Dark Council- *added Epilogue*

CHAPTER 9


For the time being, there was nothing more that could be done. It would be a waiting game now. Rymir would return the following day, and he would most certainly hear of the meeting Legolas held with the Council while he was away. What would happen next was anyone’s guess.

The five Elves, Thranduil, Garand, Legolas, Isil-Gar and Vilmaril sat in the King’s library, the only place they felt afforded them absolute privacy.

“There is something we’ve not yet discussed in this matter,” Thranduil said suddenly. He turned to Isil-Gar. “The two Guards aiding Rymir that night in the forest; have you any idea who they might have been?”

The Captain of the Guard sat on a chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on widespread knees. His ash blonde hair hung down thick and straight as he gazed thoughtfully at the floor for a moment. He nodded slowly as he raised his eyes to meet those of the King.

“Yes, Majesty,” he replied, glancing at Vilmaril, “we have strong suspicions as to their identities, but no solid evidence as of yet. I tell you this though, my Lord, when ‘tis proven exactly who these two are, I will flay the flesh from their bones myself! I do not train my Guards to betray their King, or their people.”

Thranduil smiled at Isil-Gar’s ardent display of outrage. “My loyal Captain,” he said appreciatively, “I truly do not think it need come to that. Let us see how this plays out, and we will decide what must be done when the time comes.”

The handsome warrior inclined his head in deference. “As you wish, my King,” he said respectfully, “as always.”

All heads turned to the door at the sound of a sudden soft knock. Isil-Gar and Vilmaril were on their feet instantly, blades drawn as they took up positions on either side of the door. Garand and Legolas moved to stand in front of Thranduil, their hands resting on the handles of their long knives in readiness. The Elven King smiled to himself in bemusement again. He sincerely doubted that Rymir would return early to launch a sneak attack on him in his library, but he was touched again by the devotion of his friends and family, and he silently thanked the Valar that they were all a part of his life. When all four warriors were prepared, Isil-Gar looked to Legolas who nodded once, and the Captain threw wide the door. The two Guards thrust their blades forward, the tips just touching the midsection and throat of the Elf who stood frozen in the doorway.

“I …..I,” he stammered in confusion and fear, afraid to move.

Thranduil leaned to one side, looking around the figures of his son and his lover. “Throlas?” he asked in disbelief. His trusted friend of many years, and long-time member of the Council, looked at him with wide eyes.

“Thranduil,” he said shakily, “what is this about?”

Isil-Gar and Vilmaril promptly lowered their swords. “Forgive us, Councilman,” the Captain said, “we knew not what to expect. Please come in.” He ushered Throlas into the room, locking and barring the door behind him. Legolas and Garand greeted the Council member, and Garand pulled a large chair forward for him. He sat facing the King, who then realized that his friend was holding a large sheet of parchment paper.

Thranduil gazed at the paper in apprehension and dread. Something had happened; this was some sort of message from the Council, he knew it in his heart. “What have you there, Throlas?” he asked quietly.

His friend inhaled deeply before speaking. “Late last night, many hours after our meeting with the Prince, the Council met again. We talked about a great many things, things of the utmost importance to Mirkwood and its security. We all reached the same conclusion, and this paper is the result of that concurrence. May I read it to you, my friend?”

Thranduil nodded mutely, his heart thudding in his chest. Garand and Legolas had moved to stand behind him, and both placed a reassuring hand on his shoulders.

Throlas nodded and raised the paper to begin reading.

“To the Lord Thranduil:

Much has happened recently, events that no one could have foreseen, or imagined. Things utterly alien to the kingdom of Mirkwood; things that aroused much fear and suspicion in us all. In our fervor to put an end to these events, we reacted as swiftly and prudently as we thought best, and for this”, Throlas raised his eyes to look pointedly at Thranduil, “we beg your forgiveness. Several members of the Council tried to point out to us that our reasoning was flawed, but we were blind. We could blame Rymir’s influence for the lapse of wisdom we experienced, but in the end we are all responsible for our own actions, and knowing this, we who were disloyal to the throne wish to offer our resignations from the Council. By seriously considering demanding your removal from the throne, King Thranduil, we have done a grievous disservice to you and to Mirkwood. Your leadership is invaluable, and your concern and compassion for your people, unmatched.

Our fondest hope is that you, as a ruler who possesses fathomless compassion and understanding, may one day realize that we truly believed we acted in Mirkwood’s best interest, and absolve us for the wrong we have done you.”

Throlas lowered the parchment and looked again at Thranduil. “And it is signed by each Councilman who spoke against you in this matter.”

Legolas squeezed his father’s shoulder in relief, and Garand bowed his head to give thanks to the Valar.

“They truly said those things?” Thranduil asked in a barely audible voice.

Throlas nodded adamantly. “They dictated every word; I wrote it out in my own hand,” and he handed the paper to Thranduil for his scrutiny. The King read it, shaking his head in wonder.

“This is a miracle,” he said.

