Chapter 45: The Elven King

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The trees along the southern border of Mirkwood were dead.

Estelwen prodded Shadowfax forward into the dark forest. The white horse's hooves snapped twigs and thin branches that used to belong to tall trees. When they were well in, Estelwen reached out to touch one of the living trees. The bark's edge was black and peeling off. It was as if the darkness was stripping the tree of its defense before attacking its core. Only when it lost its protection, greenery, and beauty would the tree finally die.

Estelwen glared. The irony, the mockery was undeniable. The woods were thick, and Estelwen could not avoid the branches and leaves brushing against her. Hours passed. She saw a ditch as well as a slight clearing. Across the ditch lay a stone walkway, simple and unadorned. On the other side, several white pillars rose from the ground to greet those who would venture through the gates into the Halls of Thranduil. Estelwen dismounted, and Shadowfax turned to leave. Estelwen did not go after him. No one controlled the lord of horses, and Estelwen had no desire to be the first. She could not deny that for the moment, she felt like Shadowfax – unbridled and unstoppable.

Estelwen approached the gates slowly, keeping her eyes peeled for any guards that might assume she was a threat.

Ionor, the captain of the guard, stood at his post near the pillars in front of the gates. His hand rested lightly against his sword. The king commanded that no one be let through, but no one expected a visitor. The "elleth" in men's armor had his complete attention. That horse she rode was one of the Mearas. He glanced at the light of the setting sun. Judging by the time she decided to come, she is urgent. He met her eyes as she crossed the bridge towards him, her gaze challenging.

She is not afraid. Ionor firmed his jaw. She could still be a threat, regardless of her appearance and impressions. "These gates are closed to all by the order of the king!" He noticed that she did not stop walking until she was only a few paces from him. "No one is to come through," he said/

Estelwen heard his words, but she was listening to something much deeper. The urgency in his voice was laced with despair. It does not only threaten the race of man, but the race of elves as well. Estelwen looked at Ionor as if she were cradling the last of his hope. "I came to help."

Ionor shifted his foot. If it were not for the dead trees that served as a sign of Mirkwood's troubles, he would have thought that she could sense his greatest fear: that the great forest of Mirkwood would die off slowly, just as the confidence and hope of the elves that lived there. He was afraid that the current silence of the forest creatures would soon be replaced with the sounds of a war. And they would be fighting against a foe that would have grown too strong to be defeated.

Ionor glanced at the other elven guards, noting that they would be ready to do whatever he commanded them to. He looked back to the elleth. "Who are you?"

"I was born Evangeline, but was renamed 'Estelwen' by the Lady of Light. I was adopted into the household of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and I bear an urgent message to King Thranduil."

"Elrond?" Ionor stood still, listening to the dead silence of the forest. Without a word, he lifted his fingers in a signal. Two guards came to stand on each side of Estelwen. Ionor turned around and walked up to the gates. He placed his hands on the elegantly-carved wood, plated in certain areas with hints of gold and precious metals. He held his breath, knowing the gravity of disobeying the king's direct orders. Yet, his heart and the wisdom of his years called to him more strongly than any law, and he knew he needed to obey it. He pushed open the doors and stood to the side. Estelwen passed through, both guarded and led by two elven warriors. Ionor followed closely behind.

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