Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Liquid Diamonds	By : redkiwi Category: +Second Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1748 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Tolkien's world (Silmarillion/Lord of the Rings/Hobbit), nor the characters from it. No money is made from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
It was not the breaking dawn nor the songs of the doves that awoke Glorfindel in this new morning. Instead it was the sounds of Silvan words of alarm and concern, but also of relief that rang through the cabin, driving him from sleep. Glorfindel blinked in his awakening as he turned to see the scene unfold that almost seemed a dream to him. The effects of the forest's spell slowly wore off from him, leaving him a little dazed as he moved from sleep to wakefulness. He listened to Thranduil's slurred words of annoyance and surprise at being woken this early morning.
Thranduil seemed a little pale in the early morning light that filtered through the forest's canopy and into the cabin. He had beads of sweat on his brow, even though his wounds had been tended with that strong, almost magical medicine that Elrond had made. His eyes did not shine with the usual brightness that Glorfindel had come to love. Something was not right, and Glorfindel feared for the worse. He knew now that the orcish arrow had been poisoned, and the healing ointment had not been able to stop its vile spread. He had missed that important care to Thranduil and he felt his stomach drop. Thranduil was in more danger than he had thought, and he had not done enough to aid him.
The guards, understanding that they needed to bring Thranduil back to Oropher's halls as soon as possible, helped him put his boots on, and they wrapped one of their cloaks around his shaking frame. Two guards flanked him on both of his sides, helping him to stand so they could make their way back. Glorfindel silently fell into rank, as he quickly grabbed his belongings, buckling his belt and his sword around his thin under shirt while he followed the Silvan party. They almost seemed not to notice his presence, but were instead engrossed in their concern for Thranduil alone. Glorfindel didn't blame them, for Thranduil looked far too pale this new morning. His breathing was even more haggard, and his eyes reflected nothing but that dark teetering of an internal fight between wake and sleep, and between fever and reality. His walk was slow, labored, and if it wouldn't have been for the support from the guards, Glorfindel knew it would have been downright impossible for Thranduil to move through the forest this new morning.
The forest this morning was light and airy. The sweet summer scents of the blooming world around them cast serenity deep into the Greenwood, despite the dreadful concern they all felt. The path they walked opened up to them, the forest intent to make sure that nothing would hinder their quick movement as they worked to usher Thranduil back home as quickly as possible. Time seemed ever the enemy as the awful realization that the needed remedy to combat the orcish poison was not to be had on any of their persons. They needed to tread with haste back to Oropher's halls, where the master healer could finish the work that Glorfindel had started. Even despite the gravity that fueled their worries, the day was unfolding to be so pleasant, and Glorfindel once again felt the duality of this land envelope his entire being.
The silence that had settled within the group was interrupted when, within a few minutes into the walk, a young looking guard fell into pace beside Glorfindel. He looked sideways at Glorfindel, curious with his large amber eyes that regarded him sporadically through stolen glances. Glorfindel could feel the inquisitive gaze the other gave him, and wondered if he should turn to the guard in greeting. However, it was the guard who eventually broke the silence when his curiosity finally got the better of him.
"What happened?" He asked in accented Sindarin, lilting voice soft but daring in his curiosity. "We had searched for you for almost a day, but yet we could not find you. Never before have our eyes failed to see what we have been appointed to guard so carefully. How did you ever pass by our watch and know to find our prince?"
Glorfindel was not yet prepared for this question, although he knew that he would soon be interrogated long and hard when finally he would be face to face again with Oropher. Not wanting to disclose to the guard more than what was needed, Glorfindel simply replied. "It was the Greenwood."
The guard was silent, but his eyes revealed the wonderment that filled him, and Glorfindel swore the guard seemed to regard him more kindly and with less callous eyes. Glorfindel was not sure what caused the change, and he would have pondered more, but his attention snapped suddenly to Thranduil. The other needed to pause his steps, his strength had wained, and despite the support of his people, he stumbled down to the forest floor.
Glorfindel was quick to rush to him, seating himself beside Thranduil.
"Here" Glorfindel said as he took the flask of miruvor from his belt. It still contained but just a few drops of the medicinal drink, and he helped Thranduil drink the few precious drops that were left.
After he had finished taking the strengthening draught, Thranduil only mustered a feeble smile to Glorfindel before lifting his gaze up to the forest canopy. He was exhausted, and his mind was hazy with a sort of foggy cloud that dulled every other sensation. He felt little pain through his body, but his head was spinning within the warmth of fire. And he was chilled, even though his body was burning with the flames of the poison. He pulled as hard as he could on the cloak, wrapping it tighter around his shaking frame.
"A most beautiful day." Thranduil could only whisper, discomfort evident in the tone of his voice.
Glorfindel and the other guards around grew ever more alarmed, and Glorfindel wondered why the healing balm had done so little. He worried over this new spell that had seeped its poison into Thranduil.
"That orcish arrow, was it not forged with the poisons….." Glorfindel began, but Thranduil cut off his words, quickly dismissing the concern.
"It is nothing." He lied, snapping with a frown that had covered his face with his annoyance and his fever. He did not want to seem weak to Glorfindel, who had but just yesterday saved him from certain death. He did not want to seem weak to the guards who stood around him, concern painted on their faces. He knew he was not even close to having Glorfindel's valor and might, as he was still untested in the face of evil. He felt childish and insignificant in comparison. In his frustration and pain, he suddenly stood abrupt, forcing with all his will to stay standing. The guards rushed to his side, subtly helping Thranduil stand, and their fair faces were covered more with the frowns of their concern.
Glorfindel too, frowned. For all his difference from Oropher, Thranduil still carried his father's pride. He knew just what harm elvish pride could do, for he himself had been guilty of trying to mask some serious injuries. He had suffered in silence and had pushed himself beyond what his body could handle, all with a stubborn will that was beyond him to pacify. Even as the years passed him by, and he grew in his wisdom and might, he still hated to admit defeat. He understood what moved through Thranduil, but his pride would be the death of him. Still, he knew better than to point out the obvious in the midst of Thranduil's people. The guard who had spoken earlier shot Glorfindel a knowing look. Glorfindel returned it, and moved closer to Thranduil and the guards, just in case.
