"No, no, no! Say she is not dead!" - Bregwen

25th March/ Gwaeron 3019, Dol Guldur

"You're late!" said the Uruk-Hai guard at the fortress gates.

"A group of Elven spies waylaid us, and two of our company have gone to serve Melkor in the void. We kept one alive for questioning; the rest are slain," replied the priest, leading his companions. A She-Elf bound and blindfolded struggled with two priests as the company passed through the entrance to the outer courtyard.

The Uruk-Hai and his fellow century eyed the empty bird cages. "You managed to release the messages, then? The high priestess will be most pleased."

"They are on their way to the correct destination," replied the priest. And the great gates closed.

"Is it me or was there something different about those priests?" said the other guard.

"Of course they are strange. They are humans," replied the first guard.

"They seemed a little taller to me and walked funny."

"Rubbish! It's just those cloaks that make them different. Not that I can tell anything about them with their faces covered. Now get back to work."

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The gates to the outer courtyard closed with a dull thud. No, going back now, not that Calenamath had any intention of doing so. The plan was to find the tower Thorwen was in and get her out, attracting as little attention as possible. But in a fortress full of Orcs, goblins and Morgoth worshipers, it was not going to be easy. They slipped behind a group of Orcs who were watching a prisoner being tied to a whipping post. No doubt to enjoy the spectacle of the poor wretches suffering.

The prisoner was an old man, little more than skin and bones. His brown rags barely covered him. A shiver ran through Calenamath as he recognised the prisoner. "Radagast, no!" he whispered into his scarf. Thorwen had been right when she had suspected he might well be a prisoner in Dol Guldur. Now the both of them were at his mercy. As if sensing his thoughts, Haldir caught his eye and nodded. But there was nothing they could do for him at the present. Not without exposing themselves.

Two more Uruk-Hai Guards stood at the Gates of the main fortress building. It was an imposing building, with high ancient walls oozing with evil. Two towers sat at the top of the fortress, their silhouettes making them appear like two giant spears against the angry skies above.

Suddenly, he heard the shutters open in one tower. Glancing upwards, he heard the cries of a young woman in distress. "Don't hurt him!" Bregwen looked blindly toward the voice. They both knew it was Thorwen. The Uruk-Hai grunted and waved them through into an oppressively dark chamber.

The air hung with the pungent scent of evil, but the chamber was otherwise empty. From outside, they could hear the Orcs cheering with every whiplash. It made Calenamath's blood run cold to think what poor Radagast was enduring. "Where is everyone?" asked Haldir. His keen eyes glinting in the darkness.

"Watching the spectacle, I shouldn't wonder," replied Calenamath bitterly.

Picking up a nearby torch from the wall, he noticed steps going downwards at the back of the chamber and a door he suspected led to the tower where Nuta was holding Thorwen. "The holding cells must be on the lower levels."

He led the company down the steep flight of slippery steps. At the bottom was a guardroom leading to a long corridor lined with cell doors. Two Uruk-Hai sat at a table. They looked up at what they thought was a group of priests and their prisoner. Grumbling when Calenamath ordered them to open a cell. Haldir escorted Bregwen behind them, leaving the other Elves beside the seated guard. Loosening her bonds while the other guard fumbled with the keys.

As soon as the door was open, Bregwen tore off her blindfold and the three of them pushed the guard into the cell, dispatching him quickly. On hearing the commotion, the other guard turned towards the corridor, only to be met with a birdcage to the face. The other three Elves quickly overpowered the Uruk-Hai, dragging him towards the open where he met the same fate as his companion.

Bregwen took the rings of keys on the bodies, tossing one to Calenamath. "You both seem experienced in this," said Haldir.

"We are," replied Calenamath. But we must hurry. They closed the cell door and started opening the other doors between them. There were far fewer prisoners than they expected. A mere handful of downtrodden, emaciated souls who could barely stand, let alone walk. They cowered in fear before the elves who were still in disguise. Bregwen, now free of her bonds, reassured the prisoners who explained that many more were in the lower levels, most likely in the torture chambers.

Calenamath's heart sank. Their company was far too small to release everyone, especially if they were to rescue Thorwen and Radagast. "If you will permit me. My companion and I will take these people to the Battle Camp. We have healers who can take care of the prisoners and will try to help Radagast too, leaving you free to rescue the Lady. My lord and lady can release the rest of these poor souls when they destroy this place."

Calenamath agreed. It was the best of an unpleasant situation. Haldir and his companion explained the plan to the prisoners before leading them away. Bregwen changed into the priest robes she had been concealing, while Calenamath relocked all the cells to avoid suspicion. Then they joined the remaining Huscarl and sped back up the steps. At the top, they saw Haldir arguing with a troll guard who was barring his way. So they quickly to refuge in the shadows.

