Feud

Other Characters:
Ningloriel [Golden Water-lily Maid]:
Legolas' mother, Queen of the Woodland Realm
Meril [Rose]: Lindalcon's mother, wife of Valtamar (one of the lost warriors)
Lindalcon [Song of the SunRay]:
young usurper to the crown of the Woodland Realm, Valtamar's & Meril's son

Chapter 10: Tûr ar Torthad [Power and Control]

Gandalf did not have the gift of extra perceptive hearing possessed by all the elven races of Middle Earth, nor did he require that aptitude to detect the voices drifting through the cool steady air of Thranduil's Halls.

The hour was late as he made his way around the huge cavern that served as the kitchen, scavenging for delectables in the cupboards and pantries to satisfy his needy hankering. This room was so deep it was completely underground, and the unending darkness was countered with three tremendous iron-wrought chandeliers suspended halfway down into the air space. The light was dim, however, for only the centre one of these was actually alight with a dozen gleaming tongues of oil-fed flames.

These, he knew from past experience, were perpetually lit, for otherwise the kitchen staff would have to bumble around in the pitch upon starting the morning menu. Doubtless, chaos would ensue and foodstuffs go wasted while toes and shins suffered stubbings and bumps in the caliginous mountain's bowels. He wondered peripherally if there was a specific serf assigned to tending these great lamps, some poor soul required to rise even earlier than the fire makers that lit the ovens each dawn. The dim illumination meant the Maia had to rely on his nose, and regretted there was not at least an increased ability to harness that sense among his kind.

He smelled something sweet with the distinct overprint of blueberries, his weakness, and he was determined to uncover the hidden pastry. In his craving-driven haste he accidentally overturned a container of dried beans. The clamorous clatter of the fracturing pottery canister and the rainfall pattering of the beans as they danced and skittered all across the smooth stony floor reverberated in the high-ceilinged cavern. He frowned and struck a sound with his tongue across his teeth but made no move to clean up the disaster. {They will just have to deal with it}, he silently fussed as his rummaging continued without success. His feet crunched noisily and slid about on the hard beans as he moved to another cabinet.

The voices were escalating in volume and venom, he noted, again.

Finally, his nose guided him true and he emerged from a dark corner with a pie pan and a fork, moving in ungainly balance-challenged miss-steps through the spilled beans towards the simple stairway.

The stairs curved upward from the back of the kitchen, cut into the rock and open to the airy cave. It was somewhat unnerving to watch the growing height as he progressed, and Gandalf leaned comfortingly against the smoothly sanded wall with his shoulder. This was of course the servants' stairway, the most efficient means of getting from one end of the great Hall to another. Using it one could easily traverse otherwise labyrinthine passages and flights meant to confuse any enemy that might somehow breach the Wood Elves' defenses and storm the fortress.

The crazed maze also allowed for most of the chambers to front the outcropping mountain and permit life giving access to the open air through carved apertures and windows. From the external courtyard, it could be observed that the great mountain was honeycombed with these hand-delved caves far up into its discernible body. The unguarded balconies supported no railings or connecting ladders, and were thus securely inaccessible from the exterior.

He listened to the heated words wafting towards him, louder now as he neared the level of the private chambers of the monarchs. It was the same argument as the previous night, the same argument, with but a new barb, as every other night throughout the centuries, when the royal couple deigned to speak to one another at all.

"Úan! Úan morn ar um!" [Monster! Monster black and evil!] The female voice shrilled this debasement in tones of ragged rage. "You dare to demand this of me now, with my son suffering unto death?"

"Your son is dead!" A male voice in livid and scorching tones cut off the diatribe brutally and was followed by a strangled cry and a loud smashing of metal against stone. "Be resigned to it, and we may salvage this yet!" His voice betrayed no interest in the thrown missile of uncertain design.

"You are a selfish, cruel demon! You have always despised him; I believe you have plotted this!" The female's words were becoming more hysterical by the moment.

