Mistril was at Eloen's house and her hands were trembling. It was difficult to say if it was out of fear or out of something else. She hoped it was the lack of vitamins in her body or the lack of sleep.
"Your light is flickering like crazy." Illion noted. He sat against the door frame and watched her with curiosity.
"Why did you come?" She asked not looking at him in fear her eyes would darken.
"Lord Celeborn asked for your presence in the healing rooms. I am to bring you." He said suddenly growing formal.
The healing rooms in Caras Galadhon were like a labyrinth. They entered two rooms where healers were either working on patients or medicine. The last one was almost empty, with the exception of Celeborn, Gweluven and Miluinir.
"Please, come and sit here, Mistril." Celeborn said with a soft smile. She complied without a question and sat on the bed. Gweluven handed her a cup of something that smelled like fresh flowers. "It is a potion we have been working on."
"Is it to calm me down? Or is it to stop me from becoming Daewen?" she asked with such innocence that the two healers felt guilty. "It doesn't matter. My light is unstable so the best I can do is to give you the impression that I can be tamed." she said it in a rush and she most definitely did not mean it to come out so suspicious. But she was not wrong.
Mistril was gone for a while already, around two or three weeks, when Lindir came to Glorfindel with a puzzled face. He gave a letter to the Gondolindrim and they suddenly had the same expression.
"Thranduil wants to have an important meeting with me? What does that mean?" he asked seeing how there was nothing of common interest between the two.
"It seems quite urgent. The messenger is expected to return accompanied by you." Lindir continued, his mind swirling with questions. But it wasn't his domain of expertise, nor was his place to ask.
That was how, in a matter of days, Glorfindel found himself at the gates of the Halls, waiting patiently for one of his guards to let him in. Ever since he entered the land of wood elves he felt anxious. He noticed the webs and the rotten animals on the way, there were even smelly corpses of gigantic spiders and he swore some trees were giving up. It was an overall bad image for Thranduil.
As he followed the messenger up to the stone stage, he couldn't help sensing that even though nothing seemed wrong in the kingdom, there were many glances between the guards and healers.
"Lord Glorfindel," Faervel approached the older warrior and saluted him with a nod. "I'd like a word after your very urgent business with the king." He whispered and left swiftly. Glorfindel frowned and continued to the blond, slightly laid back Elvenking.
"Ah, Glorfindel, I'm glad you could come in such short notice. Please, follow me,"
Thranduil led him into his office, far from the eavesdropping elves. He invited the Balrog slayer to sit and he went straight to the core of his issues.
"I'm sure you have seen on the way that Mirkwood is not well. The forest is filled with creatures that are crawling from Dol Guldur and even further. But that is not why I requested your presence. I was sent recently a drawing,"
"I know, I sent it to you." Glorfindel answered with a boyish grin. He knew now what Thranduil wanted. "You are smitten, aren't you? She left your land thousands of years ago and yet you cannot get her out of your mind."
Thranduil didn't expect such a direct reply but kept his cold appearance for the moment.
"She showed it to me, her life in captivity and her fall into Sauron's hands. I had seen it as if I was there, I cannot even grasp the lengths of how terrible it was. But she signed her name on the drawing in Quenya."
"And?" Glorfindel couldn't yet understand what was exactly that the king wanted if he already knew everything about Mistril's past.
"How do you remember her being before the fall of Gondolin?"
Glorfindel chuckled to himself and tried to remember what exactly he knew about the little red haired elleth.
"She came once in the courtyard with a sword twice her height and screamed that she could take us on anytime. It was rather funny back then..." He noticed that most of his memories were blurred and he tried to find another. "She liked spending time in my library and she had mature questions about every story she found. She was interested in men for a while, then dwarves and hobbits."
"So there was nothing of concern?" Thranduil asked leaning back. "Why then did the orcs take only her?"
"That's not a question I can answer to. But I assure you, Mistril was young and inexperienced with the outside world. She only knew the life in Gondolin and did not deserve what came upon her. Now, if that's all, I can show myself out." Glorfindel said and got up. He only took one glance at the Elvenking over his shoulder before he left.
Faervel was in his office, a room that was far smaller than the king's, of course, but a lot messier although the commander did not show it. He was an elf of action rather than words and that was his drive for this little secret brigade he formed. He was surprised when Glorfindel entered with a frown on his face.
"Did the discussion go well? Or maybe it wasn't about something you expected?" Faervel asked, briefly glancing at the blond elf already having an idea of what was bothering his king.
"It was interestingly odd," was the answer from the former hero as he approached the desk and sat straight across Faervel. "What about you?"
"I am merely a servant to the kingdom and cannot imagine what could have troubled the king so," started Faervel, glancing up at Glorfindel with a sarcastic look. "And yet, there are dangers that are far closer and more dangerous that we should concentrate on." Faervel went straight into the subject.
"Dol Guldur is swathed in shadow." Glorfindel stated knowingly.
"Indeed," the white haired commander answered with a nod.
"What had the king said about your worries?"
The look that Faervel gave was one of utter disappointment; or maybe not so strongly negative, but the warrior was not content with how the king answered his requests for reinforcement.
"I believe you did not inform him of the dwarves either?"
"It is not needed as it is not the business of our kin. Dwarves can do as they please," responded Faervel with a frown. "I have been withstanding the ever growing enemies that seem to not need sleep or food or water because anger is enough. They come at us like arrows at a battalion. I do know what I am talking about, lord Glorfindel."
"I know but do not ignore what happens inside the wooden realm either. Don't risk the lives of your army men, no matter how capable they are. It is better to have them live and fight rather than be killed so close to home by a danger weaker than its true potential."
Glorfindel had lived and witnessed much in his life span, he was returned to Arda with a purpose and Faervel knew he was a being he could trust with his whole heart. But he was not there, he didn't face the enemy and he did not approach the fortress in order to have felt the heaviness of it's power.
"Thorin Oakenshield is set on his journey. He wants to reclaim what is rightfully his."
"Erebor...but it has been reigned by the great dragon Smaug for so long. I cannot even remember the times when the dwarves were in charge of the Lonely Mountain."
"I'm sure Thranduil will. He knows how to keep a grudge." Glorfindel had learned that especially through his interest in Mistril. "Do not worry yet about the one they call the Necromancer. Fear it only if Mistril arrives. Then you'll know what kind of darkness lies inside."
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