Alagaith suddenly calls, pointing at the screen. "There is something we have forgotten... Something important!" He smiles at Ubiquitous Pitt - roguishly, of course, just to indulge her. "We may not forget to answer to these two fine reviews here!"
Tanglinna grins and chuckles at this. "Yes, we cannot forget her. One moment though, Linlote." He tosses his lovely silver hair just for UbiquitousPitt, and shoots her a come hither look before grinning again. "Now perhaps she will invite me to, ahem, 'hot, illicit, steaming...tea??' Perhaps I need only learn to employ my Noldorin charm and that will work."
"Perhaps she will invite both of us?" Alagaith muses - but does not continue when a little voice pipes up: "Hot tea might be good! I think she offers it because she believes that Master Tanglinna is so 'chilled' - why would she think that, Master Tanglinna?" The elfling's look accompanying this question is as curious as innocent.
"I do not know why she would say that, Alagant." Tanglinna replies. "I am not a 'chilled' person at all, am I?" He grins at Linlote before he gazes at the red-haired vixen, lifting one brow in question.
Alagaith returns the grin. "Now, we need not discuss this now, Mordil.... But, please, talk her out of hiring Gurshak as her caterer for her wedding! That does NOT sound like a good plan to me!"
The Master Archer shakes his head. "No, I do not understand that one myself. Though I suspect she might hire him to design her wedding clothes instead. You might agree even with that." He winks. "I am wondering what Erestor might make of all this."
Alagaith chuckles. "Perhaps we should ask him.... But while we do so, we can already let our readers have the chapter, can't we?"
Tanglinna nods. "I believe we can. Oh yes. One moment. UbiquitousPitt, Tree has not forgotten the story about Aralas." Again, he grins a little. "It will be told in our next tale. Now, the real chapter may begin. Yes, there it is, wellduh!"
Epilogue - The Second Prologue
This was how it had come to pass that I was standing in front of a paint- splattered, but obviously happy Silver Peacock now, entirely too aware that there were thick walls and a very solid door between this narrow space and the freedom that I claimed to be so willing to give up, at least for a time. I could still leave now, of course, as long as the gruff guard who had led me in did not grow overly suspicious; yet, it had started, and when I let my eye travel along the walls of the cell, it was not only to convince myself that Mordil could have been cast in much worse a hole or to admire his beautiful paintings, as I had promised to do some day when we had last talked.
Tanglinna, hardly harbouring any of the worries that flitted through my mind, gazed at me, a smile playing about his lips. "You are insane! Totally insane!" Slowly, his smile turned into a grin and then a laugh, as amused as delighted, as he bent to retrieve the fallen brush. "What are you doing here?"
Unable to laugh and share his mirth, I tried to smile at least. He was very right; I was insane, more insane even than he could know... Suddenly, it seemed less easy, even less commendable, to reveal my grand and indeed insane plans then and there. I feared that his obvious joy at seeing me would vanish very quickly once I told him what I had made of his kind advice, and I did not really want to see his smile replaced by a look of disapproval or even pity for my naïve assumption that I would really be allowed to stay in Mirkwood... I had to gain time to find the courage to tell him.
"Bringing you the brandy you requested", I lightly replied, pulling out the bottle from under his cloak with a flourish.
Tanglinna stared at the bottle in amazement, laughing again after a moment or two. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the small bench tucked in one corner, exactly opposite the mural depicting our brandy feast. Oddly enough, this picture looked less caricaturesque than the rest of Mordil's lovely art.
I accepted the seat, but refused the brandy. "I should not drink anything right now... I have to get out of here again, at least for some time, and I will not be able to do that if I am drunk."
My half-hearted try to mention what exactly had brought me here by employing the words 'at least for some time' went unnoticed by Tanglinna; he only grinned and gazed at the doorway. "Ecthelhador - the guard who let you in - would be a bit suspicious if you appeared inebriated when you left", he agreed. "Ever since he let those dwarves escape he has been a bit overzealous. But if you do not want to partake of this," – a nod indicated the brandy - "then I will wait until you are safely gone." He smiled at me again, and it was reassuring to know that he felt so pleased about my visit; I did have a friend in him. "How is your son?" he enquired now. "And Seven?"
"They are fine," I replied, aware that I did not quite sound and look as if I meant what I said, even though it was true. But conversing about such everyday matters and pretending that there was nothing more important to worry about would only make it harder to say what had to be said at some point; I had to get it over with. At once. "Perhaps..." I began very hesitantly. "Perhaps you will meet Alagant soon... or so I hope..."
Valar! I sounded as ridiculous as I felt! How could this ever turn out well if even the simplest part started badly? Tanglinna frowned. "I would love to meet him...but... Um, where are you staying just now? When I am finally free of this cell I could come and see you." He smiled, still friendly and unsuspecting, still so very unaware of where I was heading.
I should finally have explained what I meant, but all I managed to come up with was a counter-question: "How long will you have to stay here?"
Tanglinna chuckled slightly, leaning back against the stone wall, legs stretched out in front of him. "I do not know. I await the king's pleasure," he replied with a grin, looking entirely too much at ease for a poor prisoner who had not even been informed about the length of his sentence.
They had not even told him how long they were going to keep him here, and yet, even though he was facing the wicked thief who was at least indirectly responsible for this, he spoke about it so blithely... Perhaps it was guilt at having brought this about by my cowardice of running away instead of staying to stand trial that finally made me bold enough to speak openly. "I am sorry to hear that. Maybe your time here will not be quite as long if they learn that the prisoner you... lost has arrived to turn himself in?"
There – it was said, the first step was taken. . . and rewarded with nothing but laughter when Tanglinna turned to look at me. "Ah," he commented eloquently. "So I merely have to give you over to them after everything I suffered to let you go? Very funny, Linlote."
He thought this was a joke, nothing but a silly joke, making light of his sacrifice, his willingness to go through this for me.... How could he believe such a thing? Very well... Perhaps he had reason to believe it. After what had happened in the goblin lair, he could not think too highly of my sense of humour.
Hoping that he would believe me that I was not merely jesting, I begged: ""Please do not laugh, Mordil, I... I mean this."
Apparently, my assurance was not overly convincing; Tanglinna continued to laugh. "Of course you do."
Still grinning, he turned to look at me, and he finally seemed to realize that I had meant what I had said; his amused expression turned into a frown, and he sat up. "What are you talking about, Alagaith?"
I clearly had his attention now, but I remained silent for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Some insidious little voice in my head whispered at me that I could still turn back now; I could pretend that this had only been a very elaborate performance to scare my friend a little, a game, a joke, nothing... But that was not what I wanted. So, holding Tanglinna's gaze, I explained: "That night, after we had left those charming goblins... You said a lot of things, especially that I should try to change my life, that it was not all hopeless..." He could probably tell by now that I was utterly serious, serious enough to be very afraid, and it did not lessen my fear that I could bring myself to ask the question that was at the heart of it now, softly and not without hesitation, but still: "Do you think that, if I told them that I am willing to stand trial and accept whatever punishment they decide upon, they would let me stay... afterwards? And Alagant?"
Poor Mordil looked positively stunned; having gaped at me for a moment, he asked, still bewildered: "But...what if they want to cut off your hand? I mean...that..." He fell silent, looking concerned, and I could not help wondering whether he had seen this done to other criminals and knew well, too well, what I was in for, or whether just a vague idea of the terrible punishment scared him. "You really want to live here in Greenwood...I mean, Mirkwood", he finally continued with a deep frown, still looking worried for me; yet, there was something else in his eyes, some measure of guarded joy, as if the thought that I was going to stay pleased him. "You...you truly want to do this?"
I nodded firmly. "I do. I have thought about this for a long time, and... even if they cut off my hand" – I contemplated said hand for a moment, secretly thinking that it would be a waste to remove a hand that could have served Mirkwood well wielding a sword – "I will hopefully be of some use." Grinning at Tanglinna, both to reassure him and to keep my own doubts at bay, I added: "I can also use a scimitar with my left hand, you know?"
Tanglinna tried to smile and failed. Silence fell, a painful silence heavy with fear unspoken on both sides; then, however, a look of resolve came over Mordil's features. "I will not LET them cut off your hand!" he declared, sounding as self-assured as the peacock I had named him, but also as if he meant every word. "I will tell Thranduil that...that he has to let you stay, and that he has to let you keep your hand since you saved my life in Gurshak's lair...I did tell him the truth, though no one really seemed to believe me at the time." His face reddened a bit as if 'the time' was not exactly pleasant to remember, but his determination did not waver: "He will have to let you stay." He nodded his head, whether to bolster his own courage or to soothe me, I did not know.
In any case, I was moved by his words and his kindness, his unquestioning readiness to do so much for me although what he had done for me already had brought him to the dungeon. Precisely for that reason, I shook my head now. "You will not get yourself into any further trouble because of me - this" – I indicated the bleak cell – "is bad enough, so let them do what they believe to have to do. I shall treat this as sort of unconditional surrender... I... will accept their terms."
This had not been an easy thing to say, and it would be even harder to force myself into humility and submission once it would be necessary, but I would do so; even if it should turn out that there was little else to gain by the ordeal, this friendship was well worth trying almost everything to be allowed to stay.
"No," Tanglinna said. "I will not let them take your hand. For all that I am sitting here," – he gestured vaguely with his hand – "my life must be worth something to them. I shall ask that your hand be saved - your hand for my life. Fair trade, I would say." His grin was jaunty enough, but there was just a hint of doubt in his face; he knew he could not promise anything, but I did not demand that.
"That would be going a bit too far, Tanglinna!" I protested, touched anyway that he was ready to go so far. "But... Thank you."
"It is not too far at all," Mordil replied rather cockily. "Too far would be letting them cut off my hand instead!" He chuckled. "I doubt they would do it, but I think they are grooming either Heledir or Tavor to take over my job, so maybe they would." His somewhat ironic grin let me assume that he was not quite serious.
"I do hope they would not!" I answered. "Besides, I would not allow you to offer that." Glad that we talked about this more lightly than it might have been appropriate, I winked at him.
Tanglinna smiled. "Then you will have to hope that if I ....Hm..." He appeared lost in thought for a moment before he continued: "If it comes to that, I will ..." – he cleared his throat – "beg for your hand on my knees. Thranduil might be shocked to see me so humbled before him that he might comply." He grinned again, but I could imagine well enough that he was not entirely comfortable with the thought.
