Feud

A/N: sorry for the absence, have been out of town 2 weeks. happy new year!
oh, and the chapter numbers are a mess, ignore them, this is the next chapter in the sequence!
Summary: Meanwhile, back in Thranduil's stronghold. . .

Thanks: First to all the loyal readers who enjoy this story, most especially reviewers!
Second, to my absolutely fantastic beta, Sarah, [she is the best!] whose careful attention and insight improves the quality of this story immensely!

Chapter 40: Thavron ah Aran [Carpenter and King]

Alone in the room where the tumultuous session had met at dawn, the Woodland King walked silently around the chamber's boundaries, deep in thought and lost in the knowledge he had gained. It was a serious slip, this lack of comprehension for his dispossessed heir's growing popularity. Thranduil did not try to deny or rationalize the failure. Someone had found a flaw in the carefully crafted blueprint of his regency and was cleverly manipulating events to maximize the trouble this would cause. Within his mind wheeled a list of names, a handful of elves that might individually be merely irritants, burrs upon the hide, yet when subtly combined could represent a more serious threat to his dominion.

In general, it was easy to keep malcontents within the Realm under control. A stint guarding the southern borders quickly changed most elves' perspectives on the value of Thranduil's regency. These champions of a return to the days of unstructured self-governance immediately understood the need for a well-trained and highly disciplined army under a central authority. The cost for maintaining this force no longer seemed so high, and indeed these nay-sayers tended to become the most vocal in requesting for the warriors the best their King's wealth could afford.

The few who remained staunch in their disapproval usually had strong ties to kin in Lorien and were apt to contrast the two Realms' defensive capabilities; an unrealistic comparison at best. Maltahondo came to mind instantly, and his motives were the easiest to predict. Devoted to Ningloriel, the warrior had barely been able to control his urge to openly challenge Thranduil each and every time the couple's altercations flared. The Woodland King was certain it was only Ningloriel's demand that he refrain from open aggression that prevented this. With the Queen gone, Maltahondo would bear a monumental grudge and would have no need to restrain his desire for revenge. It was also well known that no one else in the Realm would have equal ability to influence the fallen prince. Thranduil knew Legolas idolized the guardsman and had since his elfling days.

{And now this carpenter joins the roster!}

Thranduil had already learned much of Fearfaron's background from Meril at their evening meal. It was surprising to note the changes showing forth in the formerly contented and complacent craftsman since the 12th year Edinor-en-Baudh [Anniversary of the Judgement]. Thranduil knew that he had withdrawn his complaint, claiming his son had been Released by Legolas. It was this testimony more than any other gossip or news from the woodsmen that had turned the Wood Elves in favour of the fallen prince. Now the carpenter had several Councilors, including Iarwain, eager to back the outcast and the King's own promise to assist the Tawarwaith! What Fearfaron planned to do with this power was completely beyond Thranduil's comprehension. Thus, he had summoned the carpenter to this very chamber at tinnu.

{How is it that I failed to observe the shift of opinion and the addition of new players into the game?}

Thranduil sighed and shook his head. He need not wonder, truly, for it was obvious what had held his interest of late. His preoccupation with his improved home-life had hindered his normal vigilance, and though a new heir was essential he should not have been lulled into such a complacent state of mind. It was just that he had not expected the domestic situation to be pleasurable in more than a physical sense, and barring the bitterness of Lindalcon, the Woodland King found his experiences with his consort to be thoroughly fulfilling.

Thranduil found himself hopelessly in love with Meril.

The son of Oropher was not of a nature given to lightheartedness or optimism, not since the end of the last Age. Although he made every effort to lessen the gloom for his subjects he had never been restored from the devastating loss of his father and kin. The profane marriage tnglongloriel had certainly not helped matters. Now that he was free of that encumbrance Thranduil rediscovered what it meant to smile for joy. In the intimate jubilation of their relationship he had pushed aside some of the more troubling situations accosting his Realm, and missed the emergence of this threat.