As they headed back, Thranduil only grew more irritable, his pain and annoyance manifested in his body language and in his sharp grumblings about everything except his injuries. He spoke in circles about the armies of Sauron laying siege to the lands of Gondor. And when they questioned his words and meaning, his response was only lashing out at them, demanding that they let loose of their hold on him. He glared at Glorfindel, pleading that he avert his gaze and move away from him. He cried out at the forest, calling the land around them vile and fowl. He stumbled more often, his weight more supported by the guards that he started to curse at in his delirium. Even as his mind was slipping, still his strong will kept him going, and he fought to keep moving back to his father's halls. Despite his fever, there was still a part deep within him that knew he needed to get home for his survival.
However, with his fever burning, and his mind battling the toxins, they all knew that he needed to be seen quickly by the healers. The guard who had earlier spoke with Glorfindel broke off in a sprint now, to inform the healers to prepare for their arrival. Thranduil watched him go through lidded eyes, before a swirling darkness overcame him. Glorfindel and the guards were there to catch him, insuring he would not hit the ground.
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The guard, whose name was Taranir, was scarcely one hundred and five years old, and had by hard work made his way into an elite guard unit. This guard unit was often sent out by Oropher for very important missions and could track and hunt even the most skilled evaders. They had been sent out yesterday to hunt for the Lord Glorfindel who had somehow slipped by unseen into their forest. It was an assignment that Taranir was proud to have earned. He had only been accepted just a few days before into the ranks of Oropher's elite guard, and now, here he was on one of the most important missions of his very young career.
He had been selected he knew because he was one of the swiftest around, moving silently and rapidly, seemingly flying through the forest. He darted and ducked, leaped and twisted, avoiding the swooping branches and limbs and roots that marked the path. He could hear the forest worry, leaves and branches rolled and shook with whispers of a dire wound.
Taranir suddenly flashed back to earlier, when that loathsome Glorfindel had stated that Greenwood had spoken to him. He wondered if it were Thranduil then and not Oropher who was right about Glorfindel. The Greenwood did not commune with foul or vile things. Their king had warned them to trust not the Noldor, for they only brought grief and ruin with their greed and blind ambitions. But he had seen the warmth and friendship Thranduil had given freely to Glorfindel, and Glorfindel had saved Thranduil's life. His king was wise. If the Greenwood saw the good in Glorfindel, he knew Oropher would to.
Taranir's mind then returned back to his worry, and he almost panicked as he ran, his youth still more powerful than was the years of his training. Pushing harder through the remaining distance that spawned the morning hours, he finally reached the steps of the citadel, rushing quick to the hall of his king. He ran through the corridors, surprising the others who were busily going about their day, not caring to slow his pace. He dashed into Oropher's study, not caring to stop when the guards yelled, questioning his sudden intrusion.
"Taranir?" Oropher turned to the young guard, as he was started by his sudden entrance. Oropher stood by his chief- counsellor, and the two had been deep in conversation this morning. The ever silent Galion looked on with a distant look written on his face, standing far into the room by an open window.
"What news do you bring?" Oropher's tone was anxious, his eyes were intense, barring straight into Taranir's eyes.
"Thranduil," Taranir gasped for air, even as he pushed his words out with a force to convey the morning's developments to his king. "He is wounded, and although he is being brought here with much haste, his condition only grows graver. He burns with fever from his injuries. The healers need to be readied for his arrival."
Oropher didn't even need to send those commands to ready the healers for Thranduil's arrival, for Galion had already rushed out of the room for the needed preparations. Oropher seemed shaken for only a brief second before he once again masked his emotions under his ever placid facade. He was silent for but a moment, before he addressed his guard once more.
"Inform me at once when the party arrives." He almost dismissed Taranir but then stopped, suddenly curious of the whereabouts of Glorfindel who was still lurking in his forest unseen.
"Tell me, was the Lord Glorfindel to be found within the Greenwood, or does he still conceal his presence deep within the bowels of our forest?" Oropher's voice was piercing, demanding an answer.
"Yes, my King. The Lord Glorfindel has been found. He was there this morning with Thranduil in a remote outpost, away from our usual paths."
On hearing what he already suspected Oropher gave little reaction, just a flicker of knowing that flashed briefly in his eyes. Oropher turned, as if he was ready to dismiss Taranir so he could reflect on the words.
"I would like to add.." Taranir stated suddenly, turning to Oropher to face him once more.
"Go on, speak freely." Oropher urged Taranir to speak his mind. His vibrant eyes revealed his youth, and Oropher noted to relax his face, hoping to reassure Taranir that he deeply valued open communication with his people.
"My King," Taranir felt compelled to share what Glorfindel had stated to him this morning. "Lord Glorfindel stated to me that the Greenwood had told him how to find Thranduil. And when he first woke Thranduil, he told us that Glorfindel had come to him in his most dire hour, saving him during an orc attack. Your son seemed convinced that he would be dead if not for Glorfindel finding him."
He watched as Oropher's brows raised a little as he processed the words he was hearing. Oropher's face showed confusion but for just a split second, before it too soon returned to placidity. Taranir could not read any sort of emotion in the cold hard rocks that were Oropher's eyes.
Oropher's response was only one of silence, before he gave a gentle nod to dismiss Taranir. He lingered just a moment in the office before he motioned for his advisor to follow him to the throne room where they would await the arrival of Glorfindel. Seconds melted to minutes and the minutes turned slowly within the frozen arms of time, trickling into a never ending hour. And slower ever than that never ending hour, was the remaining time that languidly ebbed into the sound of an arriving party.
Deciding to stay in the throne room to receive Glorfindel was not an easy choice for Oropher. Although he knew his son would be in capable hands, he still wanted to see with his own eyes the condition Thranduil was in. But, since a healer he was not, he saw no reason to go to the healing wing just yet, as there was nothing he could do. Instead he sat, waiting on his wooden throne for Glorfindel's arrival, as he had instructed that he be brought immediately to his throne room.
