Voice of Dragonland

"The Grand Duke is still awake. He is staying at the garrison at the moment, and Lord Elrond will take care of him personally. The military power will be temporarily handed over to Almorad." Faerun knelt down and reported the situation of the battle one by one with his head bowed.

A gloomy ruthlessness flashed across Thranduil's face.

"Your Majesty, please indicate the next arrangement." Fei Lun did not dare to look up at the king's expression, but asked for instructions in a deep voice.

"Serophon." Thranduil stood up from the throne, his tall and straight body exuding the domineering majesty of a king.

"Mylord!" Serophon caressed.

"I personally conquered the Long Lake, and temporarily handed over the administration of the dense forest to you and Legolas."

"Yes." Serophon replied.

"I'll go with you." At the end of the corridor, the prince who had been silent for a long time came quickly, "Please allow your Majesty."

Thranduil cast his eyes on him from the high throne.

Legolas looked up at him too.

When the eyes meet, everything else within the line of sight seems to be shrouded in mist, looming or not.Only each other's eyes are clear and shining.

"You..." Thranduil slightly opened his lips, "You want to go out with me?"

"Yes, I am a warrior, a qualified warrior." Legolas let himself look at him wantonly.

His blond hair hangs down over his shoulders to his waist. A light gray robe outlines his slender figure. A white gemstone brooch with a thorn pattern is fastened around his neckline, making his face whiter and more delicate.

Elegant and upright, lonely and lofty.

It's just that the sadness in his eyes more or less diluted his usual indifference.

"If this battle is unavoidable," Legolas bowed his head sympathetically, "please let me fight with you."

Thranduil turned his gaze, the knuckles of the fingers holding the scepter turned white, "I don't want you to fight on the battlefield."

"Please believe me, I don't want you to do it yourself either." Legolas looked at him sadly, "I have no position to stop you, since you won't follow my advice, why don't you agree to my request?"

"If I die in battle, at least there will be you in the dense forest." Thranduil's voice was very soft, erratic like a pineapple.

"You are wrong, if you die in battle, there will be nothing in the jungle." Legolas smiled, as cold as water.

"You have always been like this. You are self-willed and arbitrary. All the causes are buried in the abyss that no one knows. The results you have shown me are unbearable, but I can't refuse." Thranduil slowly turned sideways, with a cold and expression on his face. Calm, but the surging sadness hidden deep in the calm overflows from the corners of the eyes and brows, from the lines in the words, from the breath and heartbeat, moist and heavy, "I am not in the dense forest, no one can stop your footsteps, Whether you allow it or not is just a formality for you...how do you want me to answer?"

The sad Legolas didn't dare to look at it, what else could he do other than lower his eyelashes to avoid it?Whether it is plotting or breaking, it is not his strong point.

"I will set off at dawn tomorrow." Thranduil turned and stepped off the throne, passing Legolas, "If you want to go, then go."

A deep voice drifted past Legolas' ears.

How much helplessness and pain was contained in it, Legolas didn't dare to detail each one, just like he didn't have the guts to ask Thranduil's sorrow.

He was afraid of that answer, he couldn't bear it.

He is like a grave keeper, weeping in front of the tombstone where his love is buried, but he doesn't know that the feeling has not died forever, and the preparations for so many years have not been broken.

Thranduil stroked the long knife, his eyes fell on the delicate carvings on the corner of the table ethereally, the corners of his mouth were slightly pursed with a trace of melancholy, and he was hesitant to speak.

"Your Majesty." Gallian gently placed the newly wiped armor on the hanger, "It's time for you to rest."

"How is things going?" Thranduil regained his senses, and looked up at his butler.

"The candidate has been decided, but..." Gallian frowned, "You know His Highness's skills, can you stop His Highness..."

"There is no chance, it must be perfect." Thranduil's gaze came heavy and heavy.

"Your Majesty, I hope that you will not take risks yourself, rather than prevent His Highness from taking risks." Gallian knelt down on one knee, "I don't understand why you are so prepared. Don't tell me you didn't plan to return safely? You want to Risk your life to fight? With all due respect, you are the king of a country, no matter how tight the battle is, please put your country first and your own safety first."