I raised an eyebrow. "No, thanks, Mordil - that would probably kill you." I smiled a bit, willing to continue the merry banter, but suddenly feeling quite unable to do so; fear was catching on quickly. "And perhaps, it will not hurt that much, after all - the fear before is always the worst thing, and then, there is one good thing about it - it will ruin that accursed brand!" That would, indeed, be the only advantage of losing my hand, for the lack of a hand could easily be explained as due to an accident or a wound received in battle, while there was no way to explain away a cam- tehta and its grim meaning.
Tanglinna raised one brow, mirroring the expression my face had worn just moments before. "It would not kill me. I am a bit harder to get rid of than that," he assured me with a grin. "You are set on this? You truly want to come here?"
Yes, I did; I was certain. "It seems a good place to live.... And perhaps... it could become home, or something like that." Smiling a bit wistfully, I added for honesty's sake: "But I am aware that it will not be easy."
Tanglinna slowly nodded. "Very well then. When did you want to talk to the king? He occasionally visits me, but if you like I will call Ecthelhador now." He was watching me intently, and I understood that this – not the question he had asked before – was his real way of learning how resolved I was.
I nodded with the impassive face he probably knew very well by now, the face I would put on to brave the inevitable with as much dignity as I could scrape together. "Do so, please." This was not exactly what I had planned, but very well – why not right now? It would create a fairly bad impression that I had lied to Ecthelhador in order to visit Tanglinna, but then, King Thranduil's opinion of me could hardly get any worse after the little discussion we had had on the edge of the battlefield.
Tanglinna slowly rose and moved to the door, hesitating and glancing at me once more as if he wished to make sure that I was really set to this course.
I smiled at this. True enough, this might have been the last moment to change my decision, but it could not be changed any more. "You seem to be more afraid than I am, Mordil - just get over with it."
Tanglinna grinned slightly at my bravado, but then, he resolutely turned to grasp the cell's barred window and called for Ecthelhador.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------
The iron bars were cold beneath my hands, as icy as the fear that beat so within my chest like a dwarf's hammer. My knuckles were white upon the black bars, and I had to force myself to relax my grip.
He really wanted to do this....He really wanted to start a new life here in Mirkwood. What was he thinking?!
Yet, even as part of me quailed at the thought of what they might do to him – this repeated offender and escapee –part of me admired his bravery for wanting to make a new start for he and his son, and there was a part of me – the most selfish part – that capered like a joyous child. He wanted to live here! And I wanted him to come here.
I wanted him to come here with his son, to live in a nice house suited to them and their needs. I remembered worrying that they would be cold this winter or hungry , and though I knew he had told me that Gurshak's brooch had been a great boon to them, I still worried. What would they do when that money or the goods they had obtained from its sale ran out?
But, he was here and wanted something better for himself and his family than the uncertainty that his life had been for so long. He was incredibly brave...or foolish...perhaps a little of both and I admired him greatly for it.
"Ecthelhador!" I called, my voice sounding odd as it echoed off the corridor's chill, unrelieved stone walls.
The captain of the guards approached my cell rather more slowly than was normal, a look of guarded suspicion on his face. He had not yet recovered from the embarrassment of the dwarves' escape, and had been overly suspicious and overly dutiful ever since. He came to stand before the door, trying to peer past me, wanting to get a look at my mysterious visitor, no doubt. He knew as well as I did that this was going against one of the stipulations of my imprisonment – no visitors was certainly one of them - and he probably was feeling a bit remorseful and regretting that he had let Alagaith talk his way in here.
"I need to see the king," I said meeting his gaze quite firmly, allowing him no room for discussion. "Now."
He frowned at this, thinking that I was not in a position to order him or anyone else at the present moment about so callously; probably thought I was being demanding and unreasonable. I was the prisoner, after all, and he was the guard. I was here because I had displeased the king and therefore I had no right to make demands on anyone.
He tried once more to see around me, but I moved deliberately before the cell window, completely blocking his view, one of my brows shooting upward.
"The king is not available at your beck and call, Tanglinna," he informed me with a sneer, giving up the attempt to see Alagaith and moving away from the cell, clearly dismissing me. "He is dining with his family and is not to be disturbed." He turned then, a grin on his face, cocky in his assurance that he was in the right...and he was....
But never let it be said that I backed down because things were against me!
"Disturb him anyway!" I called, pressed against the bars, glaring at him. "This is very important!"
He hesitated, and I knew he wondered once more just who my visitor was for he turned again, scowling this time as he weighed his choices carefully. Then, grumbling a little, he headed back up the corridor and vanished beyond my sight.
I turned to Alagaith, thinking that he looked very pale in the dim light.
"This is your last chance to flee," I told him quietly.
This was his last chance to escape this place before Ecthelhador returned...alone or not remained to be seen. I felt torn, which could only pale in comparison to what Alagaith must be feeling! I wanted him safely away from here where he could keep his freedom and his hand. Yet, I wanted him to stay, and perhaps Thranduil would be merciful. He could be when he so chose, and Alagaith's plea should touch his heart.
Alagaith's integrity showed in his willingness to come here and submit himself to the king's justice. Thranduil would have to take that into account!
"It is," he answered me, rising to his feet and moving to stand behind me, "but I will stay." He grinned then, an infectious grin that almost hid his fear from me. But the overwhelming uncertainty of this situation shone quite clearly in his one eye. I could only imagine what sort of terrified thoughts must be running like untamed stallions in his head – unrestrained and wild.
I attempted to grin as well, to reassure him.
"I thought you were fairly good at picking locks, Linlote," I quipped, realizing how obvious this attempt at levity sounded. "What is this? Did you forget your needle?"
I lifted one brow jauntily, but I knew he could see my concern for him.
"You know that the locks only open after quite some time if I pick them." He attempted another smile, nearly failing and my own fear nearly took the fore.
"I just wasn't twisting my wrist correctly or it would have opened sooner," I murmured with a sigh, turning to the door and trying to see down the hallway, uncertainty and apprehension twisting inside me like twin snakes.
Why did Thranduil have to be at dinner just now? Surely it was much too late for dinner! Or too early! It was very hard to keep track of the time down here. There were days when I was not sure if it was day or night outside in the real world. Thranduil would not be pleased that I had called him away from an intimate, oh-so-rare family dinner. Maybe I should have waited a while. Maybe I should -
There was a flare of torch light and low voices...Someone was coming down the corridor even now. One voice sounded worried and annoyed, the other merely sounded ... annoyed...very annoyed. Ai, Valar!
"I still do not understand what this is all about, Ecthelhador. I hope you are not calling me away from my family on a whim of Tanglinna's."
Oh, yes. Thranduil was coming this way, and he was not pleased at all by the interruption of his peaceful evening with his wife and children.
Ecthelhador stammered something I could not make out, and I turned to look at Alagaith, smiling in reassurance. By the Valar, I hoped he knew what he was getting himself into by coming here!
"All will be well," I murmured, trying to convince myself of this also. Not so easily done.
His return smile was as brief as a flash of lightning, barely seen before it was gone as his worry took over full force. The moment to gracefully and unobtrusively exit had passed. There was no other course now; he had no choice but to go through with this. He looked even paler than before and I wondered briefly what he was thinking. Perhaps it was about losing his hand...or thinking about whatever Laebrui and Nimdir had said about the spiders. Then I saw his eye dart to the brand that marred his wrist, and wondered if he were perhaps remembering that dread day when they had come at him with a hot iron and seared his unwilling flesh for all time.
I winced, not wanting to think of what that must have been like for him.... How much worse would loosing his hand altogether be?
Swallowing back my own rising fear and gazing at the door once more, I was startled to see Ecthelhador's face there in the window, glaring at me. Things had obviously not gone well for him either. I glared back not caring. But then Thranduil was there, looking very put out indeed. One golden brow rose.
"You need something?" he asked in a very clipped voice as if he did not want to waste his breath on speaking to me.
I cleared my throat, mustering my courage. If it were myself at stake in this grand game and not someone else, I would not have hesitated to return this with some quip or cutting remark. But it was not me, whose freedom was at sake, so I controlled my natural inclinations –hard as this was – and tried to form words of deepest sincerity. Why, oh why, had I not prepared a speech before now - something eloquent with just the right amount of passion tempered with logic; something that would make Thranduil look more favourably on poor Alagaith?
I cleared my throat again for good measure.
"Aranhir...there is someone I would like you to meet."
Not the best of beginnings, and I would never be lauded for my clever words, but it was a start.
Thranduil sighed, all his exasperation and annoyance made clear in that one exhalation.
"I can look at your pictures later, Tanglinna," he said. "I was having dinner when Ecthelhador said you had to see me immediately."
Had I said 'immediately'?
"I hope," he continued, narrowing his eyes, "you did not think I would come running down here to look at your paintings."
I shook my head for that was not my intention. He must know I would not interrupt him for something that trivial.
"No, this is a real person. Please, hir-nin." I gazed hopefully at him, wanting him to see that this was important.
His brow rose sceptically as he turned to glance ever so briefly at Ecthelhador, who stepped away from him, no doubt wondering what the king would make of his allowing a 'real person' into any cell without permission.
"A 'real person', Tanglinna?" Thranduil queried. "Your better self, I presume." I could see he was indeed thinking about the rule that stated I was to have no visitors – he, of course, did not count and came whenever he felt like tormenting me. But I dare not say that!
"Um, yes," I answered most eloquently. "I seem to recall....something like that." Clearly that ridiculous rule was on my mind as well! I shook my head. I would not be sidetracked! "But...well...you see...."
I hazarded a glance at Alagaith – my 'better self'. "I do have a visitor, one that you should really meet...properly. Ecthelhador...it was not his fault that he let him in."
My eyes moved to the guard at Thranduil's shoulder and a slight smirk quirked my lips. Hopefully, Thranduil would see that it was Ecthelhador's fault!
"He probably forgot that little stipulation...there were so many of them." It was best to not pursue that course, so.... "So...I suppose you should just...come in here and meet my visitor...properly."
I bowed slightly, gesturing gracefully with my arm as though I were welcoming him into my home and not a prison cell, wondering if he would humor me or gag me and chain me to the wall until he had finished his meal – probably making it a seven course feast, with wine at the end of it to be sipped at a leisurely pace while I thought about my rudeness in summoning him here.
