Chapter 4

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.

"This place is horrible." 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?"

"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. It took them two whole days 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. It reminded Mistril of the cold and damp darkness she felt before only this one felt more real. It was deserted as far as they could see.

"Anything?" Tudor asked, standing at the entrance while Mistril ventured inside. 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 was 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 sustain, 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 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 other.

"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 or worried about them, more curious than anything.

"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."

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

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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.

Moving a bit, she made 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 almost dead 100 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.

The whole way back to the Halls was interesting. From Tudor's point of view, it looked like Mistril was growing incredibly fond of Glorfindel and she was doing nothing but watch him. He was not bothered by it because he was doing the same when she was not looking.

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.

"I have news from Rivendell. 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. Seeing such an action, Thranduil couldn't help but sneer. 

"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."

Thranduil invited both to sit while he decided to stay on his feet. Finally someone had the answer he wanted and that was Glorfindel out of everyone else. He was looking forward to having this puzzle solved but at the same time it meant Mistril's prolonged stay in Greenwood might be cut short.

"Mistril, daughter of Valdaglerion. It's been too long since I saw such green eyes that convey both the past and present." Glorfindel started smiling at the woman in front of him. "You have grown into a beautiful elleth."

"Who was my father?" She asked feeling insane happiness.

"Valdaglerion was Gondolin's treasured blacksmith. He forged many swords, mine included. His wife was a musician at the court. His two sons were warriors I had fought alongside and his daughters...one was a musician at the palace and the other was more interested in the army than anything else."

"Is that why I am so fond of swords?"

Glorfindel laughed whole-heartedly, "You were fond of fighting in general. I can still remember this elfling that enjoyed sneaking into the training grounds with her wooden sword. Your brothers taught you well but you wanted more...you wanted to actively fight into my army."

Glorfindel could still see her running around saying she could take him on any day. Thranduil sighed relieved by what he heard. If Mistril had always had this peculiar attraction to fighting then nothing changed. She was still better at sparing and patrolling rather than helping around the kingdom.

"What happened to me?"

"I do not know for sure. I lost sight of you and your family during the fall of Gondolin." Glorfindel answered looking into her eyes with worry.

"He died heroically."

For some reason Thranduil's remark sounded more like he was annoyed rather than joyful. Glorfindel was a hero in the eyes of every elf that lived and Thranduil had immense respect for him but not at that particular moment.  

"So then I come from Gondolin?" She asked still not very sure. But some of those memories were coming back to her slowly. Glorfindel's face was like a tip of the trail leading her to her happy memories.

"Gondolin fell a long time ago." Thranduil said.

"So then my family...is dead?"

"I cannot say. It was a bloody and messy battle and many have probably sacrificed their lives."

"Very few survived the memory." Thranduil added watching Mistril.

"But what have I done from that moment on to my discovery in Greenwood?" She asked still having just one small piece of the puzzle.

Glorfindel didn't have an answer for that. He was worried because the elfling full of happiness he knew became an elleth of much suffering. Her eyes were the best mirror to her soul and everything she lived but could not remember. Unlike the other elves, Glorfindel had a certain way of looking at her –with genuine care, Thranduil will realize later on- and she was an open book in front of him because of that.  

"I'm sorry. I should have searched for all the remaining survivors when I returned."

She closed her eyes and frowned at a memory that hurt just as much. She was somewhere very dark and cold and she hadn't eaten in a while. She felt tired and wanted nothing but to close her eyes forever. That did not happen and a tinge of pain inflicted her heart. She wasn't sure for how long she had been there but it didn't even matter. Nobody was going to save her, not even her hero Glorfindel.

"No one will save you. You're mine now."

Mistril opened her eyes and looked at the golden haired warrior, her whole body tensing at how much disappointment she felt. Glorfindel's hand reached towards her but she slapped it away harshly.

"I was there, alone and hurt, for a long, long time. I wanted to die but I couldn't. Why- why did nobody come after me?" She whimpered, her teary eyes letting both Glorfindel and Thranduil speechless. "Why did no elf come searching for me? For all that time." She asked her eyes moving on Thranduil.

The Elvenking was shocked. Those green eyes, always blank in front of him, were finally unveiling themselves. She was hurt and fragile and he couldn't believe he thought she was a threat for his precious peace. But his eyes fell on her wrists and doubt resisted in his heart.

"Where is that? Who took you?" Glorfindel asked.

Mistril didn't want to remember. She shook her head and jumped up.

"No, I don't want to remember. It was worse than death." She said glancing between the two. "I'm going back to my room."

Glorfindel watched the orange haired elleth run away, her beautiful green eyes in tears. That was a sight he rarely saw when she was young. Thranduil turned to the Balrog slayer with one eyebrow rose, especially seeing how affected he was by a blacksmith daughter.

"What exactly was your relationship with Mistril?" Thranduil asked.

Glorfindel looked at the Elvenking and sighed.

"She used to come to me and play or do errands for her father."

"So she is the daughter of Valdaglerion. She should be able to forge her own sword if she wants to." Thranduil thought out loud, finally realizing why she liked to hang around Miluinir's family so much. 

Glorfindel watched the king with a suspicious glint in his eyes. Thranduil wasn't the friendliest elf and everyone knew that.

"Did you make her feel unwelcome?"

Thranduil would have almost scoffed if it wasn't for the memory of the last few years. They fought only hours ago over the same subject: her wrists.  

"What makes you believe that?" The Elvenking asked eyeing Glorfindel suspiciously.

"I am only wondering."

