"What's the situation?" Thranduil immediately asked, as soon as the Elven garrison reached him.
An entire night's journey from Dale to the borders of Eryn Galen, with Roswehn sitting in the saddle in front of him. He held her waist, because he feared she would lose her balance. She had not been a good horsewoman at the age of twenty, let alone in her eighties.
An attack was underway south of the Forest. Orcs had set fire to the area around Dol Guldur. Thranduil felt every leaf burning, every root getting incinerated, every animal suffocating by smoke, or burning alive. He could feel his beloved forest dying.
"Legions of Orcs, my lord. The attack started late in the night. We saw the animals in the forest going up north. They ran away terrified. The birds ... whole flocks flew up and ..." the soldier stopped. He watched the face of the mysterious figure sitting in the saddle with the King.
"... Roswehn ?!" asked the soldier.
"Hello, Hazel." she greeted him. She marveled at her memory. In Dale she always forgot what she had done from one hour to the next, but in that Forest she was perfectly able to recognize a face seen thirty years before. That was an elven captain she had met when he was still an infantry soldier. Roswehn remembered his beautiful blue eyes and the hazel hair he was named after.
Thranduil turned to the soldier. "Listen to me. I request a report on what is happening in the South. Which part of the forest has already gone. How many of my Elves have been mobilized for defense. Feren and Varian must join me in the council hall as soon as possible." then he held Roswehn tight. "Give the order to Nim: she has to prepare a room in the underground, a cave next to mine. For her."
"It will be done, Sire." answered Hazel.
"Thranduil ... the forest burns?" asked the old woman.
"Yes, my love. But you must stay calm. We will hide you in the most protected place of the realm. I will tell Haldir to stay close to you. Don't be afraid." the King murmured. Then he had a doubt. He looked at his soldier again. "Where is my son?"
"The prince is in his rooms, Majesty. As you ordered, we watched him over every minute." answered Hazel.
Thranduil spurred the horse. "Hurry up, then. Let's go back to the Palace. There's a lot to do."
"I aran erein!" shouted Hazel. In Elvish, the phrase meant: let the king pass.
Immediately the group of Elves in uniform opened in two separate columns, to leave the sovereign and his escort to continue.
Thranduil was thinking about what to do. Organizing a defense quickly would have been a problem. The mountains at the center of the gigantic forest closed the border between the area under the influence of Sauron and the territory inhabited by the Woodland Elves.
The key was the fortress of Dol Guldur. From there came the energy of the Dark Lord, there lived that Nazgûl, Khamûl, called the Shadow of the East. He was one of the human lords to whom Sauron had given a ring. A Man of the East, who had become a wraith at the service of Mordor. He was almost as powerful as the Witch King of Angmar.
It was likely that it was that black creature who led the attack on Greenwood. But how to destroy him? Thranduil could not go to Dol Guldur with his army. Too risky. But that cursed fortress, which had once been the residence of his father Oropher, had to be destroyed.
He felt Roswehn tremble.
"It won't take long. The palace is near." he reassured her.
His soldiers were many thousands, but he could not push them all towards the legions of Orcs. With a fire going on, many risked dying before reaching those monsters.
Finally the Great Gate, under the stone arches, was visible. Roswehn felt her heart tighten when she saw the building she had seen for the last time decades before. She was sure she would never see it again, except in her dreams. She wondered how the Elves would react to seeing her again.
Thranduil and Roswehn crossed the threshold of the elven classrooms together for the first time. The most solid and enduring realm, among all those founded by the people of Manwë.
Immediately two guards arrived to take the horse and help the king and the woman to dismount. "Go and call Morath and Nim. Don't waste time. And somebody call my son." the King ordered.
Feren approached the King. "We are grateful for your return, Your Majesty. Many facts need attention."
"I want to know what the situation is in every detail. How far have those beings gone?" asked the King, while Roswehn looked around, moved and amazed. Yes, it was all exactly as she remembered it.
"They didn't reach the Mountains. But they did set fire to three hectares of vegetation. The flames are destroying everything." Feren explained.
Meanwhile, two elven women had arrived. Nim almost cried when she recognized her old friend. Morath brought her hands to her face, as surprised as her daughter.
"Roswehn ... Roswehn!" exclaimed the elf girl. "You came back to us!"
"Morath, Nim: the King orders you to take care of Roswehn. You know what to do." Hazel explained. He and Nim exchanged a glance of understanding and the human woman guessed that the two of them were in love. She rejoiced for her friend, evidently Nim had managed to forget Legolas.
"Follow us, dear. Oh, you don't know how happy I am to have you back here ..." Morath whispered to her, holding her by the arm.
"You see I've changed." the human answered.