As Oropher waited, he reflected on the statement that Taranir had told him. He fumed at the thought that the Greenwood would speak to Glorfindel, or share even a glimpse of one of its visions with an outsider. He refuted the statement. The Greenwood had shared no such urgent dangers yesterday with him. Why would the spirits that lived in the forest move within an intruder, instead of the very king who vowed to protect these lands and people? It made little sense to him why when he tried to hear the voices of the forest, the dire worry that moved Glorfindel was returned to him with only silence.
No. He entertained this notion not, but was convinced instead of another conclusion. He knew that Thranduil had told Glorfindel to spread this lie in order to spare Glorfindel from his wraith. But his son's plan was so transparent, so fallacious with its oversight of an explanation as to why the forest would move through Glorfindel and not through its own king?
Thranduil could easily fool his subjects with his charms and his delusive words, but Oropher knew better. He knew Thranduil's heart. He was not so unlike his sister, trusting and accepting the Noldor, learning their lore and accepting their friendship. Thranduil had fallen under the spell of Glorfindel who was haunting their home, and Oropher clearly saw it.
And just as his assessment of the Noldor had been through the years as being a dangerous and distrustful lot, this one was proving to be just as dangerous as the others. Even more so, Oropher mused. Glorfindel had tempted his son to turn astray from the truths that he had formulated in his mind over the years, causing him to send off his guards so he could meet with Glorfindel alone. In his foolishness and with the spell he had fallen under, instead of being safe within his halls, Thranduil had instead had ran into an orc host that had nearly claimed his life.
Oropher had simply had enough of this madness. Glorfindel's will was as strong as his own, and his patience was just as vast. He would commence with his original plan. There would be a meeting. Glorfindel could state his words, and he would send him off, with Thranduil watching, powerless to keep Glorfindel from being banished from the realm forever. It would be a final triumph of his will and order over the lands of Greenwood and over the people in it. Life would return to normal. Thranduil would be free from the poison of Glorfindel. The peace and balance would return and the Greenwood's gentle nature would continue to heal his broken soul.
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As they drew nearer to the capital, Glorfindel could see the eyes of the forest watching their parade. The faces of the elves who watched their procession were solemn, as they knew the bitter sorrows of the world had arrived once more into their very isolated world. Glorfindel could feel those eyes on him, but even though their eyes were piercing, the others were silent as they passed, intent to watch in a still vigil as the citadel rose in front of them in the distance.
The grand doors opened before them, and Glorfindel watched as Thranduil was carried one way, and he was led another way by the captain of the guards to Oropher's throne room. Just as he remembered, the grand room opened up to him. The giant stone pillars towered as the forest's trees, long branches reaching above him. And just as the last time he had entered into this room, Oropher was seated as stoic as a statue. His eyes were still as cold and hard as they always were when he looked on him.
Oropher rose in greeting to Glorfindel, face showing great disapproval at him however. He paused as Glorfindel moved closer to his throne, before he descended down the few short steps to the same level where Glorfindel stood. He walked over to him, eyes as cold as the dead of winter as he continued to glare at Glorfindel.
"I missed you at our meeting of alliance." Oropher mocked him, cordial hospitality blatantly void as he let his irritation ring out in his throne room.
Glorfindel expected as much, and wondered if Oropher had been told of the events from the last two days yet. Glorfindel wouldn't be surprised if the simple facts bad been kept from Oropher, and he was ready to speak the truth to the king.
"I do apologize, Lord Oropher, for missing our scheduled meeting." Glorfindel stated, but was interrupted by Oropher's words. He smiled within, expecting nothing less from Oropher.
"I have been told that you were found with Thranduil this morning, and furthermore my guards informed me that you saved my son during an orc ambush." Oropher watched as Glorfindel's eyebrow rose, seemingly surprised that the events were indeed spoken of to him. Oropher fumed within with the words he was about to say, but he kept his true venom contained.
"Please know that all of the Greenwood is thankful for the bravery of your sword." Oropher bowed his head ever so slightly and elegantly to Glorfindel. His actions, although showing his gratitude, dripped however with his sardonic disdain for Glorfindel.
Oropher continued his words, annunciated with his scorn. "Thranduil is being treated by our best healers. You need not worry about his fate, for you just happened to be there for him just before his darkest hour."
Oropher moved now, stepping to Glorfindel's right, allowing a closer proximity between the two than ever before. His cold green eyes peered deep into Glorfindel's as if he hoped his gaze would open a confession to something other than what he had stated. But Glorfindel remained silent, content instead to let Oropher continue with his words.
"I must admit," Oropher continued as Glorfindel kept his silence. "that had we found you before I had heard the words from Taranir of what my son had said about yesterday's events, I would have had you banished without another word. However, with the turn of events, I see no reason to delay our meeting any further. In remittance for your deeds, I will truly give you your day to plead alliance. Once Thranduil has healed, we will have that discussion. If Gil-galad seeks an alliance with the Silvan elves of the Greenwood, I can at least hear his herald out, for this herald has shown his noble qualities. You are deemed worthy in the eyes of the Greenwood."
"This is most welcome news." Glorfindel inclined his head respectfully, as he watched Oropher's expression remain ever veiled on his true feelings.
Although Oropher had said a meeting would soon be held, that commencement hinged however on the recovery of Thranduil. Glorfindel wondered why Oropher would include this stipulation as to when the meeting would commence, and wondered if Oropher simply waited for a confession from Thranduil as to how he had come to find Thranduil out in the Greenwood. And Glorfindel continued to watch Oropher who only just kept his steady gaze on him. He waited for the questions of how he had found Thranduil, of how he had evaded the guards, of how he even knew to venture into the Greenwood. But the questions did not come. It was just the ever silent stare from Oropher that continued to bore into his own eyes. Glorfindel wondered if perhaps this was a challenge for him to speak his mind.
"I was led by a dream." Glorfindel stated with a bold confidence. He noted the slight irritation that resounded within Oropher's breath as he listened to his words.
"I really had no intentions of slighting you when I failed to appear for our scheduled meeting. Please know that the ever pressing issue of the Dark Lord burdens my mind, as I know it does yours." Glorfindel stopped speaking, notting that Oropher seemed little interested in his explanation or plea. Oropher still remained obstinate as if he had already learned the truth that only mattered to him. But still, Oropher let his eyes relay that he was listening, inviting Glorfindel to continue with his words.
