Chapter Twenty Three : The Search Begins

Sindadur tore through the many winding corridors that made up a large part of the underground palace. Speed was of the essence, he cared not that his soft leather boots could be heard as they impacted against the stone floor, he cared not that the sound echoed hollowly about him, now was not the time for stealth.
As soon as he reached the main entrance hall, he pulled back on the stone doors with all his might. He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the golden glow of the setting sun as it leaked into the vast room. The sentries outside cast him a curious look but he paid them no immediate heed, instead he reached for the large, curved horn, hanging from an ornate metal hook behind one of the palace guards.
Pausing to inhale deeply, he placed it to his lips and then blew for all his worth. Three louds bellows, blasted from the horn, their deep call resonating throughout the Kingdom.

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Brethiliaur smiled as he listened to the soft humming coming from his beautiful wife. She always hummed while he combed her long hair, lost in the feeling the simple ritual evoked. Once thoroughly combed, he began to weave delicate silver ribbons into the luscious golden locks, his large yet nimble fingers creating an intricate pattern in the silken hair. He had promised her he would help her this evening, she wanted to look presentable for the festival.
The warriorÂ’s smile broadened as he chuckled to himself, his wife would look presentable in sack cloth. To him she was more beautiful than the purest white water lilies that floated gracefully on the nearby lake.
He was about to ask her if she had decided what to wear when the first of the horn blasts reached his ears. His fingers paused and his wife turned on her wooden stool to look up at him. His eyes turned to the direction of the call, it was coming from the palace. He remained still and silent while counting the blasts, yet once he was sure there were no more than three, he knew he had to leave at once.
His wife also realised that her husband must leave and she could not help but feel the same sense of dread that crept into her heart each time he went on patrol.

With loving reverence he allowed the hair to fall free from his fingers and laid the locks over his wifeÂ’s slender shoulders. He sighed softly and looked into her sky blue eyes.
Valar, I could drown in those eyes, he thought.
He leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her pale forehead.

“Nin goheno Malrín, melethrôn-nîn,” he whispered then turned to leave.
(Forgive me Malrín, my love)

The beautiful elleth reached out to grasp his arm before he left.

“Hebo dirith,” she pleaded, while squeezing the limb, then reluctantly released him.
(Be careful.)

He simply nodded silently in compliance and reached for his bow and quiver. Within in seconds Brethiliaur was fleeing his talan and making his way to the palace, as he got closer he could see several other members of his CaptainÂ’s patrol making their way to the KingÂ’s home.

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Sindadur watched from the stone steps as the members of his patrol rushed towards him from varying directions. Most were on leave, having just completed a short two month patrol of the eastern borders. No doubt they had been looking forward to spending the evening celebrating with family and friends but that could not be helped now. Ilúvatar willing, there would still be reason to celebrate later.
But for the moment his Prince was missing and he knew that he could not trust this mission to any other warriors. Still he did not wish to offend the Captain of the palace guard and he accepted that he would have to include them in his search.
Just at that moment one of the sentries interrupted his thoughts.

“Captain Sindadur, what has happened Sir ?” the guard enquired anxiously.

“Prince Legolas and his friend Galadon are missing, they have not been seen in some time, we suspect that they may be somewhere in the underground caves,” he informed the elf.

Both guards looked to each other, their growing concern clearly evident.

“What would you have us do Sir ?” the sentry asked.

“Go quickly, inform your Captain of what has transpired, we will need to organise a search party and I shall require some of his guards immediately,” the old warrior ordered.

The elf nodded obediently and quickly left his post to notify his superior, but he did not have far to travel once inside the palace, for his own Captain had clearly heard the call of the horn from deep within the mountain and he had left the guard room to investigate.
Both elves almost collided in the narrow corridor. The sentry hastely apologised.

“Captain Hinhael ! Forgive me Sir, but Captain Sindadur requests your company at the palace entrance. Prince Legolas and his friend are missing, presumably within the caves. He wishes to organise a joint search party,” the elf quickly informed his superior.

