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The Moth & The Flame	By : Avaloyuru Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3099 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any copyright to the Tolkien/Middle-Earth Fandom, nor his canon characters or languages. I do not receive any form of compensation for this fanfiction. Original characters are my property.

Chapter List
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Old memories haunt Thranduil as he struggles to untangle his feelings. Was he merely being overly protective of Tauriel or was there something else afoot within his fortress walls. Ambushed at the South Outpost, Tauriel flees with Tërÿani into the unprotected regions of the dark forest. Ráerû returns to the fortress only to discover that Elvändéruil has already departed and could be walking right into a trap.
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“Thalieth.” Thranduil said quietly as he stepped into the antechamber just outside his study, a deep frown creasing his brow. “Send for Lieutenant Evárÿan and Warden Rínnänéth, I wish to speak with them.”
“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord). The guard replied with a curt nod as he turned quickly away from him toward the guards’ chambers.
“Why would it take him two days?” He mused silently clasping his hands loosely behind him as he walked back into his study. Pausing before the small hearth, he recalled some of the details of his conversation with Lieutenant Vanyë as he stared down into the flames.
The Vale at the Forked Pass had always been their preferred mustering point as it was central to the patrol outposts and less than a days’ ride from the fortress. If there had been problems the lieutenant would have said something, a deep frown creased his brow as old memories haunted his thoughts. He had known each of the March Wardens his entire life, having served as their commander in the forest patrols and fought alongside them on the battlefield, he knew them as both friends and warriors. The closer relationship he had with Aldalómë during their youth was unsettling. He recognized Aldalómë’s silence for what it was and felt his anger rising once again.
“You wanted to see me?” Rínnänéth asked quietly from the open door, concerned as he caught the slight frown before Thranduil pulled down the familiar guarded expression that told him this was an official summons.
“Yes, come in, sit down.” Thranduil replied, quickly pulling himself into the present as turned toward him. “Leave the door open, I am expecting Evárÿan.” He added as he moved behind his desk.
“What is wrong?” Rínnänéth asked, his smile quickly replaced with a slight frown as he watched the king sink down into his chair as if the weight of Arda (the world) sat upon his shoulders.
“I just spoke with Lieutenant Vanyë.” Thranduil sighed, regarding his friends expression with mild curiosity. “He and Tháëdrâs returned two days ago. He also informed me Aldalómë pulled Macilvoronhûr from the south and sent him east. He also sent most of his own forces to join with Eluandúnië in the northeast and was supposed to return here, yet I have not seen him.”
“Aldalómë was set up only ten or so leagues north of the vale.” Rínnänéth said quietly, a deep frown furrowed his brow as he struggled with just how much to tell him. “I’m sure he has a reasonable explanation.”
“Yes, I am sure he does, yet I am uncomfortable with his decision to pull our forces from the southern borders.” Thranduil stated, pausing briefly to motion Lieutenant Evárÿan to enter. “Come in Evárÿan.” He added, a soft smile curling his lips yet it did nothing to soften his guarded expression.
“The Patrol Commander departed this morning and should reach the North River Outpost by nightfall. They are to be arriving at the South Outpost by the end of the week. I am sure you understand my position.” He continued, pinioning Rínnänéth with a hard stare as he finished.
“Glaurhalbër is still garrisoned just southwest of Esgaroth.” Thranduil continued, reaching for his side drawer to retrieve a piece of parchment. “I want the two of you to depart as soon as you can prepare yourselves and deliver these instructions.” He stated as he began quickly penning his orders in his recognizable bold handwriting.
“You will take most of his forces and travel to the South Outpost from Esgaroth, and tell no one you are leaving or where you are going.” He said, his gaze flickered between the two of them as he folded the parchment and marked it with his seal. “You will wait there until the Commander has arrived and return with them.” He added, meeting Rínnänéths’ curious gaze as he handed him the orders.
“Evárÿan.” Rínnänéth said quietly, turning toward the lieutenant. “Make yourself ready and meet me in the stables, we will depart from there.” He told him, his expression and tone of voice was a clear dismissal.
“Ben iest gîn.” (As you wish) Evárÿan replied, nodding respectfully. Glancing quickly toward the king before he turned on his heel and departed. He felt the slight tension between them as soon as he entered the study, the heaviness of unspoken words hung between them. The lifelong friendship amongst the king and his March Wardens was legendary throughout the kingdom and he was more than pleased to have been excused from the meeting.