"You don't understand." Thranduil held the handle of the knife, carefully scrutinized the engraving on the blade, the calm majesty between his eyebrows and eyes gradually melted away, revealing the thick and sticky sadness inside, "The immortality of elves is a curse."

"Why do you think so?" Gallian stared at him anxiously.

"A hundred years of life pass by in a hurry, joy, anger, sorrow and joy are just a fleeting moment. All the good things in the world that can be met but not sought after are only a short breath away. So whether it is joy or pain, there will be an end in the end. They will all return to tranquility in the end." He curled his mouth, smiled sadly, and the light in his eyes was as cold as frost, "But I can't, the passage of time can only make me wander deeply in purgatory, suffering from heartburn all day long. bitter……"

"What is tormenting your soul and making you suffer so much?" Gallian's eyes widened in disbelief, "Elves are different from humans. The pain brought by eternal life is naturally long, but time will also take away these pains. The gravel of the years is natural Those deep sorrows will be smoothed out one by one. Whether you get it or lose it, it’s just the waves stirred up in life, which eventually become quiet, like mountains and rocks, like seas and fields. I thought you would see clearly and let go.”

Thranduil lifted the teapot, and slowly poured the tea into the teacup. The light-colored tea gurgled down, and the teacup was filled, and then overflowed.

"Your Majesty?" Galian looked at the tea in confusion as it overflowed the rim of the cup, spread down the cup, and wet the table.

"If the container is only this big, how do you expect it to hold more?" Thranduil put down the teapot with a bitter smile, "Me too."

He lowered his eyes, "What time can take away is not unforgettable. The shallowness will pass away with the wind, and the depth will go deep into the bones and blood. How can you calm down?"

Some slight fragments floated in his mind, and an absurd idea was clearly formed. Galian's palm was sweating, "Is it Your Highness?"

Thranduil didn't deny it, "My expectation is just a wisp of sand, how can I hold it in the palm of my hand?"

"This..." Galian was surrounded by great panic, and was dumbfounded for a moment, not knowing how to react.

"Gallian, I'm tired, I don't have the strength to distinguish and pursue anymore." Thranduil shook his head, "I tried to let go, I tried to stay away...but it didn't fade away because of my retreat, it was there, In the depths of my soul, day and night ache..."

"Your Highness...does he know?" Gallian panted heavily and asked cautiously.

"Maybe..." Thranduil smiled, the undisguised despair and sadness in his eyes frightened Gallian, "he thinks I'm dirty and depraved, he thinks I'm devoted to Cylosta, he thinks I'm He doesn't care about reputation or shame. He thinks... my gentle and kind treatment is nothing more than guilt and pity for him suffering from the century-old curse. He believes that alienation may allow us to return to the original father and son and get Vera's forgiveness... And I can't argue..."

Gallian's eyes widened, "Vera!"

"Vera's brilliance can't save me, I have nowhere to go..." Thranduil put the long knife by his side, with a calm and peaceful expression, but the torment deep in his heart has already slowly corroded him , until all motivation is lost, fall down, give up, and die, "Only death is liberation."

"Your Majesty!" Gallian reached out and took Thranduil's hand.His pale fingers were cold and wet, lifeless, Galian tried his best to hug them, warming him with his own body temperature, "Aren't you going to talk to His Highness? Don't you tell him this? Why do you have to endure such torture alone? ?"

"He has never listened to what I have to say, either he is unwilling or disdainful..." Thranduil glanced at Galian lightly, there was no hope or expectation in his eyes, the cold and desolate look like a long drought desert, "it's useless to talk."

Galian pinched Thranduil's finger firmly, "Try again, Your Highness is by no means unkind to you, I saw him crawling under your tombstone in pain, I saw him cry for you Madness, please don't give up, I beg you..."

"I have no doubt that he loves me deeply. I have seen the back he painted for me, and the tears he shed for me. But Gallian, I also watched him ask me how he climbed up the plug. The bed of Losta..." Thranduil's lips were pale, "what position do I have to tell him that the one I love has always been Legolas?"

"No..." Galian shook his head, the great grief in his brown eyes and the clear tears slowly crawled down his cheeks, "Tell me, what can I do for you? Please have mercy on the extravagant wishes of a poor elf, please Valar thrust this blade into my chest, and let me bear this torture and humiliation for you..."

