Moonlight and Shadow
Disclaimer: Not mine, I only borrow them. They all belong to the wonderful Professor Tolkien.
Raiting: I think PG will do it. Maybe it will go up in later chapters.*shrugs*
Summary: Strange things are happening in Mirkwood and Rivendell. Legolas, Aragorn and the twins have to solve the puzzle before it is too late. This is NO SLASH!
A/N: This is my first ever attempt to write, so please don't flame me.
It is a work in progress, so everyone who reads only finished stories, stop here. ;-) I will try to update one chapter every week, but I can not promise a thing.
RL is at the moment very busy.
Thanks to my beta Mor, *hugs* You are great. Thanks also to all the guys on the Mellon group for your support.
So here it is, enjoy!
Moonlight and Shadow
Chapter 1
He woke up in total darkness, he felt slightly dizzy and disoriented.
A thick blanket was wrapped around his form like a cocoon and it hindered his movements very effectively.
His senses told him, that it should long be morning outside. But all he could see was darkness and all he could hear was silence.
He could not hear the birds, singing their morning songs, no trees whispering greetings to the sun.
*What has happened?*
His hands were aching, but he did not know why, because he was not able to take a look at them.
He barely could feel his legs, which were drawn up to his chest, his head resting on the knees. Slowly he lifted his head and tried to remove the blanket, moving his arm a little bit too fast he banged his elbow against a wall, which he didn't know that it exists. The pain shot up to his fingers and made his fingers tingle painful and left them numb. In a reflex he kicked out with his legs only to bang his toes against another wall.
After a few events in his younger years he had developed a light kind of claustrophobia, it had not become better because of some other events in his live over the last centuries. But the most time, when he was in dark places, he was not alone, and he was able to control these feelings. There was always a friend at his side who had helped him through the attacks.
But now in this very dark and obviously very small space, he was alone and his fear tried to overwhelm him and he began to hyperventilate. Cold sweat started to cover his face and his body, running in little rivulets down his forehead and his cheeks. Dark spots appeared on his tunic which clung to his chest and back.
His breath came in ragged gasps, allowing only a little amount of air refill his lungs. Desperately he tried to get more air in his lungs, but he failed. It felt like drowning, but there was no water. He thrashed from side to side, banging his head and his limbs against the walls of his prison.
A little part of his mind screamed at him.
*Calm down!*
*Breathe slowly!*
He could not breathe! He could not calm down!
*Breath you fool or you will die here!*
Another voice appeared in his mind.
The voice of a friend.
*You can do it, you did it before.* *Remember what I told you. Don't think about caves. Think about the free open lands. Think about the woods of your homeland. Think about the places where we were hunting.
DO YOU HEAR ME; YOU STUBBORN ELF?*
"I... I...can... hear...you... Estel! Don't ... yell...at...me." He moaned between two gasps.
*Fine, remember what I told you, what you should do when you cannot breathe?*
He remembered.
Lowering his head again against his knees like it was at the beginning; he tried to inhale through his nose, hold the air in his lungs and released it slowly through his parted lips. After a few attempts he finally managed to calm down his frenzy gasping for air and draw breath again more regular. His rapid heartbeat also slowed down and he willed his body to relax, as good as possible in this enclosed space.
After a few minutes of only breathing, he tried again to free himself from this soft prison.
He grasped for the fabric and hissed when a sharp pain radiated from his palms and fingers and he felt a warm liquid spreading down to his wrist. At that time he remembered that his hands had hurt when he awoke, but he could not remember that he had injured them.
Mindful of the pain, he carefully removed the blanket from his head. But he could not remove it from his body, because it was wrapped around him, and he was sitting on it.
He mused about the mystery, why he was here, wherever here was, wrapped in a thick velvet blanket, in the darkness. While he struggled to get the blanket out of under him. This was no easy task, with limited... very limited..., he thought when he again,...what was it..., the tenth time...he had lost count on it..., banged his shoulder against the wall. But finally he managed to free himself. He stacked the blanket down to his feet. And for the first time he was able to touch the walls of his Prison.
He was confused.
It seemed like he was sitting in a closet.
Slowly he rose to his feet careful not to bang his head against the top side. He had to stand a little ducked, but not too much. He reached for the place, where he had found out that there was the door, he pushed slightly to open it, but it refused his attempt.
It was locked.
Tired of being captured in this dark place he added much more force than needed in his next push. He literally shoved his shoulders against the resisting, stubborn door.