The Commander of the palace guard allowed the information to sink in, all manners of possible outcomes and worse case scenarios flittered through his mind but he did not allow his distress to show in front of his guard. He had the utmost confidence in their abilities to locate the young Prince and his friend and with the added experience of SindadurÂ’s warriors, they were bound to find the missing elflings. He just silently prayed that they would be alive and well once found. He doubted his King could survive another family tragedy.

“Thank you Gúrveleg,” he said while gripping the young sentry’s shoulder, “go back to the guard room, get five volunteers and meet me at the great doors, we shall do our best to aid Captain Sindadur in this important ask.”

“Yes Sir,” came the eager and obedient reply, then the sentry rushed off in the direction of the guard room.

Out side the palace entrance the members of SindadurÂ’s patrol gathered at the foot of the stone steps, each one looked up anxiously at their Captain, curious to know what had urged him to recall them all so soon after their recent dismissal.
Sindadur watched as his trusted Lieutenant, Brethiliar, made his way up the age worn stairs, the other twelve members of the patrol parted and allowed him easy access to their commander.
The warrior reached the top of the steps and gripped his friend and Captain in greeting. Brethiliar noted the distress in the older elfÂ’s green eyes, despite his valiant attempts to hide it.

“What is it my friend ?” he softly enquired, “why have we been recalled ?”

Sindadur looked his friend steadily in the eye, then glanced down at the remainder of his patrol. The Lieutenant stepped aside and awaited his friendÂ’s announcement with growing intrepidation.

“Prince Legolas and his companion Galadon are missing. They have not been seen since breakfast,” the warrior paused to allow the news to sink in, “we have reason to believe that they may be some where within the caves.”

The warriors began to whisper worriedly amongst themselves, each one acutely aware of how dangerous the tunnels and caves could be during the thaw.

At that moment Hinhael arrived, shortly followed by the five palace guard volunteers and Gúrveleg.
The old warriors greeted each other and quickly devised a plan amongst them. It was decided that they would divide into two main groups, each consisting of three palace guards and seven warriors. Hinhael and Brethiliaur would take eight elves with them, while Sindadur would leave with the remaining nine.
The elves were given a few moments to collect any equipment they would require and Gúrveleg was sent away once more, only this time to the hall of healing. He had been ordered to retrieve two healers to go with the search parties.

“What shall I tell them to bring ?” he called out, as he ran for the infirmary.

“Everything,” Sindadur shouted back, then looked over to his Lieutenant and whispered softly, “though I pray that we shall have need of none of it.”

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Galadon slowly eased himself into a standing position by his friendÂ’s side, the slower he moved, the less severe came the pounding in his head. Using both his arms, he steadied himself against the slick, wet stone surrounding them and watched as the cold, dark water pooled around his legs just below the knee.

“Do you think you can stand ?” he asked his friend, deeply concerned that Legolas was so submerged in the icy water.

“Maybe,” came the hesitant reply, “with some help….though I do not know for how long……for I have no feeling as yet in my right leg………..I am unsure as to how long it will be able to support me…………..and,” he added reluctantly, “my left leg hurts…… badly……… when I try to move it.”

This was not the answer Galadon was hoping for, it left him feeling uncertain about what he should advise his friend to do.
Should he risk making the Prince stand up only to have him fall again and cause possible further injury and pain or should he leave him be in the frigid pool, which would likely cause more harm in the long term and delay his healing.
He could feel his frustration building once more, right now, the only thing he was certain about was that he needed to get his friend out of here now, but how would he do that.

As his eyes frantically scanned their close confines, he spotted something protruding from the water near his friendÂ’s side. He quickly realised that it was their pack, the leather satchel that they had used to carefully stow their hard earned treasure. He moved around the prone body of his friend to retrieve the bag, maybe he could find something of use inside.
As he tentatively made his way to it he felt his foot hit against something under the water.
Curious, he reached down into the icy blackness causing more of the water to soak his tunic.

Wonderful, he thought, as if I am not uncomfortable enough already.

Beneath the surface his hand felt for the object and once he had it in his grip, he pulled it free to reveal the other torch. The wood was wet and the oil soaked cloth was unravelling but the iron frame remained intact.