By his reckoning, it was not the disinherited archer who posed this menace. He had never noted anything even faintly resembling ambition in the unassuming warrior. anduanduil tried to recall some detail about Legolas that would indicate subterfuge or scheming, and nothing rose to the forefront of his mind. The only distinguishing characteristics of the outcast that presented to Thranduil's thought were of tireless dedication to mastery of the bow, a quiet and unobtrusive manner, distinctly aloof, completely bored by political matters.

{No, he is not the source of this dilemma, merely a tool, a dupe exploited for furthering the designs of other's acquisitive goals.}

The main competitors remained unchanged, this he did not doubt. Among the Eldar there remained only himself, Galadriel, and Elrond with even a remnant of the strength of the First and Second Ages. Cirdan he discounted, judging him more an emissary from Aman than a Lord among the Teleri. Of the three, Thranduil held the greatest lands and ruled the most populous Realm.

That Elrond had lusted for more than his wife Thranduil long had known, yet it was certainly Ningloriel who had drawn the Noldo's eye to the Greenwood. The Lord of Imladris had scorned the forest as wild and ragged, dark and oppressive until she informed him of the natural defenses of the woods and the innate ability of the Sylvan folk to manipulate these forces. In retrospect, Elrond must have noticed the courage and bravery of the Woodland elves as they played out their doomed part in the Last Alliance. The value of such an army at his command would not have escaped the Elven Lord's remark.

At what point in time the Noldo half-elf, as unofficial heir to Gil-Galad's ill-fated heritage, had decided he was the rightful leader of such an independent and long enduring people Thranduil could not guess. That Elrond wanted to annex the Greenwood to Imladris was blatant, having fathered an illegitimate child to secure a link to the Danwaith through Ningloriel.

{A bond I thought had been completely undermined!}

For the Peredhel, the matter was a deeply personal one, Thranduil knew. It was as though the High King's Herald desired nothing less than the absolute destruction of everything associated with Oropher's House. In some bizarrely warped fashion, the Noldo Lord had managed to twist Thranduil's loss of his brothers and father into an act of purposeful aggression upon Gil-Galad and Elrond's House.

Exactly how the sacrifice of more than two-thirds of Greenwood's immortal lives for the common cause of defeating Sauron translated as a directed attack upon Eärendíl's line, Thranduil had never been able to fathom. It was an irrational belief that spawned an inarticulate and virulent rage, and over time the Woodland King had come to feel the Peredhel must be under the subtle influence of Vilya.

{The Ring of Power wields the wearer, not the other way round.}

By association with Ningloriel, a host of spying trades-people, and various emissaries, Elrond learned much of what occurred inside Greenwood's borders. He constantly sought means to instigate confrontation between the Woodland Realm and Imladris. When the incursion of Orcs from Dol Guldur advanced too closely, forcing the Wood Elves to withdraw beyond the central region, Elrond accused Thranduil of disrupting trade routes and abandoning the human inhabitants.

{An absolute lie!}

Elrond implied that the Woodland King forced the migration of Orcs into the Misty Mountains where they accosted travelers. The Lord of Imladris just managed to suppress openly accusing Thranduil of complicity in Celebrian's assault.

{An unconscionable denigration made by a cousin to kinslayers!}

The Noldo held that Thranduil was either unwilling or unable to keep the Forest Road safe, thereby cutting off the folk of Dale and Erebor from the free lands to the west. Thranduil was aware that Elrond had discussed all this with Galadriel and had even brought these matters before the White Council, sessions to which he had not been invited to participate.

The Wood Elf King was incapable of determining which was more insulting: that Elrond considered him too dense to know about all this plotting or that he was deemed an ineffective leader, unfit to rule the Danwaith.

{And what of the reigning Queen of the Golden Wood, keeper of Nenya?}

Had Galadriel dared now to consider extending her borders as well? The Lady was not to be trusted, being part of the Noldo horde that invaded Alqualonde and massacred the Teleri dwelling there in peace. Oropher had counseled against any dealings with her, preferring to distance his people from Lorien as soon as she pushed Nenya past her knuckles. Yet, Thranduil had never found evidence that she looked north from Caras Galadon with avaricious designs.

