Chapter 8: Chapter 8

In the end, Legolas had no word in sending Mistril to Dol Guldur but suddenly Faervel had a change of heart and sent her with Tudor instead of sending her alone.

As soon as the archer met her at the gate, he just started to grunt and complain and they weren't even halfway there.

“This place is horrible. Why did he send me, he should have sent Maerdor.” The archer whispered, feeling his heart pound loudly in his chest.

“We’re nowhere close to it, though.” She answered, her mind going back and forth between the aftermaths of her curiosity. “What is this place we were sent to, anyway?”

“A fortress. It used to be part of Greenwood but then-“Tudor stopped and remembered how Thranduil reacted when he told Mistril about the war. “-then it wasn’t anymore.” He continued slowly.

Mistril rolled her eyes at the obvious change of mind.

"Did the king advice you to not share any more information with me?" She asked, thinking about how he yelled at her the last time.

"Not really, he just- he's been acting off lately. Not necessarily bad but just...different." Tudor explained the best he could.

"Maybe because of how the atmosphere in the forest has been changing," 

Tudor looked at how nonchalant Mistril was and chuckled.

"I don't know about that," He muttered, following her closely.

It took them quite a bit to get there and the closer they got, the darker and tighter became the forest. Tudor had to stop several times because he felt like somebody was suffocating him.

Dol Guldur was an ugly place. Mistril stopped at the bridge that led into the fortress and felt familiar. Maybe she hasn't been here before but she did spend a long time in a place just as dark and cold like Dol Guldur.

She took one step forward and felt a breeze around her legs, as if it was inviting her in.

"Um, I'm not going in. I can't, believe me, it's...horrible," Tudor said, trying his best to keep his body from trembling. "There is...so much dread coming from it."

"It's alright, I'll go in alone,"

Tudor seemed shocked. There was not an ounce of fear or stress in Mistril's body. She walked in as if she just walked into the Halls, with no worries.

It was deserted as far as she could see.

“Anything?” Tudor yelled from afar.

The stone walls were wet and everything was broken. Each step seemed like it shook the ground, every breath she took made her feel colder and there wasn't much to be said of the fortress.

“There’s nobody in here! At least, not now.” She mumbled the later part.

“Let’s return. This place makes my blood freeze!” Tudor shouted, an urge to make her leave taking over him.

He was right to believe so because Mistril’s attraction to the darkness was hard to control, especially in such a place. She breathed out as she walked deeper into the fortress yet not enough. It was just one step but her eyes widened and she felt fear crawl up her arms again. It was incredibly strong. It wasn’t forceful but alluring.

“What is this?” she said out loud in awe at the way her hands started to tremble.

The same cloaked creature lurked around her, making her gasp at her own imagination. She didn’t look back, didn’t take a peek over her shoulder because she was afraid it might turn up to be real this time. But someone grabbed her arm and spun her around and it had brown hair and brown eyes.

“Let’s go.” Tudor whispered with eyes that have seen a ghost.

They barely walked a mile, with Tudor becoming more talkative now that they were on their way back, when she heard something; murmurs in a language she recognized.

Tudor was rambling about wine when she grabbed his elbow to stop him.

"Orcs." She whispered and both elves jumped into the trees.

Tudor grabbed his bow and nodded at her as sign to go and investigate.

Mistril followed the voices and jumped from tree to tree until she caught sight of a group of orcs talking to each other.

“Move along, Lugdum! We don’t want to be late!” A shabby looking creature told to another as he pushed this Lugdum forward harshly.

“Ain’t like they’re waiting for us! I’ll arrive when I’ll arrive!” Lugdum answered in a voice that sounded too high for a real man.

“Say that to his face then! I’d like to see your ugly head down at his feet! Ha!” Another orc said before he spat at Lugdum’s feet.

It looked like they were going to fight and kill each other off when they all froze. Another group of orcs came from another part of the woods with one large and strong looking orc leading around 10 others.

“Oi, Ghob! What took you so long?!”

“Some filth attacked us a few miles away. Let’s go. He’s waiting for us.” Ghob replied with a hateful sneer.

“I’ll move when I’ll want to move! I’m hungry now!” The same Lugdum complained and literally fell on his bottom.

The largest orc growled and hit the two’s heads against each other before he eventually agreed and they camped there for the day. Sun wasn’t shining through the thick branches of that side of the wood so there was no hurry for them.

Mistril swiftly returned to Tudor and told him about the orcs. However she didn’t seem scared of worried about them. She actually looked eager.

“We should listen to what they say and report it back.”

“I don’t speak orcish.” Tudor said with an expression of disgust.

“I do.” Mistril replied with confidence.

Tudor shook his head in disbelief. She really wasn’t helping with her current situation in the kingdom.

---

From what Mistril could hear, the orcs had a meeting to attend to which was strange enough in itself. But the so called meeting was in Dol Guldur and they were talking about one darker than night and wiser than any. Those were big words for orcs so she believed them.

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Moving a bit, she made some noise and the orcs looked up warily.

"Somebody's watching us," Ghob muttered with a scowl. He drew out his sword and spat. "Come out filth!"

It should have been easy if Tudor didn't fire a few arrows already. She jumped down over an orc and kicked him down. Next she drew her sword and made quick use of it. It seemed Mistril didn't like prolonging death because she killed a majority of them in a very clean manner. But then she had the unfortunate luck to lock eyes with Lugdum who caught her arm and noticed her wrist.

