Celebreniss padded into the central hall of Ost Galadh, her dark leather armour blending into her surroundings. Only her silver hair glinted through the shadows of the fortress as she walked towards the chamber’s center, where the Malledhrim force leaders stood gathered around a table. If she was fatigued from the distance she had run, she did not betray it.
Fuirgam arched an eyebrow at her approach. “What news, scout?”
“A band of orcs cross southeastward with at least one hostage. We assume that they are returning to Dol Guldur, commander.” Celebreniss stood straight, her feet parted and her eyes ahead.
Her news garnered Captain Lomdognir’s attention. He turned from the table around which they all stood. “Orders?” he asked as he held out his hands toward the scout.
She gave a slight shake of her head. “None, hir. I overtook them five nights ago before our paths diverged. Every defence point they pass will have watched them.”
The Malledhrim captain’s brows furrowed as he withdrew his hand and rested it behind his back. He acknowledged no one, but turned his gaze back to the maps upon the table.
“If I may…” the scout’s voice broke the momentary silence with a tone quite different from the one she used before – softened, not so rigid.
The captain and commander looked up in unison, ready to address the scout, but she was approaching hiril Agorin. The commander’s mouth gaped slightly, the captain’s jaw clenched, and hiril Agorin looked mildly surprised. Celebreniss withdrew her arm from her side pocket and produced a letter, before extending it to her. Agorin broke the seal and unfolded the letter before a small grin lifted the corner of her lips when she glanced at the two Malledhrim warriors from over the parchment’s edge. Upon making eye contact, the two ellyn ducked their heads and trained their eyes upon the maps again. Her eyebrows arched minutely. Then she bent her own head to read the letter, the script of which she recognized immediately. A mixture of emotions played upon her countenance as her eyes scanned the page.
It is time for us to move. Merenell has been taken by the very orcs whose movement you have just heard of. You must know my position and why I am not there myself. There are no new orders from the Council regarding the rescue of our hostages. I assume you will have heard of the others, too. Merenell will not be the only one. I ask of you, old friend, what only a desperate father could ask.
Agorin wore a wry grin. If she had not known the letter’s writer by the handwriting, she would have known them by its brevity. There were many advantages to being one of the Malledhrim force, but there were also its disadvantages as well. It was for these that many, such as herself, had taken off their decorated uniforms. Some had become too injured to return to their everyday duties. Others discovered different passions they wanted to pursue. And many laid aside the responsibility to fulfill the calling to their families. Even still, for those who had once served their realm in arms, it was difficult to abandon their involvement with the Malledhrim defences. So here she was at Ost Galadh, discussing strategies with a captain and his commander in one of her most comfortable traveling robes.
The scout stood just where she had been when Agorin opened the letter.
“Thank you…”
“Celebreniss.”
“Thank you, Celebreniss. Will you return northwards soon?”
“I intend to remain here until there is news to take back or until I am needed again, hiril.”
Agorin nodded. “Very well. I will let you know if there is any development.”
Celebreniss bowed her head and turned on her heel with the eyes of the captain and commander following her. The two shared a look before the latter raised a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.
“Ahem. Any news of…interest, hiril?”
Agorin pulled on a polite smile as she began to fold the letter back into thirds. She made sure each crease was crisp as new, pinching the fold between her thumb and forefinger to smooth the edge. The parchment crinkled like fallen dried leaves under her hands. “Nothing that you have not already been informed of, Fuirgam.”
The Malledhrim commander opened his mouth, then closed it, pressing his lips together, and then resumed. “Ah, I see. Very unfortunate.” After a pause, he lifted his head again and added, “The hostages, I mean,” before focusing on his maps again.
Agorin inclined her head before turning away from the captain’s table and into the shadows of the fortress. Unfortunate indeed. She remembered Merenell. She had known her since she was just a shy, young elleth hiding behind the skirts of her mother with her golden russet braids tucking out. Not one bit of interest in swords or play-fighting in the small body of the Tûrdirith’s daughter. Yet she did show some aptitude with tactics in later years as she sat upon her father’s table, moving figurines this way and that over the map of the Greenwood. Under the command of her small grip, the Malledhrim forces bolstered together weakened defences, sallied forth small distances to press back approaching enemies, and sent back soldiers periodically to rest.
Now it was her turn to move her own troops, though she had no authority over them. Rather, the ones she called upon now would be moved by their mutual bonds of friendship and their respect for one another.
“Ah, Enedhel, there you are.”
A scout garbed in dark green glanced up from his seat.
“I have an errand I would ask of you.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The elves of Echad Sirion sat beside the crackling fire smiling at one another over a shared memory. It was increasingly rare to have such a moment in these dark days and they cherished it as much as they could.
“Falasgon!”
The ellon with hair of fair silver looked up, alert, the warmth of his smile gone from his eyes already. He spotted the quickly approaching scout and clapped a hand onto his shoulder firmly in greeting as he searched his face. “Enedhel, what news? What brings you, friend?”
The green-clad scout gestured towards the tent beyond. Together, they entered, away from the earshot of others. “Hiril Agorin has called for all of us. No more aiding the Malledhrim forces quietly in their tasks. We need to set off on our own now and do what it is they cannot do,” Enedhel whispered, his eyes dark.
Falasgon blinked. “Slow down. What do you mean? What is it that they cannot…?”
“The hostages!” Here, Enedhel lowered his voice again. “More hostages keep getting taken! I have not heard of official orders to retrieve them and there are more elves being taken every passing day!” He grit his teeth. “I lost a neighbor some distance north of here before I sent my family up to the King’s Halls. It was too dangerous to stay there any longer. I came down here to see what could be done, but…” Enedhel’s shoulders slumped. He sighed, then looked beseechingly at his friend. “Hiril Agorin does not want all of us to go in…only those that want to. We still need your help, though.” He pulled a sealed letter from his waist pocket and tucked it into Falasgon’s hand. “Not for any of the uniformed soldiers,” Enedhel winked. “We need a group that can go deep behind lines to get our captured kin. Hiril Agorin has contacted the others. I just need you to find any that are willing from here…or even Lórien.”
A slow grin spread over Falasgon’s lips as his friend spoke. “Finally. You can count on me to get it across the Anduin. I will take it myself or send it with the injured that seek treatment in the Golden Wood.”
In the dark of the tent, the two friends smiled with a newfound sense of hope and purpose as they shook hands heartily.