"If she wanted to leave she had many opportunities. She was not kept as a prisoner but as a guest. She spent more than 100 years here." Thranduil added pissed off that he was being incriminated for something he didn't do.

Glorfindel sighed feeling even worse than before. Mistril has been in Greenwood for more than 100 years and he didn't even know. He didn't search for his people and just went along with the Valar's choice of returning him to Arda. He never assured himself that all the survivors from Gondolin were found.

"You shouldn't blame yourself. If she was indeed taken by orcs then you couldn't have found her even if you searched every cave." Thranduil said once he noticed the discomfort on Glorfindel's face.

"I was her hero and I let her down." Glorfindel whispered.

"You died for your people. Even if she feels appalled by you at the moment, it will soon fade away. Besides, she is right. Not one elf bothered to search for the rest of the survivors, not even after the war against the darkness." Thranduil added, walking to his table to pour himself a glass of wine. There was much to be considered now that bits of her past came into view. 

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Mistril was going to her room when she felt a slight breeze behind her.

"What are you doing messing around? Don't you have to help Gweluven?" She asked in a scolding tone, surprising the blond.

"Is that a way to speak with the prince?" He asked glaring playfully at her as he put his sword down.

"I remember you telling me not to behave with you as if to a prince. If I do so, then you should treat me like a stranger."

Legolas was taken aback by her sudden seriousness.

"You're not a stranger, Mistril. What happened?"

It was quite clear that something bad happened to her; Legolas would have believed it was about his father again. Thranduil was excellent at making Mistril feel unwanted although it seemed she also had the tendency to remind him that she was not a wood elf.

"Mistril!"

Both turned their heads towards the man running down the hall. If her face softened at the sight of Legolas then she became the same empty shell like when she first met the Elvenking.

"Glorfindel? When did you arrive?" Legolas seemed extremely pleased to see the warrior. "Mistril, this is-"

"I know who he is. " She hissed before spinning around and rushing to her room.

Legolas blinked in awe. He had never seen her so angry before, not even when she had to go to Dol Guldur.

"You must have done something great to get her so mad." Legolas stated turning to him.

Glorfindel couldn't argue with that.

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It was later that night when Mistril stood in front of her window, staring ahead at the sky with eyes shining in sadness. The world she was dragged into was far darker than any shadow. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she let herself fall into that memory.

"Lirneth! Wait for me!" Mistril screamed at her young sister. There were so many orcs that she could barely take a step without defending herself. But Lirneth was still far and glancing behind, her brothers were busy protecting other civilians.

"Mistril!" The elfling shouted back, ducking when an elf was thrown at her.

Mistril tried her best to make her way to her sister. She looked back again, hoping her father was near after they got lost but she didn't see him. Instead, she saw her oldest brother jumping over an orc before having to kill a few more.

But it wasn't enough. She had to move forward but her strength was not a match for the huge number of enemies.

"Mistril!" She heard Lirneth's voice but couldn't see her anymore; "Mistril!" was heard again.

The same image of the red haired elfling being pushed down and killed came into her mind. It was horrible seeing it so much clearer than before. Mistril shouted in pain as an orc got to her and scratched her leg. Looking around she saw the decapitation of her oldest brother and she felt another piece of her heart break. And then a group of orcs surrounded her and started to call her names. She was ready to fight for her life but the whole memory became black.

She woke up in a cold place with blood dripping from the side of her head. She looked around alarmed and figured she was in a cell.

"Hey! Wake up already! Let's enjoy!"

She frowned but couldn't even have an opinion because somebody grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out, throwing her into an empty space. Orcs and goblins were around, watching two other orcs fight between themselves. One of them was huge.

"Get her in! Get her in! That filth will scream beautifully!" A small sized orc urged.

She looked up at the huge one and swallowed nervously. The pain that followed was excruciating and it was only the beginning.

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Mistril opened her eyes and shuddered at the memory. She could still feel her former injuries and how eager orcs were to see such a show again. It was a surprised that she survived in the first place.

A knock made her flinch and from the way it sounded she was sure it was Gweluven. Just as she expected, he walked in with a confused expression.

"Did lord Glorfindel ask you to check on me?" She asked annoyed.

"Is there a reason why he should?"

Mistril shook her head and welcomed Gweluven in the same manner as usual. They sat on the bed and just like every time, she waited for him to ask her whatever he was supposed to ask.

Surprisingly he didn't mutter a word but just stood there. His eyes were not judging her but they weren't as genuine as Glorfindel's. No matter how much she trusted him and how kind he was to her, it was not the same.

"My family is dead. They were murdered by orcs. My city has fallen and I know now that I had experiences worse than death itself." She started knowing he wanted to know.

"King Thranduil sent me to check on you." Gweluven said eventually, hoping that would soften her up.

"If he has anything to say, he should do it personally." Mistril answered coldly, getting up and turning her back to the healer.

"It's nobody's fault, Mistril. The Valar should be thanked that you stumbled into Greenwood because we both know it could have been worse."

"I didn't stumble in, I died. I was killed by those monstrous little buggers and left to rot. Incredible how it's been proven it wasn't the first time." she stated still angry yet her tone did soften since she was getting it all out. "I can't help it, Gweluven. I feel like they abandoned me; the world left me in the hands of orcs. They tortured me, I can still feel their muddy hands on me and I can't even remember what they did exactly."

"I can imagine. That's why you should see Glorfindel as a bringer of joyous memories. He can remind you of a peaceful time in Gondolin. Don't you want to remember your family and friends?" Gweluven asked, knowing he did the right thing by stopping over to check on her. It seemed like his words brought a new view over the issue because she looked up at him with sparkling eyes and purpose.