It was his impression that the population of her lands was falling, more and more of the Sylvan folk departing for Valinor. What need could she have of more territory when she barely had troops enough to defend Lorien? Would she defy the peace between the free kingdoms and instigate this uprising? Was it that she did not wish Elrond to gain the Greenwood for himself and thus attain so sizable an influence in Middle Earth?

Or could the Lord of Imladris and the Lady of the Golden Wood be allies in such an undertaking? Would Maltahondo and Fearfaron cast their fate with Noldor elves, hoping to wrest the regency from Thranduil and place Legolas in his stead?

Thranduil drew his arched brows together in a forbidding scowl. That would be difficult to counteract; yet his instincts said this was not the case. Maltahondo might ally with Galadriel, but not Elrond, for he too had lost kin in the Last Alliance and would not look favorably on Imladris' Lord. And somehow Thranduil believed Fearfaron would trust neither of the High Elves.

{No, there are too many inconsistencies; the four are not collaborators.}

Still, the idea could not be discd fod for the lust for power was an age-old vice among the Noldor, and even Thingol had fallen due to the same greed at the end. And now the Dark Lord returned his gaze to the forest as well.

{The Greenwood has become a much-coveted land of late! What does Sauron seek among the old trees?}, the Wood Elf King wondered, for he was not fool enough to believe that the vengeful Dark Maia would desire the overthrow of the Greenwood for the purpose of obtaining lands and slaves. Why was the Sindar's adopted home suddenly so much more than a grove of ancient trees peopled by Moriquendi? When had his lands gained this wider appreciation?

Thranduil had an uneasy feeling that none of the factors thus far considered addressed the true nature of what was happening in his woods. The Wood Elves' part was undefined, the only clear concept the King could grasp was that his subjects were being surreptitiously directed, the events taking place neatly fit the prophecies of the superstitious Sylvans too well. Yet what could the High Noldo elves know of such beliefs? And why would Sauron care to employ such subtlety when he clearly preferred brute force? An unseen hand was shifting the board and altering the available moves in the game. Something completely different was taking place.

{Even if I suspect my old Noldor foes are involved, I doubt even Galadriel can foresee the role these Danwaith may take! If I cannot guess the turn of their hearts, who else could predict what these forest folk will do next?}, he wondered. Yet even as he walked under the center of the room his eyes gave him the answer. It was all around him, ingrained in the halls of the stronghold he had built, part of the walls and floors themselves.

The Council Chamber was one of the largest and most luminous of all the formal rooms in his stronghold. The high vault of the cavern's ceiling was intricately buttressed with beams of oak and beech that fit into meticulously carved slots within the wall rock and the stone columns that carried the overburden of the mountainside. These gracefully curved, complexly interwoven beams formed a symmetrical array that supported the bare stone and allowed secure, accessible anchor points for the oil lamps.

The light was kept on two levels, to supply the huge room with illumination and to display the very ceiling, which was itself a work of great beauty. The stone layer into which the roof was cut was a dark rock of fine-grained yet vesicular texture within which had grown individual crystals of clear dog's-tooth calcite. Each section of the rock between the arms of the beams represented a portion of the sky and its scattering of stars, just as it had been when first looked upon by the Eldar. This replica had been creatively defined by selective removal of individual gems. When only the higher lamps were lit, the facetted stones captured and refracted the light, filling the cavern with an almost tangible mist of twilight. Thus, many stars lost even to elven sight at the creation of Anor and Ithil were preserved, and to be in this room one came closest to understanding the sense of wonder possessed by the Quendi upon first awakening.

Because it was also one of the most visited courts within the King's fortress, the degree of artistic effort expended to make the room representative of the Sylvan culture was more pronounced here. The rock hewn walls and columns were carved in relief and highly polished. The natural variation in the mineralogical composition lent a distinctive series of colored bands that repeated from floor to ceiling in shades of green, golden yellow, pale reds, darkest blacks and bronzes, and cleanly speckled whites. Within each band a frieze depicted an important myth, legend, or event in the history of the Eldar that had dwelt here since before the First Age. Here were images of Cuiviénen and stories of the early encounters with Oromë as well as the first infringements by Melkor's thwarting will.

