Chapter Text
The darkness pressed heavily around Nimue. The forest beyond the window, usually so peaceful and refreshing, took on the menacing gown for which Men have taken to call it Mirkwood. The candles had long been extinguished and thick clouds obscured the moon through the chamber’s skylight. The fire had burned down to embers, barely casting enough glow to illuminate the hearth.
The only indication Nimue did not sleep was the frantic darting of her eyes. Her fingers clutch the parchment to her chest as they had for the past six days. Why will they not listen? Only a great calamity could waylay Thranduil and a full guard. Why do they delay?
The sound of a door closing in the corridor disturbed the sleeping messenger dove on its perch near the window. Its soft coo and ruffle of feathers broke the spell that held Nimue frozen.
She threw back the silken covers and sprung from bed, crossing to the wardrobe. Finding the items by feel, she shed the night-shift and pulled on her hunting outfit. The short tunic, leather jerkin, and breeches similar to those worn by the royal archers, molded to her body.
Thranduil nearly had a fit the first time she wore them. Not because they were unseemly for his consort but because he did not like the way it allowed everyone to see the shape of her bottom. He had commissioned her a suitable hunting skirt, one that did not impede her movements, but she couldn’t risk even the slightest chance of the fabric getting in the way.
Please let him be well enough to scold me for wearing these.
Next, she braided her hair into a thick plait down the center of her back, that task complete, she picked up her boots and went to the window. Peering over the edge, she took a deep breath. The drop would not kill her but landing wrong would only give the advisors another reason to not listen to her and negate all of her efforts.
Her eyes darted across the gardens below. If only a tree grew close enough. But the limbs were kept trimmed back to ensure no one could sneak into the king’s chambers. She twisted to look upwards across the stone face of the stronghold. Or perhaps I try to go up. That would probably prove to be more precarious, seeing how smooth the rock had been carved.
A rustling sounded below and she pulled her head inside, holding her breath. To think, I’m trying to sneak out of the king’s chambers when so many want to be invited in. She bit back a near hysterical laugh.
Straining to hear anything, she sat on the windowsill and laced up her boots. When the sound of footfalls grew distant, she again peered over the edge. Taking a steadying breath, she swung her legs over the edge. Twisting, she rested her chest on the wide ledge and slowly lowered herself until she was hanging from her hands. There was no turning back now, she wasn’t strong enough to pull herself up. Reminding herself to land with bent knees, she released her hold.
It was not the leaf strewn ground that broke her fall but binding arms that held her tightly.
As soon as her mind caught up with the situation, she twisted and lashed out. I will not be locked away. I have been patient but I cannot wait any longer. Something is wrong. I must go. Her fists pummeled a broad chest and her feet kicked. Getting no results she changed tactics to claw at the exposed skin on the person’s face.
“My lady, please.” The person grunted when she managed to land a kick but the arms refused to let her go.
“Release me,” she hissed. “You have no right to hold me -”
“We’re trying to help,” Tauriel said from behind her. “If you stop hitting Travaran, we can explain.”
Nimue struggled for another moment before the words sunk in. “Help?”
“Yes, my lady.” Travaran released her and rubbed his cheek where a deep red welt stood out in the weak light.
“Legolas - Prince Legolas,” Tauriel corrected, “is as concerned as you. At this very moment, he is gathering all that are willing to set out.”
“And leave me to wait,” Nimue snapped.
Tauriel shook her head. “No, my lady. Once everything was in place, he was going to give you the choice to come.”
“Then why set Travaran to watch the window?” She rounded on the guard Thranduil assigned to her. “How dare you defy me.”
Travaran winced and bowed deeply. “Tauriel guessed you would try something like this and I did not want you to be injured.”
Nimue spun on the archer.
“Those stuffy councilors always think we will docilely follow their lead, even though they are too scared to take action.” Tauriel nodded towards the window overhead. “I would have done the same thing if I was being kept from Leg- my love.”
Nimue pressed a hand to her heart in the traditional show of respect. Tauriel and Legolas have a deeper bond than I realized.
