Battles

Morning had turned to early afternoon, and most of that time had been spent in silence, the two Elf Lords battling it out on the chessboard.

"Why do you hold me responsible for your father's death?" Elrond suddenly asked as his opponent moved a game piece and captured one of his own. Thranduil looked up at him with obvious surprise.

"You do not know?" How could one of the Elves in command of the forces during the Last Alliance have forgotten what had happened? Was he really so ignorant as to the consequences of his decisions and his actions? In that case, Elrond was even more incompetent than Thranduil thought. Why Gil-galad had chosen the Half-Elf as his second-in-command was still a mystery to him.

"You promise my father reinforcements and then you do not send them; instead you take the troops elsewhere to revel in the glory of a skirmish won!" Thranduil's eyes glared daggers at the other Lord. "And now you have the nerve to ask why?"

Elrond sighed. So that is what the Mirkwood king had thought all these centuries since the event... No wonder relations had been strained between the two Realms. But, by the Valar, why had not Thranduil even tried to find out what had happened, but instead solely relied on his own conclusions?

"Thranduil, please." Elrond held up his hand to still the other Lord. "That is not how it happened."

"Oh, so now you will serve me more of your lies and half-truths?" Thranduil's voice carried the anger that had been festering in his spirit for many years. "I have heard your petty excuses before, and I do not believe a word of them. The actions of a person carry more weight than his words."

"Indeed. So stop being so stubborn and show that you can put your pride aside for a little while instead of refusing to listen to anything that does not support that which you hold to be true!" Elrond was now starting to lose his patience with the Mirkwood ruler. Their words had turned into a game of strategy of their own: attacks and counter-attacks... He sat back in the chair and regarded the conflicting emotions chase across Thranduil's face. He looked truly haunted, caught in the shadowy tendrils of the past.

"Speak, then." Thranduil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with the thumb and fingers of his right hand. He then ran his hand over his hair in a tired gesture to smooth it back. The ghost of his father had haunted him ever since that dreadful day. It had seemed that the spirit of Oropher had not been able to leave for the Halls of Mandos, but had lingered on as one of the disembodied, a ghost. Many nights had been filled with the wailings and complaints of his father. Oropher had always held Elrond responsible for his death, and Thranduil had never had any reason to doubt the accuracy of his father's accusations.

"You are right, I did promise Oropher reinforcements, and I did not reach him in time." Elrond sighed heavily. "As we were trying to reach him and his warriors, of which you were a part, I know, we marched straight into an ambush and were forced to deal with that." The Elf Lord shuddered at the memory of the death cries of Men, Orcs and Elves around him...

Thranduil looked searchingly at Elrond. He saw the genuine look of horror on the Elf Lord's face as he was temporarily lost in the memories. This was no ruse. Thranduil might be stubborn, but he could recognize honesty when he took the time to look for it and had put aside his anger for a while. Elrond was not lying; he obviously thought that this was the truth.

"I lost many good Elves in that skirmish, as you call it, several of whom had served me for many years already; some were people I called friends." Elrond's voice was filled with pain, and he looked at Thranduil with eyes that were brimming with tears. "When we finally reached the location of your army, it was already too late. We had been detained for too long, and your father was already dead..."

"You could have sent a part of your force ahead," Thranduil said. "Any help would have been welcome, and it could have saved..."

"To what end would I have sent them?" Elrond interrupted the Mirkwood King. "We were hard pressed as it was. Would you have had me divide the strength of my force so that both parts of it could be easily obliterated? Tell me how that would have helped your father!" The Lord of Imladris leaned forward in his chair.

"I do not know, Elrond. All I know is that my father has been accusing you of tardiness and incompetence ever since. I have had no reason to doubt his words; he is my father after all." The Elf Lord looked tired, his eyes closed briefly and his brow was furrowed. "Not a night has passed when I have not heard his voice haunting my sleep."

Elrond slowly realized the reasons for Thranduil's short temper, his unreasonable animosity towards himself and any Elf from Imladris, and his unwillingness to settle the matter. All of it fuelled by the words of Oropher, a dead but vengeful Oropher, unable or unwilling to leave this world behind.

