The Strong Heart

Note: Thalahir’s thoughts will be indicated with a **at the beginning and end**.

Chapter 12

Lindir noticed Taurfaeron looking at him, and smiled shyly at the warrior. Lindir’s heart beat a little faster when Taurfaeron’s face lit up and he smiled back. He never thought he would be at all interested in a warrior, but Taurfaeron was such a kind, gentle elf, even if he was a captain of the guards.

Dinner was finally coming to an end. The elves began to move into the Hall of Fire, led by Elrond. A few of the elves elected to forego the entertainment, and headed to their rooms or homes, calling a cheery “good night” to the others. Erestor, Glorfindel and Taurfaeron lagged behind and watched Thalahir quietly slip into the library. Lindir quietly joined them, and the four elves silently waited in the hall outside the library, afraid to even breathe. They knew that some of the elves who had elected to return to their homes or the barracks had soundlessly positioned themselves outside the library windows.

Thalahir quickly moved through the darkened library. Moonlight streaming in through the windows provided just enough light for an elf to see clearly. Loud music and laughter drifted through the house from the Hall of Fire as he came to Gurvelon’s desk. He took a pair of gloves from his tunic and slipped them on his hands. Reaching into his tunic again, he removed a small vial and carefully uncorked it. He calmly sprinkled the smallest drops here and there on the desk; a few on the desktop, one or two onto pieces of parchment lying on the desk, and a couple on the arms of Gurvelon’s chair. He quietly opened a drawer and sprinkled drops liberally onto the quills inside.

**No one will save you this time, little scribe. Caladir is mine!**

Thalahir replaced the cork on the vial and removed his gloves. Carefully wrapping the vial in the gloves, he replaced them in this tunic.

**I think I’ll just go the Hall of Fire now to have one last look at the puny little mouse!**

He headed to the door, and the next thing he knew he was face down on the floor, the breath crushed out of him by what felt like a thousand books on his back. The door burst open and he saw several pair of booted feet approach.

“Well done. Get him up,” Glorfindel ordered.

Thalahir’s arms were firmly held as he was hauled to his feet. Seething in anger, his tried to jerk himself out of the hold, and spat at Glorfindel. “Just what are you doing? Is this the way you treat guests here?”

Glorfindel ignored Thalahir and spoke to his guards. “Tell me what you saw him do!”

Talvion, the leader of the patrol guarding the house, spoke. “He placed gloves on his hands, then sprinkled something from a vial on Gurvelon’s desk, inside a drawer, and on the chair. The vial is wrapped in his gloves, inside his tunic, my Lord. We all saw quite clearly.”

Glorfindel raised a hand to Thalahir’s tunic to retrieve the gloves. Talvion touched his arm, stopping him. “Please, my Lord, allow me.” The patrol leader took a glove from his pocket, slipped it on his hand, and removed the gloves from Thalahir’s tunic. He placed them on the desk and the small vial rolled out.

“Thank you, Talvion. Take the gloves and the vial to Nestoron in the healing house to check, please,” Glorfindel said. Taking a candle from another desk, he lit it and moved to the far side of Gurvelon’s desk to confirm Talvion’s words for himself. Erestor followed. He knew it was silly, but he could not help himself from making sure that Glorfindel did not touch anything.

“Thalahir!” Taurfaeron’s voice was angry and commanding. “What have you to say?”

The captured elf continued to try and free himself from the iron grip around his arms, but said nothing. He stilled, then suddenly moved his head back forcefully into the face of the elf holding him from behind. The elf groaned, and loosened his hold slightly. It was enough for Thalahir to jerk himself free. He kicked at Taurfaeron, hitting him in the groin, shoved the smaller Lindir aside, and ran past him through the door. Taurfaeron moaned in agony and dropped to his knees. Lindir ran to his side. The whole attack took only a few seconds.

Glorfindel, Erestor and the guards ran after the fleeing elf, and stopped when they came to the hall. Thalahir was firmly held by an angry, exploding Caladir. “This one is mine,” he growled. Caladir raised his arm, and his fist connected with Thalahir’s face with such force that the slightly smaller elf was thrown across the hall into a wall. “That’s for trying to kill my sweet Gurvelon, you spawn of evil!”

Thalahir shook his head, splattering blood from his broken nose and torn lip across the walls and floor. He quickly got to his feet and raced outside the door.

Amarion had left the Hall of Fire to carry his sleepy little elfling to bed. He was just entering the courtyard with the elfling when Thalahir burst out of the door.

**A sleepy little brat just begging to be my hostage. What could be better?**

Thalahir raced towards Amarion, kicked him forcefully aside, and grabbed the elfling, holding him around the waist, dangling Saercaeron in front of him. “Stop! All of you! Or this elfling dies!” he yelled. He removed a knife from his boot and held it at the elfling’s throat.

Elrond and the elves in the Hall of Fire heard the yelling and came out of the house. Then elves from the library ran through the doors into the courtyard. Taurfaeron, supported by Lindir, followed. “No one moves!” Thalahir yelled again. “Or your precious little elfling dies!” The elves froze.

Thalahir,” Elrond spoke loudly, “release the elfling and you may leave. You have my word no one will stop you.”

“Oh, dear, kindly Lord Elrond!” Thalahir’s voice was dripping in sweet sarcasm. “Do you expect me to believe that? The elfling comes with me! Now get me a horse!”

“Nay!” Amarion screamed, holding on to his wife. “Do not take our son!”

“Oohhh, your precious little son,” Thalahir said sarcastically. “This little brat ruined my plans when he kept that little mousy scribe from drinking my poison! He deserves what he gets. Too bad he didn’t die like he was supposed to when I threw him over that cliff!” Saercaeron was sobbing. “Shut up you stupid little bratling, or I’ll cut your throat! ” Saercaeron only sobbed louder. “Caladir! You could have had me instead of that puny little rat who calls himself your husband! What does he know about warriors like us?”

“Thalahir,” Taurfaeron said, “let the elfling go. Do not add kinslaying to your crimes.”

“Ha! These are no kin of mine! The elfling goes with me. You’re as bad as the rest of these stupid elves, Taurfaeron, mooning over that disgusting little minstrel!”

One of the Lothlorien guards spoke. “Thalahir, we have been friends for many years. I do not know when it happened, but evil has attacked and entered you. Let the elfling go. Let us take you home. The Lady will help you.”

“Never!” Thalahir screamed. “I will never go….”

An arrow whistled, cutting through the air at tremendous speed. It found its target, dead center, embedding itself between Thalahir’s eyes.

The knife fell from Thalahir’s hand, and the little elfling slowly slid out of Thalahir’s arm as the Galadhel slumped to the ground.

Amarion and Diwen rushed to their sobbing son as Elrond gently picked him up in his arms.

And up on the roof, Turidon shook, bow hanging in his hand, fully realizing he had just killed another elf for the first time in his long life.

Tbc…..