These Haunted Halls

By WhatGraceHasGiven

Summary (detailed): On a particularly stormy night in Rivendell, in the House of Elrond, several restless children tell stories that chill each one to the core, even the storyteller. The children will prove even more restless after each tale. But what if these aren't tales? What if they aren't the overactive imagination of some restless children? What if every "tale" is the truth?

Warnings: Some parts may get gory or violent.

Spoilers: None

One-shot No Slash

Note: Please don't flame me. All flames will go towards heating my room. I gladly accept constructive criticism.

Also, this is the first in a SERIES called "Given". Aelinea was given to me by Immortal-grace a few years ago. It took me forever to figure out what I wanted to do with it. She didn't leave me with much, but she left me with enough.

Timeline: 541 T.A. Elladan and Elrohir are 411-years-old, and Aelinea is 121-years-old. Everyone else is 200-years-old or older, but none are older than 450.

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The stars over Rivendell were veiled by thick grey rain clouds, and the moon was near invisible. The clouds looked ghostly against the midnight sky; they were ready to burst any moment, they were so full, and the Elves had been sensing an oncoming storm since before night fell.

Everyone in Elrond's home was sleeping soundly after a long day, except the Lord's children and several of their friends; their parents had gone out to check the Orc threat that was looming over Rivendell. Rivendell's border defenses had strengthened in the last several hours after a messenger coming back from Mirkwood claimed he caught sight of a fairly large band of Orcs. The messenger believed they were heading for Rivendell.

Elrond had ordered nearly one-hundred Elves to ride out and vanquish the threat. Sixty-three returned; there had been Orcs, and they had been headed for Rivendell. The Elves fought long and hard, and nearly half had died defending their realm. All the Orcs had been killed. But, just to be safe, Elrond sent out a group of twenty well-bodied Elves to ride out and scan for any more threats. They were still out.

"You know why the Orcs are coming, don't you?" Ruthulas, the daughter of one of the well-bodied Elves, said darkly. She was the second youngest, being only several years older than Aelinea, but she considered herself to be much more mature. Ruthulas had long, flowing light chestnut hair that matched the color of her eyes; her mind made her conceded and arrogant, delivering her thoughts that said she was the most beautiful girl in all Rivendell.

"Nobody knows, Ruthulas," Elladan said matter-of-factly. The elder twin could barely put up with Ruthulas' vainness, her belief that she knew absolutely everything.

Ruthulas glanced at Elladan sharply. "I know, Elladan." She tossed her hair off her shoulder with the flick of her head with a soft, "Hmm,"

Sighing, Elladan realized there was no way of convincing Ruthulas that the reason for the threat was apparent to no one. So he gave up and asked tiredly, "Then why are the Orcs coming?"

Stubborn, Ruthulas crossed her arms across her chest and looked out the window. "I don't feel like saying now that you were rude to me."

Elladan was about to protest being rude, but instead said, "I am sorry, then. Please, tell us why Rivendell faces a threat." He would rather not fight.

"How do I know they won't follow your lead, and be rude also?" She flicked the hair off her shoulder again.

The older Elves raised uproar of whispers and Aelinea, Elrond's adopted daughter, spoke up, "You know us, Ruthulas. We want to hear." Years ago, Aelinea was an abandoned newborn on Elrond's doorstep. Elrond had taken her in and Aelinea felt like one of his own children, as Elrond and Celebrian treated her as such.

Ruthulas snorted derisively. "I do know you all. And that is why I believe you will mock me. You will be rude to me, just as Elladan was."

"We never have before—or, at least, never on purpose." Aelinea tried to reason.

"Are you calling me a liar, Aelinea?" Ruthulas' temper flared and she glared at the youngest Elf in the Hall of Fire.

"Absolutely not,"

Ruthulas glanced at Aelinea for a long moment before nodding. "Fine," she agreed, "I believe you. But…I don't really feel like telling a story anymore."

Nobody made a sound.

Tirorn, one of Aelinea's good friends, spoke up, "How about we tell stories?"

"What kind of stories?" Elrohir asked.

Tirorn shrugged. "Scary stories, I guess."

The room erupted into voices saying, "I know a bunch!" or "I have the scariest stories in Rivendell!" or "I know one!" and "Let me go first!"