Painstakingly exact were the likenesses of the elves depicted for these were faces named and known to the Wood Elves and close kin to many. Some had fallen in their dire struggles with Melkor and his minions, and though these tales of the brave and bold were not recorded in letters the deeds survived fully in song. Likewise the growth and bearing of individual trees was documented, and the importance of the Greenwood as a living witness of all that befell the Sylvan folk was clearly emphasized. Distinct beeches, oaks, myrtles and ashes were recognizable; one could walk out into the forest and meet the progeny of these old ones upon the pathways. Where trees had met death at evil's doing, the ground that had harbored them in life became hallowed.

The appearances of the Valar were given a bodily form like that of elf-kind yet with eerily featureless faces, save only Oromë. Not even Yavanna and Aulë had walked among the First Born of the Greenwood, and so the Sylvan folk knew not what countenance to give these beings. It was no wonder the Wood Elves rarely considered these Powers as a part of Arda, and definitely could not feel a bond unto them, sheltered and hidden in Valinor.

No inscriptions or text either painted or chiseled accompanied the figures. Any visiting the salon would be able to comprehend the complexity of the existence of the Danwaith, whether the guest was literate in Sindarin or not. Few that entered the room realized that the stronghold itself was a young structure, for the length of the history exhibited was vast in comparison to that of the other free peoples of Arda. Indeed, even among the Eldar, no other Realm could claim so long a tale to tell; for the settling of Greenwood occurred at the time of the Great Journey. Long had the Danwaith dwelled there even before Thingol became King in Doriath.

{It is a form of worship these Wood Elves maintain for their forest home. They would do, and have braved, anything to protect what is here, for it is the very substance of their existence. Thus will they behave in future, and such zeal can be pushed to extremes. Casting Legolas as this forest champion is a clever strategy, playing upon their faith in Tawar to generate unwavering loyalty for the fallen prince!}

Upon one section of the chamber the stone wall was sanded smooth with no sculpting work, and here was mounted an ancient map inked on the thick, yellowed skin of an elk, fully the width of an adult elf's arm span with both limbs extended. Thranduil's turn around the room had brought him here, and he stopped to examine the artifact.

Elegantly wrought and finely illustrated, in addition to the principle plan there were two insets showing information on the three divisions of Doriath, for the diagram was of Beleriand as it was of old. Within the margins of the drawing, near the enlargement of the forest of Neldoreth, a less artistic yet meticulous hand had augmented the map with another picture at a later time. The carefully detailed depiction was inscribed with personal remarks that named specific points of interest and identified the route and itinerary of a great journey, for the tale told of the Sindar retreat across Ered Luin at the end of the First Age. The writing was that of Oropher, and marked his point of origin in the far eastern corner of Neldoreth.

"Today I looked for the last upo upon my birthplace. We will never return here, for Arda is corrupted and Neldoreth has foreseen her demise, drowned beneath a great flood of the Sea. We will settle among her brethren across the Mountains, where also are my kin of old." Thranduil read his father's words aloud and felt the presence and the strength of Oropher envelope him briefly, fading away even as the echoes of his speech diminished.

"It was because of Neldoreth that we welcomed your people here," the quiet voice spoke behind him and Thranduil turned to find the carpenter standing at his shoulder. "Iarwain said Greenwood was overjoyed to have Oropher return to his Sylvan brothers."

"Iarwain welcomed my father's army! He is longsighted enough to have held concern for his home's defenses even then!" Thranduil snapped. "Let us be clear, Fearfaron; this discussion is to remain free of the usual religious ranting I must endure from the Council! I wish to know who is involved in this plot to remake Legolas into a challenger to my authority, nothing more!"

"I do not know what you mean by that," the carpenter said and frowned. "Legolas has no such interest."

"That I do not doubt!" the King scoffed with a deprecating laugh. "He has never shown any propensity for leadership! However, many others do entertain that desire, and someone seeks to use him to this end. You are involved! Say now who else plays this game and norgesrges will you face!"

