Battles

Pairing(s): Elrond/Thranduil
Summary: The sons of two Elven Lords are tired of their conflict and animosity, and come up with a plan to end this in a nice, non-violent way.
Archive: Please, email me and ask.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that show up in my writing. They were invented by J R R Tolkien. I do not know if this happened, I very much doubt it, and Tolkien sure as hell never wrote about it! I'm not making any money from this.
A/N: This was originally started as a response to the Archivist Challenge of settling conflicts in a different way on Library of Moria back in April 2003. However, I ran into writer's block and then other projects took over. But I finally finished it several months too late.


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Battles

"Stop it, you two!" Legolas' voice cut through the tension between the Elves that were staring coldly at one another. "This is ridiculous. For how many years have you all but refused to talk to each other? For how many years have you nursed your differences?" He looked at the two Elf Lords and sighed.

It would not be an easy task to make these proud Elves settle their differences, but he did have some help at least. As if on cue, two almost identical Elves entered the tent. They were both tall of stature and lean of body, their hair dark and their eyes grey. They were the twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, of one of the Lords standing next to Legolas.

Legolas' face broke into a smile as the twins walked in carrying a box that they carefully put down on the ground. Elladan sat down on it while Elrohir walked up to Legolas and smiled and nodded at him.

"Everything has been performed according to the plan," he said, then he turned to Lord Elrond. "Your horse will be well looked after, and Erestor has been notified that you might be away for a while. He will take care of the daily business with his usual efficiency, Ada."

"I might be away for a while?" The dark-haired Lord raised an eyebrow at his son's words, his voice slightly colder than usual. He did not like this at all. He knew his sons, and they were definitely up to something. His gaze returned to the Elf standing in front of him. "Were you aware of this 'arrangement' before you entered this tent, Thranduil?"

"Of course not." The other Elf Lord's voice was equally cold and reflected some of his irritation. He turned his blue eyes on Legolas. "I had no idea what my son was planning when he suggested we take the horses out for a few days of riding." He looked back at Elrond. "If I had, I would not be standing here."

Elrond sighed at the haughty demeanour of the other Elf Lord. It had always grated on his nerves, even though he tried hard not to let it show. Why would he not let the past be, why could he not look forward into the future? But that had never been the way of the Mirkwood king, Elrond thought.

"This meeting is over. Legolas, get me my horse." Thranduil sounded calmer than he felt. Being this close to the upstart founder of Imladris was seriously eroding his patience.

"I am sorry, Ada, but I cannot do that. All the horses have been taken away, and if we want to travel from here we will have to walk." Legolas looked calmly at the stunned face of his father. It had been a very good idea to send the retinue away and have them take their horses with them. They would be back in two days. Legolas hoped that this would give them enough time.

Thranduil glared at Legolas and the twins. He almost could not believe his ears. He had been tricked into coming here, and now these... these Elflings had removed the means necessary to make a dignified retreat. He knew that they had him; he was practically held hostage. To a certain extent, he had to admire the strategy behind this move, and the fact that his son knew him well enough to play his own pride against him.

"What is it that you want from us?" Elrond asked. "You obviously have something in mind, since you have gone to all this trouble planning this little..." He made a gesture with his arm, indicating their surroundings. "...adventure." Elrond's sons looked at each other and grinned before Elladan spoke up.

"The three of us thought that you should meet on neutral ground and talk, without any possibility of storming off in a rage or something similar." He grinned at the looks of dismay his words drew from the two Elf Lords. "Not that either of you would ever do such a thing of course," he added, and looked at his two co-conspirators, both of whom nodded at him to continue. "We have decided that it is in the best interest of all Elves that the two of you settle your differences once and for all."

"You have decided this?" Thranduil almost sputtered, his face flushed with anger. He glared at his son and the impudent spawn of Elrond. "Who are you to make decisions regarding the welfare of our peoples?" He could understand that the twins would have the audacity to think that they knew better than their Elders, being their father's sons, but his own son? What had got into Legolas? He had never before shown any signs of disrespect towards his father...

"I think, Thranduil, that we have no real choice but to listen to what our sons have to say." Elrond sighed and sat down in one of the chairs to the side of the large tent. "I know that I, at least, would like to hear what has led up to this unusual situation." He looked sternly at the twins, who simply smiled at him in return.

"For many years now - centuries, in fact - the relations between Imladris and Mirkwood have been strained, and handled mostly by a large number of diplomats. There has been suspicion of espionage, and accusations of disrespect," Elrohir said.

"Never have there been any such words coming from my office," Elrond growled.

"Nor from mine!" Thranduil looked uncomfortable and turned to sit down in the chair opposite Elrond's, a small table between them. At least there was something that the two of them could agree upon, he thought, as he tried to make himself comfortable.

"No, of course not; they have always been carefully veiled behind a thin layer of diplomacy. But that does not change the meaning behind the words," Legolas said, and stepped over to where Elladan was sitting, motioning for him to rise.

"These differences, as you so offhandedly call them, cannot be so easily rectified. Mere words can never turn wrong to right." Thranduil's voice was cold and calm, now hiding the anger that was simmering inside. "And there is nothing that this Half-Elven Lord can offer that would satisfy my mind. No price is great enough to pay for what has been done!" He refused to look at any of the dark-haired Elves; instead he held the gaze of his son, willing him to understand that this was impossible.