"Take good care of him for me, don't let him give up his life, don't let him blame himself..." Thranduil gently pulled out his hand, gently wiping away the butler's tears.

"How can you be so cruel?" Galian choked and fell on Thranduil's knee, "You know that I will follow you wherever you go, but you still entrust this important task to me..."

"You are my loyal friend, and you are the only one who can make me feel at ease." He smiled wistfully, "Why are you sad? This is my relief, and it is also the best ending for me and him."

"I'll go find His Highness, I'll tell him the history of His Highness Selosta, I'll tell him the pain you've suffered, I..." Galian stood up, but Thranduil grabbed his wrist.

"Gallian, don't you understand?" Thranduil still smiled, that smile was pure and clean, reflecting the desolation without a blade of grass in his eyes, "In his eyes, I am already so miserable, you still have to take off the only fig leaf I have left ?"

Gallian stood stiffly, looking back at his king, the only protection above his head, and the only sanctity in his heart.

Thranduil's smile gradually paled, and suddenly, pearl-like tears dripped from the corners of his eyes.

All of Galian's courage and energy were taken away at this moment. The bedroom was so vast, but he couldn't breathe. The numbness began to spread from the soles of his feet, climbing up his body little by little until his thinking and soul.

"Your Majesty..." he heard himself say, "If there is really time in this world to heal unhealed pain, tell me, how should I bear it...how can I convince myself to give up my belief in death and fulfill this heavy entrustment for you ..."

Thranduil couldn't answer, he didn't know whether the emotion passing through his heart was relief or loss.

"Weak and weak, with poor coordination of hands and feet, you can't bear to look straight at it. Is your leg amputated and pressed against a piece of wood?" The branch in Glorfindel's hand hit Selosta's calf unceremoniously, the flexible branch Hitting the flesh makes a crisp sound.

Selosta gritted her teeth and swung the long sword in her hand impenetrably.

"It's better to be possessed by the dead, at least like someone who can hold a sword. Now, any elf girl can laugh at you behind your back, and you can't catch up with them anyway." Glorfindel shook his head, "You The fighting skills are taught by the nanny?"

"Thank you for your guidance, I have benefited a lot!" Selosta gritted her teeth, "By the way, thank you on behalf of all the babysitters of the royal family!"

"Come on, I don't really want to see either Midrian or Serophon." Glorfindel snorted softly, "I don't even want to see your father."

"Did my father provoke you? If I did something to anger you when I was possessed by the undead, you can go ahead and settle accounts with me. What's the point of involving my father?"

Selosta's face quickly darkened, and a hint of ferocity appeared on her sweaty cheeks.

"It has nothing to do with you, it's between me and him." The branch in Glorfindel's hand hit the ground one after another, "Is there no strength left? Then there's no need to cause trouble on the battlefield."

"What's the matter between you and him?" Selosta stopped, tightly holding the hilt of the sword in her hand, "My father, the king, has always treated Rivendell with courtesy and never neglected him. What do you mean by that?"

Glorfindel lowered his eyes, "If you want to ask, I will naturally tell you, so that you won't turn around and think I'm a villain talking nonsense."

"You'd better make it clear."

"It is very clear that in the Battle of Glasgow 300 years ago, when your father and king were defending against the enemy on the cliff, they suddenly gave up the alliance of allies and took the jungle army down the valley, causing the entire formation to collapse. The formation of hell was planned by your father, King Thranduil, he did not hesitate to pull tens of thousands of troops as cover in order to break through the cliff and reach the bottom of the valley!" Glorfindel snorted coldly.

"He... must have a reason..." Selosta was dumbfounded, this was a past he had never known, a past he had never asked about.The entire dense forest was silent about the battle, and he had no idea how to refute or respond.

"Yes, there is a reason, to go down to the bottom of the valley to find His Royal Highness Legolas, that is the reason!" Glorfindel took a deep breath and relieved, "I can understand the pain of losing his loved ones, and he also gained Knowing that he held back most of Lothar's upward movement at the bottom of the valley, and cut off the enemy's reinforcements for the Alliance Army. But this does not mean that I can accept his approach!"