"Thranduil mentioned that the armies of Sauron march on Gondor. I feel that soon his eyes will turn to your own realm." Glorfindel still wondered of the earlier words Thranduil had spoken through his fever. He hadn't mentioned a word of this the day before when his mind had been more lucid. He wondered now if Oropher had heard any news himself on the matter, and felt compelled to speak on this topic.
Oropher heard the concern from Glorfindel, and he let his mind flash with the worry he also knew. Glorfindel's words gave him alarm. He had yet to hear of an attack by their enemy on the lands of Gondor, but he noted to keep his surprise from showing on his face. He was truly distressed with this news, for he knew that the enemy would never be satisfied until all the lands were under his shadow. The Greenwood was not immune.
This newly learned information that would have directed most leaders to act with reason and with action, quickly turned to something other within Oropher. And Oropher began to believe that Glorfindel only spoke these words to sway him to alliance. His mind began to doubt what Glorfindel told him, and quickly Oropher's anger flared, letting his mind cloud back with his hatred for Glorfindel. Glorfindel was only trying to trick him. Again the lies of the Noldor were being presented to him. He vowed to keep his people away from the grief that the he had lived through due to the lies and deceit of the Noldor.
"I was not aware you had the gift of foresight, Lord Glorfindel. Indeed it seems the longer you stay, the more of your amazing talents and traits I have the privilege to learn of."
Glorfindel was a little surprised with the sting of the words, and he was a little taken aback that the king's cold unfriendly demeanor failed to change even with the saving of his son. Even the worrisome news of their shared enemy did not sway Oropher from his cold indifference on what grew and festered just outside his realm. Truly unbelievable, Glorfindel thought. There was absolutely no way to reach Oropher. Even with Thranduil almost dying, still Oropher would not heed his words. But Glorfindel kept his calm, not yet ready to unleash his true might against the obstinate Oropher.
"You hold your tongue well, but your eyes reflect your inner storm, Lord Glorfindel. If there is something you would like to add to this conversation, please do so. You have my full attention."
The cold gaze from the king's emerald eyes was as hard as the stone of the pillars that surrounded them, and he possessed a stone soul that seemed to be devoid of any warmth or care. And Glorfindel felt very uncomfortable and wanted no more to speak with Oropher this day. His soul was weary and his mind would not move from wondering how Thranduil was faring. He was strangely exhausted, weighed down with his worry for Thranduil.
"Although I feel relief with knowing that my actions have not yet doomed this meeting, the greater worry of Thranduil does crash within my mind. It is like a great wave of unease. It is now becoming impossible for me to think of anything else except my concern for someone who has been so close to death."
Oropher's eyes flashed with a slight irritation, evidently displeased with the knowing of Glorfindel's deeds and the frailty of his son. That simple yet powerful act would have caused even the hardest of stone hearts to crack and relent, but to Glorfindel, Oropher seemed only more distant, more scornful. Perhaps it was nothing more than the worry that Oropher now had for his son, or the still lingering annoyance from the changing of his plans. Thranduil had told him that Oropher craved order in his life, and through his sheer domination had tried his hardest to create a life of order. But Glorfindel knew this life of order was nothing but an illusion. And even Thranduil too shared this sentiment, stating that the walls that Oropher had built around this realm would never keep the world from eventually crashing in on it.
"Your concern is little warranted. Thranduil is strong and my healers are most skilled. Do not let your worries on this matter trouble your soul any longer."
His words were strangely gentle now and Glorfindel felt an odd confusion at Oropher's duality. But then again, these lands and the people who dwelled within it seemed to embody a dyadic personality. He wondered why Oropher gave him council that was a little more compassionate and a little less harsh now. Perhaps the words he simply spoke now were simply meant for himself and no one else at all.
"Your words are true, my Lord. But still, the worry is difficult to dispel. With your permission, I would like to visit with Thranduil to see with my own eyes that he is well."
No sign from Oropher gave away his thoughts on the subject and his ever obstinate face remained silent in his reluctance to respond to the request. The silence that settled in the room kept Glorfindel frozen, and he waited for Oropher to utter his verdict on his request.
"When that time comes regarding Thranduil's condition is known, word will be made to you." Oropher cared not to state more to Glorfindel. "If you will excuse me, Lord Glorfindel, I must see to my guards, for I require additional information from my people. Please refresh yourself and take your meal. I will see you next when we have this meeting, if not sooner."
Glorfindel wasn't surprised that he had been dismissed, although he was disappointed that Oropher seemed little interested in the real and growing threat the Dark Lord poised to his people. But still, the meeting had gone better than what he had initially feared. The council of alliance would still commence and his mission had not yet failed. Still, with what he continued to experience from Oropher, his doubt grew that he would be able to reach the vindictive Oropher.
Masking his annoyance yet again, Glorfindel returned the polite nod of departure. He was more than a little flabbergasted as he turned from the throne room, turning over again in his mind the few words that Oropher had given him.
---------------
Galion had moved with haste to inform the healers of the impending arrival of the injured party. He awaited nervously for his dear friend's arrival. The usual calm he exhibited was now replaced with a transparent worry that resonated through his entire body and in his eyes. His brown eyes glistened with worry as if tears threatened to fall. Those who worked in the healing wing knew that he and Thranduil were close, and that they had taken on a friendship that had started the first day they had met. The healers mostly ignored Galion's presence, and he was mindful to stay out of their way. Galion watched as they boiled water and prepared the herbs they would need to treat Thranduil's injuries.
Time seemed even more still to Galion with its tormenting taunt of the unknown condition they would find Thranduil in. It was even more annoying and slow moving than when it seemed to have stopped a few days before when he had joined with Thranduil when he went to heal Ferdir. Galion was always in motion and was use to living his life in a blur, but now with nothing he could do, he simply sat and waited, heart pounding in his worry. His stillness was unnerving and only acted to heighten his anxiety and cause his concern to scream within his mind. His heart raced as its pounding within, deafened the noise in the room from the healers.