"How would I not despise what is clearly not of my seed, Bronwepen Bereth!" [Faithless Queen] "It is you who have plotted this! Ever have you sought to embarrass my honour and adulterate my authority! You flaunted that bastard in my eyes!"

"It is your eyes that lie and deceive you! He is no other's son but yours!" A bitter laugh broke into her cries, undoubtedly Thranduil's as he faced his queen and fought to harness his wrath.

"You have left no doubt as to your faithlessness to me and my realm, Ningloriel! Otherwise, how is it that, that . . . that raeg-onnant tad-dal [misbegotten two-legged animal] is the only child born during our union?" Thranduil thundered at his queen in fury.

"One prince should be enough for such a paltry Kingdom as Mirkwood! One child is all I will suffer to bear such a heartless husband as you! I have fulfilled my duty in this binding while you have not lived up to yours! Where is the glory of the Danwaith [Nandor elves] you promised to my father as barter for my body? Where is your Ring of Power, Thranduil?" Ningloriel gave wounds as deep as she received and was rewarded with an earsplitting growl of furious rage from her husband.

"This is the richest of all the elven kingdoms, the most expansive of protected realms! This I have achieved without the false powers of the Dark One's rings! You speak of the Danwaith and the shame of the Noldor in one breath! My Sindarin heart would transform to broken stone if the taint of Celebrimbror's design found its way onto my hand! You are false and seek to divert attention from your fault!"

"Rich!" The queen's voice scoffed in high-pitched derision. "Your avarice is not but a temptation to war and destruction! Your greed is the cause that stole from me my son! You guard your horde with more devotion than you do my people! You used the Danwaith for your own promotion! What kingdom had Oropher before the coming to the Greenwood? The Danwaith had no need for kings for all the long centuries past, and see how we suffer from them now! I cannot breath for the suffocation of the Shadow upon the woods!"

"You speak of my father? The Danwaith were a sneaking cringing people, hiding from danger with no knowledge of fighting when my father came to the Greenwood! What were you but the daughter of a minor tauron [forester] before I made you my queen? In thanks you deny me offspring and withhold from joining with me while shamelessly fucking my enemy!" At these slurs Ningloriel's outraged shriek split the echoes gathering in the hallways and overpowered any further comment from the King.

"You! It is your own jealous and morbid lust that constructs these illusions! You have cuckolded yourself!" She countered. "What could make you think I would ever lie with you again, hearing these accusations against me! Bring forth your proofs to support your foul imagination!"

"Proofs? Truly, do you want me to disclose them to your people, Ningloriel? I would do so; indeed, if you deny me an heir I will do so!" the Elven King stormed.

Gandalf shook his head sadly as he turned with the slowly winding stair. Always it went thus; Thranduil accused and Ningloriel denied. Given the volume of these discourses, Legolas could not have helped but overhear them over the years. The wizard wondered now how he had weathered these gales of hatred as a child, and he suddenly realized he had no memory of seeing Legolas in the great Hall, other than at official state functions, and briefly at meals. He was curious where the prince's hiding place had been in those days, glad he was not here now to witness the new wrinkle emerging in the frayed fabric of the royal couple's marriage bond.

The wizard knew the archer was suffering under terrible stresses even so. Thranduil might be correct in his prediction of the former prince's death, despite his departure from the previous night's assault under his own power. The Maia shook his head again, saddened by the dark life the fair archer had thusfar endured.

His knees began to protest against the steady climb as he continued past lower corridors to the more elite rooms reserved for the royal family and their guests. It was with surprise that Gandalf's reverie was disrupted as he reached the last turning. There upon the stone steps sat the forlorn figure of a young elf, hands gripped tightly against his ears as the arguing streamed through the halls.

The elf-child was dressed in sleeping clothes and sat hunched over, barefooted, eyes squinched down in obvious discomfort. His hair flowed down around his body in a sleep-tangled mass of wavy brown locks. Gandalf's eyebrows arched as he surveyed the elf, recognizing the newly made prince of the Woodland Realm, Lindalcon the Usurper. The wizard loudly cleared his throat to gain the young one's attention over the cacophonous din of blaring adult voices. Lindalcon raised his head and stared uncertainly at him.