The king frowned, not looking any more pleased than he had, but he nodded at Ecthelhador to open the door. Then his gaze, swift as a hawk on the hunt, returned to me, letting me see his displeasure - and telling me quite plainly by the thunderous look on his face alone - that if this were some ridiculous ruse on my part, I would be very sorry indeed!
I moved swiftly aside as he swept into the cell. I glanced hurriedly at Alagaith, who bowed in a most elegant and formal fashion in a way that I had not seen before. He must have been terrified, but he was hiding it well. I smiled at him, wanting to know that I was very proud of the way he was handling himself, and to know I would stand beside him regardless of what lay ahead.
"Uh...Aranhir," I said, glancing from one to the other and back again. "This is...Alagaith Alagaerion...a good friend of mine." I tried to smile, trying to appear calm, as if this was normal and that there was nothing unusual at all about this situation. I was merely introducing a friend to the king...that was all, nothing odd or strange about this. Nothing whatsoever.... "You may remember him...from...before...." I finished rather lamely, cursing myself for not expressing what I was feeling in the manner that I should.
I am certain he did remember Alagaith! Only too well, I feared! One does not forget an insult so easily or swiftly. Certainly not Oropherion.
Thranduil's icy eyes turned upon me, then back to Alagaith, then back to me once more.
"A very good friend of yours!" he hissed in a low voice filled with leonine menace. "And someone I should remember, you believe?"
Obviously, he did recall, for a storm brewed in those blue Sindarin eyes, turning them nearly slate-coloured. No, this was not going to go easily, smoothly, or swiftly. I straightened then, lifting my chin slightly in the only act of defiance that I dared, wishing I could match Thranduil's height just this once. But if this storm were going to break, then it would break on me, not on Alagaith.
"Yes, Aranhir. Do you recall that story I told you...when I returned after the battle at Erebor? About the... hole in the ground?"
Please let him remember the part about Gurshak that had so delighted him before! Let him humiliate me all he liked! I could curse him for this later! I tried to look guileless and innocent, and hoping that he would not push me into saying something I did not want to say, something we would all regret.
"I do recall this story, Tanglinna – my memory is not so short that I would forget that easily why you will be here for yet a while."
Somehow, I knew my current open-ended sentence was now probably doubled in length with those carefully emphasized words, but so be it!
"I did not think you had forgotten, Aranhir."
The moment had arrived, there was no more delaying or wondering what should be said or done. I merely needed the right words to say and....
I hazarded a glance at Alagaith, hoping that he had not changed his mind during this disheartening conversation. He was so very pale that my heart ached for him. He probably rued the day he had ever laid eyes on me! I turned swiftly to Thranduil once more.
"Alagaith has come to ask a boon of you, hir-nin. And I am asking you to please listen to what he has to say before you...before you answer." I was making a plea for mercy right from the start! It was, perhaps, our only hope.
Oropher's son still looked highly displeased. I knew he was very angry with both Alagaith for his boldness, which Thranduil no doubt saw as the utmost insolence, and at me for daring to support this thief still.
"Very well," he said. "Make your plea then, thief." His cold eyes lit once more on Alagaith....
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------
I should have been glad that the king did allow me to speak instead of having me thrown in the deepest dungeons these caves had to offer at once, but all I felt was fear, springing from the utter certainty that this could not end well. I had not only committed a crime; I had also insulted and ridiculed the one person who could grant me mercy. What had I been thinking when I had assumed that this could work? Now that the moment had come, I realized just how bold I was to believe that I had any hope.
Nevertheless, I spoke swiftly, without hesitation. "As far as the charge against me is concerned, I do not ask for clemency, my king, and I am deeply sorry that my flight has caused all this commotion." I did feel sorry – for Mordil, who had paid so very dearly for the one crime of being a good and compassionate elf. Having glanced at him for the briefest moment, I focused my attention on the king again and continued: "I did, however, not intend to escape punishment; there were urgent matters I had to attend to, and Tanglinna was kind enough to grant me the time to see to those things. I do apologize for any inconvenience this... unusual solution may have caused you or your subjects, my king, and ask but one mercy of you - that you will allow me, and my son, to stay in your realm once I have atoned for my crimes."
Having finished my improvised speech, I knelt and inclined my head to await the king's judgement, hoping that this version of what had happened would at least be sufficient to shorten Tanglinna's imprisonment, but not sure of that at all. I regretted that I had not asked him what exactly he had told the king to explain my absence; we should have talked more about this and acted less rashly, to make our tales match and decide upon a promising strategy...
I was aware that Tanglinna was staring at me, but I dared not raise my eye to meet his gaze and read in it if my story was reconcilable with his; it was too late for this, and for countless other things...
The king's cold, impassive voice cut the silence like a well-sharpened blade. "What 'urgent matters' were they that you convinced my warrior to let you go when he had orders to bring you here? They must have been urgent indeed." Here, he paused, but merely to glance at his Master Archer coolly, not to give me enough time to come up with a nice, convincing explanation. "Well? If I am to believe what you are saying, then answer my question."
I gazed up at the king, hoping that the expression of serenity that I had willed my features into did not seem too forced and unconvincing. It was not only fear that I had to keep out of my face. A nervous, yet grimly amused grin threatened to twist my lips; it was ironic – too ironic! – that I had to give the king almost exactly the explanation that he had so joked about earlier. Hungry elflings indeed...
"I have a son of twelve years, my king, and I had left him in the care of an orc in order to be able to... search for useful things on the battlefield, promising said orc a scimitar or sword in return." I would have to apologize to Seven for describing what had happened like this, but I felt quite unable to explain to Thranduil that this orc happened to be a very good friend of mine and that searching for a scimitar for him had been quite a natural favour, not anything comparable to payment or a bribe. "You will understand that I wished to make sure that my son was well and properly taken care of before I came here."
At this point, Tanglinna tried to intervene, but he did not get very far. "He...the..." he began and was instantly silenced again by an imperious glare before the king turned to look back at me.
"This makes no sense, thief. If you were looking for a scimitar or a sword, then why did Tanglinna find you taking Lalven's cloak? The clasp of which was already in your pocket."
Fortunately, I realized just in time that the way this question had been phrased had been a deliberate provocation. Forcing myself not to tell the king that he had apparently failed to listen properly, I patiently replied: "The fact that I was looking for a sword or scimitar, among other things, does not mean that I was resolved to let a good opportunity slip, my king - and I did need a cloak at that time. And the clasp seemed precious enough to me - I might have been able to sell it." This was the truth; yet I wondered how kindly my words would be received. If it had already been rather difficult for Mordil to grasp why I had deemed it necessary to appropriate Gurshak's clothing, the high and mighty king of Mirkwood would not have much understanding for what had been behind my theft on the battlefield; what I had said would only cement his view that I was a worthless criminal, a skulking cutpurse indeed...
One of Thranduil's brows was raised as if in speculation. "Yet now you come to me and want to 'atone' for your crimes?" he enquired, his voice still chill as a winter night. "And then you want me to allow you to stay here? May I ask why you have had this sudden change of heart? I did not realize that it was so easy to just stop being a thief."
Even though these words were spoken in callous mockery, meant to test my resolve in the best case, but more likely making light of it, the king was very right. No, it was not easy to just stop being a thief, but for quite different reasons than those self-righteous, wise Wood-elves apparently assumed.
"Once a thief always a thief" Ecthelhador, whom I had almost forgotten by then, muttered. This remark earned him a glare and a clenched fist from Tanglinna, and marginal as this exchange may seem, it was what kept me from giving up at that point.
The captain of the guards had expressed the opinion that most people were going to have of me quite nicely. It was the obvious thing to say, and it would have been easy for Mordil to ignore it; yet, he had not done so, and his wordless defence filled me with unexpectedly deep gratitude. There was someone who believed in me and my sincerity unconditionally, and perhaps, he had been right when he had said that one person's belief could be enough. I would not let him down by giving up now.
So, silently sending a prayer for strength and composure to the merciful Valar, I answered: "It is not, my king - and I will frankly tell you that earlier attempts to change my life have not been successful, as I met with too much distrust to even be allowed to stay in the places whose inhabitants I approached in the hope to be granted that mercy. But Tanglinna was kind enough to talk to me for a long time while we were travelling here from Erebor, and what he said gave me some faint hope."
Faint hope it was indeed, growing even fainter now under the king's piercing eyes. "What if I said that your hand would indeed still be forfeit for your crime?" he asked, shooting a warning glare at his Master Archer, who had made a small noise and opened his mouth to speak at this pronouncement, but finally was wise enough to keep silent. "Answer me."
I had believed that I had already been afraid earlier, but now that the dreadful punishment – more severe than any imprisonment, beating or humiliation could be, and also more lasting in its consequences – seemed about to be dealt to me, I decided that what I had felt before qualified as moderate unease at most. What had I gotten myself into? But I known that it this would happen, and I should have known that it would feel just like this.
"I will accept this punishment, my king." I said, glad that my voice was calm and unwavering, even if I was probably paler than ever now. Looking up at the king, I added: "And if you wished to tell me now that a one-handed elf would be of little use to your realm, I would have to gainsay you; I can wield a sword with either hand, and I am sure that I will be able to do whatever work you ask me to do with one hand as well; at least, I shall try."
Having stated this, I lowered my gaze again, certain that he would order someone to cut my hand of right on the spot or take a sword himself to deal terrible justice; so be it, if it had to be! I only hoped that he would not ask Mordil to do it, for that was the one thing that would have been harder to bear than anything else, and I implored Manwe and Varda and all other Valar to keep that thought far from the wood-elf king's mind.
But... nothing happened, or at least not what I had expected. Thranduil studied me for a moment before his eyes came to rest upon Tanglinna, who looked decidedly worried. "Then this ridiculous tale that Tanglinna told me about you defending him by defeating this goblin - Gurshul or whatever his name was - in a fight was true?" he enquired.
Daunting as everything was at that point, I had to force myself not to burst into laughter. I did not know how far the king's knowledge of Eastern Orcish went; if he knew one or two words of it, at least, he may have chosen to turn 'Gurshak' into 'Gurshul' – 'moonlike heart' – on purpose. "It is true that I defeated that goblin, my king."
"Prove it." he ordered.
Prove it? How should I prove that I had defeated Gurshak? Tanglinna, who had been the only witness to the scene, had already spoken for me, and the king could hardly expect me to bring 'Gurshul' here to testify to my words... or could he?
