I stopped struggling with Sabros. Brother?!
“What?” I gasped in disbelief.
Sabros just smiled and let go of my throat.
“Oh, Legolas didn’t mention that?” Sabros paused and observed the shocked look on my face. “Well, I can understand why he wouldn’t want you to know that I’m his older brother. He and my father have erased me from the kingdom completely. Out of books, out of documents, out of the family history book (a kind of a family tree) for Morgoth’s sake! They are ashamed of me.”
“Is that what Legolas did to you?”
“That’s not the half of it! He took my throne! I was to be the heir, but once I was exiled, they gave him my throne. And did you know that it was Legolas’s idea to have my name changed to something more appropriate? My name was Mekero. Sounds so much nicer than Sabros, doesn’t it?”
Sabros walked over to the bed and sat down on the corner. He held his head in his hands for a moment, and when he sat up, I saw that his eyes were red and he’s cheeks wet from tears. I felt compelled to sit down beside him and comfort him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I said in a soft voice.
“Now that you do know, you don’t care. You chose
the better of us. Him.”
Hearing him talk like this was lulling. I put a hand on his back and the other on his leg. His gaze fell to my hand. Suddenly, he lashed out and grabbed my wrist. He twisted it and looked up at me.
“But that doesn’t matter anymore. You are mine, and there is nothing anyone can do to change that.”
At these words he began to twist my wrist even further. He smiled as I grimaced and let out a loud whimper.
“Sabros, your hurting me! Darling, please! It hurts,” I moaned. I tear trickled down my cheek, and with his spare hand, Sabros wiped it away. Then he gave a final sharp twist of my wrist and I heard it crack.
“You’re a healer! If it hurts so much, heal it,” Sabros yelled as he stomped out of the room.
I looked down at my wrist and saw it start to swell. It was a simple break, and it didn’t take long for me to heal.
“What is going on?” Lord Elrond asked as he looked around from his balcony. In the distance he saw an army of elves, maybe 3,000 in all. And with them they were carrying odd weapons. Ones with fire on them.
“I don’t know, milord. Two guards met them when they entered the valley, and they just killed them upon sight. We are assembling together all our guards. There will be a complete army in a short while,” the captain of the guards said.
“Where are these elves from?”
“Isn’t obvious, milord? They are all Moriquendi, being led by King Sabros,” the captain answered.
“Send word to Gondor, Lorien and Mirkwood. Have your fastest three riders go,” Lord Elrond ordered. At that moment, a flaming arrow sped past his face and into the wall behind him.
I was laying on my bed, unable to move. I used so much of my power, I was completely weakened. I wouldn’t have been able to finish, except Sabros lent me some of his magic, and I changed it into my ability to make fire. Sabros had left as soon as I finished, which was three days ago. I slowly drifted off into sleep as Silayah took care of Ladicilion for me.
Three weeks later, we received word that the army had reached Rivendell. There was no report on how the fighting was going. I looked over at Ladicilion who was asleep in his crib. He looked so sweet. He was a month old now, and I couldn’t believe so much happened during the past month.
Once again, my mind drifted off to thinking about what Sabros had said about Legolas. They were brothers. That would explain the fist fight, but why hadn’t Legolas told me? Well, Sabros did say that King Thranduil and Legolas decided to act as if he no longer existed. This was so weird. I was stuck in a soap opera! The princess (now queen) stuck between two brothers! But who I chose decided the fate of Middle-earth. Now I understood what Galadriel meant by that. My powers are dangerous, and if the wrong one has control over it, the world is lost. I guess I chose the wrong one.
Hey, a little bit of trivia here, can anyone guess where I got the name Maddas? *Hint: think current events*