The door sprung open and the momentum of his move sent him stumbling down to the floor. Landing on his hands and knees, scrapping his leggings, scratching the skin of his knees and adding more pain to his already injured hands he sat there for a few seconds and caught his breath.
He noticed that there was barely light in the room than it had been in the closet. But it was enough for his elven sight to take a look around.
He was in a cellar. And by the look of it, every surface was covered with a thick layer of dust; it was one of the not so frequently used ones of his home.
He wanted to rise to his feet and pushed himself upright with his hand, and hissed when his torn skin came in contact with the solid rock floor.
Sitting back on his heels, for the first time he took a closer look at his hands. They where covered with bruises, welts and blisters, embedded in his palms were a lot of little wooden splinters. Blood was pouring from the wounds and dropped slowly down, the sleeves of his tunic were already soaked.
He tried to remember when and where he had received these injuries.
But as hard as he tried, he could not remember, and that frightened him.
He never forgets a thing but at this moment he could not even remember how he ended down here in one of his fathers cellars.
Chewing at his lip he tried to recall the last events he could remember.
~Flashback~
He arrived at home after a long and tiresome patrol at the western borders of Mirkwood.
Tired to his bones, he handed his horse to the stable hands, and left the courtyard straight to the palace.
His yearning for a soft cosy bed was so great; he did not even notice that his father was awaiting him on top of the stairs until he banged into him. Startled he tumbled back a step and nearly toppled over the stair back down, but his father gripped the front of his tunic and steadied him.
'Huh, wait young one. Be careful, you don't want to hurt yourself, or want you?'
Legolas raised his head and was greeted by the face of his father who could barley hide his mirth behind a stern look.
'I'm sorry, ada. I did not see you.'
'A fine warrior you are, running sleeping through the world.'
'Huh...What?' Legolas replied a little sheepish.
No longer able to control his joy, a laughing Thranduil hugged his son, and kept him close to his chest in a nearly crushing embrace.
'Welcome home, ion nin, I missed you.' He whispered into the golden hair of his only son and heir.
Brushing lovingly through the disarranged tresses he could feel the fatigue radiating from his sons body.
'Tell me, how long did you not sleep?' he asked.
'I don't know, maybe two or three weeks, I lost count of it a few days ago.' Came the muffled answer interrupted by a yawn.
Thranduil carefully shoved his son a little away from him and hold him on an arms length and took a closer look at him.
Legolas was barely able to hold his eyes open, and dark circles had formed under them, he swayed a little on his feet and eventually, by the looks of it, he would fall down and sleep right here on the stairs if Thranduil would release his grip.
Thranduil felt very sorry, for what he had to do now to his beloved son, but it was necessary.
Sighing, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for his next words.
'Ion nin, I'm so sorry, but you can not go to sleep now. I need you at my table in a few hours. We have guests here from the north, and they asked to meet you too.'
Forcing his foggy mind to work, Legolas look at his father and tried to figure out what he just had heard.
'What? Ada, I'm so tired, I could sleep for a month, and you want me to sit at the table and entertain some guests of yours? You can't be serious. Most likely I will fall over in my plate and sleep with my face in the meal.'
'Ion nin....'
'No ada, I need to sleep. I was on patrol now for over six month, we had to battle with spiders, orcs, and ......' his voice trailed of.
'I know, Legolas ...I know..., but...' Thranduil tried to sooth his agitated son.
'No father, you don't know....' Legolas interrupted.
'Enough stop this before you say something you regret afterwards.' Thranduil raised his voice, but only a little, he knew that his son was tired and needed his rest. But he was also the prince of this realm and had duties to fulfil, beyond the duties of a warrior and a guard of his people. He would stuck his son in his bed personally and lock his door so that he could have his much needed rest but this particular guests would not want to wait much longer. 'I would not ask this of you, but these guests came a long way, and they want only to see you. They asked especially for you. I don't know why, I tried to get an answer out of them, but they refused to answer any question concerning this request. They only say, that they have a message for you... and only you.' Startled Legolas took a deep breath and straightened himself. 'Who are this people?' He asked. 'First, come in, we better talk inside with a glass of wine.' Taking his son by one arm, Thranduil led him in the palace Slowly walking side by side in tensed silence they reached the kings study.
Legolas slumped down in one of the plush seats in front of his father's desk, while Thranduil poured wine in two goblets. Reaching one over to his son, he sat down on a seat next to Legolas and started to tell the story of the strange people who arrived a few days ago.