"Whatever are you doing here, little prince?" Gandalf said, with just a hint of sarcasm attached to the last words. Lindalcon was young but no fool and caught the slight affront. He frowned.

"I am not his prince!" His tone indicated disgust. "I feel pity for Legolas to be related to them!"

"Do you love your parents? Are they free of blemish?" was all Gandalf said, and the young elf's frown curled up into a sneer.

"He is a fool to love them! They both despise him!" Lindalcon scoffed. Gandalf was surprised at the child's insight, for indeed both of the royal parents wielded the existence of their son against each other like a weapon. {No doubt wounding Legolas the worst}, he thought grimly. Still, despise was too harsh a word. On some level, they did care for him, surely. He sighed.

"Let us not be caught up in their display, joining them! Come with me; I have absconded from the pantries with this pastry and should not eat it all myself!" He offered generously, and Lindalcon, eyeing the pie, was happy to accept. He rose and followed Gandalf into the hallway as they cautiously stepped nearer to the chamber within which the heated argument still seethed.

"You no longer need me to provide you heirs, Thranduil! Your avarice has bought you a new one already! There is at hand another prince in Mirkwood; name him your heir!" Ningloriel screamed these words harshly.

"I will not hand over the crown to any not of my seed! You will agree to bear my heir; it is your duty to this land as queen and to me as my wife!" Thranduil yelled back.

"Oh, but I thought you considered me a faithless queen and kept mistress to the Lord of Imladris! If our first child is suspect to your eyes, how will you trust the next to be yours?" Ningloriel mocked.

Gandalf and Lindalcon hurried as quickly as they could down the passageway so as to gain the corridor that would lead them to the guest chambers where the wizard's customary suite of rooms was to be found. They were just outside the doorway to the royal chamber and the cutting slurs and taunts were even more brutal in the improved clarity proximity granted. As they sought to get past, unconsciously sidling close to the wall in unnecessary fear of being discovered, a figure emerged from the far end of the hall at the intersection they sought.

The slight form hurried forward and Lindalcon ran quickly into his mother's arms. She stroked down his hair and hugged him while looking over his shoulder to Gandalf. Together all three continued on their way under the barrage of hatred.

"And how would you do that, Thranduil? Will you lock me in a cell? You cannot force me to this course; I will have you stand for rape before the Council of Elders!" Ningloriel threatened. "I will listen to no more; in the morning I leave for 'Lorien and my sister's house. There I shall remain until you reconsider your demands!"

"You will not go to him; I forbid it, do you hear? I know he is in 'Lorien even now, do you think I am without informants in the Golden Wood? Go you there now with our Kingdom in chaos and I will, I will . . ." Thranduil stuttered, searching for a suitable coercion to employ. Previously he had used Legolas, menacing his life with assignment to the Southern Borders. Now with his disgrace and probable death, Thranduil had lost his greatest means of controlling his wife. Ningloriel's eyes gleamed knowing this.

"What, Thranduil? What more can you do to me? Legolas is gone!" She cried and it seemed that perhaps real tears tinged the final words. There was silence, and in spite of themselves the three hallway traipsers froze in place to hear the end to this soul searing battle.

"I will take a consort! I will take Meril as my consort and get another heir; my Halls will ring with the sound of children's voices!" The King finally shouted triumphantly. "In fact, I will petition the Council in the morning, if you should ride through the gates!"

Ningloriel's gasp was audible and was followed by the sound of her footsteps; the quiet swish of satin slippers upon eleven feet gliding across a silken carpet. She was approaching the doorway.

"Do that, for I shall go not to 'Lorien, but to the Havens. I will leave my own petition with the Council, renouncing my bond to you and any claims upon the royal title. I will seek the shores of Valinor in the West. If I can find him, I will take my son with me!" She said with determined fervor and flung wide the door.