Almost detached from his long wait, he finally heard the sounds of voices calling of Thranduil's arrival. And as if he was watching a scene unfold that seemed too surreal to actually be happening, he saw Thranduil placed on a bed, skin ashen and eyes closed, brow soaked with a fever that was raging within.
It was all too much and Galion in his worry, too, closed his eyes. He did not want to see the scene unfold. He did not want to see Thranduil being attended in such a dire condition. Instead he let his memories transport him to other times in this room, where Thranduil often worked as a healer. His friend would spend hours working and learning the art of healing. Galion suspected at first that Thranduil simply busied himself to steer clear of Oropher, and the work of a lord, but soon Galion had learned just how talented Thranduil was as a healer. Absentmindedly, he rubbed a scar on his skin, and fought back the tears that were threatening to flow from his eyes while he watched the master-healers work on Thranduil. Galion hadn't cared to check his emotions and was jarred from his intense watch of Thranduil by one of the young healer apprentices.
"Galion." He seated himself by Galion. "The sentries say that the arms of evil is ever growing and its stretch reaches over much of the lands. And here our own continue to shoulder its furry. Will that of dread and pain only gain a stronger hold on all that we love?"
Galion only nodded, feeling just as wretched as the healer whose gentle tears could not be stopped.
"Tears will bring not the essence of healing that is needed in these rooms." An older healer chided the young apprentice. "I have seen better wounds, but also have I seen those wounds that are by far much worse than what has befallen our friend here. Keep watch and keep faith, for a healer is and should always be the very last one to fall into doubt and despair."
She placed a reassuring pat on the young healer's shoulder and gave Galion a knowing look. He too took in her words that gave him a renewed strength. He watched on as the healer said her words, drawing the poison from Thranduil, strengthening his fae that had dimmed under the toxins which slowly threatened his life.
Galion knew only the basics of the healing arts, for all elves were endowed with those skills. But when it came to more severe wounds and injuries that could pull the very soul from the body, Galion lacked the ability to treat those injuries. He watched as the herbs were placed on Thranduil's wounds with gentle and caring hands, and again Galion was transported back to another time all together.
He could almost feel Thranduil's hands on him when he had gently cared for his seeping wounds. He had been panicked, crying out in his agony. But Thranduil's words had been sedative and his skill had prevented his wounds from falling into infection. Those long ivory fingers had tenderly brushed his hair back and he had stayed with him all through the night tending him, caring for him, and simply holding his hand as he guarded his sleep.
Over the years Thranduil had shared his love and interest in the healing arts with him. And he had listened on politely but he never did share that same enthusiasm for it that Thranduil did. Thranduil had even told him of his days in Lindon where he studied with Lord Elrond, and Galion had simply only smiled back, not really sure why that detail mattered so. Now as he sat pained and useless in watch over his friend, he wished that he would have paid more attention to Thranduil's words and would have studied healing with him. It would be him then who would be healing Thranduil instead of watching useless on the sidelines.
He was pulled back to reality when the apprentice-healer brought him from this thoughts. "How long will you keep watch Galion?" He asked, as he was not use to Galion's presence in the healing wings.
"I will report back to the King as soon as it becomes known that Thranduil is well. I know our Lord will want immediate word on his improved condition." He kept his voice steady behind his facade of ever dutiful servant to the King, even as his emotions crashed against his will.
The young healer only nodded, and later soon rose as his services were needed to fetch more fresh water. Galion politely regarded his departure and listened more as the healers worked.
Thranduil had finally opened his eyes, if not but a brief moment, and Galion found himself rising, moving closer to him
"My friend." He implored, gripping now the still cold hand within his own. But Thranduil did not open his eyes.
It was the poison, Galion knew. It seeped through Thranduil's body, it was pulling him away from them. The cold of his hand was evidence to that. He heard the healers mention the poison, but he also heard them speak of the remarkable healing that had already began with the other injuries. They knew the balm that had been used. It was made with one of the rarest plants that had long ago vanished from the face of Arda. The attributes from the Beltloth's flowers had the strongest healing properties, and due to its potency and rarity, the balm made from the plant was worth as much as triple of its weight in mithril. Thranduil had told them about the suave, and had brought a tiny amount of it with him that he had made when he lived in Lindon.
The healers were astounded that Thranduil could have used it on himself and had also been able to dress his wounds. They did not know that Glorfindel had been involved, and Galion felt compelled to tell them.
"It was Glorfindel who did it." Galion interjected, marveling at just how noble Glorfindel truly was, even though he still felt a strong jealousy towards him.
"We owe him our gratitude then." The master-healer stated. "The wounds were meticulously cleaned and medicated with the strongest and most effective healing balm we know of. Already his wounds are at a healing stage that would lead us to believe that the injuries afflicted to him had happened a week ago. But yet this is not so."
Galion regarded their words with wonder, surprised by what they said.
"The only symptom we really needed to treat was the poison. We gave him the treatment needed. He will fully recover." The ancient-healer stood, surveying her charge one last time before she turned her attention to other matters. She ordered the cleaning of the room and requested that Thranduil be moved to a more private and comfortable setting.
"Take you leave, Galion." She stated, turning back to him. "I will not permit any visitor, except the king himself, to disturb his lordship's rest now. Please inform our king that a full recovery will be had within the next few days."
Galion politely bowed in departure, although he was immensely annoyed and disappointed that he could not stay with Thranduil. His quick walk through the halls as he headed back to Oropher informed the others that he was on a mission and would not stop for their questions on Thranduil's condition.
"Galion!" a guard called out to him, ignoring Galion's quick walk and the aloofness written on his face. The guard ran after him, calling out again his request that caused Galion to stop. "Our king has requested that Lord Glorfindel's sword be taken for cleaning as a token of our appreciation for his aide to his son. He wants this done at once and requested that you ensure it is carried out."
"Please inform our king that I will see this task be done. And please," Galion was annoyed that he could not yet see Oropher, but his face still showed his relief regarding Thranduil. "Inform the King that Thranduil will soon recover."
