Alas, For Captains No Hope.

Chapter 2

Alas, For Captains No Hope

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything besides the plot and the OC's. The writer J.R.R. Tolkien created Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit and Middle-Earth.

T.A. 2941

It had been fifty troubling years for Mirkwood after the founding of the elfling under the tree in the backyard of one of the stronghold's wooden cottages. Since the year 2851 of the Third Age the uncomfortable feeling had arose in the Woodland Realm. In that year, the second meeting of the White Council had taken place and the news of Mithrandir's discovery the year before was revealed. It had been a shock to all. The wizard had found out that the Necromancer in Dol Guldor was none other than Sauron. He had regained his powers, millennia after the Battle of Dagorlad.

This year the third meeting of the White Council had been held. After all these years, they finally had agreed to attack Dol Guldur. It had taken a lot of effort to convince Saruman, also known as Curunír for the elves. He was the appointed leader of the Council and had overruled and mocked his fellow colleague Gandalf for inter alia his smoking. But even Saruman submitted, for he knew that Sauron was searching for the One Ring in the Anduin, also know as the Great River.

After the decision had been made, Mirkwood was preparing itself to launch an attack on Dol Guldur. Many had been fearing it and were troubled with the choice. In the time of Greenwood the Great it had been the capital of Oropher's Silvan Elves. No one wished to go there, for it held memories so deep it could make an elf fade of grief. Now it also was the fortress of Sauron, whom everyone openly feared. But the deed had to be done; Sauron couldn't stay there any longer. It was time the wood-elves took back Southern Mirkwood. It was after all in their own realm.

Warriors of the Woodland Realm were occupied with the task of gathering every weapon and every ellon able to fight. It were bitter times for the Elvenking, who had to watch it all happen from the palace. His own children were also out there, fighting for their freedom. All he could do was encourage his citizen to fight as the best as they could and lift as much weight from their shoulders as he could. With slightly slumped shoulders, king Thranduil watched with a troubled heart the tear wreaking moments of warriors saying their goodbyes to their beloved ones. It was time.

While everyone was busy with embracing family, friends and preparing to leave, one small elfling of only fifty years was playing with wooden blocks in his backyard. He had been watching the elves around him all day, until he decided he did not get any of the things they did. He had grabbed his toys and marched in an elfling manner to his own cottage. There he was now, pondering in silent about the activities of the unusual day. He did not understand the tears, the sobs or the emotionless expressions. He did not get why elves he did not knew lifted him up, hugging him closely. He did not know the reasons behind their actions. He wished he did, but he couldn't. How hard he tried, he did not get them. Maybe it was for the best, because their reasons were all but peaceful.

The elfling continued with playing outside under the tree he loved so dearly until one of the ellyth gathered him in her arms, lulling him slowly in a comfortable slumber. Her eyes were filled with tears, her heart filled with doubt. She had been betrothed for several months with one of the younger warriors when the news had been announced of the attack. She had been heartbroken when she discovered that he, as warrior, had to be present for the attack. Whether she wanted it or not, he would leave together with the other soldiers to the haunted Dol Guldur.

She had been wandering through the stronghold for hours, until she saw the lonely elfling besides the path. Her heart broke even more by the sight. One elfling, playing with blocks in the middle of the night. Alone, with no traces of life near him. The elleth immediately made her way over him, for she had an heart of gold.