“What is really going on?” Rínnänéth asked as the lieutenant closed the door behind him, his eyes pinioning Thranduil with a knowing gaze.
Thranduil chuckled softly yet his eyes narrowed as he met the gaze of his longtime friend. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he pushed himself up from behind his desk and walked toward his wine cupboard.
“I do not believe in coincidence.” He finally spoke, his tone was quiet as he turned back toward Rínnänéth, handing him a goblet as he took the seat opposite him in front of his desk. “I would much prefer not to be coddled.” He added, his tone was even as if he struggled with the anger that darkened his normally clear sapphire eyes.
“Coincidence?” Rínnänéth stated more than asked, his own gaze narrowing slightly as he met Thranduil’s unforgiving stare and wondered just how much he already knew.
“It is not just their presence that concerns me but the timing of these traps.” Thranduil said quietly, pausing to take a long swallow from his goblet. “Aldalómës’ silence is perplexing yet it suggests more to me than I presume he would prefer.” He continued, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Servant gossip is a double edged sword.”
“Thranduil...”
“Do not attempt to defend him Rínnänéth.” He warned, his tone deepening as he relaxed back in the chair. “He is not alone is his mistaken opinion my attentions have been divided. But I assure you, my responsibilities are first and foremost to this kingdom.”
“You know how he is.” Rínnänéth sighed, dropping his gaze to the dark liquid in his goblet. “I am not aware of all the details as I have not spoken with him directly.” He continued, looking up to meet the kings’ knowing gaze. “He has become convinced the purpose of these traps are not only to draw our forces away from the fortress, but out of the southern region as well.”
“Aldalómë did not order Macilvoronhûr to join Eluandúnië in the east. Vanyë was told this only because soldiers talk almost as freely amongst themselves as do servants.” He continued in the face of Thranduils’ stoney silence, his gaze darkening even more as he studied him. “Most of the forest patrols have been ordered north along the rivers. Our regular forces are mustering in the center of the forest and should converge in south by morning.” He stated, his shoulders slumping somewhat as he continued to meet Thranduil’s gaze.
“You think there is traitor amongst you?” Thranduil asked, his eyes widening notably.
“No.” He stated emphatically, shaking his head. “You obviously believe as do we, it is someone inside the fortress.” He told him pointedly. “Your decision to abandon the hereditary oath has caused quite a stir, only confirming Aldalómës’ fears, but we have yet to determine who it is.”
“I have my suspicions.” Thranduil said quietly, almost to himself. “Without proof I do not wish to risk showing my hand.”
“Proceed to Erebor and do as I have instructed.” He stated as he rose to his feet. “If we allow them to believe they have succeeded, their arrogance will be their downfall.”
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Her head jerked up as she heard Häëmir curse, Tauriel caught sight of the three riders coming down the path toward them.
“Stay close to me!” Tërÿani yelled over his shoulder as he abruptly turned his mount into the eerie darkness of the forest just beyond the path.
Gripping the saddle tighter with her thighs, she lowered herself down over the saddle, heedless of the long thorny vines that seemed to reach out after her with a will of their own. She could feel the sharp tips of the thorns tearing at her clothing and hair, only vaguely aware of the pain inflicted as they grabbed her, raking across the exposed skin of her hands and face. The sound of thundering hooves rang loudly in her ears as she drew closer to Tërÿani. Afraid to look back, she prayed Häëmir was close behind them.
The foul stench that swirled around them as if carried on breezes that brought no relief grew more intense as they hurled through the darkness. Clutching the reins, Tauriel blinked against the tears caused by the burning mist as she struggled to keep up with Tërÿani. Her stomach twisted painfully with the fear that threatened to overcome her, fear for herself yet more for what may have befallen the others back at the outpost.
Suddenly a sharp burning pain in her left side caused her to cry out, slightly losing her grip on the saddle. Gasping for breath as she laid herself flat against the saddle, clinging to the grips on the battle harness Thranduil had insisted they use. Intuitively herding animals as well as trained battle steeds, she pressed her face into the thickness of his mane as she struggled to absorb the pain, knowing her mount would instinctively follow Tërÿani. The sounds of the screams grew distant as they raced further into the dark gloom of the unprotected regions of the forest.