He watched as the guard nodded and departed down another corridor, before he turned to head to Glorfindel's chambers.
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On his dismissal, Glorfindel had returned back to his rooms. He was mentally drained and he sighed as he undid his belt and removed his boots and light undershirt. He knew he looked a mess, and he felt even worse than he looked. He was still covered with that black orcish blood, and he wanted desperately to clean himself and purge his body of the vile blood and oder.
As if in a daze, he continued to run Oropher's words though his head. They brought his soul to even more weariness, and he desperately craved a bath now. He walked into his washroom pleased to find that warm water had been filled in the standing tub for him. Before he could remove his trousers and soak himself into the inviting water, a knock came on his door. He recognized the knock, even though he was slightly annoyed to be delayed with the cleansing he so wanted. Quickly without pause, he went to open the door. Galion's clear brown eyes peered at him in a rather indifferent greeting.
"Your sword." Galion stated. "The King has requested that I make sure we have it properly cleaned for you."
Glorfindel had to admit he was utterly surprised with the words that Galion now stated to him. "A most surprising gesture from your lord." Glorfindel mused. "I am more than capable of cleaning my own sword however. But I do appreciate this kind gesture on your king's part."
Glorfindel motioned for Galion to enter into his rooms. His sword was propped up against the wall, and he took it now, pulling it back from its sheath. It was covered in dried black orc blood. As he looked it over, he admitted that his sword did need cleaned, but he was a little hesitant to hand it over to Oropher. His strong warrior instincts told him to keep his sword. He looked at Galion, whose eyes questioned his delay. Not wanting to insult Oropher's good will, he finally handed the sword to Galion.
"Oh," Glorfindel suddenly remembered. "Wait!" He moved over to the desk in the room, and picked up a belt that he had removed from Thranduil back in the cabin. After the fight, he had found Thranduil's daggers, and had placed them back into their pouch. "These belong to Thranduil. I am sure he would like to have these cleaned as well."
Galion nodded, taking the sword and the daggers, surprised with just how heavy the weapons were. He was used to bows and arrows, and not so much to these foreign weapons of the Western outsiders. He turned to leave, but then he stopped, turning his gaze back to Glorfindel.
"Thank you." Galion suddenly stated in a rushed and soft voice. He adverted his gaze, not caring to see the reaction that Glorfindel gave him. "Thank you so much for saving Thranduil." He abruptly turned before Glorfindel could respond, ensuring that he could not see the tears that now flowed down his face so freely.
"Wait. Galion! How is Thranduil?" Glorfindel called to Galion, but his words only fell on death ears. He watched as the other had hastily departed his chambers.
"Galion!" He cried out, but Galion would not turn back to him and soon had disappeared into the expansive maze of Oropher's corridors. Glorfindel stood in a stupor, but Galion had stated that Thranduil had been saved. He let his heart rest on those words, before he closed his door. He went back to the bath, removing the last of his clothing before he settled himself into the warmth of the water, hoping to relax his body and mind from the very long and exhausting day.
------------------
It was only after the day's most crucial activities had concluded that Oropher finally made his way to the healing wing. He had spent most of the afternoon and evening with his counsellors discussing the attacks and the news from Glorfindel that Gondor was under siege by the Dark Lord. They were all beyond concerned with this newest development, and they all wondered just how long until that shadow crept into their own lands. Oropher had ordered his guards double their numbers at their borders for a constant watch.
He knew Thranduil would be sleeping, getting the much needed rest that would be required to heal him thoroughly from his wounds. But all the same Oropher needed to see him. On entering the healing wing, he was greeted by the master-healer who relayed the very same words that Galion had requested a guard say to him earlier. Thranduil would recover. But as the healer spoke on, Oropher was a little stunned just to hear just how badly injured Thranduil had really been. The orcs had abused both his mind and body, and had inflicted their poison into his body when they had shot him with an arrow. But Oropher let the worry leave his mind, for he knew that this was really nothing to that of elven-kind. Thranduil would quickly heal from that abuse, and this would all be but a distant memory in a sea of countless others within his long and immortal life.
Even though Thranduil was deep in a healing sleep, he entered the room as silently as he could, not wanting to disturb in the slightest this sleep his son needed now. Although the room was dark with the lanterns' lights turned down, Oropher could still make out the wounds and he could see the abuse on Thranduil's face. The orcs must have really given him a beating, Oropher accessed, but he could already see that the bruises and cuts were healing and fading away on his son's fair face. The healer had told him that Glorfindel had used the Beltloth flower's balm on Thranduil's wounds, which more than likely had saved his life. Yet still, Oropher knew that the healing wasn't over yet, for Thranduil's eyes were firmly closed in his sleep.
Despite his want to reach out and touch his son as gently as he had when Thranduil was but only a small child, Oropher only just watched him sleep. He sat for awhile, heart awash in relief, but mind still heavily troubled. Knowing that there was nothing he could do here, he turned away, and left Thranduil to sleep under the ever watchful eyes of the healers.
"See to it that he recuperates fully before he is to be released. And…." Oropher locked eyes with the master-healer. "Keep him convalescing in these rooms alone. There is to be no visitors allowed except for whom would have my permission granted first." Oropher ordered, making sure he would stop all interactions between Glorfindel and Thranduil from this point forward.
"And Galion?" the healer asked.
"Of course, of course. He is to have full access as you see fit."
"That is good, my lord, for your butler cares greatly for his friend and the presence of kindred spirits always help the healing process. And what of Glorfindel?"
But Oropher did not answer the healer's question before he disappeared into the dark corridor.
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It had been a long day and now that the night had come to the Greenwood again, Glorfindel was alone, seemingly forgotten with the chaos that had settled within Oropher's halls. There had been no one to come to him since Galion had left him when he had requested his sword. He had been alone with nothing or no one to break up the monotony of his solitude. Glorfindel hadn't realized just how much he had grown to cherish Thranduil's company. He was undeniably growing found of his kind and enchanting soul, the dulcet hum of his voice, those bewitching emerald eyes. Glorfindel sighed. This was not good. Not good at all.