Tauriel repeated the gesture and smiled. “Now, we must hurry. Legolas wants to be off within the hour.”
They started in the direction of the stables, sticking to the shadows as much as they could.
“What is the plan?” Nimue whispered.
“We will scour every inch between here and Imladris until we find the king.”
That will take days. Time we might not have. If only I could speak to the forest as Thranduil does. We need some indication of where to start.
They moved on silent feet through the stronghold. They crossed in front of the ornate doors of the throne room and passed through the deserted and echoing Feasting Hall. The flickering fire in the enormous hearths made the shadows dance around the antlers mounted on the walls.
Perhaps… Nimue skidded to a stop.
Travaran nearly collided with her. “My lady, what is wrong?”
“Do you believe the elk-cows could track Arasrohir?” Nimue asked.
Tauriel hurried back when she realized the others had lagged behind. “Elk do not mate for life as some creatures do. Taking an untrained creature would only cause delays.”
Nimue shook her head to stall the flow of tears. I do not have time to be emotional but we must do something.
“We will find the king. Do not despair,” Travaran reassured.
I’m more worried about the state he will be in. Something that can delay Thranduil and a full guard is not to be trifled with. I cannot lose him. She took a shaky breath and indicated they should continue.
As they exited the Hall, a whisper of Tauriel’s name from the shadows drew them to a stop.
Rhedin, an archer, stepped forward.
“What news do you bring?” Tauriel asked.
“Someone has gone to rouse the Chief Advisor. Prince Legolas needs you to go to Lady Nimue. He fears if we do not leave quickly, Syrule will have us all locked in the dungeon.”
Tauriel swore. “He would dare?”
“It matters not,” Nimue said. “What else must be done to prepare for our departure?”
Rhedin gasped and bowed deeply. “I apologize for not recognizing you, my lady.”
“We do not have time for formality,” Nimue snapped.
“I am to gather armament for Lady Nimue,” Rhedin stuttered, “and Prince Legolas requests Tauriel to gather healing items.”
“Is that all?” Nimue asked.
Rhedin nodded. “The rest of the company has assembled in the stables and is making final preparations.”
Nodding, Nimue took charge. “Rhedin, return to Legolas and tell him we will be there shortly. Please saddle Llwyd and have her ready for me.”
“Yes, my lady.” The archer bowed and disappeared back into the shadows.
“Tauriel, can I entrust you to locate an appropriate sword for me? You should have little trouble entering the armory.”
“My lady, there is no need for you to be armed,” Travaran protested.
Did he deny me? Pulling herself up to her full height and using her most imperious tone, she said, “Do not test me. To be of any use, I will need a sword.”
“A lady such as you has no need to ever wield a weapon. We will be there to protect you.”
“Travaran, please.” She stepped close and put a hand on his arm. “You have seen how I can protect myself.”
He bowed his head before straightening, a look of forbearance on his face. “That is on the training field and no one would dare harm you.”
She jerked away. Of course they would let me win. Thranduil must have done the same - Thranduil!
“There is no time. Something has happened to Thranduil. I can sense it. I cannot have attentions’ divided with worry about protecting me.” She turned to Tauriel. “You and I are the same. I am not some frail court lady. Please.”
“I will do as ordered, if you promise not to willingly put yourself in danger, my lady,” Tauriel said while holding Travaran’s gaze.
“I give you my word, I will not seek out danger.” But I will not sit idly by.
Tauriel pressed a hand to her heart and sprinted down the far corridor.
Travaran glowered at her and bit out, “How does my lady command me?”
“You must delay Syrule.”
“You are much more qualified for that task, my lady.”
If I confront Syrule, I will not be able to join the search. They stared at each other, neither willing to back down, until Nimue’s eyes filled with tears. “Please, Travaran. I cannot stay behind. I am done waiting.”
His face softened. “What will you do?”
“I must gather the healing supplies.”
“I will do my best to create a delay.” Travaran bowed. “Be swift, my lady.”