“It is a testament to your character, my friend,” Throlas corrected him, “and it did not hurt that you have such a persuasive advocate in the Prince, either,” he added, smiling at Legolas. “Ah, I almost forgot! I have a message for you, my Prince, from Fyn,” he said, referring to another member of the Council. “He sends his most sincere thanks.”

“Thanks?” Legolas replied, baffled. “For what?”

“He returned to his home for a time yesterday after we met with you. He was telling his wife what you had warned about Rymir’s designs on young boys. Fyn’s two youngest sons overheard and came forward to tell him that Rymir had already attempted to seduce them several months ago. They were afraid to say anything when it happened, but after hearing that you knew Rymir was capable of such a thing, they confessed to their mother and father.”

Contempt swept over the beautiful features of the Prince, and he said vehemently, “But they are nowhere near the age of majority; they are but babes!”

Throlas nodded. “Babes who will be closely guarded from now on.” He stood and looked down at Thranduil, who was gradually recovering from the unexpected words Throlas had read to him. “Well, my friend, have you a reply for the Council?”

The blonde King looked up. “They are waiting?” he asked.

Throlas nodded. “With much trepidation, I believe.”

The King stood and clasped the hand of his friend warmly. “Thank you for coming to me with this news, Throlas. I do have a message for the Council. Please thank them for examining their hearts in this matter, and tell them also that I will not *accept* their resignations. They have all served on the Council for many years, and done so, brilliantly. The fact that they were prepared to remove me from the throne for the sake of Mirkwood, tells me that they are all exactly where they should be.”

Throlas tilted his head to one side, smiling. “How did I know you would say that?” he asked, amused.

The Elven King only smiled in reply and gently patted the shoulder of his friend. Isil-Gar and Vilmaril stood at the door, ready to escort Throlas back to the Council meeting room. After the Councilman had exited the room, the two Guards turned back to face Thranduil, their right hands over their hearts in a gesture of respect and steadfast devotion.

“Victory, my Lord,” Isil-Gar said.

“And well-deserved,” Vilmaril added earnestly. “Thank the Valar.”

Thranduil placed his hand over his heart in an answering gesture. “Thank you, my friends,” he said sincerely, “for all you’ve done.” When they’d left the room, the King turned to Legolas. The Prince smiled and embraced his father warmly.

“I have never been more proud to be your son, adar,” he whispered. Thranduil held him close and replied, “I have never been more grateful that you *are* my son. Thank you, my zealous defender.”

When they separated, Legolas suggested, “Perhaps I should go to the Council room to answer any questions they might have, with your permission.”

“An excellent idea,” Thranduil agreed.

After Legolas left, the King turned to the large window in his study that overlooked autifutiful sloping terrace. He’d been aware that Garand stoilenilently looking out onto the grounds, and had been doing so for some time. Thranduil’s strongest impulse had been to go to him immediately, but he wanted to speak with his lover in privacy and so he’d been forced to wait. He quietly approached the auburn-haired Elf and stood behind him, wrapping strong arms around Garand’s midsection and gently resting his chin on his shoulder.
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“What are you thinking, meltha?” he said softly. Garand smiled, leaning back into his beloved Thranduil’s embrace, and clasping the arms that enfolded him.

“I was thinking ….. how differently all of this turned out, from the way I had imagined it would.”

The Elven King turned his beautiful face toward his lover, nuzzling his delicate ear. “How so?” he murmured.

Garand laughed self-deprecatingly. “I wanted to save you, dearest. I longed to be your champion, but as it turned out, you did not need me. ‘Twas your own goodness that saved you, in the end.”

Thranduil moved to stand before Garand, his face serious as he clasped his shoulders firmly. “Hear me, cala nin. ‘Twas you, and you alone, who initiated the task of clearing my name, and discovering the identity of the true culprit. You worked tirelessly on my behalf; do you truly believe that I was not aware of that?” He reached up to tenderly brush the back of his hand across Garand’s cheek.

“No one has ever risked as much for my sake as you have, and no matter the number of my yearsn Min Middle Earth, I shall never forget it. You *are* my champion, my beautiful Garand. That you placed yourself in danger in order to confront Rymir with the knowledge of his guilt, is perhaps the most courageous act I have ever heard of.”

The warrior Elf replied confidently, “I do not fear him, my love.”

Thranduil gazed into the golden-green eyes of his lover pointedly. “I think perhaps we should *all* fear him to a certain degree, Garand. He is capable of anything, and I believe he truly feels no remorse. He will be enraged when he returns tomorrow and learns of today’s events. Until all is resolved, we must be on constant watch against him. Swear to me that you will not again face him alone.”

Garand smiled at the concerned words of his love. Taking Thranduil’s hand, he turned it gently and pressed a kiss into his palm.

“I swear it, dearest.”

Thranduil drew him into a tender embrace. “Ah Garand, I do love you so,” he whispered.

“And I, you,” came the young Elf’s reply, and they stood like that for many moments, King and warrior, deeply contented in the nearness of one another.

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cala nin: my light