'It was 4 days ago, when one of the guards reported a group of men travelling down from the north. You know, that there are only a few settlement up there, and those people do not wander through our forests. So, we watched them and tried to figure out, what business could bring them down here. We were very surprised, when we realized that they headed straight towards the palace. At this time I sent a few warriors to guard them here. When they reached the palace, they were worn out, exhausted, tired and frightened. The never ever had dealt with elves, they only know our people from tales of old, contorted over the centuries. You know the ones in which elves eat little children.' Thranduil paused and glanced sideways at his son, waiting for a reaction to this last statement.
'What has this all to do with me?' Legolas asked, not showing the reaction his father had waited. Not even the tiniest little smile graced his lips.
Sighing Thranduil continued his story.
'I will tell you. Where have we been? Ah yes, when they arrived they were malnourished, thirsty and their clothes...well lets say they were a *little* torn. First we fed them, took them to some rooms so they could have a little rest and waited. After a few hours, they were able to get up and I met them in the throne room. They looked really frightened maybe they waited for me to jump down the dais and eat them alive.' Thranduil chuckled.
Looking sideways again he noticed no reaction from his son again.
Composing himself he returned again to the story.
'After we exchanged greetings they asked me about you. I don't know how they know you, but they told me, that it was very important to meet you, because they have a message to deliver. I told them, that you are on a patrol and it could last a few days or maybe weeks before you will return.
They said that is does not matter how long they have to wait, but if I give them my permission they wanted to wait. And that's what they are doing the last days. They wait, they don't want to tell me or anybody else, where they exactly came from nor want the talk about the message.
If you had not arrived like you did, I would have sent a messenger to bring you back.'
There was a long silence after Thranduil had finished this tale only interrupted by the crackle of the flames in the fireplace. Legolas sat in his chair, absently playing with the goblet, watching the flames consuming the wood.
'Ion nin? Did you hear what I told you?'
Turning to his father, Legolas took a sip from his wine, cocked his head slightly to the side and looked thoughtfully at his father.
'Yes, I heard you, but I can not understand. Maybe I'm too tired; maybe I'm only too stupid to understand. What would men who never had dealings with elves, want from me? They don't know me, they don't know you.'
'I do not understand either, my son, but we will find out, when you meet them in the evening. Why don't you take a bath, rest a little and join us at dinner?'
Rising to his feet, Legolas put the glass down on his father's desk and turned around to face to his father.
'All right ada, you made me curious, I will be there.'
~ End Flashback~
Returning back to his present Legolas sighed. That memory did not help much, but it was a start.
Looking around he searched for a piece of fabric, which would be useful as a bandage for his torn hands. Finding something that looked like it should have been used as a tablecloth he ripped of a few stripes and wrapped them carefully over both of his hands.
After finishing this task, he finally rose to his feet and started towards the door.
What he noticed there took away his breath for a moment.
The whole entrance was barricaded with all what could be moved in this room. The pile of barrels, boxes and even shelves nearly reached the ceiling of the cellar.
*Could it be?* He thought.
*It had to.*
He suddenly felt his stomach twisting at the pure thought of it.
*What had happened that he barricaded himself in one of the cellars and hid in a closet, cowering under a blanket, like a frightened child?*
He had no answer, and he started shaking.
TBC
Disclaimer: Not mine, I only borrow them. They all belong to the wonderful Professor Tolkien.
Raiting: I think PG will do it. Maybe it will go up in later chapters.*shrugs*
Summary: Strange things are happening in Mirkwood and Rivendell. Legolas, Aragorn and the twins have to solve the puzzle before it is too late. This is NO SLASH!
A/N: This is my first ever attempt to write, so please don't flame me.
It is a work in progress, so everyone who reads only finished stories, stop here. ;-) I will try to update one chapter every week, but I can not promise a thing.
RL is at the moment very busy.
Thanks to my beta Mor, *hugs* You are great. Thanks also to all the guys on the Mellon group for your support.
So here it is, enjoy!
Moonlight and Shadow
Chapter 1
He woke up in total darkness, he felt slightly dizzy and disoriented.
A thick blanket was wrapped around his form like a cocoon and it hindered his movements very effectively.
His senses told him, that it should long be morning outside. But all he could see was darkness and all he could hear was silence.
He could not hear the birds, singing their morning songs, no trees whispering greetings to the sun.