"The black language on an elf! Ain't that funny, ay?" He asked, his little black holes that he called eyes glinting. "Mates, this one's marked!" He screamed before his attention fell back on her, "Ya'll be squirming soon. He'll call you back to him, like the rest of us."

"What do you mean? Who?" She asked her eyes narrowing at the smelly orc.

"Why not find out for yourself? Time will come soon, slave."  He might have not had the intention of killing her but from an outsider’s point of view, Mistril was in danger. An arrow fell through Lugdum’s head and he fell backwards as Tudor and another elf jumped down.

But that was enough for Mistril's head to pound like it was going to explode. She couldn't open her eyes and everything she could hear was a high pitched noise. It slowly became lower and lower until a voice whispered in her head. The words were incoherent but she knew...she knew she heard it before.

"Are you hurt?"

It was not Tudor. He wrapped his arms around her and helped her on her feet before she realized it was the soft voice of another elf. Mistril looked up and narrowed her eyes at the cloaked figure. She could barely see his eyes.

“I’m alright you don’t have to help me.” She mumbled yet using him to find her balance.

The cloaked elf saw her eyes before anything else and he gasped.

“Mistril?”

"You know me?" She asked looking up at him curiously. He was rather tall but she wasn’t a short elf either so she could look him in the eye if she wanted to.  

"Of course I do. I've known you since you were an elfling." He said still in awe. His eyes went first on her short orange hair before they landed on her green eyes. "You don't know who I am?"

"Lady Mistril was found dead over 1000 years ago and she cannot remember much of her past." Tudor explained gathering the dead orcs together so he could burn them at once.

The stranger seemed hurt before he pulled his cloak down and she could finally see him. He had golden hair that sparkled in the sunlight and his eyes were so blue that she swore she could see the sky in them. He was handsome in an almost godlike manner and he was shining with kindness and hope.

"Why are you here though, lord Glorfindel?" Tudor asked, approaching the two.

"Glorfindel," She whispered, her eyes widening in surprise.

It was him. His face flashed across her mind in different places and at different moments in her life. His golden hair was swaying in the wind as his grip on her tightened but not enough to hurt her.

"How do we know each other?" She asked touching his hand and getting in return a lot of brief sights of either a battlefield or a palace.

"The king will be interested in that information as well." Tudor added glancing between the two suspiciously.

"Of course. I will tell our story once we arrive in front of him for I do not enjoy telling the same thing twice." He said and smiled at her.

They were walking in silence, with Tudor in the back as Mistril and Glorfindel walked side by side. The archer could somewhat see how the two warriors came from the same city, there was a feeling of understanding between them. Besides, that was the first time Tudor realized how tall she was compared to a normal elleth. Glorfindel was a tall elf, imposing, elegant, otherworldly at times; Mistril was the same strong and imposing type but unlike the Balrog slayer who seemed as if he was sent by the Valar, Mistril looked as if death itself took the form of an elf and decided to wander Middle earth. It was a strange occurance.

"It's really good to see you again, Mistril." Glorfindel started, glancing at her as often as he could. 

"Why?" She asked, getting a bemused chuckle from Tudor. 

"You really haven't changed at all. Your personality is still the same." Glorfindel said with a smile. She blinked, since it was hard to take his words as a compliment. "I have known you since you were an elfling. Your brothers fought in my army and you used to come and play at the palace quite often."

"I'm sure it was annoying." She mumbled, thinking about her discussion with Thranduil.

"No, it was fun. You were a ray of sunshine and warriors do need a bit of light in their lives." 

"I'm anything but light." She said feeling her cheeks redden in embarassment. 

But Glorfindel's eyes were sparkling each time they fell on her. Tudor was curious how the king will react now that someone who knew Mistril appeared. And it was Lord Glorfindel, the Balrog slayer nonetheless! 

As soon as they arrived, a guard went up to Thranduil's chambers and informed him of his guest. Glorfindel took his time, staying as close to Mistril as possible.

"What may I owe this unannounced visit to?" Thranduil asked making his way to Glorfindel.

He couldn't help but notice how close Glorfindel was standing to Mistril. Besides, Tudor seemed unable to glance between the two elves as well as if there was some type of secret. The king was a curious elf, especially when it came to the orange haired elleth in his land. 

"I have news from Imladris. Lord Elrond has an important message." The golden haired elf replied in a business tone.

Hearing that, Thranduil glanced at Tudor and Mistril. The archer left, sensing the hostility in his king’s tense figure but Glorfindel grabbed Mistril's hand for her to remain surprising even the king.

"I see you have met Mistril," Thranduil said feeling quite uncomfortable at how compliant Mistril was.

"We have indeed, after so long." He said looking at the elleth with warmth.

"He knows who I am." Mistril said with amazement in her voice. "Please tell me now. Tell me how we know each other." Mistril said with eyes full of childish eagerness. It was new to the king, seeing a more innocent side of her. 

"First, we should have dinner. I am sure Lord Glorfindel is tired and famished after such a long journey." 

"Wh-but-" she just couldn't wait anymore. She wanted to know the truth about her memories. "Do you really need to rest?" She turned to the Gondolindrim and asked, just like a hurt child. 

Glorfindel laughed and, to Thranduil's surprise, pulled Mistril into a one sided hug. She didn't even flinch.

"I'll make sure to tell you everything after dinner. You should rest as well and go check if you are hurt." 

"What do you mean?" Thranduil asked, his eyes still set on Glorfindel's grasp around Mistril's shoulder. 

"There was a group of orcs camping down south. By the time I arrived, Mistril was quite done with them. Always a warrior." He said and looked at the elleth with care and melancholy.

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