Nimue released a breath when he headed towards the advisors’ chambers. Steadying herself, she moved through the quiet corridors until she reached the intricately carved doors indicating the Healing Hall lay beyond.
Carefully, she eased open one of the thick doors just enough to slip inside. The clean scent of soap mingled with the pungent smell of sickness floated out. The glow from a lone candle at the end of the long room illuminated the sleeping Elves tucked into the beds. A quick glance revealed no sign of the healer on duty.
On tiptoes, she crept to the storage cabinet. The hinges’s creak rang out like thunder in the silent room. She held her breath as one of the Elves rolled over, only to settle after a moment. Carefully, she gathered the items she needed, bandages, athelas, and venom poltrice, into a parcel. She winced as the door closed with another groan.
A harsh whisper cut through the air, “Who goes there?”
Nimue turned and dipped a small bow, concealing the parcel under her tunic. “I apologize, Healer Siwan. I dropped a glass and cut myself. I thought to get a bandage without disturbing anyone.”
Siwan glanced around the room and motioned her closer. “Let me take a look.”
Nimue’s mind raced as she crossed to the healer. She dug her nails into her palm, trying to draw blood. I need to make this convincing.
Siwan motioned for her to step into the room the healers used for overnight monitoring. She held out two corked jars. “You will need these, my lady.”
Nimue’s brow furled as she took them.
“I made fresh venom salve.” Siwan indicated the jars. “It has herbs to soothe the sting as well as draw out poison.”
A soft sound escaped Nimue’s lips. How did she know?
“My husband mentioned something cryptic about going away for a few days. You are to look for the king, are you not, my lady? ”
“Thank you.” Nimue pressed a hand to her heart.
“Go, my lady, and know there are many that are with you.”
Without another word, Nimue ran from the Healing Hall.
The sight that greeted her when she crossed into the stables caused her to stumble to a halt. Armored steeds tossed their heads and impatiently pawed the ground. A dozen of Legolas’s company moved about with purpose, donning their own armor, restocking quivers, and hefting swords. They called suggestions back and forth on where to begin the search for the king.
Nimue breathed deeply and tried to shake the horror of the past from her mind. We are not at war.
Her eyes searched the crowd for her cream colored mare, smiling when she found Rhedin standing next to her. Thank the Valar someone follows direction.
Legolas intercepted her before she reached Llwyd. His armor matched those of his company. The intricately patterned strap and golden buckle of his quiver were the only indication of his rank. “Lady Nimue, my father would have my head if I were to let you venture out.”
She tensed. I will not be separated from him again.
“But I will not stop you so perhaps we can avoid any scolding by having you properly armored.” He motioned with a hand and Tauriel stepped forward.
She held a steel breastplate and matching vambraces. Tucked under her arm was the sheathed short sword Thranduil had forged specifically for Nimue’s hand. “We must make haste. Hurry and outfit yourself.”
Nimue smiled gratefully and buckled the sword belt around her waist. The vambraces went on next and then the breastplate. She attempted to tighten the straps, only to find her hands trembling. I cannot lose him.
“Allow me, my lady.” Tauriel deftly pulled on the hidden catches and ensured the armor fit securely.
“I will not hinder us,” Nimue said more to reassure herself.
“I know you will not.” Tauriel walked with her to the horse. She waited for Rhedin to help her mount and move away before she put a comforting hand on Nimue’s leg. “The depth of your feeling is a strength. It will lead us to the king.” With one final squeeze to her ankle, she instructed, “Stay towards the middle of the group.”
The order rankled but she had promised not to be a distraction. Where is Travaran? I hoped he would be able to join us. If Syrule has overstepped and done something to him …
Her thoughts were interrupted as the remainder of the company found their saddles. They looked to their leader for the signal to move out.
Legolas mounted and urged his horse to the great doors of the stable. He turned to face the determined eyes of his company, standing in the stirrups to be better heard. “Warriors of the Greenwood, my friends, we go -”
The side door of the stable flew open. Six royal guards burst through with spears raised.
