[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“I acknowledge your command of this scout troop, and in the absence of your King Thranduil I will obey your every behest in this land of our Mirkood kin. But I am bound to none save the Lord Celeborn, nor will I grant mastery to any but him or to his Lady.” Ambarturion’s words were cold and haughty, but they rang like shining steel taken from a scabbard, and all who heard them knew that they could ignore those words only at their peril. Megliaes shifted in his clothes uncomfortably as he watched the confrontation between his master and Calenvása from a safe distance. Ambarturion was the taller of the two and clearly of the more ancient lineage. But he was not in his realm, and he had been humbled by his capture. The cold danger that had lurked beneath the surface of his master’s demeanour since the murder of Caranbaith was cloaked now, but to those who knew the ancient Elf well, it was still there to see, lurking like a predator in the shadows, awaiting its moment.

Calenvása seemed to shrink in Megilaes’s eyes before the steady gaze of Ambarturion, but the captain’s reply put heart into his followers. “A fair answer, Master Ambarturion, but I do no ask you to swear allegiance to me, only to obey me in the lands of my king.”

“You speak of saving Lorien,” Ambarturion replied. “How do you propose to do this? The army that attacks now will be repulsed by the power of the Golden Lady as have the two that precede it. Or do you plan to attack the army yourself, and save my Lady the trouble?”

The younger Elf bristled visibly at the mocking tone. “We are not so rash. Where some might consider attacking, we prefer wiser and more profitable counsel. We had already decided to warn your kin of the attack, and would have done so already but for the need to rescue you.”

“We needed no rescuing. I would have soon removed my bonds and destroyed those who dared to carry us to their masters.” None there laughed.

“Be that as it may,” Calenvása continued, “we intend to continue with that plan now. But we must take thought to our wounded comrade.”

“Indeed, but there is no time to return him to the palace of Thranduil and chase after the armies of Dol Guldur. Your palace lies many days’ march north of here, and Lorien is at least one full day’s run to our west. Your loyalties are thus divided, but mine is clear. I grieve for your companion, but his fate is his and yours to determine, not mine. Whether you choose to leave him and come with me, or return with him to the palace is for you to decide.”

“And where would you have us follow you, should we decide to follow your direction?” His tone made it clear that such a decision was hypothetical at best.

“To your ending, but to one that might be worthy of a song and would win for you such renown in the memory of those who dwell in Lorien as to make it a worthwhile conclusion.”

Calenvása’s eyes narrowed. “You propose to lead us to our deaths? And how might those serve the high ones in Lorien?”

Ambarturion sighed and closed his eyes momentarily. It was becoming wearying speaking with these youths. He had forgotten what it was like having to debate and counsel with other Elves, so long had he been included in the closed circle of his Lord and Lady. In most cases, such exchanges would be unnecessary, as each opened their mind to the other and conceived of the wisest course as though there were harmonious singers in a choir. This clumsy talk was like the cawing of ravens to such music. “The main force of the army is no different from those that my people have destroyed before, and will continue to destroy for as long as the Lady keeps Lorien. But there is another force attached to the army – surely you noticed them – who are bent on another way. They will soon break away from the main force and attempt a desperate raid upon some undefended border of my land. While my people are occupied slaughtering their comrades, this force will attempt to take Caras Galadhon and destroy my Lady.”

There was a silence in the grove as those listening took this in. It was Calenvása who broke it. “Even if this is true, how will our deaths bring the Lady aid?”

“As I said, the army itself will be destroyed, but I fear that this smaller force might succeed. It is a suicide mission but one that might do terrible damage to us. We are not many, but yet we are enough to prevent the force from reaching the eaves of Lorien, or of reaching the Golden Wood in such disarray that their stroke will go awry. The number of the force cannot be much above two hundred orcs and men. My student and I alone can account for at least two score, and I daresay that each of you could destroy at least a half as many each. Well then, that’s almost half their number. With luck we might be able to destroy more. Such a blow would leave them crippled and unable to attack with any hope of success.”

“Wait a minute!” Ambarturion swung his head to regard the younger Elf, Thorvel where he stepped forward, ignoring the warning look shot him by his captain. “You propose that we should abandon or companion here and attack the smaller force by ourselves? Six against two hundred? It’s madness.”

“Perhaps, but it is what I intend to do. Help me or hinder me as you will.”