Swinging with all of his might, Elvändéruil sliced through leather breastplate as the tall sandy haired Northman emerged from around the corner of the wooden structure. Spinning from the force of his blow, he turned toward the sound of clashing swords as two smaller but stealthier men swung their blades at Côrnäith, driving him back toward the small stable. Glancing only briefly at the slow moving Gráthgör on the ground as his mount kicked ferociously at the Northman still trying to get to him.
“Run!” He screamed as he raced to aid Côrnäith.
Charging forward as one of the men turned toward the sound of his scream, he swung in an upward arc, deflecting the main force of the blow as the man moved toward him. Letting his momentum carry him, he gripped the hilt tighter as he spun around, dragging his sword across the man’s stomach, just below the leather breast plate.
Far more agile than the tall Northman, Côrnäith grinned at his attacker as he dropped and rolled out of his reach, bringing his blade upward. Feeling the resistance against the edge of his sword, he knew he had connected against the breastplate. The longer sword swung downward, the tip catching enough of his shoulder that he danced back awkwardly from the pain. A bright crimson stream stained the length of his upper arm as he got his footing and turned to face his attacker. Clenching his jaw against the pain, he swung with everything left in him as the man lunged for him, slicing through his neck, taking off his head.
“See to Gráthgör.” Elvändéruil ordered as he turned his attention to the injured Northman laying just outside the door to the outpost.
“Who are you?” He demanded, leveling the point of his blade at his neck as he kicked his sword out of his reach. “I asked you a question.” He stated, lowering his blade against the flesh of his neck.
“I will tell you nothing.” The man stated, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and upper chest where the elf’s sword had managed to cut through his leather armor.
“We shall see.” Elvändéruil told him, a sardonic smile curling his lips, turning his normally soft features into an evil mask. “King Thranduil will have many questions and you will answer them, I assure you death will not come quickly for you.”
“He will be alright.” Côrnäith said quietly as he approached him. “But we cannot move until we have tended ourselves.” He added, nodding toward the growing dark stain on Elvändéruil’s upper arm.
“Guard him.” Elvändéruil replied as he turned to scan the clearing for their mounts, only now beginning to feel the pain of his injury.
Moving quickly, he gathered them together and herded them into the small stable attached to the side of the main structure of the outpost. Collecting only his saddlebag and the ropes from each of the others, he returned to where he had left Côrnäith.
“Let’s get him inside.” He stated as he dropped the saddlebag and slipped the rope over his arm, hanging it from his shoulder.
“Damn it!” Côrnäith cursed as the man struggled against them. Tired and in pain, his patience was thread bare, without thinking he drew back and punched the man squarely in his jaw.
Shaking his head, Elvändéruil slipped his good arm under one of the now unconscious mans’ and helped Côrnäith drag him toward the door of the outpost.
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“I’m sorry Ráerû.” Táëglÿn said quietly, frowning slightly as he noted the agitated state of the young healer. “Elvändéruil departed quite early this morning and Lady Laurefindë is in a meeting with Lord Garävegión. Is this something I can help you with?”
“No, no.” Ráerû stuttered as he wrung his hands, his thoughts raced through his mind. “Thank you Táëglÿn, it can wait.” He said, forcing a smile as he turned quickly away from the door.
“Oh Eru!” (God) He exclaimed silently to himself as he paused briefly, leaning against the wall a short distance from Lady Laurefindë’s private chambers.
“Galion!” He thought almost excitedly as he pushed himself away from the wall. “Galion will know what to do!” He reassured himself as he struggled to keep from running through the corridors to the lower levels of the fortress.
“Daro!” (Stop) Thalieth ordered as the young healer nearly flew down the stairs leading into the large antechamber of the private rooms of the Royal House of the Woodland Realm.
“I need to speak with Galion!” Ráerû blurted spinning around to face him, his eyes wide as the guard approached him.
“He is with the king.” Thalieth informed him quietly, guarding his tone as he noted the color drain from the healers face. “Let me see if he can speak with you.”
Gulping passed the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, Ráerû could only nod as he stood there clinging to the banister post to steady himself. Watching nervously as the guard turned away from him and walked into the small alcove leading to the main door of the kings’ private chambers.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing!” He thought anxiously to himself as he closed his eyes, sending up a small prayer that Elvändéruil would understand and forgive him.
