Benders: Dragonfire

Reflection's Pool

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"My lord! My lord! My lord Thranduil!"

Thranduil looked up as an elf guard barreled toward him. He let go of Mykar's hand.

"The dwarves are gone," the elf gasped, skidding to a halt. "My lord."

"Valar!" Thranduil exclaimed. He gave Mykar a push. "Quick, find Brenen. I will check the healing wing; he may be saying goodbye to Legolas."

Father and son split. Thranduil raced for Legolas's room in the healing wing, coming up short as Brenen looked at him from the bed.

"The dwarves have gone," Thranduil said. "If you are serious, you had best follow them and explain circumstances later."

Brenen leaned down to kiss his brother's forehead. Legolas said, "Be careful," and squeezed his hand. "Tell me everything when you come home."

"I will," Brenen promised. "Farewell. I will see you again when my heart is full."

Thranduil folded Brenen into an embrace, resting a cheek against his head. "Be careful, ion nin, I love you."

"I love you," Brenen whispered. He slid an arm around Cinwe as she joined them. "So much."

The embrace lasted moments longer before Brenen broke away and headed for the door. Thranduil let out a breath, feeling as if the absence of one son already leeched away more light from the day then the dark.

Brenen met his mother and Mykar on the bridge outside the palace and said his goodbyes. Cinwe cautioned, "An orc pack is hunting the dwarves; they took the river to freedom. Be careful, ion nin."

"There are days when your worry annoys me, but I will keep it in mind every step of my journey," Brenen said. "As I cannot find Realn, say goodbye to him for me."

With a last look back, Brenen stepped off the bridge, plummeting to the water. A jet of flame propelled him forward, a fast-moving reflection of himself in the liquid matter below.

Mykar waved until he rounded the river bend. At his speed, Brenen caught sight of the dwarves within minutes, a comical sight in barrels, dripping and bedraggled at the gates blocking the river.

Elves and orcs wrestled along the river bank, struggling for control on the bridge into which the gates were set. Thorin was tugging at the gates and howling, his rage reminding Brenen of an animal.

A moment later Thorin hurled his hand back and then forward. A jet of lightning blew through the metal, cutting a chunk from the portcullis and leaving jagged ends poking out. The barrels shot through the opening as Thorin shouted, "Take that, you point-eared snot!"

As Brenen skimmed over the bridge, he felled an orc with his spear and teased a wall of flame to life. Leaving several orcs burning, he continued down the river, feeling the heat of the flames beneath his feet on his face. He caught sight of the dwarves around a bend as his feet met solid ground. He planted his spear in the gut of an orc aiming a crossbow down at Thorin's head as he matched the current's pace.

When the bank dropped down with a waterfall, preventing further pursuit by elves and orcs alike, Brenen saluted the elves gathered and stepped off the cliff. Slowing his descent by way of a few jets of flame, he landed crouched. Taking a moment to tidy himself, he set off down the bank, whistling.

OoOoO

Thorin stumbled out of his barrel and sloshed through the shallow water at the river's edge. His legs were stiff and wooden as he stepped onto the rocky beach where the river emptied out into a wide lake.