Beyond Canon
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“You’re late, again,” announced Erestor quietly as Thranduil entered the library, but he smiled and waved him into the empty chair beside the one Thaladir sat in. Lifting the latch on the gate that separated the archivists and their aides from the researchers, writers, and scribes in the main room, Thranduil relaxed in the chair, rubbing his sleepy but sparkling eyes. “Is he walking yet?”

“No, but he said ‘foot’ last night and ‘hand’, so all I’ve heard throughout the night was shouts of ‘tal, tal, tal!’ and ‘ma, ma, ma!’. Oh, and ‘fin’, he knows that one, too,” Thranduil said with a wry smile, and the strands of hair escaping from his slightly tugged upon braids seemed to confirm this.

Lifting up a large, multi-faceted stone that had been sitting over sheets of a manuscript, Erestor set it back down on the edge of the desk Thranduil was closest too. “He’ll be on his feet running all about before you know it. He’s so energetic, quite a lot like you were,” reminisced the dark elf. “How is Avisiel?”

“Busy as ever with both of them a handful apiece,” admitted Thranduil. “But she loves it. I think having the elflings brought her some sort of calm that I could not. Some sort of belonging. Are you still sure about watching them for the evening?”

Erestor nodded enthusiastically. “I already cleared everything in my rooms so that anything they might get into is up on shelves too high for them to reach, and I have a whole pile of scrap parchment and a new paintbox for Ilmendin to play with, and some small amusements for Legolas, and I’ve cleared it with the kitchens to have them bring something by for supper, so I promise to return them to you happy and fed.”

“With all the excitement, they’ll most likely be asleep,” added Thaladir, who had spread out the work schedule for his archers and was making notations on the different rotations in the logbook that was kept in the library. “Erestor, we need to find a wife for you so that you can stop borrowing everyone else’s children and have a few of your own.”

“And rid Doriath of its favorite elfling watcher? You speak blasphemy!” joked Thranduil, nudging Thaladir so that he would look up at him. “Erestor is practically the only thing keeping most of the parents in these caves sane!”

Trying to discretely rub his cheeks to hide the blush from the praise of appreciation he was given, Erestor said, “I am content to spoil everyone else’s elflings; in due time, I’ll have my own, I hope. Well, to business, then. Thranduil, I need you to decipher a message that came from an elf named Turgon. I think you may want to use the arken,” he added as Thranduil began to stand, tapping on the clear and flawless stone that was used to magnify text and images. “he wrote the characters rather small.”

Thranduil picked up the stone and carried it a few feet away where his own desk was, neat and uncluttered with things set out in small, orderly fashion. A stack of clean parchment, quills and ink at the ready, the blotter pages freshly set in the middle of the wooden surface. On the left side of the desk, a single document awaited his cryptography skills, to be deciphered and rewritten and passed on to the King. In a basket, six or seven scrolls, loosely tied, waited to be encrypted and sent. The desk held all the necessary waxes and seals he would need for later, but he preferred to finish all of one type of task at a time before moving on to the next. With one hand, he slid the letter from Turgon to the center and then placed the stone upon it.

For some time, the only sounds were the scratching of poorer made quills upon paper and the steady, soothing sound of Erestor binding folios into tomes, drawing the heavy thread through the sheets and weaving the needle in and out of the thick paper he worked on. The clamor of three armored guards, therefore, caused everyone in the room to look up. “May I help you?” questioned Erestor, standing as the trio approached the desk, each of the three looking about, attempting to apparently find the entry to the work area.

Guilin gave Erestor a look of sincerest apology as he unraveled a ribbon that tied a document that had obviously been sealed by Thingol himself. “Erestor. By order of the King, you are forthwith to be placed under arrest and escorted to his highness’s royal dungeons to await sentencing for crimes knowingly committed.”

“Crimes? Knowingly committed? Guilin, what madness is this?” demanded Thranduil, who was up out of his chair and stalking toward the guard. Placing his palms on the counter and leaning closer, he asked, “What charges can possibly be brought up against him?”

“The both of you, hush. You’re in a library,” scolded Erestor, whose immediate shock seemed to have been brushed aside. “I imagine you are about to explain to me just what I am being accused of?” His hands were folded before him on the desk, the sewing left forgotten. Thaladir was silent, but he was leaning a little closer toward the counter to hear what was about to be said.

Guilin rolled the scroll and shook his head. “Even I do not know what the charges are, Erestor. You must come with me now.” As Erestor stood, he withdrew a ring of keys from his pocket and handed them silently to Thaladir as he walked around the desk. Once on the other side of the counter, he was motioned closer by Guilin. “I am sorry to do this, but it is protocol to restrain your hands. If you want, I can fix it so that your sleeves conceal them while we walk the hall.”

Thranduil glared at Guilin, though he had never had reason to dislike him, and knew he was only following orders now, the taste in his mouth was bitter as he watched Guilin flick two fingers. One of the guards recognized the signal and brought forward the shackles he had. Briefly, Thranduil caught the defiance in Erestor’s eyes, and wondered if he was about to put up a fight. Instead, the older elf simply raised his arms up to shake down the wide sleeves of the open robe he wore over his tunic and presented his wrists to the captain. “If you must,” Erestor answered in a very bored sounding voice. As Guilin positioned his hands, Erestor looked toward the counter and said, “Thranduil, when you have a moment, if you wouldn’t mind telling your father-“

“I regret I must inform you that Lord Oropher has been arrested as well.” Guilin slid the bolt through the middle of the steel manacles, and then tightened it until it was secure. He snapped the lock shut and nodded to the pair of guards, unable to look either Erestor or Thranduil in the eyes. “Your charge,” he said to the closest guard, handing him the scroll.