I must have looked somewhat puzzled for a moment or two, and the king decided not to wait for a reply; instead, he turned to tell Ecthelhador to fetch two swords, two, not one... So he wanted me to prove my skill with a blade? That was a good thing, a very good thing... It meant that there was still some hope! Maybe, if I impressed him, he would decide to let me stay, and if I was very lucky, he would be impressed enough to concede that hacking off my sword hand would not be in his best interest... All could still be well, they might let me keep my hand, or decide merely to hew off my left hand, the one that I fought less well with... There was hope, a faint bit of hope, but still hope...
I should have taken the frown and the look of distress that had come to Tanglinna's face more seriously; had I thought about the matter more thoroughly, I would have realized that the king's order did not have to point to a chance readily offered, but could also be the prelude to an act of utmost perfidy.
What was he doing?!
I stared at Thranduil, wondering what he was hoping to accomplish by this. On the surface it seemed obvious – he was testing Alagaith's skill with a blade; yet like the still surface of a pond, one never knew what lay beneath, hidden in the shadowy depths. There was more to this than met the eye, and that worried me.
Alagaith looked amazingly relieved, and that was good...but...he did not realize the gravity of this situation, did he? I think he knew it to some extent, yes, but his skill with a sword was not all that Thranduil was looking for. Did he realize that? I doubted it; he did not know the king as well as I did.
Ecthelhador returned bearing two light swords with long, elegant silver blades and curved, spiralling ornate handles. He looked as uncertain about this situation as I was. He too, knew that our king's simple order masked something greater.
Thranduil gazed at those blades – delicate things not made for war but for duelling – indeed they were used to display prowess, grace, fancy footwork. It was more of a dance than anything else! The king's blue gaze flicked to Alagaith.
"Rise," he ordered sharply. "You cannot fight on your knees. Choose a sword."
Ecthelhador looked very distressed by this, no doubt wondering how wise it was to allow this 'thief' to have a weapon; but he held out the swords, which looked identical to me. They were fancy trinkets given to Thranduil for something or other, no doubt.
My friend did as bidden, gazing carefully at the proffered weapons, taking them in hand and checking the weight and balance, making a few practice swipes in our very confined space. A smile crossed my face, and pride welled within me, though I could take no credit for any of his skill. Alagaith's performance now was very different from what it had been in the cell in the lair! Now he knew what he was doing, and showed it! Gladly!
I noticed that Thranduil watched him appraisingly, and not with mere cold indifference. I thanked the Valar for this chance – though I still harboured doubts as to what the intent truly was.
At last, Alagaith had chosen a sword to use and gazed expectantly at Thranduil, awaiting further instructions.
"You say you are a good swordsman?" the king asked.
Alagaith stared at him for a moment.
"I have not said that, my king," he said finally, and in truth he had not, I had. "I know how to use a sword – that is all."
'That is all'...That was hardly all! But Thranduil was speaking again.
"Against a goblin, yes. But what about an elf?"
One brow arched in challenge as Thranduil took the second sword, testing this weapon himself, before looking back at Alagaith. Surely, Thranduil would not fight him!
"I cannot answer so general a question, my king. When I crossed blades with elves in the past, they were most often Noldor, schooled in the same way of sword fighting that I was trained in my youth."
The king's brow quirked again, and his lips twitched slightly.
"But since you say you wish to live here – with my Wood-elves, perhaps I should see how well you will fare with them. If you can best one of my warriors...well.... We shall see if you can."
Thranduil smirked then and turned to me. He pressed the sword into my hand; it felt entirely too light to be a real sword. I made an odd noise of protest – I was no swordsman, real sword or no! I was an archer! – but the king was speaking again, giving me no time to voice my protest.
"Tanglinna is not my best warrior with a sword, but if I see that you are holding back – or he is – then I will doubt the sincerity of your intentions. You merely need to disarm him...."
At least he did not need to wound me!
"...and again...I do not want to see either of you holding back or your...boon is denied, though your hand is mine by law."
I was stunned by this most unexpected turn of events! The few times I had employed my sword had been in battle with a dire enemy. Celair-Dagnir had been made for hacking and bashing in war, not prancing about and parrying like some dandyish fop! Even the lessons I had taken with Riwmegor had been with real swords, not these overgrown needles!
But Alagaith merely inclined his head. Obviously this sort of 'fighting' was fine with him.... Would that I felt so confident!
"I have but one request, my king," Alagaith said quietly. "This cell is very narrow. It would hardly be a proper fight in here, and," he turned to smile at me, "I would hate to damage the most amazing artwork on that wall by chance."
'Damage the artwork'? 'Damage the artwork'?! What about damaging me?! I knew that happened in these mock duels, not on purpose, but by chance. And worse still – what if I damaged him!! It would be a strange turn if I did, but it was possible! I did not even want to think of that!
Thranduil's eyes moved to the painted wall, probably to the two 'happy elves' with the brandy bottles seated beneath a tree. He smirked at what he saw there, the twisted lips making his face not very pleasant to look upon. He turned back to Alagaith.
"Of course. We shall move to a larger, more accommodating area. Perhaps a few witnesses are in order. Follow me."
.
"Thus, two sword-bearing elves followed a smirking, golden-haired demon who could hardly be described as a 'good and wise king' now, out of the cell.
"I am sorry," Tanglinna quietly said, glancing at Alagaith. "I did not know he would do this."
Alagaith tried to smile reassuringly and almost succeeded. "I know, Mordil - do not worry. We shall give him a fight he will never forget." –
"I doubt I will ever forget it!" Tanglinna replied, quite unable to enjoy the fact that he was finally free of the cell, at least.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, trailed by a grinning Ecthelhador.
The... Beginning?
Tanglinna returns the grin. "Obviously, you cannot see far ahead of you, Linlote!" he replies enigmatically and winks.
This is answered by a dry chuckle. "I don't even dare!"
The Master Archer grins yet again. "Well, someone wanted to see you tormented by your haunted past...." he announces. "The Time Has Come, O Linlote. Beware...."
At this point, his grin turns into laughter that is quickly stifled when a third voice suddenly pipes up: "What do you mean by that, Master Tanglinna?" This question is accompanied by a rather worried look out of huge grey eyes glancing up at the Silvan.
Tanglinna smiles reassuringly at the elfling. "Nothing at all whatsoever. It is nothing for you to worry about. It was only that we needed a story where your daerada and I got to be the heroes instead of your ada."
This provokes yet another chuckle from the elfling's father. "Nicely put, Mordil." Alagaith says with a glance at his son. "You see, Alagant, it is only Master Tanglinna's vanity that is responsible for everything...." Here, a wink is exchanged between the old and the young Noldo, and Alagant is still chuckling a little when he turns to survey the peacocky archer.
Tanglinna bites his tongue, swallowing an appropriate reply, for they must behave now that Alagant has arrived. "Yes, it is most ... convenient to blame Master Tanglinna's vanity for many things that transpire," he says, shooting a glare at Alagaith before he smiles kindly at Alagant, who returns the smile, quite unaware that his ada's joke has not been too kindly received – or already too much of a Noldorin diplomat to show that he has realized this.
"May I print out the reviews, Master Tanglinna?" he politely asks. "My ada says I must ask you, because the printer likes you best."
"You may most certainly print them out." Tanglinna replies. "I suspect that the printer's allegiance to me will be transferred to you immediately. I think it prefers nice young elflings like yourself best." With a smile, he adds: "But, if it gives you any trouble at all, just take Ptath's advice and wave a screwdriver at it. That might work."
This suggestion brings a grin that is entirely too typical of the elder members of a certain family of Noldor to Alagant's innocent young face. "And if that does not work, may I use the screwdriver then?"
Alagaith shakes his head immediately. "No, Alagant.... That is not a good idea. Master Tanglinna would be most unhappy if his dear friend the printer was... damaged in the process." He winks at 'Mordil'. "And, as Dis Thrainsdotter remarks, he is already 'poor Tanglinna', so we must be nice to him."
This seems to convince Alagant; he gives a quick nod before he moves to approach the printer, looking rather pleased to be the one to carry out such an important and difficult task and too preoccupied with it to notice that the two grown-up elves exchange a grin.
Having watched the terrible fights the adult elves have had with this veritable monster of Angband, Alagant takes no chances – he gently talks to the machine, stroking it ever so softly as he pushes the PRINT button - and, for once, the wicked printer seems to behave! A smile, as proud as delighted, comes to Alagant's face, and it even widens when he hears Tanglinna's comment:
"Very well done! What did I tell you! It obviously likes you best for it has never worked so quickly and wonderfully for either your ada or for me. Wonderful job, Alagant!" He smiles at the child joyfully.
Alagant smiles back happily, but taking the pages from the printer, his expression grows serious once again. "The reviews, Master Tanglinna!" he announces with much ceremony and bows like a Noldorin lord handing his king an important document.
Alagaith watches the scene with a smile that seems almost nostalgic, heavy with memories of the court of Nargothrond, at first, but quickly grows very amused when Tanglinna bows as well, not like a Noldorin lord, but merely like a Silvan versed in the court etiquette of his king.
"We must start with kingmaker as always," the Master Archer announces. "I do not want to break with tradition now. Huzzah to your review, young sir!" He grins and laughs a bit. "I fear that your mention of Gurshak drowning," – he flashes a quick look at Alagant before continuing - "himself in woe, suddenly put a picture in my head of him doing said act in a vat of perfume...rather reminiscent of one poor Duke of Clarence in your own history...only with Malmsey and not perfume." Here, his grin turns in one of wicked delight at the image of Gurshak going to his fate smelling... rather strong – this would truly be a 'Dream of Rhovanion', not a 'Nightmare of Mirkwood'!
"Dorwinion might be easier to come by in these parts than Malmsey..." Alagaith muses aloud, looking as if he wonders how Thranduil and his valiant butler might react to the unexpected discovery of a drowned goblin in the wine cellar of Gladaran Thamas. "But.... You are aware, Mordil, that Clarence was the son-in-law or Warwick, and you are also aware whom we are talking to, yes...? So are you implying that Gurshak...?"
Tanglinna glares a bit at Alagaith, and it is hard to tell whether he is upset by these most impudent suggestion or by the fact that the impact of his most erudite discourse got spoiled a bit by the silliness of someone who has apparently yet to learn how to put his historical knowledge to good use.