Elrond's hands gripped the armrests of his chair so hard that his knuckles whitened. He was using all the self-control he could muster not to retort in anger at the haughty and accusing words of Thranduil. There he goes again, he thought, always bringing up the past and the imagined wrongs that stem from actions taken during a war long past. But he would not simply sit here and let the demented accusations of an Elf living his entire life in the shadows of the past continue. There would have to be an end to this!

"In no way does the past justify bad decisions in the present, my Lord Thranduil." Elrond looked at the Mirkwood king, his gaze grey and cold with tightly controlled anger. "Because of grudges you hold against me personally, you refuse to send archers to where they are needed. Your excellent warriors are often absent from most raids and battles against the Orcs and the powers of the Shadow." His voice was deep with emotion and he leaned forward in his chair. "Your stubbornness has cost many good Elf warriors their lives!"

"How dare you?" Thranduil leaped out of his seat with such force that the chair was overturned. His cheeks were flushed and his blue eyes had gone dark with rage. He took a step towards Elrond, who had risen to his feet as well. Thranduil's hands fisted in the smooth silk of Elrond's robes and he pulled him closer, staring into the Elf Lord's annoyingly calm face.

"Violence will not solve anything, but if it will make you feel better then you are free to hit me." Elrond made a show of retaining his calm even when being physically threatened. He knew he still had his warrior reflexes, and the muscle that came with warrior training, and the angry threats of Thranduil did nothing to scare him.

"Do not make me say this again! Stop it immediately." The two Lords were separated by Legolas, who had stepped between them and was now pushing them apart. "You two are worse than Elflings just starting their weapons training... picking fights to try their strength." He smiled as he righted his father's chair and pushed him down into it. "We did not mean for you two to come to blows. We had something quite different in mind, actually."

Legolas made a sign to Elladan, who opened the box that he had previously been sitting on. He took something wrapped in black silk from the box and carried the large bundle over to the table. He put it down gently and started unwrapping it. As the folds of silk were removed, white marble and black onyx was revealed. It was a large game board, with drawers on two sides. Elladan opened these and took out two sets of carven figures, one set of marble and the other of onyx, and he placed these on the chequered board. When the game was properly set up, he stepped back and looked at the two older Elves.

"Now, choose colour. As you know, white opens the game."

"You mean for us to play chess?" Elrond looked almost amused.

"Yes, we do. It is far safer than battling out on the field with armies, or a duel, yet the strategy and the battle of minds is real enough." Elladan smiled at his father, and glanced over at the other Elf Lord. Thranduil actually looked rather smug at the moment; the earlier signs of anger were almost gone. Elladan knew that the king was a very good strategist from all the stories he had heard from Legolas, so this would probably be an interesting game.

"This is ridiculous!" Thranduil could not see how a simple game of chess could settle anything, and he did not look forward to being in such close proximity to the Elf he despised so much for any length of time.

"It does not matter whether you find it ridiculous or no; neither of you will be returning home until this animosity has been settled, and you have come to some sort of understanding," Legolas replied, his face showing both determination and sincerity. "The terms of the game and the rewards for the victor are for the two of you to decide."

"Very well," Thranduil sighed. "I choose black." This way Lord Elrond would have to open the game, and he could devise his own strategy upon that move.

"The game is accepted," Elrond said, and sat back down again, turning the game board so that the white game pieces were on his side. He looked up at the three younger Elves standing off to the side. "You do not have to stay here and watch us. I promise you that we will try to settle this in a less than violent manner, seeing that you have given us no choice in the matter." They nodded and left the tent, carefully sealing the entrance behind them.

An uneasy silence settled over the tent, and the two Lords each took a few moments to study the interior. They knew that there were two other tents similar to this one on the other side of the small camp, probably set up for sleeping in. One of them had carried the colours of Imladris, and the other of Mirkwood. This tent had been unadorned on the outside, but was quite luxurious inside. There were the comfortable chairs and the table, of course; there was another table close to the entrance, on which were set various foods and fruits, and also wine. On the side opposite where they were now sitting, was a large bed.

"Hmm... It seems that they anticipate this game of chess will be both long and boring," Elrond said, and looked rather amusedly at the bed. "Well, we can take turns sleeping while the other is mulling over his strategy." He smiled crisply at the annoyed look on the other Elf's face. "So, what are the stakes?"

"The loser concedes the point," Thranduil replied.

"Point? And exactly what do you see as being the point of it all, Thranduil?" Elrond hoped that he would be able to live with the consequences of this game. But he had to admit to himself that getting an end to all the thrusts and parries of the ongoing diplomatic duel would be a blessing. It was both time-consuming and draining at times.

"You will admit that I am right, and you will make what amends you can." Thranduil's words were harsh and cold. He would have his revenge, even if it was a pitifully small one.

"Ah, so you are certain that I will lose, then?" Elrond quirked an eyebrow at the foolish confidence of Thranduil. He had no intention of losing this game. He was an excellent strategist and would give the King of Mirkwood a real fight.

"Hrm... if I lose, then, I will admit that I have been in the wrong, and will bury this dispute since that seems to be the wish of my son," Thranduil grumbled, and glared slightly at his opponent.

"Accepted." Elrond got up and walked over to the table on the other side of the tent. "Wine?"