"I am sorry to hear that your father did not move on to the Halls of Mandos, but chose to stay as one of the disembodied." Elrond felt only sympathy for the other Elf. "I did not know this."

"No, I have not told anyone. Not even my family, as I seem to be the one chosen to listen to his complaints." Thranduil sighed. Maybe he had been wrong to hold this grudge for so long? He had let his mind and his reasoning be poisoned by the endless accusations of the ghostly apparition of his father. Elrond had been sincere, and Thranduil found that he believed the words of the Lord of Imladris. The death of Oropher had been tragic, but there was nothing that could have prevented it. Such were the risks of war, and no one but the Dark Lord was to be blamed.

Elrond nodded and sat back, contemplating what he had just heard. The two Elves sat in silence for a long while before Elrond moved one of his game pieces, capturing one of Thranduil's.

The game went on, for a while in silence, but as they had more wine, they started to talk about other things. Strategies were tried out, attacks initiated and thwarted by clever defences, and a few pieces were moved off the board.

It could have been due to the confidence that they both had in their own abilities as strategists, or it might have been the amount of wine that had been consumed, but either way, a suggestion was made at one point. For every game piece captured the owner of it also lost an item of clothing.

The slightly drunken Thranduil studied the Elf sitting across the table as he captured another of Elrond's game pieces, thus forcing the Elf Lord to take off the last garment covering his upper body. Thranduil himself had a fair heap of clothing on the ground next to his chair.

As Elrond slipped out of his undertunic, Thranduil could not help but admire the ripple of muscle on his abdomen and his strong and well-muscled arms and chest. He suddenly realized that they were no longer playing for anything particular. He did not feel the need anymore for Lord Elrond to admit that he, the king of Mirkwood, was right in the matter concerning his father. So, what were the stakes of the game now?

"My Lord Thranduil?" Elrond waved a game piece in front of the blond Elf's face. "It is your... move." Thranduil started slightly at the words. He had not noticed Elrond's capture of his piece. He got up and removed his own tunic, swaying slightly on his feet. Now they were both naked to the waist, wearing only their leggings.

Thranduil sat down again and drained his goblet. It was a very good wine, he thought, as the warmth and tingle of the alcohol spread pleasantly through his system. From Elrond's private wine cellar, no doubt. He studied the chessboard carefully, weighing the possibilities and the risks that he could see against each other. He could win this game, he was quite certain of that. He grinned at Elrond as he thought of something that would make this game worth winning.

"I have a suggestion," Thranduil said, and smirked at the other Elf. "What say you we make this game a little more interesting?"

"It is not exciting enough for you, then? What with us stripping and all?" Elrond gave him a puzzled look.

"It seems to me that the original stake of the game is forfeit, as I no longer require you to admit to your wrongful actions... and I think you have a similar feeling?" Thranduil said as he let his gaze slowly wander over the naked chest and rounded shoulders in front of him.

"This is true." Elrond was amused by the obvious look of interest on Thranduil's face. They were both quite drunk by now, and he could only guess that the wine had had some unforeseen effects on Thranduil's mind and body. He looked at the blond Elf. He did have a very nicely built body, no doubt about that, and his face was truly beautiful, his blue eyes sparkling. "So, what is your suggestion, Thranduil?"

"The victor gets the spoils of war!" Thranduil leered, and moved his rook.

Elrond laughed. He would not have thought that his earlier adversary could change his mind about him so completely, just in the course of a day.

"You mean to bed me?" Elrond grinned at Thranduil.

"Yes, as I am sure that I will win the game."

"Hmm... But if, for the sake of argument, I win the game..." Elrond quirked an eyebrow at the proud Mirkwood King and mirrored the Elf's earlier smirk. "It is you who will be bedded."

Elrond grinned as he initiated what he thought would be the final attack on Thranduil's game pieces. He would have the king in a position where he could not move away, where he was defeated. He would have the King.