"I know who George of Clarence was and whom he was married to and whose daughter she was, yes, but I was not meaning to get into all this tangled ancient history, Linlote," he replies with dignity. "I am not entirely certain which side young kingmaker lands on - Lancaster or York, so perhaps we had better leave it at that....Warwick was known for taking both sides of the question, after all, and Tree is decidedly on ONE side and not the other."
He clears his throat a bit before he begins anew: "Lutris was quite right. You were very brave to come to Mirkwood, Linlote. Your decision must have been a most difficult one to make."
Alagaith smiles a bit. "It was not easy, no..." he admits, casting a brief glance at Alagant. "But as you already said, one must decide which side to take at some point, what really matters... And although the evil witch queen claims that it is very clear where I belong, that may have changed since." Still smiling, he raises his eye to look at Tanglinna.
"Life is filled with constant changes, Linlote", the archer wisely replies. "Let us hope this one is a change for the better for all concerned. I think daw the minstrel might agree with the evil witch queen though. Sometimes certain decisions don't always look like the right thing to do at the time, since it is much easier to not change anything."
"Yes...." Alagaith agrees with a sigh. "It is much easier .... But not necessarily better."
At this point, Alagant feels he has to comment as well. "But Miss Aranel and Little One are right!" he exclaims before he turns to smile and wave at his pen-friend. "Changing everything was NOT good at first. And it might have been better at Rivendell... But" – here, he grins at Little One – "in Mirkwood, we have squirrels! And spiders! And Master Tanglinna!"
Having listed these impressive attractions of Thranduil's realm, he falls silent, confident that this is more than enough to match 'puppets and ducks and Glorfindel'.
Alagaith smiles. "Yes, 'and Master Tanglinna'", he repeats. "Phoenix Flight is very right that this is about Linlote visiting Mordil, to a certain degree." He winks at Mordil, receiving a chuckle in return.
"It is good to know that I am in that list of ... interesting things in Mirkwood...along with squirrels and spiders." the 'interesting' Master Archer says, grinning and ruffling Alagant's hair a bit. "I agree with Ptath, Linlote. My 'knight in slightly stained armour was on his way to rescue me...again. It is a very good thing that you did decide to come to Mirkwood...." Glancing at the chapter, he frowns. "Well, I believe it was a good thing...." He does not sound entirely convinced, though, and he shakes his head with a strange expression that conveys some bemusement... or disbelief?
Alagaith laughs a bit at that. "'Rescue' you indeed.... I got you further into trouble, that is everything.... But, as Dis Thrainsdotter observes, I was worried for you.... I could not know that my arrival.... Well - it will be told soon enough." He glances at the chapter. "Now be a good elf and don't forget to tell wellduh... when the chapter starts!"
Tanglinna grins. "Never fear! I will! wellduh thought our last chapter was brilliant and I would do anything she wished!" He throws a kiss to wellduh, looking slightly peacocky once again. "And the last - can I say that, Linlote?"- he winks - "chapter begins....NOW!" With a grand gesture, he points below where it reads:
Epilogue – The Second Prologue
But - - - the chapter does not start yet, for suddenly, Tanglinna seems to hesitate. "...Epilogue - The Second Prologue," he murmurs with a grin. "That is rather confusing!"
"Perhaps a few words of explanation are in order, Mordil?" Alagaith suggests, grinning back.
Tanglinna laughs. "Very well, explain to us what this new devilry is!" he answers with a smirk, obviously pleased to have won this small verbal battle.
Alagaith smiles ever so innocently. "'Devilry', Mordil? Very well - as we are sitting here together quite peacefully, it should be obvious that I was not thrown out of Mirkwood again post-haste.... So there is yet a tale to tell, and it is too long to fit in the last chapter of this story."
"We have never hesitated to write chapter in excess of thirty pages before, Linlote. Why this sudden reticence?" Tanglinna asks, still grinning, but then, he continues: "Very true. There was a much longer tale in here than we realized. One does not simply waltz into Mirkwood unannounced, and be welcomed with open arms by everyone - everyone knowing that said person has a ... questionable past. Of course there is more to this tale than meets the eye."
Alagaith smiles a bit. "No, one should never underestimate a 'questionable past' - it might come back one day and destroy the bright and hopeful future one could have hoped for..." He sighs long-sufferingly before he adds: "What else is to be said? Oh - you get to be the hero, of course!"
"With a lot of help from the growing pack of...Noldor that reside in Mirkwood now." Tanglinna reminds him. "Is that a sufficient explanation for this anomaly?"
The Skulking Cutpurse nods. "I think it is, Mordil."
"Very well then...wellduh, I apologize", the Silver Peacock says. "The chapter really begins now where it reads "Epilogue - The Second Prologue. Is that not right, Alagant?"
Alagant nods with a grin. "Yes, right there!" he agrees as he points at the real beginning of the chapter quite merrily.
"Wait, wait!" Alagaith suddenly calls, pointing at the screen. "There is something we have forgotten... Something important!" He smiles at Ubiquitous Pitt - roguishly, of course, just to indulge her. "We may not forget to answer to these two fine reviews here!"
Tanglinna grins and chuckles at this. "Yes, we cannot forget her. One moment though, Linlote." He tosses his lovely silver hair just for UbiquitousPitt, and shoots her a come hither look before grinning again. "Now perhaps she will invite me to, ahem, 'hot, illicit, steaming...tea??' Perhaps I need only learn to employ my Noldorin charm and that will work."
"Perhaps she will invite both of us?" Alagaith muses - but does not continue when a little voice pipes up: "Hot tea might be good! I think she offers it because she believes that Master Tanglinna is so 'chilled' - why would she think that, Master Tanglinna?" The elfling's look accompanying this question is as curious as innocent.
"I do not know why she would say that, Alagant." Tanglinna replies. "I am not a 'chilled' person at all, am I?" He grins at Linlote before he gazes at the red-haired vixen, lifting one brow in question.
Alagaith returns the grin. "Now, we need not discuss this now, Mordil.... But, please, talk her out of hiring Gurshak as her caterer for her wedding! That does NOT sound like a good plan to me!"
The Master Archer shakes his head. "No, I do not understand that one myself. Though I suspect she might hire him to design her wedding clothes instead. You might agree even with that." He winks. "I am wondering what Erestor might make of all this."
Alagaith chuckles. "Perhaps we should ask him.... But while we do so, we can already let our readers have the chapter, can't we?"
Tanglinna nods. "I believe we can. Oh yes. One moment. UbiquitousPitt, Tree has not forgotten the story about Aralas." Again, he grins a little. "It will be told in our next tale. Now, the real chapter may begin. Yes, there it is, wellduh!"
Epilogue - The Second Prologue
This was how it had come to pass that I was standing in front of a paint- splattered, but obviously happy Silver Peacock now, entirely too aware that there were thick walls and a very solid door between this narrow space and the freedom that I claimed to be so willing to give up, at least for a time. I could still leave now, of course, as long as the gruff guard who had led me in did not grow overly suspicious; yet, it had started, and when I let my eye travel along the walls of the cell, it was not only to convince myself that Mordil could have been cast in much worse a hole or to admire his beautiful paintings, as I had promised to do some day when we had last talked.
Tanglinna, hardly harbouring any of the worries that flitted through my mind, gazed at me, a smile playing about his lips. "You are insane! Totally insane!" Slowly, his smile turned into a grin and then a laugh, as amused as delighted, as he bent to retrieve the fallen brush. "What are you doing here?"
Unable to laugh and share his mirth, I tried to smile at least. He was very right; I was insane, more insane even than he could know... Suddenly, it seemed less easy, even less commendable, to reveal my grand and indeed insane plans then and there. I feared that his obvious joy at seeing me would vanish very quickly once I told him what I had made of his kind advice, and I did not really want to see his smile replaced by a look of disapproval or even pity for my naïve assumption that I would really be allowed to stay in Mirkwood... I had to gain time to find the courage to tell him.
"Bringing you the brandy you requested", I lightly replied, pulling out the bottle from under his cloak with a flourish.
Tanglinna stared at the bottle in amazement, laughing again after a moment or two. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the small bench tucked in one corner, exactly opposite the mural depicting our brandy feast. Oddly enough, this picture looked less caricaturesque than the rest of Mordil's lovely art.
I accepted the seat, but refused the brandy. "I should not drink anything right now... I have to get out of here again, at least for some time, and I will not be able to do that if I am drunk."
My half-hearted try to mention what exactly had brought me here by employing the words 'at least for some time' went unnoticed by Tanglinna; he only grinned and gazed at the doorway. "Ecthelhador - the guard who let you in - would be a bit suspicious if you appeared inebriated when you left", he agreed. "Ever since he let those dwarves escape he has been a bit overzealous. But if you do not want to partake of this," – a nod indicated the brandy - "then I will wait until you are safely gone." He smiled at me again, and it was reassuring to know that he felt so pleased about my visit; I did have a friend in him. "How is your son?" he enquired now. "And Seven?"
"They are fine," I replied, aware that I did not quite sound and look as if I meant what I said, even though it was true. But conversing about such everyday matters and pretending that there was nothing more important to worry about would only make it harder to say what had to be said at some point; I had to get it over with. At once. "Perhaps..." I began very hesitantly. "Perhaps you will meet Alagant soon... or so I hope..."
Valar! I sounded as ridiculous as I felt! How could this ever turn out well if even the simplest part started badly? Tanglinna frowned. "I would love to meet him...but... Um, where are you staying just now? When I am finally free of this cell I could come and see you." He smiled, still friendly and unsuspecting, still so very unaware of where I was heading.
I should finally have explained what I meant, but all I managed to come up with was a counter-question: "How long will you have to stay here?"
Tanglinna chuckled slightly, leaning back against the stone wall, legs stretched out in front of him. "I do not know. I await the king's pleasure," he replied with a grin, looking entirely too much at ease for a poor prisoner who had not even been informed about the length of his sentence.
They had not even told him how long they were going to keep him here, and yet, even though he was facing the wicked thief who was at least indirectly responsible for this, he spoke about it so blithely... Perhaps it was guilt at having brought this about by my cowardice of running away instead of staying to stand trial that finally made me bold enough to speak openly. "I am sorry to hear that. Maybe your time here will not be quite as long if they learn that the prisoner you... lost has arrived to turn himself in?"
There – it was said, the first step was taken. . . and rewarded with nothing but laughter when Tanglinna turned to look at me. "Ah," he commented eloquently. "So I merely have to give you over to them after everything I suffered to let you go? Very funny, Linlote."