"I will go first." Haradmor said. His voice was loudest and everyone stopped. They quickly agreed that he probably did have the scariest stories of anyone in the Hall of Fire.

Haradmor cleared his throat and began weaving a tale of how Orcs became, well, Orcs. He told it with so much emotion and clarity that, by the end, people were peeking out from behind throw pillows.

Except Ruthulas, who wore a look of pure skeptical disbelief, "That is absolutely not true, Haradmor."

Haradmor looked unscathed by Ruthulas' criticism. "Then what is the truth?"

Ruthulas snorted. "Not that warg-crap I just listened to!"

"Then tell a different story."

"Elladan! I told you to stop being rude!" Ruthulas glared at the twin.

Aelinea raised an eyebrow.

The twin grinned, "I'm Elrohir."

"F-fine, Elrohir…like there is a difference! I do not care." Ruthulas sputtered and then changed courses and glared at an innocent Aelinea. "I thought you were my friend. But now that you are ganging up on me, I am really not so sure."

Surprised, Aelinea looked up at Ruthulas. "I wasn't…"

"Shut up with the excuses, Aelinea! Is rudeness a trait of all rejects?"

Aelinea had been trying to get a word in edgewise, but stopped when Ruthulas finished her angry statement. Elladan and Elrohir were on their feet the moment the word left Ruthulas' mouth. Tirorn and Haradmor suddenly went white. "I don't understand." Aelinea was able to choke the words out.

Ruthulas seemed unfazed by Elladan and Elrohir's sudden reaction. "And so stupidity is also a trait. Just because you were unloved don't think for one moment that I feel sorry for you, Aelinea! You can look as innocent as you wish, but I don't buy your façade."

With that, before anyone could say anything else, Ruthulas walked out of the Hall and headed for her room. Silence remained in her wake.

Finally, Elrohir walked over to crouch in front of a sitting Aelinea. He took her hands and met her eyes. "Do not listen, sister. You are as loved as Elladan and I; don't think for a moment that you are not."

There were no tears in Aelinea's green eyes, only confusion. She seemed unscathed by what was flung at her. She gave a half-hearted smile at her adopted brother. "I know. I just don't understand why she became so angry with me. I feel awful. Did I hurt her feelings?"

Elladan had walked over by this point. "Did you hurt her feelings?"

Elrohir took over, "I would have assumed that she hurt yours, Aelinea."

"Nay, she did not. But I'll talk with her in the morning before her father comes back." Her half-hearted smile became full-hearted suddenly, and cheerful, and Aelinea said, "Who's next?"

The twins smiled and Elladan said, "I have one."

The five Elves settled down after the fire was stoked and Elladan started his story…

Though this happened in Rivendell, a young maid's screams could be heard by the Elves in Mirkwood at midnight many, many years ago. She ran out of the guest room and down the hall, knocking on every door until she was tripped in her haste. When the first person to heed her screams, an Elf named Tyndyl, finally came out of his room, the young maid was lying on her back. She was dead.

Tyndyl didn't notice the bloody message on the wall, but he did notice the long trail of smeared blood that traveled from one of the guest rooms to the location the maid's body. Tyndyl followed it to a dresser in the room. He noticed bloody handprints on the top drawer, so that was the drawer he opened.

His screams went unheard, just as the maid's did.

In the top drawer was the head of another servant.

Tyndyl noticed a dark figure rising out of the corner of the room, so he ran. He pounded on the doors, just as the maid had. Nobody came to his aid.

The next morning, Tyndyl was found dead, lying next to the maid's body. On the wall, it read, "Do not follow the blood." It was discovered that everyone in those rooms was also dead—the reason nobody came to Tyndyl or the maid's aid.

It is unknown who the murderer is, and what their motives were…even to this day.

A bolt of lightning cut through the darkening sky. Loud thunder rolled in quickly afterwards. And a drop of cold rain hit the ground.

The Elves in the Hall of Fire were silent, but each jumped at the sudden noise.

Another bolt of lightning lit up the dark, cloudy sky over Rivendell and thunder followed quickly. The overstuffed clouds burst and it began to downpour.