"For Legolas..." There was a thunder in his mind, and Selosta smiled in a trance, "He didn't hesitate to be criticized by the alliance, and he didn't hesitate to withdraw...he has always been...for Legolas..."

Glorfindel pressed his gaze heavily, "Yes, but he is still a mighty warrior, and he still has the courage to fight to the last moment! What about you? Do you still have the courage to take up the sword in your hand?"

"Sword?" Faith collapsed little by little, and courage dissipated. Selosta smiled dejectedly, "What do I want to protect with it? What does this world do to me?"

"It really doesn't have much to do with it." Glorfindel smiled instead of anger, "It's just the peace that Orofer sacrificed his life for, it's just the kingdom that Thranduil has exhausted to build and grow, it's just They are willing to dedicate everything to protect the world. It has nothing to do with you, you can dig a hole in the ground and hide for 1000 years! Right when Thranduil never raised a son like you, right when all the love he gave I gave a piece of dead meat, so that you can stay here with peace of mind, and continue to grieve for the spring and autumn, and feel depressed!"

"No..." Cylosta couldn't do it. Even though the pain wound around his heart like thorns, even if the decadence seemed to overturn the whole world, he still deeply remembered Thranduil's eyes looking into the distance from the throne, Ning He Gentle, it is good to look at the time quietly.And this quietness is because he once fought with his life and devoted all his heart and energy... How could he turn a blind eye?How can you ignore it?

So he lifted the sword, and then he used all his strength to slash and stab, turning all the anger and unwillingness into the sharp luster of the sword tip, and slashed and stabbed fiercely.

Glorfindel heaved a sigh of relief without showing any trace, and the branch in his hand fell on Selosta's waist and wrist from time to time, pointing out the direction of his force and the strength of the slash.

After dozens of days like this, Glorfindel became harsh to the point of harshness, Selosta grew rapidly, thin calluses formed on her delicate finger pulps, the muscle lines of her arms became tighter and smoother, and her eyes became more determined.

Glorfindel never praised him, but caught his weaknesses with critical eyes and corrected them one by one.

When the communicator brought the battle report from the front line, Glorfindel was snapping at Thelosta for cutting the dummy's head.

"Mylord!" the radio soldier caressed.

"Say." Glorfindel stepped forward, eager and anxious.

"The great army and the dragon encountered..." The communications soldier lowered his head and stated the tragic struggle in a heavy voice, "Every army has different injuries...the casualties are about thousands of people..."

"Where is Elrond? How is he?"

"The lord is all right."

Glorfindel felt a little relieved, "What is the orc army doing?"

"The dragon just flitted across the battlefield, and did not launch a destructive attack. The orc army retreated after the dragon withdrew, and there is no new movement for the time being."

"Any news from the Jungle Army?" Cylostat's voice came from behind Glorfindel, anxious and uneasy.

"Dense forest..." The communication soldier hesitated for a while, and then replied, "Duke Midrian was roasted by dragon flames, and now he is unconscious..."

"What!" Selosta stepped forward, "Is life in danger?"

"The lord took care of it personally, and his life is not in danger."

Selosta nodded, thanked her, and retreated to the corner of the training room with her long sword in hand.After Glorfindel listened to the report, he looked back and saw that the long sword in Selosta's hand pierced the dummy's chest straight, and the edge of the sword tip was still shining indefinitely.

"Mylord!" The guard hurried to Glorfindel's lounge, "His Royal Highness Cylosta left Rivendell and headed towards Lorraine, do you need to stop him?"

Glorfindel lowered his eyes, "Let him go."

"But……"

"He already possesses the strength of a warrior. As for whether he can realize that he is a warrior and whether he can join the battle, no one can decide for him." Glorfindel took off the bandage in circles, the wound on his arm remained intact Blood oozes from cracks, and the pain is like maggots on the tarsal bone entangled endlessly.

"Prepare the horses, I'm going to the north of Long Lake." He calmly wrapped the bandage around the wound, one circle at a time, delicate and urgent.

"You..." the guard hesitated for a moment, "Master Elrond ordered you to stay in Rivendell..."

"Rivendell doesn't need to stay behind, the battlefield is my home." Glorfindel held his long sword, "I have been absent for too long."