"Only in appearance. But your eyes tell me that you are always the same inside. I have much to tell you. You will be fine with us, I will bring you new clothes immediately and we will prepare you a big meal. Nim!" She called, but Roswehn took her hand.
"No, forget the food. I don't eat much anymore, you know? I'd just like to see my son and sit down. You'll discover that I'm weaker now. I get tired easily, my legs shake after a few steps now." the woman complained.
Morath looked at her a little embarrassed. "Of course ... I understand ... but you have to fill your stomach, or you won't have the strength to hug the prince. Nim, please go to the kitchens and have something prepared for her." then she caressed the old woman's face. "Now I'll have to prepare a cave in the underground, close to that of the King. Be patient, it takes time, no one has ever occupied it. I have to ask our servants to bring a bed and the furniture ..."
"I won't be allowed sleep with him anymore." murmured Roswehn. "We will be close, but separate. Great Eru, you know how to torture your people ..."
Morath felt sorry for her. Mortality was a real curse. The one in front of her was a dried up and old version of the Roswehn she had known. She was so beautiful, when she was a girl... so full of energy. And she and their King had loved each other so passionately, since the first night together. How could they cope with those memories, how could they fight the nostalgia for something that would never happen again?
"Roswehn, be strong. As you have always been. If the King has brought you back to us, it is because he needs you. There are many forms of love, which go beyond passion. But they are equally intense." Morath tried to console her.
Roswehn gave her a look full of melancholy. "I hope ... I pray not to die in front of him, dear friend."
"Mum!" a voice was heard. "... Naneth!"
Haldir, warned by Hazel, had left his protected rooms and rushed to Roswehn. He took her face in his hands and stared in disbelief. "It's really you! Here ... here in Eryn Galen!"
"Haldir, I thought I wouldn't see you anymore!" the woman sobbed, hiding her face on her son's chest.
The prince looked towards his father, who was standing with Feren, both watching the scene.
"Hantanyel." Haldir said.
Thank you.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
"My lord, we must organize the counterattack." said Varian. "We cannot wait any longer, or the Orcs will become more audacious."
He, Feren and the King were in the great cave of councils.
Thranduil was reading the report on damage to his forest.
Without help, they wouldn't have made it. It was not the Orcs that worried him, those miserable beasts could be killed by half of his soldiers without problems. The problem was fire. The fire whose destructive power the great Elf King knew very well.
Thranduil was afraid of fire. He was ashamed to admit it, because he had the reputation of being one of the most fearless warrior Elves of the Sindar lineage, but the terror of reliving that hell had marked his soul too deeply. The fire was not a sentient being, who could be deceived, wounded, killed. It was an energy that did two things: it devoured and incinerated.
Fire had eaten his wife Calenduin.
And he had faced a Dragon, whose sea of flames had left an indelible memory in his mind and on his body.
How could he think of defeating legions of Orcs if they were accompanied and protected by that irrepressible force?
"We must put out the fire." he said, lapidary.
"And how, my King? We should divert the course of the river, but it would flood the forest, causing perhaps even worse damage." Feren objected.
"We do not have sufficient forces to organize its extinction. It would take thousands of Elves to carry buckets and barrels full of water." said Varian. "We just have to wait for it to die out on its own."
Thranduil could not believe his ears. "...that it extinguishes itself, you say?" he approached the vice-captain. "Eryn Galen is made up of old trees. Oaks, pines, firs. All these trees that surround us can burn in a short time, and are covered with resin, which makes them more easily flammable. You want to tell me that a Woodland Elf like you ignores this small detail?"
Varian bowed his head. "No, Majesty, I am aware of it. But there is no solution. This fire is too big , we cannot oppose it. We must let nature do it."
Thranduil turned to his trusted Feren. "You. What do you say about it?"
" I agree with Varian. It's still winter, the temperature is low. The mist could come down to cool the forest. That would help." replied the commander.
"So should I let those horrendous beings destroy my territory?" he retorted with indignation.
"No. We can react. Our archers are skilled enough to hit the Orcs even at great distances. It will not be necessary to approach them." Varian said, taking a step forward. "Give me the command."
"And what can you offer me in exchange for a promotion?" asked Thranduil.
"The triumph. And my life." Varian answered.
Feren looked at him badly. Varian was as always trying to praise himself in front of the King. He had never succeeded in making a career in the army, since Thranduil did not like his aggressive and violent nature. But perhaps on that occasion that destructive temper could be useful.
Even the King thought that. "Excellent. Go there immediately. Bring a legion of the best archers with you. I wait for news."
Varian bowed his head, and walked away.
"It is risky, Lord Thranduil. Varian is bold, but in this circumstance it takes someone to play cunning." dared say Feren.
"No." retorted Thranduil. "... we need someone ... or something ... that can extinguish that damn fire."