She never paused in the hallway as she serenely stormed past the three eavesdroppers, golden blond tresses fanning out behind her and blue eyes glittering in resentment. She barely acknowledged Gandalf and completely ignored the two elves. Heavy footfalls sounded and the King stood just within the doorway, staring after her.

"Your son is dead!" he screamed at her retreating body, and glared at the hall's remaining occupants. The door to the royal chamber was thrown back upon its frame with a shuddering impact as Thranduil swore vilely.

Gandalf, Meril, and Lindalcon stood stunned and speechless for a moment in the sudden silence of the gloomy hallway. Then the youth uttered an enraged cry and made to go to Thranduil's door, intent upon claiming retribution for the slander against his mother. But Meril grabbed him tightly and clamped her hand over his mouth to quiet his protests as she and Gandalf dragged her son down the passage toward the wizard's chambers. In the struggle to restrain him, the pie pan was dropped and soon a sticky mess of trampled blue sweetness smeared the carpet and the three eavesdroppers' feet. Somehow, they managed to reach Gandalf's rooms without attracting the King's attention, and the Istar breathed a relieved sigh as he locked his door behind them. Lindalcon was fuming.

"Why did you stop me? You heard him; such words can not go unchallenged! How dare he suggest that! He acts as though you are just a thing to use for his benefit!" he yelled and Meril calmly allowed him to have his say. Her mild demeanor quickly brought him back to himself and he lowered his voce, apologizing.

"It is alright, Lindalcon; I understand your anger. You must realize, however, that his words were spoken in his rage against the queen and meant to hurt her. He had no idea either of us was present to hear such a thing!" she quietly admonished as she handed him a cloth to wipe the pie from his soles and passed one to the wizard as well. Lindalcon frowned and flopped down on the bed.

"Still, it was a terrible thing to say! What kind of elves are these, Nana, [Mama] that hold the bonds of love so trivial?" he asked in amazement and his mother smiled at her young son's innocence.

"They are rulers and have not the option to consider love. For them the obligation to the Kingdom is always their first and strongest bond. Matters of devotion do not often enter into such unions among them. To Thranduil, his duty to the Greenwood is more important than his personal need to be wanted and adored by his mate," she tried to explain, but Lindalcon looked incredulously at her.

"If that were so, then why is he so angry with his queen for having another lover?" he commented.

"Lindalcon! That is an ugly rumor to repeat about our queen! We do not know any of that is true! And jealousy such as his often has naught to do with love and everything to do with control, and fear of losing it!" she scolded. Lindalcon, with limited experience of adult relationships found this confusing and he did not understand what she meant. His only exposure to mated pairs were his own parents and those of his nearest friends. While he had witnessed quarrels and disagreements, never had such outpouring of hate as he had heard this night accompanied those misunderstandings.

"Nana, I do not want to live such a life. Please, can we not go home? Or we could move to Lorien to be near Adar's [Father's] family there. This is like some horrid nightmare!" he murmured plaintively.

"Now, Lindalcon, such a life you will not be forced into, for it is true that Thranduil will name none but his own blood son as heir. You will have the freedom to choose whoever pleases you for a mate, and yet have the advantages of the rank and title of prince! Think of the benefit that will provide for your children!" his mother's tone entreated, and Gandalf, listening silently all the while, had the feeling this was not the first time mother and son had been at odds over the abrupt changes in their life style. "You may even end up on the Council, in time!" she added and Lindalcon scowled and rolled his eyes.

"But, Naneth [Mother] I have no wish to be stuck here in this stuffy cave! And those old eldar are boring with their endless arguing and petitions! You know I want to be a warrior, like Ada [Daddy] was! I am becoming very good with my bow!" he exclaimed. "Beside, Legolas is - was - a prince, and the King let him become a warrior and he is the heir! Or he was, anyway. Surely I can join the guard as well!" he stated with determination, and again the wizard discerned that this was a running topic between them.

Meril remained silent, having her own ideas about Legolas' commission in the guard. Now that she had observed the royal parents' relationship firsthand, she suspected Thranduil had intended this more as a punishment to Ningloriel than a gesture of confidence and pride in his son's ability.