"Where are you going with them?" demanded the guard.

"Grave digging duty. Bodies are piling up in the interrogation chambers and we need to clear some space," replied Haldir.

The Guard grunted. "Where are the shovels, then?"

"You do not expect me to go and get them, do you? Go and get them yourself or I will speak to the High priestess about your insolence!"

Calenamath and Bregwen tried not to snigger as the Troll lumbered off. A few minutes later, he returned with several shovels. Handing them out to the prisoners who could barely lift them. "Good luck getting them to dig any holes. You can cut that body down from the gallows and take it with you as well." He mumbled before allowing Haldir and his 'grave-digging' group outside. Bregwen breathed a sigh of relief.

"They are not free yet. They have still to pass the main gate," said Calenamath. He turned his attention to the tower door just as it opened. The three of them stepped further into the shadows to avoid detection.

Nuta stormed out of the door and went straight to the Guard, questioning him about whether the Wizard had been dealt with. The Troll said he had and that the grave diggers where going to take the body away. Calenamath's heart stuck in his throat when he heard those words. He only hoped that if Radagast had been killed, at least Haldir would ensure a decent burial for him.

He then realised that the tower door was ajar. In her haste, Nuta had forgotten to lock it. He silently motioned to the others. One by one, they slipped through the tower door as Nuta continued her questioning.

"What do you mean grave diggers?"

"Your Priests took some prisoners out to dig graves. He said the interrogation chambers are full of bodies."

"I did not order any bodies moved. The Orcs take care of the dead."

"That's what he said, High Priestess."

Even after Bregwen silently closed the tower door, Nuta's furious tirade could still be heard. Then all three bounded up the twisted stairs, their feet making no sound. At the top was another heavier door that was unguarded. "We should break the door open and escape with Thorwen through the window," whispered Bregwen.

"No, she is likely to be guarded inside. We should trick them into leaving the chamber first. It will give us more time to rescue Thorwen before they even realise something is amiss," replied Calenamath.

"And Radagast?"

Calenamath heaved a mournful sigh."I fear he is beyond our help."

He then knocked firmly on the door. It was answered by a priest who asked what they wanted. "The high priestess has commanded us to guard the Gift. You are relieved," said Calenamath.

"Nuta spoke nothing of relieving us. Master Khamûl will be here at any moment," replied the priest.

"There is a matter she would like you and your companion to attend to, as you are her most trusted acolytes."

The priest's eyes narrowed. "Till now, we have been in sole charge of the Gift. Why would Nuta call us away from our duty?"

"I do not know. She would only tell us it was a matter of the utmost importance."

The priest was silent for a long time, then summoned her companion. "The High priestess calls upon us. These three will remain to await the Great Master's servants." She turned back towards Calenamath. "When you hear a knocking on the window. Open the shutters and deliver the gift to the rider. I would expect Nuta's return before then. Hail Melkor!"

Calenamath and his companions replied likewise, though the words made them feel sick. The two priests then left the chamber. "Block the door and open the shutters. We don't have much time," whispered Calenamath.

Bregwen and her Huscarl companion wasted no time barring the door and placing heavy furniture in front of it. Calenamath rushed to the musty four-poster bed where Thorwen lay pale and lifeless in a black bejewelled gown. Desperately, he took her limp body into his arms and gently tapped her face. She did not respond. He grabbed a nearby mirror and held it to her lips. Breathing a sigh of relief as a faint sign of breath appeared on it. The stench of Poppy syrup hung about her, and he suspected she had been given more than the usual dosage when he noticed a nearby bottle.

"No, no, no! Say she is not dead!" wailed Bregwen. Distraught at seeing her friend's pitiful state.

"No. But she is somewhere between life and death." Calenamath held Thorwen tightly in his arms and whispered in her ear, "Thorwen, do not leave us. Thranduil loves you. Our people love you and I love you too. Do not give in to despair when you are so near to deliverance." He held Thorwen so tight he could feel the slowing beats of her heart and he could not control his feelings for her. Thorwen let out a soft sigh and her heartbeat and breathing steadied. Calenamath breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at Bregwen, her cheeks strewn with tears. "I am sorry, Mellon Nin."

"I know. My heart has always known." She clasped his shoulder reassuringly.

The Huscarl by the window called out to Calenamath that something strange was happening in the courtyard below. "The Orcs, they are fighting among themselves!"

Calenamath lifted Thorwen onto his shoulder and went to the window. Although he could not see the sun, he could tell it must be late in the day, as the light was fading. He looked down into the courtyard below. The Orcs appeared to have lost any resemblance of order and were attacking anything that moved.