They parted and a harried Syrule entered. His robe of office was misbuttoned over a nightshirt. Only half of his hair had been braided into its usual precise style. The other half hung in disarray with a few knots visible. “You dare attempt to usurp your father’s rule?” he bellowed.
Several of the riders leveled their bows at the guards.
“I do no such thing,” Legolas spat back. “I will no longer sit idly by while you are too frightened to do anything.”
“King Thranduil charged me with the care of the realm in his absence,” Syrule roared. “I will not be challenged by insolent princelings. Restrain them and place them in the dungeons.”
The guards tightened their hold on their spears and advanced despite being outnumbered two to one.
We cannot be fighting among ourselves. Nimue nudged her horse forward. “Just let us go,” she pleaded. “Nothing is lost by letting us search. Would Thranduil not send out a party if any of us were delayed? Why stop us? What do you gain?”
Slight murmuring resounded in the stable from those in the saddle and those holding spears.
“You.” Syrule rounded on her, eyes ablaze with fury. “None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for you. Putting these concerns in the prince’s head, creating discontent.” Syrule smiled darkly. “Had you been an obedient girl and married my son, perhaps none of this would be happening now.”
He still resents my refusal of Selwyn. She faltered, hands slack on the reins for a moment before she gathered herself. No. There is no time to dwell on that now. We must find Thranduil.
“Enough,” Legolas barked. “We ride, with or without your consent.” He urged his horse forward.
The royal guards remained rooted in spot but did not lower their spears.
“How dare any of you disregard my orders. Arrest them,” Syrule shouted.
Nimue pulled on the reins, turning Llwyd’s head to the doors and forest beyond.
“I said, arrest them.”
A viselike hand closed around her ankle. She kicked and only succeeded in throwing herself off balance. A hard yank pulled her from the saddle and she tumbled to the ground with a startled cry.
“You may go, but the kitchen wench stays locked where I know she cannot cause more trouble,” Syrule said, standing over her. “She can join Travaran. I’m sure the lovers would appreciate the time away from prying eyes.”
Nimue’s heart beat loudly in her ears. He believes I would be inconsistent to Thranduil? She pushed to her knees, staring into Syrule’s enraged face before dropping her head. I will consent if it means the others are free to search.
As he reached for her, pandemonium broke out. Bowstrings were drawn and swords unsheathed. The royal guards swung their spears away from the mounted company to train them on the chief advisor.
Legolas jumped from his horse and landed in front of Nimue. He held his sword to Syrule’s throat. “It is treason to harm the royal consort.”
Nimue’s head snapped up. They would all risk punishment to protect me?
Tauriel approached and helped her stand. The women shared a look before both unsheathed their sword.
“Prince Legolas -” Syrule began.
“My father may forgive your actions but,” he twitched the blade closer, a scratch appearing on the delicate skin of Syrule’s neck, “he will never forgive your slanderous words.”
The color drained from Syrule’s face. “My prince, I never … I am just as concerned about the king’s absence … I would never … I only intend to keep Lady Nimue safe …” Legolas glared and the words died on Syrule’s lips.
His fury is so like his father’s.
“Derwyn, Gwynefa,” Legolas called and two elves stepped forward. “Derwun, take Syrule to his rooms and post a guard. He is not to leave until we return. Gwynefa, release Travaran. We will wait for you at the pine crossing.”
Both elves bowed.
“But, my prince, I -”
“If it were not for your long years of service, I would have you take Travaran’s place in the dungeon.” Legolas lowered his blade when Derwyn took Syrule’s arm and led him away.
One of the royal guards stepped forward and bowed. “My prince, I would be honored to stand watch over the chief advisor.” At Legolas’s nod, he hurried after Derwyn.
The entire stable released a breath and weapons were slowly lowered.
“Are you injured, my lady?” Legolas turned his focus to Nimue.
She mentally scanned herself and found nothing of note, the armor had protected her as it was designed to. “I am well. Please, let us hurry.”
He helped her remount and lept onto his horse. “We will not return without the king,” he shouted.
The company flew down the path at a full gallop.