*What has happened?*
His hands were aching, but he did not know why, because he was not able to take a look at them.
He barely could feel his legs, which were drawn up to his chest, his head resting on the knees. Slowly he lifted his head and tried to remove the blanket, moving his arm a little bit too fast he banged his elbow against a wall, which he didn't know that it exists. The pain shot up to his fingers and made his fingers tingle painful and left them numb. In a reflex he kicked out with his legs only to bang his toes against another wall.
After a few events in his younger years he had developed a light kind of claustrophobia, it had not become better because of some other events in his live over the last centuries. But the most time, when he was in dark places, he was not alone, and he was able to control these feelings. There was always a friend at his side who had helped him through the attacks.
But now in this very dark and obviously very small space, he was alone and his fear tried to overwhelm him and he began to hyperventilate. Cold sweat started to cover his face and his body, running in little rivulets down his forehead and his cheeks. Dark spots appeared on his tunic which clung to his chest and back.
His breath came in ragged gasps, allowing only a little amount of air refill his lungs. Desperately he tried to get more air in his lungs, but he failed. It felt like drowning, but there was no water. He thrashed from side to side, banging his head and his limbs against the walls of his prison.
A little part of his mind screamed at him.
*Calm down!*
*Breathe slowly!*
He could not breathe! He could not calm down!
*Breath you fool or you will die here!*
Another voice appeared in his mind.
The voice of a friend.
*You can do it, you did it before.* *Remember what I told you. Don't think about caves. Think about the free open lands. Think about the woods of your homeland. Think about the places where we were hunting.
DO YOU HEAR ME; YOU STUBBORN ELF?*
"I... I...can... hear...you... Estel! Don't ... yell...at...me." He moaned between two gasps.
*Fine, remember what I told you, what you should do when you cannot breathe?*
He remembered.
Lowering his head again against his knees like it was at the beginning; he tried to inhale through his nose, hold the air in his lungs and released it slowly through his parted lips. After a few attempts he finally managed to calm down his frenzy gasping for air and draw breath again more regular. His rapid heartbeat also slowed down and he willed his body to relax, as good as possible in this enclosed space.
After a few minutes of only breathing, he tried again to free himself from this soft prison.
He grasped for the fabric and hissed when a sharp pain radiated from his palms and fingers and he felt a warm liquid spreading down to his wrist. At that time he remembered that his hands had hurt when he awoke, but he could not remember that he had injured them.
Mindful of the pain, he carefully removed the blanket from his head. But he could not remove it from his body, because it was wrapped around him, and he was sitting on it.
He mused about the mystery, why he was here, wherever here was, wrapped in a thick velvet blanket, in the darkness. While he struggled to get the blanket out of under him. This was no easy task, with limited... very limited..., he thought when he again,...what was it..., the tenth time...he had lost count on it..., banged his shoulder against the wall. But finally he managed to free himself. He stacked the blanket down to his feet. And for the first time he was able to touch the walls of his Prison.
He was confused.
It seemed like he was sitting in a closet.
Slowly he rose to his feet careful not to bang his head against the top side. He had to stand a little ducked, but not too much. He reached for the place, where he had found out that there was the door, he pushed slightly to open it, but it refused his attempt.
It was locked.
Tired of being captured in this dark place he added much more force than needed in his next push. He literally shoved his shoulders against the resisting, stubborn door.
The door sprung open and the momentum of his move sent him stumbling down to the floor. Landing on his hands and knees, scrapping his leggings, scratching the skin of his knees and adding more pain to his already injured hands he sat there for a few seconds and caught his breath.
He noticed that there was barely light in the room than it had been in the closet. But it was enough for his elven sight to take a look around.
He was in a cellar. And by the look of it, every surface was covered with a thick layer of dust; it was one of the not so frequently used ones of his home.
He wanted to rise to his feet and pushed himself upright with his hand, and hissed when his torn skin came in contact with the solid rock floor.
Sitting back on his heels, for the first time he took a closer look at his hands. They where covered with bruises, welts and blisters, embedded in his palms were a lot of little wooden splinters. Blood was pouring from the wounds and dropped slowly down, the sleeves of his tunic were already soaked.
He tried to remember when and where he had received these injuries.
But as hard as he tried, he could not remember, and that frightened him.
He never forgets a thing but at this moment he could not even remember how he ended down here in one of his fathers cellars.
Chewing at his lip he tried to recall the last events he could remember.