He thought this was a joke, nothing but a silly joke, making light of his sacrifice, his willingness to go through this for me.... How could he believe such a thing? Very well... Perhaps he had reason to believe it. After what had happened in the goblin lair, he could not think too highly of my sense of humour.
Hoping that he would believe me that I was not merely jesting, I begged: ""Please do not laugh, Mordil, I... I mean this."
Apparently, my assurance was not overly convincing; Tanglinna continued to laugh. "Of course you do."
Still grinning, he turned to look at me, and he finally seemed to realize that I had meant what I had said; his amused expression turned into a frown, and he sat up. "What are you talking about, Alagaith?"
I clearly had his attention now, but I remained silent for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Some insidious little voice in my head whispered at me that I could still turn back now; I could pretend that this had only been a very elaborate performance to scare my friend a little, a game, a joke, nothing... But that was not what I wanted. So, holding Tanglinna's gaze, I explained: "That night, after we had left those charming goblins... You said a lot of things, especially that I should try to change my life, that it was not all hopeless..." He could probably tell by now that I was utterly serious, serious enough to be very afraid, and it did not lessen my fear that I could bring myself to ask the question that was at the heart of it now, softly and not without hesitation, but still: "Do you think that, if I told them that I am willing to stand trial and accept whatever punishment they decide upon, they would let me stay... afterwards? And Alagant?"
Poor Mordil looked positively stunned; having gaped at me for a moment, he asked, still bewildered: "But...what if they want to cut off your hand? I mean...that..." He fell silent, looking concerned, and I could not help wondering whether he had seen this done to other criminals and knew well, too well, what I was in for, or whether just a vague idea of the terrible punishment scared him. "You really want to live here in Greenwood...I mean, Mirkwood", he finally continued with a deep frown, still looking worried for me; yet, there was something else in his eyes, some measure of guarded joy, as if the thought that I was going to stay pleased him. "You...you truly want to do this?"
I nodded firmly. "I do. I have thought about this for a long time, and... even if they cut off my hand" – I contemplated said hand for a moment, secretly thinking that it would be a waste to remove a hand that could have served Mirkwood well wielding a sword – "I will hopefully be of some use." Grinning at Tanglinna, both to reassure him and to keep my own doubts at bay, I added: "I can also use a scimitar with my left hand, you know?"
Tanglinna tried to smile and failed. Silence fell, a painful silence heavy with fear unspoken on both sides; then, however, a look of resolve came over Mordil's features. "I will not LET them cut off your hand!" he declared, sounding as self-assured as the peacock I had named him, but also as if he meant every word. "I will tell Thranduil that...that he has to let you stay, and that he has to let you keep your hand since you saved my life in Gurshak's lair...I did tell him the truth, though no one really seemed to believe me at the time." His face reddened a bit as if 'the time' was not exactly pleasant to remember, but his determination did not waver: "He will have to let you stay." He nodded his head, whether to bolster his own courage or to soothe me, I did not know.
In any case, I was moved by his words and his kindness, his unquestioning readiness to do so much for me although what he had done for me already had brought him to the dungeon. Precisely for that reason, I shook my head now. "You will not get yourself into any further trouble because of me - this" – I indicated the bleak cell – "is bad enough, so let them do what they believe to have to do. I shall treat this as sort of unconditional surrender... I... will accept their terms."
This had not been an easy thing to say, and it would be even harder to force myself into humility and submission once it would be necessary, but I would do so; even if it should turn out that there was little else to gain by the ordeal, this friendship was well worth trying almost everything to be allowed to stay.
"No," Tanglinna said. "I will not let them take your hand. For all that I am sitting here," – he gestured vaguely with his hand – "my life must be worth something to them. I shall ask that your hand be saved - your hand for my life. Fair trade, I would say." His grin was jaunty enough, but there was just a hint of doubt in his face; he knew he could not promise anything, but I did not demand that.
"That would be going a bit too far, Tanglinna!" I protested, touched anyway that he was ready to go so far. "But... Thank you."
"It is not too far at all," Mordil replied rather cockily. "Too far would be letting them cut off my hand instead!" He chuckled. "I doubt they would do it, but I think they are grooming either Heledir or Tavor to take over my job, so maybe they would." His somewhat ironic grin let me assume that he was not quite serious.
"I do hope they would not!" I answered. "Besides, I would not allow you to offer that." Glad that we talked about this more lightly than it might have been appropriate, I winked at him.
Tanglinna smiled. "Then you will have to hope that if I ....Hm..." He appeared lost in thought for a moment before he continued: "If it comes to that, I will ..." – he cleared his throat – "beg for your hand on my knees. Thranduil might be shocked to see me so humbled before him that he might comply." He grinned again, but I could imagine well enough that he was not entirely comfortable with the thought.
I raised an eyebrow. "No, thanks, Mordil - that would probably kill you." I smiled a bit, willing to continue the merry banter, but suddenly feeling quite unable to do so; fear was catching on quickly. "And perhaps, it will not hurt that much, after all - the fear before is always the worst thing, and then, there is one good thing about it - it will ruin that accursed brand!" That would, indeed, be the only advantage of losing my hand, for the lack of a hand could easily be explained as due to an accident or a wound received in battle, while there was no way to explain away a cam- tehta and its grim meaning.
Tanglinna raised one brow, mirroring the expression my face had worn just moments before. "It would not kill me. I am a bit harder to get rid of than that," he assured me with a grin. "You are set on this? You truly want to come here?"
Yes, I did; I was certain. "It seems a good place to live.... And perhaps... it could become home, or something like that." Smiling a bit wistfully, I added for honesty's sake: "But I am aware that it will not be easy."
Tanglinna slowly nodded. "Very well then. When did you want to talk to the king? He occasionally visits me, but if you like I will call Ecthelhador now." He was watching me intently, and I understood that this – not the question he had asked before – was his real way of learning how resolved I was.
I nodded with the impassive face he probably knew very well by now, the face I would put on to brave the inevitable with as much dignity as I could scrape together. "Do so, please." This was not exactly what I had planned, but very well – why not right now? It would create a fairly bad impression that I had lied to Ecthelhador in order to visit Tanglinna, but then, King Thranduil's opinion of me could hardly get any worse after the little discussion we had had on the edge of the battlefield.
Tanglinna slowly rose and moved to the door, hesitating and glancing at me once more as if he wished to make sure that I was really set to this course.
I smiled at this. True enough, this might have been the last moment to change my decision, but it could not be changed any more. "You seem to be more afraid than I am, Mordil - just get over with it."
Tanglinna grinned slightly at my bravado, but then, he resolutely turned to grasp the cell's barred window and called for Ecthelhador.
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The iron bars were cold beneath my hands, as icy as the fear that beat so within my chest like a dwarf's hammer. My knuckles were white upon the black bars, and I had to force myself to relax my grip.
He really wanted to do this....He really wanted to start a new life here in Mirkwood. What was he thinking?!
Yet, even as part of me quailed at the thought of what they might do to him – this repeated offender and escapee –part of me admired his bravery for wanting to make a new start for he and his son, and there was a part of me – the most selfish part – that capered like a joyous child. He wanted to live here! And I wanted him to come here.
I wanted him to come here with his son, to live in a nice house suited to them and their needs. I remembered worrying that they would be cold this winter or hungry , and though I knew he had told me that Gurshak's brooch had been a great boon to them, I still worried. What would they do when that money or the goods they had obtained from its sale ran out?
But, he was here and wanted something better for himself and his family than the uncertainty that his life had been for so long. He was incredibly brave...or foolish...perhaps a little of both and I admired him greatly for it.
"Ecthelhador!" I called, my voice sounding odd as it echoed off the corridor's chill, unrelieved stone walls.
The captain of the guards approached my cell rather more slowly than was normal, a look of guarded suspicion on his face. He had not yet recovered from the embarrassment of the dwarves' escape, and had been overly suspicious and overly dutiful ever since. He came to stand before the door, trying to peer past me, wanting to get a look at my mysterious visitor, no doubt. He knew as well as I did that this was going against one of the stipulations of my imprisonment – no visitors was certainly one of them - and he probably was feeling a bit remorseful and regretting that he had let Alagaith talk his way in here.
"I need to see the king," I said meeting his gaze quite firmly, allowing him no room for discussion. "Now."
He frowned at this, thinking that I was not in a position to order him or anyone else at the present moment about so callously; probably thought I was being demanding and unreasonable. I was the prisoner, after all, and he was the guard. I was here because I had displeased the king and therefore I had no right to make demands on anyone.
He tried once more to see around me, but I moved deliberately before the cell window, completely blocking his view, one of my brows shooting upward.
"The king is not available at your beck and call, Tanglinna," he informed me with a sneer, giving up the attempt to see Alagaith and moving away from the cell, clearly dismissing me. "He is dining with his family and is not to be disturbed." He turned then, a grin on his face, cocky in his assurance that he was in the right...and he was....
But never let it be said that I backed down because things were against me!
"Disturb him anyway!" I called, pressed against the bars, glaring at him. "This is very important!"
He hesitated, and I knew he wondered once more just who my visitor was for he turned again, scowling this time as he weighed his choices carefully. Then, grumbling a little, he headed back up the corridor and vanished beyond my sight.
I turned to Alagaith, thinking that he looked very pale in the dim light.
"This is your last chance to flee," I told him quietly.
This was his last chance to escape this place before Ecthelhador returned...alone or not remained to be seen. I felt torn, which could only pale in comparison to what Alagaith must be feeling! I wanted him safely away from here where he could keep his freedom and his hand. Yet, I wanted him to stay, and perhaps Thranduil would be merciful. He could be when he so chose, and Alagaith's plea should touch his heart.
Alagaith's integrity showed in his willingness to come here and submit himself to the king's justice. Thranduil would have to take that into account!
"It is," he answered me, rising to his feet and moving to stand behind me, "but I will stay." He grinned then, an infectious grin that almost hid his fear from me. But the overwhelming uncertainty of this situation shone quite clearly in his one eye. I could only imagine what sort of terrified thoughts must be running like untamed stallions in his head – unrestrained and wild.
I attempted to grin as well, to reassure him.
"I thought you were fairly good at picking locks, Linlote," I quipped, realizing how obvious this attempt at levity sounded. "What is this? Did you forget your needle?"