"I fear not your charges; bring them! Better to face such lies openly than to bear reprisals spawned of a silent and unwarranted hatred! Gladly will I face the Council rather than be sent away to be slaughtered in battle!"

"You speak treacherous words,pentpenter!"

"Can you even stand to hear your own voice? You are the traitor! How did Annaldír earn such a terrible end; was he not loyal to your commands, even when they served only yourself? What did Legolas ever do to you to deserve this horrendous fate?"

"Your son was a warrior and knew his calling usually brings death! Annaldír's valour was his undoing; he volunteered to contest against the goblin guards! As for Legolas, you need not any reply from me; everyone in the Realm and beyond knows he is not of my blood!"

"How easily you dismiss honour and fealty! Annaldír's death served a cause I doubt you even comprehend! And the heritage carried in Legolas' blood was naught of his design! An innocent you had under your protection and all you cared for was your exalted pride!"

"Enough! I owe no explanations to you! You seek to divert the matter from yourself! Who is involved in this little uprising?" Thranduil thundered out his wrathful demand upon the mild woodland craftsman, but Fearfaron was unmoved.

If ever he had felt worry for this meeting, the carpenter knew no concerns for himself now. He need only recall the last time he had seen Legolas and how close the archer had come to death for his anger to be fired and any trepidation squelched. He stood before his king calmly, arms folded across his chest, and glared back with confident fortitude born of his just righteousness.

"You misunderstand what is happening. None here are trying to take your throne away from you, Thranduil! Nor will any of the Wood Elves suffer a foreign ruler unsanctioned by Tawar," he said quietly. "As for who is helping Legolas survive, that is no mystery. There are but three in all of Arda that care for his well being: Mithrandir, Aiwendil, and myself. The real intrigue lies in discerning who is trying to destroy him."

Thranduil regarded the carpenter silently, shocked by the familiar use of his given name from so humble a citizen. He mulled over the carpenter's bold demeanor and candid observations; the implication was inescapable: Fearfaron held no respect for his Lord. What knowledge had precipitated this blatant insubordination? Had Fearfaron merely guessed the truth or was there a more potent source of information willing to come forward and tell the tale? The Woodland King decided caution was required.

"It is the Law of your own people that has condemned him! Again I say to you, your words hint at treasonous charges against your King!"

"I will do more than hint, then!" Fearfaron snorted derisively, for now he knew his suppositions were correct: Thranduil had purposefully placed Legolas in the path of death. The carpenter daringly pressed his advantage. "In fact, I am confident that Talagan would add his own account of the actual events at Erebor!"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes as an unpleasant smile graced the cruelty of his cold countenance, and Fearfaron knew the stalwart captain was not the accomplice he sought.

"You betray your ignorance of Talagan! His family and mine are devoted to one another! He would never stomach a Noldo's bastard to sit in power over his kin! You should read the history of the Last Alliance and find out the names of those who were lost there!"

"And you should open your eyes! There is not a drop of Noldorin blood in Legolas' body! He is a Wood Elf! Even worse, it is your ignorance that has created this situation. Had you bothered to learn more about our 'religious ranting' you would have known there were other means to ensure your heir was indeed your own seed. There was never a hindrance to taking a consort other than your misplaced pride! This is not Beleriand, Thranduil, and we are not Sindar! It was not necessary to prove faithlessness; Ningloriel's refusal to lie with you was more than sufficient reason to seek another mate!"

The stunned expression flittering through the Sinda's eyes gave Fearfaron the satisfaction of scoring a cutting blow, but it was an empty victory unless he could move the King, by either fear or honest remorse, to rescind the Judgement and admit Legolas into the community.

"Who?" asked the King, unable to mouth more than this one thought. His mind whirled in a flurry of confusion, anger, and grudging admiration for Ningloriel. She had so easily learned to play his prejudices against him, maintaining her power and prestige by withholding this information! Thranduil would have chosen a willing consort before Legolas was out of infant's cloths had he known this option was open to him.

