To Live Again: The Road to War {Lord of the Rings Fanfiction}|

26. Crossed Wires

We're late," I muse aloud, and move uneasily in the saddle as I eye the well-established camp tucked into the fringe of the wood.

"They arrived sooner than anticipated," Rista answers me roughly, chewing her full bottom lip in worry. She has turned out to be quite the practical companion; she is no lady of high birth but a simple elleth from a simple upbringing. She is however, very bright and methodical, also pretty damn scary with a bow and knife. Although, she is very Silvan in her mannerisms and behaviour, her accent is harsher and more suiting to the elves that live the majority of their lives away from the city. Yet for all her toughness I feel very at ease with her and I'd like to hope she feels the same.

Rista sheathes a serrated dagger which she had been using to cut a gap in the foliage, to see a clear line into the camp. We are not visible yet, but it would appear both Amdir and the High King's entourage have arrived for talks - a little ahead of schedule I hasten to add.

Rista clicks her tongue in annoyance and flits her suspicious sea green eyes to mine; "They know we are here."

"Well then, best to show them good Northern hospitality," I reply breezily and turn Sirdal back in the direction of our oncoming army. "Rista, ready the wagons, I should like to have them enter after the King."

"Yes ma'am," The hardy elleth acknowledges my request with a curt bow, before striding off to do my bidding.

I have put together several wagons that carry food and provisions for the war effort. Practical things like medicines and herbs for the healers. There are bandages and extra blankets, but also soaps and little luxuries that may, hopefully, make things slightly more bearable. There is also a wagon laden with weaponry and any armour we can spare. It is something that those of us left behind felt our brave warriors would need on their long journey, should they decide to go, but we all recognise the likelihood of it.

"Thranduil!" I call to my rather emotionless mate as I urge Sirdal to trot up to Iorist - although the horse is significantly smaller looking in comparison. Thranduil has lacked any kind of conversation or interest in his surroundings since we left the realm two days ago. I have allowed him his space to mull through his thoughts, but right now we need to be on our game. "Thranduil the Noldor are here, as well as Amdir's folk from the south."

"Already?" He queries in slight dismay, raising an eyebrow and pursing his lips. "Seems a little presumptuous to me, like they just expect us to jump when they click their fingers?"

"Easy," I warn him and place a comforting hand on his knee. "You know your Father and Amdir are of the same mind. If Gil-galad has come so early it only means he is eager for your support. Besides, this is our home; they can click their fingers all they wish, the ball is in our court! Your father makes the decisions here, this is our turf!"

"I do not understand that reference?" Thranduil frowns playfully and urges Iorist to keep up to Sirdal's spirited pace, "But I like your attitude."

I just grin knowingly and shake my head as we approach Oropher, just before he and his entourage emerge over the last hill and come into full sight of the camp. I see Rista has all the wagons, and their drivers positioned, so I give her an approving nod before taking my position by my King.

"Must you insist on entering on that animal?" Oropher sighs wearily and eyes Thranduil with a certain amount of irritation.

"Do you want to make a statement or not?" Thranduil replies flatly, and lazily turns his gaze to his father. "This is the symbol of my people, of our Kingdom, it is about time they recognized it."

"Alright, do as you wish," Oropher sighs but a sly smirk plays on his lips, and I see a hint of agreement passing between the pair which makes me chuckle in turn.