“Who?” Galion asked curiously as he entered the antechamber. “Ráerû!” He exclaimed as he caught sight of the clearly overly distraught healer. “What is the matter?” He asked, his tone full of concern as he hurried toward him.
“I must speak with you.” He stated, his gaze flickered quickly over Galion’s shoulder at the guard. “In private, now.” He added, turning his attention back to the kings’ personal attendant.
“What in Arda! (The world) Galion thought to himself as he wrapped his arm around the healers shoulder, guiding him down the short corridor to his private chambers. “Calm down Ráerû, it’s going to be alright.” He told him reassuringly, while struggling to convince himself.
“I don’t know what to do! You have to help me!” Ráerû exclaimed as soon as the door closed behind them. “Elvändéruil was right! It’s Lord Ortäuré! Tauriel is in danger! Maybe the king himself!” He blurted, running all of his words together as he struggled to even breathe.
“What!” Galion exclaimed, grabbing him by his shoulders as he resisted the urge to shake him. “Explain yourself!” He demanded, pinioning him with a hard stare.
“Lord Elvändéruil...” He swallowed again as his throat constricted, his voice trembling as he stared wide eyed into the darkening angry green eyes. “There is a plot against the king and they are going to use Tauriel...”
“You have to tell Thranduil everything.” Galion stated, his tone unusually calm to his own ears as he grabbed the healers hand and hauled him out of his rooms.
“I don’t need an announcement!” He exclaimed, almost glaring at Thalieth as he ran passed him toward the doors of Thranduil’s chambers, dragging the stiff and trembling healer behind him.
“You tell him everything!” Galion ordered as he all but slammed the door behind them.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Thranduil exclaimed, frowning as he turned sharply toward the sudden and unexpected intrusion.
“Galion?” He asked, concern spreading quickly over his features as his gaze flickered quickly between the angry face of his friend and the obviously frightened young ellyn (male elf) being literally dragged toward him.
Staring wide eyed at the king, Ráerû stammered nervously, again running his words so close together as he struggled to get everything out all at once.
“Ráerû I believe, right?” Thranduil said quietly as he approached them, speaking softly to the young healer as if he were one of the little elflings in his ward. “Relax.” He told him, smiling warmly as he took his hands in his own.
“Get him some wine.” He added, glancing quickly at Galion before leading the young healer toward one of the chairs in front of the hearth.
“Everything is going alright.” Thranduil continued as he pulled the padded foot bench closer to him. “Now start from the beginning.” He told him, rubbing his trembling hands as he lowered himself onto the foot bench.
“No it’s not going to be alright!” Ráerû exclaimed as he stared into the concerned face of the king. “We might be too late!”
“Too late for what?” Thranduil asked, pulling on centuries of practice at guarding his feelings as he struggled to appear calm while his inside twisted in knots.
“Here, drink this. It will calm you.” Galion stated as he handed him a goblet of wine.
“Easy.” Thranduil told him, taking control of the goblet when it became apparent the young healer intended to drink the entire contents.
“The beginning, right.” Ráerû said nervously, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as the king handed the goblet back to Galion.
Slowly, as the strong Dorwinion wine warmed his belly, he began to relate everything he could remember from the conversation he had with Elvändéruil in his mothers’ chambers. His voice began to tremble as he spoke of catching a glimpse of the one his friend had called the dark elf, yet he felt comforted as the king continued to smile at him and gently squeeze his hand reassuringly. He told him about the plan he overheard between the two Northman at the next morning at the inn.
“You will tell no one else of this, do you understand?” Thranduil told him, his anger making his tone sharper than he intended.
“Never! Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) Ráerû blurted, his eyes widening once more.
“Go to the stables, tell Rínnänéth to wait for me. Tell him nothing more.” Thranduil stated, turning his attention to Galion as he rose to his feet. “You have done well Ráerû.” He added as he looked back at the young healer. “I will take care of this.”
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End Notes:
Thanks again for reading!
Many apologies for taking so long with this chapter! Sometimes life has a way of interrupting our plans for one, and second, I’m not experienced in writing fighting or battle scenes! So this was very interesting for me, I hope you enjoyed it!
As always, comments are welcome!
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The Moth & The Flame