Changing his thoughts he forced his mind to reflect on the the words from Oropher. They still resounded strongly in his mind. Oropher had surprised him again, and Glorfindel realized that he still knew so little about him. He had thought his actions would have only been greeted with Oropher's dismissal. Even Thranduil had doubted his father's acceptance of hearing him out once more. But yet he was still wanting to meet with him so that he could plead alliance. But why wait for Thranduil's recovery? Glorfindel was stumped on that one. Was Thranduil to also be involved with the meetings?
Glorfindel certainly hoped so, for Thranduil had proven to be an ally thus far, sharing his belief that the elven realms unite to march against the Dark Lord. He was the reason that could guide this realm, the reason that might actually break through to Oropher.
His thoughts reflected more on Thranduil. He wondered just how his friend was doing this night. He had been told nothing about him since he had arrived back here, except the thanks from Galion where he had stated that Thranduil had been saved. This night had been one the most cruel of his nights thus far in the Greenwood. He would much rather face all the swords of the orc host than be subject to this silence and unknowing that was forced on him now. The silence was piercing. The night was still. And Glorfindel was alone with just his thoughts in this silent night, waiting for word on Thranduil that seemed would never come.
--------------

The night that had passed had been uneventful, silent, almost too still. The voices of the inhabitants in and around the citadel had been absent, hushed as if lost in their own silent vigil. The dark of the forest had seemed stronger, the gentle lanterns glowed less in the stifling darkness of the clouded and veiled sky. Their subtle light shone much more meeker. The fireflies were beyond their immediate area, hiding their light deep within the thick of the dense forest. The light from the moon and stars were distant, hidden, veiled behind the night's clouds. There had been no wind, no disturbances, except for that almost eerie nothing that blanketed everything. It was stifling, almost oppressive even.
The absence of the strange forest sounds; the silence of the night calling of the owls, the stillness of the rustling of the underbrush, and the stifled breezes through the leaves had left Oropher in a restless mood, even despite the unusual calm of the Greenwood. His mind still weighed heavily on the attack on Gondor. The event's confirming was no more simply from the words of a fevered mind, but had came to him from the lips of a messenger. The enemy grew ever bolder, ever with more malevolence in his need to control all others. In response of the ill news, he had called on the doubling of the guards to patrol their outer borders, a move that even he wondered would perhaps not be enough to keep that evil from encroaching into their lands. But still, even as the great cities in Gondor were under siege, their lands still had peace. It was an ever watchful peace that balanced on the end of a dagger's edge, so fragile and so easily broken. Oropher wondered when it was all said and done, would he be able to protect his people? Or would the fires of destruction claim them all? It was simply not in his nature to despair, but deep within, that simple doubt and unknowing raged within his mind.
The Noldor offered an alliance. A call to challenge the Dark Lord, and preserve that delicate peace. And Oropher pondered it. Thranduil was in favor of the alliance. He was in favor for marching under the command of Gil-galad. But Oropher was not so sure yet about even considering this action. He simply could not forget the words of Thingol who in his infinite wisdom had known not to trust the Noldor. Thingol was the mightiest and wisest person that he had ever had the privilege of knowing. He knew from the moment the exiles had returned to their lands not to trust them. Even the very few he had ever let into the realm, Oropher had regarded with caution, and with his aloofness, had followed his king's mindset. He had lost friends because of the Noldor. Even his kin Celeborn would not see through their lies. He had lost him, he had lost his daughter. He would not lose his son.
He let his mind pause with his thoughts, and he turned his gaze to the open forest vista. The breaking dawn had cast the forest as almost otherworldly, ethereal, haunting. Usually the dark of the forest would fill his mind with its glorious distractions. But not this night. Oropher closed his eyes, letting his head drop into his hands. It was a posture he rarely let himself fall into, for it symbolized uncertainty, weakness, and defeat. But he was alone, and he simply did not care to hold his head up any longer, as if the weight of all the years had finally rained their troubles solely onto him once more.
With his head down turned, Oropher's mind seemed to will that he remember and feel what he had tried so hard to erase and forget from his soul. Usually he could fight the subtle pains that would start. He would turn to wine, to the forest, to the running of his realm, and those memories would simply fade back within the dark folds of his soul. But that pain and those memories never truly left him, he knew. They just remained buried deep within, festering like a horrid wound that just waited for the right time to strike back with a vengeance through his mind, and with a piercing through his soul.
Her eyes. Unblinking, unseeing, staring through him. They were void of the light that shone with the beauty of her spirit. So powerful, so enchanting. She was gone and he had not been there to save her during the chaos that had rained down around them. Her beautiful soul, gone from him now to a place that he just could not follow her to. He knew he would never give into to his grief and fade to where her soul would wait to be reembodied. She was lost forever to him now.
Their promise of forever had been broken, stolen from him by the Noldor. He tightened his fist as those waves of emotions hit him with all their crushing, wrenching, tortorurous turmoil that he had felt thousands of years ago.
There could be no alliance. He would never answer the call of the Noldor. He would never unite under their banner, yielding his people's fate to their destructive and reckless ways. Oropher raised his head now fueled with the strength of his anger, and he let his eyes fall back into staring into the dark of the forest.
How long he stared, he cared not to think about. The world could have stopped for all he cared. Time could have finally been broken, for the forest around him seemed frozen, inanimate as one of the many murals that decorated the rooms within his halls. It seemed that if he were to reach his hand just beyond the window he would only feel the cold hard surface of stone instead of the emptiness of the air.
"Sire?" Galion's gentle voice did not penetrate to the king, who kept his silent watch of the plodding breaking of the dawn within the Greenwood.
Galion awaited a reply, a turn, a stir, any sort of acknowledgment from Oropher. But nothing come from his liege. The silence penetrated the room and seemed to roll out into the forest, unheard, unperceived, lost within the thousands of trees beyond the room they stood in. Galion could not hear the birds sing in this approaching morning, nor did the forest whisper their words of the tidings. And his long forgotten call to his king remained ignored, having disappeared within the void that seemed to have settled around Oropher who sat within this dimly lit room.