"How do you know they never caught the murderer, Elladan?" Aelinea asked in a small voice. She was practically whispering.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

"Elladan?"

Tap.

"Where is that coming from?" Tirorn asked, scanning the room.

Elladan swallowed whatever he was going to say and instead answered Tirorn, "It's the storm. The rain is probably hitting the gutters."

Aelinea shook her head. "No, that isn't it. If it were the rain, it would be faster than…"

Tap, tap, tap, tap…

"Oh, Valar," Haradmor gave a laugh, "you guys are way too jumpy. It was only a tale. Fiction. Nothing more."

Aelinea looked at him. "Is that noise 'fiction,' Haradmor?"

Haradmor opened his mouth to speak when suddenly a scream tore through the air. It echoed and bounced off the walls outside the room. The five Elves exchanged glances and Aelinea threw her hand to her mouth. The scream was female.

Aelinea moved her hand and said, "The young maid…Elladan, you didn't make any of that up, did you?"

Elladan looked surprised. "I made it up." His confession made Aelinea close her eyes and throw her hand back to her mouth. She was afraid she might scream.

"Maybe we are hallucinating." Tirorn suggested.

"All five of us?" Elladan looked skeptically at his friend.

"I guess not." Tirorn agreed.

"HELP ME!"

Bang, bang, bang…

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

"AELINEA! HELP ME!"

BANG! BANG! BANG, BANG, BANG!

Everyone looked at Aelinea, who had dropped her hand and was slowly getting to her feet. "The young maid knows my name…" she was mumbling as she nearly tripped over Elrohir.

"It wasn't true, though…." Elladan was equally perplexed.

"It must be." Haradmor answered.

"She would be dead. It isn't possible." Elrohir said. He had stood to help Aelinea steady herself before she tripped and hurt herself. He spoke low in Elvish and only Aelinea could hear it.

"Help…help me!" The scream was reduced to pitiful begging.

A spark of familiarity burst through Aelinea. "Oh Valar!" She broke loose from Elrohir's weak grip on her shoulders, threw open the door, and ran down the hall. Four other Elves followed her into the perpetual darkness of the halls.

In the dark, the male Elves lost track of where Aelinea went. In dizzying blindness, they circled around through the halls, going back and forth when they thought they heard a noise.

People were starting to exit their rooms, peeking their heads out the door in fearful confusion.

"ELLADAN!" This time the scream wasn't the young maid. It was Aelinea's heartbroken cry. Elladan, Elrohir, Tirorn, and Haradmor followed the sound of Aelinea's voice. "ADA! ELROHIR! HEALER!"

"Oh, Valar, she's injured herself." Haradmor muttered as the four Elves ran. They followed Aelinea's screams to a dimly lit hall where the majority of the guest rooms were located.

Finally, they arrived to where Aelinea was sitting on the bloodstained floor.

Elladan gasped.

Elrohir tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Tirorn and Haradmor were frozen in stunned silence.

Taught healing techniques by Elrond, the twins ran forward.

On the floor was a mixture of red blood and a dark black inky substance. Aelinea was in her knees, pressing down on a wound that was spurting blood from Ruthulas' chest. Ruthulas was going into violent convulsions and Aelinea's beige nightgown was soiled with blood.

"Tirorn, get Aelinea out of here!" Elladan commanded as he fell to his knees on one side of Ruthulas. Elrohir dropped quickly to the opposite side, where Aelinea was pressing down on the chest wound. There was a stomach wound that was gushing blood, but Aelinea seemed to think that the chest wound was more lethal; Elladan and Elrohir, however, believed the stomach wound was causing the biggest problem.

Tirorn walked behind Aelinea to stand over Elrohir, but he tripped over something unseen in the shadows. He helped Aelinea to her feet and some blood smeared on his clothing.

As Tirorn walked back, he told Aelinea to watch out. "Don't trip."

"I won't," Aelinea answered, clinging to Tirorn's arm with her bloodstained hands.

"What happened?"

"Ruthulas…she was hungry, she said. I think she was going to the kitchens." Aelinea answered.

Tirorn looked back at the scene just as Elrond came running in. Ruthulas died before Elrond could even drop to his knees. Tirorn sighed. "It looks as if the Orc got to her first."