I lifted one brow jauntily, but I knew he could see my concern for him.
"You know that the locks only open after quite some time if I pick them." He attempted another smile, nearly failing and my own fear nearly took the fore.
"I just wasn't twisting my wrist correctly or it would have opened sooner," I murmured with a sigh, turning to the door and trying to see down the hallway, uncertainty and apprehension twisting inside me like twin snakes.
Why did Thranduil have to be at dinner just now? Surely it was much too late for dinner! Or too early! It was very hard to keep track of the time down here. There were days when I was not sure if it was day or night outside in the real world. Thranduil would not be pleased that I had called him away from an intimate, oh-so-rare family dinner. Maybe I should have waited a while. Maybe I should -
There was a flare of torch light and low voices...Someone was coming down the corridor even now. One voice sounded worried and annoyed, the other merely sounded ... annoyed...very annoyed. Ai, Valar!
"I still do not understand what this is all about, Ecthelhador. I hope you are not calling me away from my family on a whim of Tanglinna's."
Oh, yes. Thranduil was coming this way, and he was not pleased at all by the interruption of his peaceful evening with his wife and children.
Ecthelhador stammered something I could not make out, and I turned to look at Alagaith, smiling in reassurance. By the Valar, I hoped he knew what he was getting himself into by coming here!
"All will be well," I murmured, trying to convince myself of this also. Not so easily done.
His return smile was as brief as a flash of lightning, barely seen before it was gone as his worry took over full force. The moment to gracefully and unobtrusively exit had passed. There was no other course now; he had no choice but to go through with this. He looked even paler than before and I wondered briefly what he was thinking. Perhaps it was about losing his hand...or thinking about whatever Laebrui and Nimdir had said about the spiders. Then I saw his eye dart to the brand that marred his wrist, and wondered if he were perhaps remembering that dread day when they had come at him with a hot iron and seared his unwilling flesh for all time.
I winced, not wanting to think of what that must have been like for him.... How much worse would loosing his hand altogether be?
Swallowing back my own rising fear and gazing at the door once more, I was startled to see Ecthelhador's face there in the window, glaring at me. Things had obviously not gone well for him either. I glared back not caring. But then Thranduil was there, looking very put out indeed. One golden brow rose.
"You need something?" he asked in a very clipped voice as if he did not want to waste his breath on speaking to me.
I cleared my throat, mustering my courage. If it were myself at stake in this grand game and not someone else, I would not have hesitated to return this with some quip or cutting remark. But it was not me, whose freedom was at sake, so I controlled my natural inclinations –hard as this was – and tried to form words of deepest sincerity. Why, oh why, had I not prepared a speech before now - something eloquent with just the right amount of passion tempered with logic; something that would make Thranduil look more favourably on poor Alagaith?
I cleared my throat again for good measure.
"Aranhir...there is someone I would like you to meet."
Not the best of beginnings, and I would never be lauded for my clever words, but it was a start.
Thranduil sighed, all his exasperation and annoyance made clear in that one exhalation.
"I can look at your pictures later, Tanglinna," he said. "I was having dinner when Ecthelhador said you had to see me immediately."
Had I said 'immediately'?
"I hope," he continued, narrowing his eyes, "you did not think I would come running down here to look at your paintings."
I shook my head for that was not my intention. He must know I would not interrupt him for something that trivial.
"No, this is a real person. Please, hir-nin." I gazed hopefully at him, wanting him to see that this was important.
His brow rose sceptically as he turned to glance ever so briefly at Ecthelhador, who stepped away from him, no doubt wondering what the king would make of his allowing a 'real person' into any cell without permission.
"A 'real person', Tanglinna?" Thranduil queried. "Your better self, I presume." I could see he was indeed thinking about the rule that stated I was to have no visitors – he, of course, did not count and came whenever he felt like tormenting me. But I dare not say that!
"Um, yes," I answered most eloquently. "I seem to recall....something like that." Clearly that ridiculous rule was on my mind as well! I shook my head. I would not be sidetracked! "But...well...you see...."
I hazarded a glance at Alagaith – my 'better self'. "I do have a visitor, one that you should really meet...properly. Ecthelhador...it was not his fault that he let him in."
My eyes moved to the guard at Thranduil's shoulder and a slight smirk quirked my lips. Hopefully, Thranduil would see that it was Ecthelhador's fault!
"He probably forgot that little stipulation...there were so many of them." It was best to not pursue that course, so.... "So...I suppose you should just...come in here and meet my visitor...properly."
I bowed slightly, gesturing gracefully with my arm as though I were welcoming him into my home and not a prison cell, wondering if he would humor me or gag me and chain me to the wall until he had finished his meal – probably making it a seven course feast, with wine at the end of it to be sipped at a leisurely pace while I thought about my rudeness in summoning him here.
The king frowned, not looking any more pleased than he had, but he nodded at Ecthelhador to open the door. Then his gaze, swift as a hawk on the hunt, returned to me, letting me see his displeasure - and telling me quite plainly by the thunderous look on his face alone - that if this were some ridiculous ruse on my part, I would be very sorry indeed!
I moved swiftly aside as he swept into the cell. I glanced hurriedly at Alagaith, who bowed in a most elegant and formal fashion in a way that I had not seen before. He must have been terrified, but he was hiding it well. I smiled at him, wanting to know that I was very proud of the way he was handling himself, and to know I would stand beside him regardless of what lay ahead.
"Uh...Aranhir," I said, glancing from one to the other and back again. "This is...Alagaith Alagaerion...a good friend of mine." I tried to smile, trying to appear calm, as if this was normal and that there was nothing unusual at all about this situation. I was merely introducing a friend to the king...that was all, nothing odd or strange about this. Nothing whatsoever.... "You may remember him...from...before...." I finished rather lamely, cursing myself for not expressing what I was feeling in the manner that I should.
I am certain he did remember Alagaith! Only too well, I feared! One does not forget an insult so easily or swiftly. Certainly not Oropherion.
Thranduil's icy eyes turned upon me, then back to Alagaith, then back to me once more.
"A very good friend of yours!" he hissed in a low voice filled with leonine menace. "And someone I should remember, you believe?"
Obviously, he did recall, for a storm brewed in those blue Sindarin eyes, turning them nearly slate-coloured. No, this was not going to go easily, smoothly, or swiftly. I straightened then, lifting my chin slightly in the only act of defiance that I dared, wishing I could match Thranduil's height just this once. But if this storm were going to break, then it would break on me, not on Alagaith.
"Yes, Aranhir. Do you recall that story I told you...when I returned after the battle at Erebor? About the... hole in the ground?"
Please let him remember the part about Gurshak that had so delighted him before! Let him humiliate me all he liked! I could curse him for this later! I tried to look guileless and innocent, and hoping that he would not push me into saying something I did not want to say, something we would all regret.
"I do recall this story, Tanglinna – my memory is not so short that I would forget that easily why you will be here for yet a while."
Somehow, I knew my current open-ended sentence was now probably doubled in length with those carefully emphasized words, but so be it!
"I did not think you had forgotten, Aranhir."
The moment had arrived, there was no more delaying or wondering what should be said or done. I merely needed the right words to say and....
I hazarded a glance at Alagaith, hoping that he had not changed his mind during this disheartening conversation. He was so very pale that my heart ached for him. He probably rued the day he had ever laid eyes on me! I turned swiftly to Thranduil once more.
"Alagaith has come to ask a boon of you, hir-nin. And I am asking you to please listen to what he has to say before you...before you answer." I was making a plea for mercy right from the start! It was, perhaps, our only hope.
Oropher's son still looked highly displeased. I knew he was very angry with both Alagaith for his boldness, which Thranduil no doubt saw as the utmost insolence, and at me for daring to support this thief still.
"Very well," he said. "Make your plea then, thief." His cold eyes lit once more on Alagaith....
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I should have been glad that the king did allow me to speak instead of having me thrown in the deepest dungeons these caves had to offer at once, but all I felt was fear, springing from the utter certainty that this could not end well. I had not only committed a crime; I had also insulted and ridiculed the one person who could grant me mercy. What had I been thinking when I had assumed that this could work? Now that the moment had come, I realized just how bold I was to believe that I had any hope.
Nevertheless, I spoke swiftly, without hesitation. "As far as the charge against me is concerned, I do not ask for clemency, my king, and I am deeply sorry that my flight has caused all this commotion." I did feel sorry – for Mordil, who had paid so very dearly for the one crime of being a good and compassionate elf. Having glanced at him for the briefest moment, I focused my attention on the king again and continued: "I did, however, not intend to escape punishment; there were urgent matters I had to attend to, and Tanglinna was kind enough to grant me the time to see to those things. I do apologize for any inconvenience this... unusual solution may have caused you or your subjects, my king, and ask but one mercy of you - that you will allow me, and my son, to stay in your realm once I have atoned for my crimes."
Having finished my improvised speech, I knelt and inclined my head to await the king's judgement, hoping that this version of what had happened would at least be sufficient to shorten Tanglinna's imprisonment, but not sure of that at all. I regretted that I had not asked him what exactly he had told the king to explain my absence; we should have talked more about this and acted less rashly, to make our tales match and decide upon a promising strategy...
I was aware that Tanglinna was staring at me, but I dared not raise my eye to meet his gaze and read in it if my story was reconcilable with his; it was too late for this, and for countless other things...
The king's cold, impassive voice cut the silence like a well-sharpened blade. "What 'urgent matters' were they that you convinced my warrior to let you go when he had orders to bring you here? They must have been urgent indeed." Here, he paused, but merely to glance at his Master Archer coolly, not to give me enough time to come up with a nice, convincing explanation. "Well? If I am to believe what you are saying, then answer my question."
I gazed up at the king, hoping that the expression of serenity that I had willed my features into did not seem too forced and unconvincing. It was not only fear that I had to keep out of my face. A nervous, yet grimly amused grin threatened to twist my lips; it was ironic – too ironic! – that I had to give the king almost exactly the explanation that he had so joked about earlier. Hungry elflings indeed...
"I have a son of twelve years, my king, and I had left him in the care of an orc in order to be able to... search for useful things on the battlefield, promising said orc a scimitar or sword in return." I would have to apologize to Seven for describing what had happened like this, but I felt quite unable to explain to Thranduil that this orc happened to be a very good friend of mine and that searching for a scimitar for him had been quite a natural favour, not anything comparable to payment or a bribe. "You will understand that I wished to make sure that my son was well and properly taken care of before I came here."