Galion could only guess that Oropher had been deep in thought throughout the entire night. Perhaps he worried for his son, or perhaps he had debated about their place in the wold and where that would lead them in regards to the fight against the Dark Lord. Or simply yet, perhaps he was simply sleeping now straight up in the chair he sat on.
Galion allowed himself to smile, amused with his thoughts, despite all the worry he had felt these last couple of days. He was exhausted himself. He hadn't slept in over two days, and while that was common for him, the weight of his thoughts and worry drained the energy from his soul. He knew the same would be true for Oropher, and even more so. For his king was like an impermeable fortress, neither letting anything in nor out, but instead trapping his thoughts and feelings that he guarded so well. He worried for Oropher, as he had never encountered a soul that was so frozen, so distant and damaged. And nothing could bring the light back into Oropher's heart, he knew.
Even though Galion knew Oropher's past, the knowledge of all those trials did little to help him reach out to his king. But still Oropher seemed to find comfort with his presence, often having him silently stand on by his side. Galion understood it not, but he gave his all to his service to Oropher, as he was grateful to play what little part he could to his great king.
Always he had done his best to serve him, and he frowned with thinking of the betrayal he had given to Oropher the last couple of days; of the keeping of the knowledge of how Glorfindel had slipped from their halls and his part in it from Oropher. It pained him to be deceitful to him. But he knew that Oropher already knew about Thranduil's infatuation with Glorfindel. Galion wasn't even sure he truly knew just how deep it ran. But somehow there seemed to be a strange link between the two, as if they were meant to meet. Somehow Galion and even Oropher could tell that the fates had meant for them to come together despite the circumstance that held them apart. Oropher's will was not always absolute, and Galion knew this troubled Oropher more than it should have.
"Sire?"
Again his voice rang out, breaking the silence but only briefly. His word rolled within the room, moving beyond the still king, out into the forest where it was enfolded within the outstretched arms of the trees. Galion wondered if he should leave Oropher's side as it was evident that he seemed little interested in leaving his own thoughts this very early day. And Galion shuffled, unable to break the uncomfortable silence that troubled him now so.
"Have you came with news on Thranduil?" Oropher's voice was no stronger than a sigh, and even more detached than his unmoving figure that refused to turn from the wide open window that opened up to the still dark forest.
"Yes, my lord." Galion spoke, holding his spot close to the door, instead of moving further into the room. Oropher's uninterested tone was not inviting, and Galion was not so sure his presence was wanted.
"If the news were not good, you would have stated it already." Oropher's tone made it clear that he really did not feel like speaking in these early hours of this new day. "I already know that the poison has left his system, and he grows stronger in his rest."
"The healers intend to keep him in their midst at least for the rest of the day." Galion added, use to the seemingly callus mannerisms of his Lord. But Galion doubted not the deep love that Oropher had for his son. He sometimes failed to understand the ways in which Oropher displayed those feelings however.
"That is what I had expected." Oropher vacuously replied. "Orcish venom takes time for its after effects to leave the body. What Thranduil really needs to clear from his mind is some other more vile poison."
Galion knew who Oropher referred to, and he found that he completely agreed for once with one his lord's assessments that concerned Thranduil. The infatuation would not do Thranduil any good, and the more it grew for Glorfindel, the more moody Thranduil would only become once Glorfindel finally did leave. Galion knew his friend, and he had never seen such endearment shine from his eyes for another.
'If only….' Galion thought within, and in his own disenchantment that was so different from Oropher's, he turned to leave now. He had heard the disinterest in Oropher's voice and he knew that the king cared little to converse.
But then Oropher's voice suddenly stopped him. "Galion."
Oropher finally turned to face him, rising from the chair he had been seated on. His deep green eyes froze him in his spot, and Galion realized that suddenly like the changing of the wind, Oropher was very now intent to discuss some matters that had crossed his mind. He stepped further into the room, awaiting his words.
"What caused you to aid Glorfindel to slip by the guards and out into the forest?"
"My lord?" Galion tried to play dumb to the question. "It is impossible to move unseen by your guard." He stated the simple truth in the matter.
"Indeed it is, but yet he did. And it was achieved only because of your aid." Oropher walked closer to Galion as he spoke his mind.
"Galion, I ask not because I hold any anger at you. Know you this, had you not acted, and had Glorfindel not been there to stop the attack, the outcome would have been one that would have simply been too horrendous to even imagine."
Oropher let what little gentleness that had not yet been consumed by the cold of his soul reflect out through his eyes to Galion. And Galion watched as that subtle light switched slowly from a gentle gleam to a more forlorn shine that reminded him of the fading of the stars within the morning's dawn. Oropher's sigh that sounded as a lament stirred Galion even more. He was relieved that the patience and wisdom of his king again was exercised. Galion greatly respected Oropher and he should have known better than to think that he could act without Oropher's knowing.
"I just wonder sometimes of the connections and pulls this forest gives her children, and I can only wonder if I may one day come to learn of that deep connection myself."
Galion nodded, although he did not agree at all with Oropher's words. "My king, you are very much a part of this forest or her children would have never looked to you to lead us. The fates would have never pulled you here, and the Greenwood would have ensured that you would have never found us. For we have stayed hidden within her arms throughout the ages, and we can stay hidden to those we would never accept. But the forest led you to us. You are our king. The forest will send her children to commune with you, and we will be your ears and your eyes, for it is certain to me that in these trying times, you are the one who can lead us through the coming storm."
Oropher smiled his appreciation to Galion's words. Once again Galion had eased his soul and silenced his own demons. "You may spend your day tending to Thranduil, Galion. Guard his sleep, keep him company, if you so wish. Please do not see to your usual duties today however. I will have someone else relieve you for the day."
Galion nodded, smiling within. Oropher's words brought him elation and he respectfully inclined his head before he turned to leave Oropher. He moved swiftly through the corridors, wondering if it was still too early yet in this new morning to inquire with the healers to visit with Thranduil. He looked out one of the windows, and frowned when he saw that the dawn still had not broken. The forest was still wrapped within the fogs of the unfolding daybreak. The healers still would only send him away in these still too early hours before the morning.
He needed patience now, and patience was something that Galion was very good at exercising.
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Not beta read. So sorry for the mistakes
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