He passed it to Legolas to hold while he pulled the bag free. He eagerly opened it, hoping that there would be something, anything inside that he could use, but it was hopeless, for the pack held naught but their thoroughly soaked treasure.
Grimacing, he pulled SindadurÂ’s broken arrow from the pack and looked to his friend.

“We are going to pay dearly for this my friend,” he announced, while waving about the shattered shaft.

Legolas could only nod in agreement and watched with dread while Galadon pulled from the bag, a water-logged book, many of its delicate parchment pages stuck together, while others appeared ruined forever, the elegant Sindarin script smugged beyond recognition.

Galadon groaned in self pity, now the King had two reasons to kill him. Dejected, he shoved the items back into the satchel, it contained little of use and that left him with only the iron torch.
He passed the pack to the Prince, swapping it for the torch and began to examine it closely.

It was sturdily made, more functional than decorative. Four large iron bars, welded together at a common base, each bar travelling upwards at each point of the compass, all held together with increasingly larger, circular bands of iron, until you reached the top, where each bar was bent back over in an outwards curve, almost like a hook.

As he studied it, an idea began to form in his head. He looked up to the ever wanning light from the other torch, it was perhaps a thirty foot vertical climb from where he stood.

Maybe it is possible, he thought, while he glanced at the jagged stone walls of their prison.

Meanwhile Legolas looked on with growing interest as his friend continuously looked from the torch in his hand to the torch dangling at the edge of the precipice.
Suddenly it occurred to him exactly what Galadon was considering.

“You cannot be seriously thinking of climbing out of here ?” he asked incredulously.

“We are Elves Legolas, we are expert climbers !” he simply stated.

“Galadon this is no tree !” the Prince advised, pointing to the steep wall surrounding them, “You could fall !”

“Then I shall simply have to land on you once more my Prince !” the elf countered smartly, trying to make light of their predicament and ease his friend’s worries.

“Galadon….this is fool hardy, there must be another way,” Legolas pleaded.

He had no desire to see his friend hurt further and he knew he was only taking this foolish risk because of him. Galadon was feeling guilty for leading them in here and was trying his best to make amends.

“Galadon….you are injured……you can barely stand upright …………how do you expect to climb up there ?” he pleaded once more, but to no avail, one look into his friend’s eyes and he knew he was fighting a loosing battle. Galadon was resolute, his decision was made and Legolas felt totally helpless.

Galadon stood silently, ignoring his friend’s pleas, it was up to him to get them out of here, he knew that and he had accepted the responsibility and was prepared to face the consequences laterÂ…Â…..if there was a later.
He watched the Prince until he could see the signs of acceptance and defeat in his eyes, he disliked upsetting his friend like this but he had no other option.

“What shall you do should you reach the top ? Do not forget the slope Galadon, it is treacherous,” the Prince reminded his friend.

“When…..I reach the top, I shall use the second torch to aid my climb, I should be able to find enough purchase using both of them,” he explained as he looked intently at the iron hooks that would be aiding his climb out of here, “then I shall find help and return to you at once.”

A small knot of panic began to form in the pit of LegolasÂ’ stomach and he hated himself for its existence. He knew that if Galadon were to use the second torch, then most likely its frail flame would be extinguished in the attempt, leaving them in utter darkness and if his friend made it out safely he would be left alone in this living tomb. That thought above all terrified him.

As if he sensed his friendÂ’s thoughts and discomfort, Galadon eased himself down and knelt beside his best friend and spoke softly.

“We both know that the torch is failing anyway Legolas, surley it is better to attempt something now while there is still light than in total obscurity,” he reasoned.

The young Prince nodded, he understood he friendÂ’s reasoning, it made sense and he was proud of the courage displayed by his companion and so he grasped the slightly older elf by the arm and squeezed tightly.

“Hebo dirith mellon-nîn.”
(Be careful my friend.)

His friend slowly stood up once more and bowed respectfully before his friend and Prince.

“Gweston han cerithon Ernil-nîn,” Galadon solemly declared, then turned around to examine the rock for the best place to begin his ascent.
(I swear I will do it my Prince.)

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Author’s note ;
Hi there everyone ! Thanks as always to those of you that review, it brightens my day no end !!