At this point, Tanglinna tried to intervene, but he did not get very far. "He...the..." he began and was instantly silenced again by an imperious glare before the king turned to look back at me.
"This makes no sense, thief. If you were looking for a scimitar or a sword, then why did Tanglinna find you taking Lalven's cloak? The clasp of which was already in your pocket."
Fortunately, I realized just in time that the way this question had been phrased had been a deliberate provocation. Forcing myself not to tell the king that he had apparently failed to listen properly, I patiently replied: "The fact that I was looking for a sword or scimitar, among other things, does not mean that I was resolved to let a good opportunity slip, my king - and I did need a cloak at that time. And the clasp seemed precious enough to me - I might have been able to sell it." This was the truth; yet I wondered how kindly my words would be received. If it had already been rather difficult for Mordil to grasp why I had deemed it necessary to appropriate Gurshak's clothing, the high and mighty king of Mirkwood would not have much understanding for what had been behind my theft on the battlefield; what I had said would only cement his view that I was a worthless criminal, a skulking cutpurse indeed...
One of Thranduil's brows was raised as if in speculation. "Yet now you come to me and want to 'atone' for your crimes?" he enquired, his voice still chill as a winter night. "And then you want me to allow you to stay here? May I ask why you have had this sudden change of heart? I did not realize that it was so easy to just stop being a thief."
Even though these words were spoken in callous mockery, meant to test my resolve in the best case, but more likely making light of it, the king was very right. No, it was not easy to just stop being a thief, but for quite different reasons than those self-righteous, wise Wood-elves apparently assumed.
"Once a thief always a thief" Ecthelhador, whom I had almost forgotten by then, muttered. This remark earned him a glare and a clenched fist from Tanglinna, and marginal as this exchange may seem, it was what kept me from giving up at that point.
The captain of the guards had expressed the opinion that most people were going to have of me quite nicely. It was the obvious thing to say, and it would have been easy for Mordil to ignore it; yet, he had not done so, and his wordless defence filled me with unexpectedly deep gratitude. There was someone who believed in me and my sincerity unconditionally, and perhaps, he had been right when he had said that one person's belief could be enough. I would not let him down by giving up now.
So, silently sending a prayer for strength and composure to the merciful Valar, I answered: "It is not, my king - and I will frankly tell you that earlier attempts to change my life have not been successful, as I met with too much distrust to even be allowed to stay in the places whose inhabitants I approached in the hope to be granted that mercy. But Tanglinna was kind enough to talk to me for a long time while we were travelling here from Erebor, and what he said gave me some faint hope."
Faint hope it was indeed, growing even fainter now under the king's piercing eyes. "What if I said that your hand would indeed still be forfeit for your crime?" he asked, shooting a warning glare at his Master Archer, who had made a small noise and opened his mouth to speak at this pronouncement, but finally was wise enough to keep silent. "Answer me."
I had believed that I had already been afraid earlier, but now that the dreadful punishment – more severe than any imprisonment, beating or humiliation could be, and also more lasting in its consequences – seemed about to be dealt to me, I decided that what I had felt before qualified as moderate unease at most. What had I gotten myself into? But I known that it this would happen, and I should have known that it would feel just like this.
"I will accept this punishment, my king." I said, glad that my voice was calm and unwavering, even if I was probably paler than ever now. Looking up at the king, I added: "And if you wished to tell me now that a one-handed elf would be of little use to your realm, I would have to gainsay you; I can wield a sword with either hand, and I am sure that I will be able to do whatever work you ask me to do with one hand as well; at least, I shall try."
Having stated this, I lowered my gaze again, certain that he would order someone to cut my hand of right on the spot or take a sword himself to deal terrible justice; so be it, if it had to be! I only hoped that he would not ask Mordil to do it, for that was the one thing that would have been harder to bear than anything else, and I implored Manwe and Varda and all other Valar to keep that thought far from the wood-elf king's mind.
But... nothing happened, or at least not what I had expected. Thranduil studied me for a moment before his eyes came to rest upon Tanglinna, who looked decidedly worried. "Then this ridiculous tale that Tanglinna told me about you defending him by defeating this goblin - Gurshul or whatever his name was - in a fight was true?" he enquired.
Daunting as everything was at that point, I had to force myself not to burst into laughter. I did not know how far the king's knowledge of Eastern Orcish went; if he knew one or two words of it, at least, he may have chosen to turn 'Gurshak' into 'Gurshul' – 'moonlike heart' – on purpose. "It is true that I defeated that goblin, my king."
"Prove it." he ordered.
Prove it? How should I prove that I had defeated Gurshak? Tanglinna, who had been the only witness to the scene, had already spoken for me, and the king could hardly expect me to bring 'Gurshul' here to testify to my words... or could he?
I must have looked somewhat puzzled for a moment or two, and the king decided not to wait for a reply; instead, he turned to tell Ecthelhador to fetch two swords, two, not one... So he wanted me to prove my skill with a blade? That was a good thing, a very good thing... It meant that there was still some hope! Maybe, if I impressed him, he would decide to let me stay, and if I was very lucky, he would be impressed enough to concede that hacking off my sword hand would not be in his best interest... All could still be well, they might let me keep my hand, or decide merely to hew off my left hand, the one that I fought less well with... There was hope, a faint bit of hope, but still hope...
I should have taken the frown and the look of distress that had come to Tanglinna's face more seriously; had I thought about the matter more thoroughly, I would have realized that the king's order did not have to point to a chance readily offered, but could also be the prelude to an act of utmost perfidy.
What was he doing?!
I stared at Thranduil, wondering what he was hoping to accomplish by this. On the surface it seemed obvious – he was testing Alagaith's skill with a blade; yet like the still surface of a pond, one never knew what lay beneath, hidden in the shadowy depths. There was more to this than met the eye, and that worried me.
Alagaith looked amazingly relieved, and that was good...but...he did not realize the gravity of this situation, did he? I think he knew it to some extent, yes, but his skill with a sword was not all that Thranduil was looking for. Did he realize that? I doubted it; he did not know the king as well as I did.
Ecthelhador returned bearing two light swords with long, elegant silver blades and curved, spiralling ornate handles. He looked as uncertain about this situation as I was. He too, knew that our king's simple order masked something greater.
Thranduil gazed at those blades – delicate things not made for war but for duelling – indeed they were used to display prowess, grace, fancy footwork. It was more of a dance than anything else! The king's blue gaze flicked to Alagaith.
"Rise," he ordered sharply. "You cannot fight on your knees. Choose a sword."
Ecthelhador looked very distressed by this, no doubt wondering how wise it was to allow this 'thief' to have a weapon; but he held out the swords, which looked identical to me. They were fancy trinkets given to Thranduil for something or other, no doubt.
My friend did as bidden, gazing carefully at the proffered weapons, taking them in hand and checking the weight and balance, making a few practice swipes in our very confined space. A smile crossed my face, and pride welled within me, though I could take no credit for any of his skill. Alagaith's performance now was very different from what it had been in the cell in the lair! Now he knew what he was doing, and showed it! Gladly!
I noticed that Thranduil watched him appraisingly, and not with mere cold indifference. I thanked the Valar for this chance – though I still harboured doubts as to what the intent truly was.
At last, Alagaith had chosen a sword to use and gazed expectantly at Thranduil, awaiting further instructions.
"You say you are a good swordsman?" the king asked.
Alagaith stared at him for a moment.
"I have not said that, my king," he said finally, and in truth he had not, I had. "I know how to use a sword – that is all."
'That is all'...That was hardly all! But Thranduil was speaking again.
"Against a goblin, yes. But what about an elf?"
One brow arched in challenge as Thranduil took the second sword, testing this weapon himself, before looking back at Alagaith. Surely, Thranduil would not fight him!
"I cannot answer so general a question, my king. When I crossed blades with elves in the past, they were most often Noldor, schooled in the same way of sword fighting that I was trained in my youth."
The king's brow quirked again, and his lips twitched slightly.
"But since you say you wish to live here – with my Wood-elves, perhaps I should see how well you will fare with them. If you can best one of my warriors...well.... We shall see if you can."
Thranduil smirked then and turned to me. He pressed the sword into my hand; it felt entirely too light to be a real sword. I made an odd noise of protest – I was no swordsman, real sword or no! I was an archer! – but the king was speaking again, giving me no time to voice my protest.
"Tanglinna is not my best warrior with a sword, but if I see that you are holding back – or he is – then I will doubt the sincerity of your intentions. You merely need to disarm him...."
At least he did not need to wound me!
"...and again...I do not want to see either of you holding back or your...boon is denied, though your hand is mine by law."
I was stunned by this most unexpected turn of events! The few times I had employed my sword had been in battle with a dire enemy. Celair-Dagnir had been made for hacking and bashing in war, not prancing about and parrying like some dandyish fop! Even the lessons I had taken with Riwmegor had been with real swords, not these overgrown needles!
But Alagaith merely inclined his head. Obviously this sort of 'fighting' was fine with him.... Would that I felt so confident!
"I have but one request, my king," Alagaith said quietly. "This cell is very narrow. It would hardly be a proper fight in here, and," he turned to smile at me, "I would hate to damage the most amazing artwork on that wall by chance."
'Damage the artwork'? 'Damage the artwork'?! What about damaging me?! I knew that happened in these mock duels, not on purpose, but by chance. And worse still – what if I damaged him!! It would be a strange turn if I did, but it was possible! I did not even want to think of that!
Thranduil's eyes moved to the painted wall, probably to the two 'happy elves' with the brandy bottles seated beneath a tree. He smirked at what he saw there, the twisted lips making his face not very pleasant to look upon. He turned back to Alagaith.
"Of course. We shall move to a larger, more accommodating area. Perhaps a few witnesses are in order. Follow me."
.
"Thus, two sword-bearing elves followed a smirking, golden-haired demon who could hardly be described as a 'good and wise king' now, out of the cell.
"I am sorry," Tanglinna quietly said, glancing at Alagaith. "I did not know he would do this."
Alagaith tried to smile reassuringly and almost succeeded. "I know, Mordil - do not worry. We shall give him a fight he will never forget." –
"I doubt I will ever forget it!" Tanglinna replied, quite unable to enjoy the fact that he was finally free of the cell, at least.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, trailed by a grinning Ecthelhador.
The... Beginning?