Forever Immortal

CH 1: Rescue Me

Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm

The King was sitting outside in the courtyard admiring the springing of the forest with almost blinding sunlight coming through the lush trees into the newly blooming gardens when his attendant Tarajen came out with a dusty and tired-looking young ellon following close behind.

"King Thranduil, this messenger brings you news from your great uncle, Mallorn, in Gladding," Tarajen announced with a slight bow from the waist as he handed the king a piece of folded parchment.

"Oh?" Thranduil questioned, taking the parchment. He had not heard from Mallorn in many years. His twin sons, who had trained here at the palace and fought with the king's army, were killed in the last big battle of Middle-earth. His last child, a girl, was just an elfling when he and members of his Royal Guard personally brought the sad news to his uncle on their way home from the war. With the permission of the Valar, his uncle had made a second marriage, one of the few elves allowed to do so, and had been blessed with the birth of this daughter who had surely been a comfort to him when he lost his sons--and not much later his second wife. The king had lost his own wife many years ago; he couldn't imagine the grief of losing two.

He told Tarajen to take the messenger to get refreshed from his ride and to the kitchen for food and drink. And then for the attendant to return to the terrace. As the ellons disappeared into the Woodland Palace, the King pulled his long white-blonde hair back off his face and unfolded the parchment:

Dearest Nephew and Lord,

I regret to bother you, but I am in dire need of your help. My precious daughter Rowan, I fear, has been taken from me. She left the cottage yesterday afternoon to pick wildflowers from the field and I have yet to see her face this day.

Since she has come of age, human men have thought they would like to have her as a wife, I suspect, partly because she is as fair as a summer day, but they also know that she is of royal blood and expect a rich dowry. I expect the rogues that took her have less than noble intentions, as the village and outlying areas have been plagued by thieves and scoundrels as of late.

Some good folk from the village have searched for her in the fields and valley close by with no signs other than the earth and grass trampled by horses leading to the north end of the river. It is too far and dangerous for these simple folk to cross the river and try to follow the tracks, as it is for me at my advanced age.

I am hoping, my Lord Nephew, that you can send a few of your men to go beyond the north fork of the river to search for her and bring her back to me.

With much love and respect

Your loyal subject and uncle,

Mallorn

Thranduil stood up abruptly, knocking his metal garden chair tumbling backwards over the smooth stone flooring as songbirds fluttered out of the trees startled by the noise.

"Humans! Men!" He shouted aloud, clearly enraged, just as Tarajen came walking through the open double doors into the courtyard.

"My Lord," started Tarajen cautiously. It was sometimes dangerous to address the king when he was in a rage. "What is the matter?"

"Greedy, vile human men!" he exclaims and slams the parchment down on the terrace table. "They think they can take our elleths? That they can extort our wealth? Next, they will destroy our forests, ruin our water! Enslave our elflings! All that is precious to us.

Thranduil picks up the parchment he had just slammed onto the table and roughly shoves it toward Tarajen, "Here, read. They will not get away with this!