Shadow of Angmar

Chapter 22

Faervel was in his office, a room that was far smaller than the king's, 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 enter the fortress in order to have felt the heaviness of its power.

"Thorin Oakenshield is set on his journey. He wants to reclaim what is rightfully his." Glorfindel added.

"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. You'll know then what kind of darkness lies inside."

"How do you feel?"

Days were passing quite peacefully in Lothlorien. Legolas was the happiest elf, having the time to do as he pleased and enjoy the companionship of the twins. Gweluven was spending most of his time in the palace, working on a potion that could help Mistril. That was the point of this whole excursion, after all. Miluinir was there to fetch the ingredients and he was there to pin Mistril down in extreme cases. Unfortunately, those cases were growing in number.

"On your guard, Miluinir," muttered Gweluven taking a step back.

Mistril seemed alright in the beginning. She would take her potion and then go on long walks with Arwen or Legolas. Their soothing presence was like a painkiller that was administered after every incision. Gweluven never dared touch Mistril while she was taking her medicine, especially because her eyes did turn grey. Celeborn was always there, in the back, ready to interfere if he needed to.