Having met the former prince several times through her husband's association with him, she had been struck by the fact that the position suited him so well. He had never behaved with anything but courtesy and respect, never using his rank to set himself ahead of others. She remembered how little he spoke of his family when they met, and indeed how little he spoke at all.

Always a jovial companion to Valtamar and a pleasure to receive as a guest in their home, he was ever ready with a clever story or a heartbreaking ballad to entertain them. Nor was he too haughty to grab a rag and help clean up when the parties ended. He never scorned to play with Lindalcon and seemed to genuinely enjoy coaching him once he was old enough to start learning to use a bow. She realized what a refuge the life of a warrior must have offered to the fallen prince.

Lindalcon sighed and the breath turned into a yawn. The hour was very late and he still required far more sleep than an adult as his final years of growing neared. Meril reached out and took her son's hands in hers and pulled him up.

"Come along, sleepy one!" she said. "I am sure Master Gandalf will be wanting to rest in his own bed tonight, and yours awaits!" Lindalcon started to protest but she gave him a look, and he knew it was fruitless to continue his arguments. He would have to try again in the morning. Gandalf smiled as he opened the door for them.

"Sleep well, Lindalcon; I am sorry about the pie! Perhaps we can coax the chef into preparing another tomorrow, and blame Thranduil for the mess!" he said merrily and the youth smiled and nodded. Mother and son made their way down the darkened passage and Gandalf watched until he saw the doors to their suite safely shut.

However, the wizard had no intention of sleeping this night, and quietly made his way towards Thranduil's chambers. By all means he must dissuade the King from his hastily spoken threat. The last such had resulted in Legolas' joining the guard while his current lover had suddenly decided to move permanently to Lorien amid rumors of his being a spy. Gandalf suspected there might be truth to it, and believed as Meril did that the appointment had been intended as an affront to Ningloriel.

Gandalf dearly wanted to prevent the King's jealous power lust from forcing the Queen to actually leave for the Havens. He had decided he could have need of Legolas and had sensed something important about the elf he could not define, but he trusted his instincts. The wizard did not know how the fallen archer would react to this additional grief, especially occurring so close upon the atrocities of Ailinyéro's lechery, and did not want to risk losing him.

He noted the door was open and peered in, quickly surveying the empty room. Frowning, he went in haste to the lower levels where the cavernous chambers were nearly at ground level and the more public rooms and offices could be found. Thranduil's private study opened directly from a corner of the throne room, and the wizard went to it at once. Again he was rewarded with failure and he cast about in his mind to decipher where he might find the King. In vain he searched the libraries and the Council chambers, the kitchens and the stables.

With dismay he realized the Elven King must be deep in his keep, among the many storage rooms that housed his sizable horde of gold and precious stones and gems. Once there, none could approach him for he locked himself in and held the only key to the great ironwork gates that barred the corridor to the treasure vaults. Gandalf's scowl deepened; he was forced, as was Lindalcon, to wait for the new day to broach his arguments.

The faintest tinge of sunlight peering down through the treetops brought Gandalf's hopes to an end. Already assembled in the courtyard, Ningloriel and her impressive retinue made ready to depart. She evidently had supplies, belongings, and guards in tow for a long journey, and if she went to Lorien at all she would be stopping only to bid her family there farewell.

The wizard observed as her escort mounted and her personal guard assisted her onto her horse. With a start the Maia recognized this was Legolas' friend Maltahondo, and his brows creased in confusion. Surely this elf was serving in the Southern Patrols, or so had claimed to Legolas. The elf caught him looking and quickly averted his eyes, tending to the queen's horse and mounting his own. Without a sound or a glance back Ningloriel rode from the Woodland Realm and Thranduil was no where in sight.

The wizard had watched from the open balcony of his chambers, and turned to his right as a sound caught his attention. There, Meril and Lindalcon stood watching the scene as well, and as Gandalf gazed at Meril he recognized that the sound had been a single note of contemptuous laughter.

Tbc.