Haldir, his company, or Radagast were nowhere in sight, but it seemed that someone had sliced a rope on the gallows and an elven arrow was lodged in the gibbet. Calenamath hoped they had escaped before the commotion. Bregwen looked out of the window towards the battlements and made a birdcall. They all heard a similar reply and the wave of a hand from the battlements indicated that the rest of the company was ready and waiting. She drew out her Elven rope and fastened it to a hook on the outside of the tower.

Loud, desperate knocking came from the barred door and Nuta's shrill screams were heard on the other side. "Let us in! The Orcs are revolting! Make haste or they will kill us all!"

Ignoring the cries, the Huscarl went first, nimbly swinging across to the rest of the company. The cries behind the door grew more desperate and someone was attempting to break it down. "Hurry, we do not have long," said Calenamath. Bregwen nodded and swung across to the battlements. Calenamath caught the rope as it swung back and jumped up onto the windowsill, still carrying an unconscious Thorwen over his shoulder.

The door finally burst open as he swung through the air before landing lightly among the battlements. From the tower, Nuta screamed out of the window, "SOMEONE CATCH THEM! KILL THE ELVES! BRING THE GIFT BACK ALIVE!" She tried to grasp the Elven rope, but it slipped from its fastening, burning her palms as Bregwen reeled it in.

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1st April/ Gwirith 3019, The Woodland Realm

Thranduil sang to the saplings while he planted them and said a few words of blessing to Yvanna. So far, he had planted more than a hundred of them. The children of the great beeches that had given their lives to protect his realm. It had been a trying few days since Calenamath had taken the Huscarls in pursuit of Thorwen.

But all was well now since a bird had sent him a message from his brother to confirm that not only had he rescued her from Dol Guldur but he had acccompied Celeborn and Galadriel when they destroyed the fortress. Thorwen, he had assured Thranduil was safe and recovering in the Galadhrim encampment. 

But another message from Celeborn himself made it clear he had asserted his claim of kinship over Princess Anberenien and planned to take her to Minas Tirith as part of Arwen's wedding company now that King Elessar was to restore the throne of Gondor. Whilst this irritated him, Thranduil was relieved that Thorwen, Calenamath and the Huscarls were all safe. However, he knew now that in order to claim his bride, a journey south was inevitable. A prospect he did not relish. 

Celeborn had also informed him that Legolas was alive and well, and at the king's side and soon the coronation would take place. This was welcome news he had dared not hope for. He had also asked to meet with Thranduil at the base of the Emyn Duir, a central place where the future of the whole forest would be discussed. His scouts had already excitedly informed him of Mirkwood's restoration beyond his realm and yet it had not restored the trees that had been burned within his realm. 

But he would go. He suspected Celeborn would want to claim some of the forest after destroying the fortress and Thranduil wanted to ensure his allies, the Beornings had a place within the forest too. Much of their lands and villages had been torched by the Orcs and their new Lord Vilbeorn was keen to restore the fortunes of his people.

There had been enough bloodsplit of late. There had been a bitter battle fought in Dale and Erebor and both their kings had been slain. Now the raft Elves were transporting the grateful refugees he had sheltered back to Esgaroth. His kindness to those people would never be forgotten and with them the two emissaries, who were more than eager to return to their new kings with good blessings and gifts from the Elven King. Thranduil had also sent food and builders with them as he had done after the battle of five armies. It was the least he could do. 

Celephinniel's cheerful voice woke him from his thoughts. "I thought I would find you here."

Thranduil sat back from his labours and wiped the dirt from his hands. "Adar would often spend his time planting saplings. He used to say it helped him to think."

"I remember. He spent hours singing to Yvanna while planting groves, your mother would always scold him."

"Yes, she wanted him to behave more like a king."

"More like King Thingol, you mean."

Thranduil nodded in agreement, stood up and admired his work. "when I was young I agreed with Naneth. These days Adar's wisdom is more to my taste." He looked up at the budding canopy above him. "Tonight will be clear. I think I shall camp out here under the stars. I have missed them greatly."

Celephinniel produced a scroll from her robes. "Very well I shall Inform Padir. I came to tell you that all is ready for the journey to the Emyn Duir. But then, this arrived from Celeborn."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Another one. He had enough to say in his last scroll."

"Perhaps there has been a delay," replied Celephinniel. 

"I do not think the delay graces Celeborn's vocabulary." scoffed Thranduil. He broke open the seal and began to read. The shock of each word pierced his heart as he forced himself to read. "No! Why now, after....."

He let the scroll fall to the ground and fell to his knees, narrowly missing a sapling. Celephinniel's screams and wails alerted him to the fact that she had read it too. But they seemed distant, muffled by the thoughts clouding his mind. She fell upon him but his throat was too dry to offer her comfort. How long they held each other under the trees he did not know. But the stars were visible by the time he came to his senses.