Fearfaron turned his eyes away for a moment in disgust. Was this all the selfish King could think of, which elf Ningloriel had bedded in his place? How could Tawar allow so arrogant and uncaring a ruler to lead them; one who scorned the very people he sought to govern, refusing even to understand their ways and beliefs. So many centuries among the Sylvan elves and yet Thranduil still held himself distinct and superior by virtue of his Sindarin heritage.

"I cannot answer you, Thranduil, for it is not my place to name names. I would not betray Legolas just to satisfy your curiosity; indeed I would not betray the Tawarwaith if my very life hung in the balance, for he is as dear to me as my own child. He does not deserve the fate you have dealt him!"

"It is not as I intended," Thranduil responded quietly as he returned his gaze to the map. The carpenter had given him much to think on, none of it pleasant. Most galling was the knowledge that he could have been spared immeasurable of misery with Ningloriel had he consulted the Council.

It did not occur to him that this same knowledge would have saved Legolas from an unendurable destiny.

He could clearly see now that his disdain of the Wood Elves had been avenged upon him. Oropher had chided him for his disregard of Sylvan ways, he remembered well, yet with two older brothers Thranduil had never expected to rule, and thus never tried to temper his contempt. He had been vocal in his criticism of his father's adherence to local customs and openly stated what changes he would make were the decisions his to enact. Once forced to take command, he had insulated himself from the Council, seeking only the advice of the remaining Sindar warriors as he tried to remake the Woodland Realm into something more reminiscent of Doriath.

And failed utterly.

Legolas became a living symbol of his inadequacy, and the idea had grown in Thranduil's mind that if he could remove this embarrassment he could reclaim the dignity he was due as King.

{Even in this I have failed.}

"No doubt you merely intended his death!" Fearfaron hissed, recalling Thranduil from his bitter musings.

"I say again, to you I owe no explanations. What proof can you bring of your allegations that your Council would hear?"

"No more than you can summon to back yours against me!" Fearfaron rejoined.

"So, we appear to be stalemated, carpenter!" the King sneered. "I will not lift the rule of your Laws; Legolas must complete his sentence. Yet neither will I break my spoken words, if he survives he shall have what aid my troops can give, and need not want for provision in future. The better to keep him under scrutiny and discover who is spinning this web of insurgency!"

It was not enough, but it was at least a concession and offered hope to Fearfaron. He gave the Sinda Lord a curt nod and turned to leave, but Thranduil's words stopped him.

"How can you be so certain the Noldo Lord is not his father?" he demanded. "Does Legolas know the truth; has he confided in you?"

"Legolas believes what your constant accusations of his mother taught him! For now, that is an easier lie for him to bear than the truth!" Fearfaron snarled over his shoulder, not even bothering to face the King as he resumed his retreat from the room.

As he passed from the chamber, Fearfaron saw one of the guards approaching, escorting a human from a village far to the south beyond the Gladden Fields. The man recognized him and hurried forward with relief clear upon his troubled features, for it was to Fearfaron he had asked to be taken, having found him not in the customary spot by the Sentinel. Every step closer to the stronghold of the King had raised the man's dread to a higher level, for he deemed the missive he carried to Thranduil woulad tad to reprisals upon his people for accepting the aid of Imladris.

"Be at ease!" the man spoke to quell the fear he knew the carpenter could not name. "He was alive when I left the village and I have a letter here from him. But strange elves have come to Greenwood seeking him, and Tirno is in trouble."

These words chilled Fearfaron's soul and he snatched the small folded parchment from the woodsman's outstretched hand just for the consolation of feeling the remnant of Legolas' touch upon it.

The carpenter thanked the elven guard and hastily led the distraught messenger away across the courtyard. A sense of eyes upon him called his vision back toward the stronghold where he beheld Thranduil's cold stare watching them depart. Whatever news Fearfaron learned the Woodland King would demand to have knowledge of as well, and would not flinch at interrogating the flustered human, forcefully if necessary. Fearfaron sighed; it would have been better for him to censor the information and deliver it himself, but this was now impossible. Thranduil would never let this mortal return to his home until full disclosure was made.

Fearfaron halted and turned the man about, resolutely leading him to the chamber of starlight.

Tbc.