Daughter Of Lórien || Book 1||

Ch 34 ~ Orcs from the Moutains

I return to find the palace abuzz. The chatter of the servants let's me know that the King has returned. Good. With Thranduil back maybe Legolas will be too distracted to forget about me for a while. At least until he'd forgotten everything I'd just said to him. A subtle but inevitable confession, which was bound to happen sooner or later. I couldn't help it. Something about him made rationality an after thought in my mind.

"Lady Celebríel."

The voice cuts through the bustle of the hall, halting me as I try to make my way to my rooms. I turn to see one of the King's soldiers, still dressed in his armor from his journey.

"The King ran into a messanger on the road. He bore a letter for you."

He hands me a sealed letter bearing the familiar mark of a seven-pointed star. I give him a wary glance but accept it with a nod of thanks.

Once he has retreated down the hall, I nearly tear the thick paper in the process of trying to get it open. Although the outer seal carried every indication that it was from Ada, the faint smell of lavender and feminine script within suggested otherwise. Arwen's elegant handwriting sends a pang of nostalgia through me as I begin to read:

Dear Celé,

Ada has forbidden me to even write to you but I feel that this has gone on for too long. For whatever reason he has sent you to the Woodland Realm, it is of little consequence now.

I do not wish to worry you but I feel you must know: Nana grows worse by the day. Ada has healed her of all bodily injury but something has changed. She isn't the same anymore. I don't even want to imagine what those foul orcs did to her but I fear Ada can no longer be of any help to her. Her scars run deeper than the skin.

My stomach twists, a cool sweat making my skin all clammy. Panic rises in my chest. What did they do to her?

I really do not wish to be the bearer of bad news even more than I already am for you but Ada thinks the only way she can fully heal is to travel West. And Celé... she will not return. She leaves soon. Please Celé, you must come home if you are to see her again.

Take care dearest sister. I pray for your swift return.

Arwen

The delicate paper crumples in my clenched hands. My chest tightens and I force myself to focus on my breathing, bringing it back down to a steady pace.

Nana, leaving for the West, never to return.

I have to get home.

~~~

"Thranduil!"

I march into the council room where King Thranduil, still fully armored from his journey, sits in discussion with one of his captains, not even caring about the discourtesy of my entrance.

The King's icy eyes meet my scowl and he sighs, dismissing the captain with an idle wave of his hand.

"Lady Celebríel, always a pleasure," He greets, his silky voice echoing through the long chamber.

I glare as he studies my approach lounging in one of the countless chairs surrounding the long table stretching the length of the room.

"I'm going home."

A moment of silence.

Then he scoffs. Rising from his seat, he pours himself a cup of wine from one of the serving tables along the side of the room before turning back to face me.

"We've had this discussion many times Lady Celebríel." He speaks slowly, as if reprimanding a young child. "Until your father sees fit, you are not to leave my charge."

His tone irks me.

"I don't care what my father see's fit , I am no longer a child under his protection," I say, barely restraining the snarl creeping into my voice. I dig my nails into my palms, forcing myself to calm my breathing and plaster a gracious smile onto my face. "I take my leave of you, King Thranduil. Thank you for your hospitality."

Turning on my heel, I head back to the door when his melodious voice halts me in my tracks.

"You can't leave. No one can."

I glare at him over my shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

He takes a sip from his goblet, his icy eyes sparking as they meet my heated gaze.

"Packs of orcs have infiltrated Mirkwood during my absence, trickling down from the mountains. My captain reports that they seem to have come north from the Redhorn pass."

The name sends a jolt through me. The Redhorn pass. Where Elladan and Elrohir found Nana.

The King continues, "Whether or not they have come here from the pass is mostly irrelevant, the point remains that the forest is no longer safe. It will take weeks for my army to push them back to the mountains."

I grit my teeth. These could be the same orcs that tortured my mother. The same ones who are the reason she has to leave now. A slow steady heat begins to creep through my blood, turning my vision red.

Despite the turmoil churning underneath my skin, I manage to make out, "And why does this concern me?"

King Thranduil clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "It concerns you, Lady Celebríel, because for your own safety and the safety of my people, until my armies can push back the orc filth, no one leaves these walls. Including you, my dear."

I curl my lip. "You've been giving me that order ever since I got here."

He raises a brow.

"Indeed," he drawls. "You'd think you'd know how to follow it by now."

His comment strikes a nerve. "Well I no longer care. You do what you see fit with your own people. I'm going home, I don't care if I have to kill every orc that stands in my way."

Turning sharply on my heel, I head for the door once again.

"Admirable response, my lady, but no matter your skill, there are too many. You wouldn't make it out of the forest alive-"

I twist back to face him, cutting him off with a snarl. "I don't care."

But even as I glare at him I can feel my resilience slipping. His words echo in my head in a loop, each repitition dousing the anger, dousing the hate that had arose just moments before. The floor seems to sway beneath my feet as doubt settles in my mind.

There are too many.

All my fire, my resilience, my harbored resentment begins to crumble as desperation grips at my heart.

I need to get home. I need to get home.

The sound of a door opening behind me is drowned out by the blood roaring my ears.

I feel my legs buckle underneath my weight but before I can drop to the floor, strong arms are hoisting me up and placing me gently into one of the large chairs in the room. I barely make out Legolas' face through my hysteria.

As soon as the Prince is sure I will not fall out of my chair he turns his narrowed gaze to Thranduil, heated words spilling from his mouth.

The argument passes back and forth between father and son, but I don't hear a word of it. Desperation clouds my mind, making it impossible to focus on anything around me but the aching in my chest. I barely recognize the sound of my voice as it leaves my lips.

"Please."

My voice silences the dispute happening in front of me, the attention of both men turning to me.

"Please. I need to see my mother."

For a moment, they only stare at me, something like pity shining in both their eyes.

But then Thranduil's eyes grow cold once more as he says, "I'm sorry Lady Celebríel, but there's nothing else to be done. No one leaves."