In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, Thranduil finds the world within his Halls empty. He struggles to come to terms with the absence of his only child and the loss of the one he raised as if she were his own daughter. He begins to r...
The day of reckoning for Tirithiáëls' crimes has dawned. The great elven fortress is filled with anxious and worried elves from farthest corners of the Woodland Realm. In this battle of wills and weapons, which one will walk away?
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A solemn but tense mood hung heavy in the air, so many words still unspoken as Thranduil watched the March Wardens set about the task of inspecting his armor before assisting him. It was a task normally reserved for Galion, those silent moments of sharing unspoken fears with loved ones before departing for battle. But this was different. They were his friends and his comrades but they would not be at his side, not this time, this was a task he must face alone.
"I am not going into battle." Thranduil said quietly, frowning slightly as he grasped his friends' arm when he reached for the chain imbued leather jerkin.
"Do not be a fool." Aldalómë stated, taking the jerkin from Macilvoronhûr as he stepped in front of him. "Tirithiáëls' preferred weapon is the Kőváē." He continued firmly, the concern in his eyes shifting to a challenge as he met the gaze of not only his king but one who was not just his friend, but his first love. "In the hands of one as experienced as he, the point can easily find its way through even the slightest crack in any armor."
"I have seen enough..."
"He is older than my Adar (Father) and has fought more battles than the five of us together." Aldalómë interrupted him angrily, his eyes narrowing as he refused to back down. "He has a long buried hatred in his heart against you. Now with nothing left, he has no concern for himself."
"Listen to him." Glaurhalbër said quietly, stepping forward with the Kings' broad black breast plate in his hands. "Unlike your Sáterâēa, the Kőváē was designed for self-defense in close quarters. He is also known to carry the Sâēx as do you."
"The Kőváē is also a favored weapon of Lord Arthädión." Rínnänéth commented almost to himself as he met the Kings guarded gaze evenly. "I have watched him fight many times on the practice field. The blade is designed for thrusting more than slicing. Unlike the mindless attacks of goblins who rely more on the strength of their numbers where your Sáterâēa is more useful, in this Tirithiáëls' shorter stature will be to his advantage. He is quick of wit and will try to goad you into reaching for him where you risk exposing your weaknesses."
"You are right, this is not a battle field." Macilvoronhûr stated, narrowing his eyes as Thranduil turned toward him. "Still, you cannot see him as anything but what he is." He told him, pausing for a moment as he watched the storm clouds forming in depths of the kings' eyes. "Tirithiáël is no less an enemy than any other you have faced before him. He will not hesitate to kill you."
"Adar." Aldalómë stated quietly as he stared at this father curiously over the Kings shoulder.
"Lord Garävegión!" Thranduil exclaimed, turning quickly toward the open door of his private armory. "What brings..."