- - -

“They won’t let me see them, they won’t say why they’ve taken them!” Thranduil was storming away from the dungeons while Thaladir tried to keep up with him without running. “I can’t believe the king has had them thrown in the dungeons!”

“Thranduil, I-“

“Without cause! Without reason!” Thranduil’s steps quickened, and a group of young ladies moved to the side of the passageway, clutching their baskets as they clung to each other as Thranduil in his fury marched past them. “Where is he, that he could not come himself? How brave is the king who cannot issue the sentence with his own tongue?”

“Thranduil, I-“

“We shall soon find out,” growled Thranduil as he reached the door to his home. Shoving it open with such force that Avisiel jumped and Legolas began to cry in his mother’s arms, Thranduil spied his sword. He rarely carried it, but was still proficient with it. It was Thaladir who reached it first.

“Thranduil, I know this is difficult for you, but you have to stop and think.” Thaladir, his hands still holding the sword, walked back to the door and shut it as Ilmendin peeked around the corner of the nursery room.

“Adar? Did you come home to have lunch with us? It’s early for you to come home.” The little dark haired elfling approached his father and leaned against his leg, looking up. “Are you here for lunch?” he inquired again, wrapping his arms around his father’s knee.

“Thranduil.” Thaladir placed the sword aside as Thranduil bent down and picked up Ilmendin. “There are obvious reasons that rushing off to confront Thingol would be unwise. We must go about matters logically. If you would have listened to me instead of storming down the hall, I would have told you that my rank permits me to enter the dungeons and make inquiries you can not. If I were you, I would see to your mother. Does she know your father has been arrested yet?”

“Oropher has been arrested?” questioned Avisiel suddenly as Ilmendin whined and clutched his father tightly, asking, “Why did they take Grandada?”

“That’s what we are going to find out,” said Thranduil, kissing the top of his son’s head. “Avisiel, could you…?” His wife nodded, and took Legolas, still whimpering, into the nursery. His cries erupted again once Avisiel exited the room, lowering Ilmendin into her arms. “I have to speak with my mother,” he said to Avisiel, stroking Ilmendin’s head. The elfling had his face buried against his mother’s shoulder, but was not as vocal as his younger brother, who had no real idea what was going on. “They came into the archives and arrested Erestor-“

“Oh, no,” Avisiel moved closer, wrapping one arm around her husband while the other kept her son snuggled close to her. “Are they- are you-“

Thranduil shook his head. “I don’t think they mean to arrest me; I don’t have a clue what is going on. I have to find my mother, I’ll probably bring her back here.”

“I’ll ready things for her. We can move the crib in our room and she can have Ilmendin’s bed,” Avisiel said quickly. “Go, find her, but hurry back to me.” She gave a little sob as her husband tightly hugged her and their son. “Hurry, please.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” Thranduil and Thaladir exited into the hallway and began to whisper as soon as the door was closed. “You can find out what is going on?”

“I shall do my best,” vowed Thaladir. “Let us both go to your mother, then I shall escort you back to your rooms.”

Glancing at his friend, Thranduil asked, “You don’t trust that I will not go to the dungeons, do you?”

“I trust you will do what you deem the best course of action. I trust you care about your family enough not to do something foolish, if you truly think about it. However, I do not trust all of the guards. It surprised me to see Guilin this morning. It is best for me to accompany you in case you are intercepted.”

The house of Oropher was not far from that of his son, and the pair arrived to find the door ajar. Cautiously Thranduil entered first, finding darkness, then stumbling into the breakfast table, which had been overturned. “Naneth?” he called out, kicking the broken shards of a bowl out of his way.

“Thranduil?” The voice that answered was hoarse, and out of the darkness of one of the corners rose a slender figure, her normally cheerful expression replaced with one of grief. “Thranduil, they came, this morning, they took him...” She trailed off as her son stepped swiftly around the clutter and pulled her up from her knees, holding her up as she gripped his arm for support. “He fought them, I told him not to, he beat two of them off, and then, I don’t know how many more were outside, and they all came in and dragged him off in chains…” Her body shook as Thranduil drew her close, gritting his teeth and fixing his fierce look of rage in the direction of the ceiling. “Why? Why? I don’t know why.”

“Erestor was arrested, too,” spoke Thaladir as he took a cloak down from a peg near the door. He placed it around the elleth’s shoulders. “Thranduil, why don’t you gather a few things for your mother to take. I’ll stay with her.”

“Where am I going?” she questioned as Thranduil nodded and left his mother in Thaladir’s care.

“It is best you are with your family, Lady Hisré. I am going to investigate while Thranduil takes you to his home,” explained Thaladir.

For a little while, nothing more was said. Thranduil returned with a sack of items he had retrieved and offered his arm to his mother. As they were about to leave, she took hold of Thaladir’s hand and squeezed it. “Thaladir, there’s a blanket on the back of the sofa. Will you be able to take it to my husband? His feet get terribly cold, and I fear there will be a chill in the dungeons.” Thaladir nodded silently as he went back into the house, leaving Thranduil to lead his mother down the hall.
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