~Flashback~
He arrived at home after a long and tiresome patrol at the western borders of Mirkwood.
Tired to his bones, he handed his horse to the stable hands, and left the courtyard straight to the palace.
His yearning for a soft cosy bed was so great; he did not even notice that his father was awaiting him on top of the stairs until he banged into him. Startled he tumbled back a step and nearly toppled over the stair back down, but his father gripped the front of his tunic and steadied him.
'Huh, wait young one. Be careful, you don't want to hurt yourself, or want you?'
Legolas raised his head and was greeted by the face of his father who could barley hide his mirth behind a stern look.
'I'm sorry, ada. I did not see you.'
'A fine warrior you are, running sleeping through the world.'
'Huh...What?' Legolas replied a little sheepish.
No longer able to control his joy, a laughing Thranduil hugged his son, and kept him close to his chest in a nearly crushing embrace.
'Welcome home, ion nin, I missed you.' He whispered into the golden hair of his only son and heir.
Brushing lovingly through the disarranged tresses he could feel the fatigue radiating from his sons body.
'Tell me, how long did you not sleep?' he asked.
'I don't know, maybe two or three weeks, I lost count of it a few days ago.' Came the muffled answer interrupted by a yawn.
Thranduil carefully shoved his son a little away from him and hold him on an arms length and took a closer look at him.
Legolas was barely able to hold his eyes open, and dark circles had formed under them, he swayed a little on his feet and eventually, by the looks of it, he would fall down and sleep right here on the stairs if Thranduil would release his grip.
Thranduil felt very sorry, for what he had to do now to his beloved son, but it was necessary.
Sighing, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for his next words.
'Ion nin, I'm so sorry, but you can not go to sleep now. I need you at my table in a few hours. We have guests here from the north, and they asked to meet you too.'
Forcing his foggy mind to work, Legolas look at his father and tried to figure out what he just had heard.
'What? Ada, I'm so tired, I could sleep for a month, and you want me to sit at the table and entertain some guests of yours? You can't be serious. Most likely I will fall over in my plate and sleep with my face in the meal.'
'Ion nin....'
'No ada, I need to sleep. I was on patrol now for over six month, we had to battle with spiders, orcs, and ......' his voice trailed of.
'I know, Legolas ...I know..., but...' Thranduil tried to sooth his agitated son.
'No father, you don't know....' Legolas interrupted.
'Enough stop this before you say something you regret afterwards.' Thranduil raised his voice, but only a little, he knew that his son was tired and needed his rest. But he was also the prince of this realm and had duties to fulfil, beyond the duties of a warrior and a guard of his people. He would stuck his son in his bed personally and lock his door so that he could have his much needed rest but this particular guests would not want to wait much longer. 'I would not ask this of you, but these guests came a long way, and they want only to see you. They asked especially for you. I don't know why, I tried to get an answer out of them, but they refused to answer any question concerning this request. They only say, that they have a message for you... and only you.' Startled Legolas took a deep breath and straightened himself. 'Who are this people?' He asked. 'First, come in, we better talk inside with a glass of wine.' Taking his son by one arm, Thranduil led him in the palace Slowly walking side by side in tensed silence they reached the kings study.
Legolas slumped down in one of the plush seats in front of his father's desk, while Thranduil poured wine in two goblets. Reaching one over to his son, he sat down on a seat next to Legolas and started to tell the story of the strange people who arrived a few days ago.
'It was 4 days ago, when one of the guards reported a group of men travelling down from the north. You know, that there are only a few settlement up there, and those people do not wander through our forests. So, we watched them and tried to figure out, what business could bring them down here. We were very surprised, when we realized that they headed straight towards the palace. At this time I sent a few warriors to guard them here. When they reached the palace, they were worn out, exhausted, tired and frightened. The never ever had dealt with elves, they only know our people from tales of old, contorted over the centuries. You know the ones in which elves eat little children.' Thranduil paused and glanced sideways at his son, waiting for a reaction to this last statement.
'What has this all to do with me?' Legolas asked, not showing the reaction his father had waited. Not even the tiniest little smile graced his lips.
Sighing Thranduil continued his story.
'I will tell you. Where have we been? Ah yes, when they arrived they were malnourished, thirsty and their clothes...well lets say they were a *little* torn. First we fed them, took them to some rooms so they could have a little rest and waited. After a few hours, they were able to get up and I met them in the throne room. They looked really frightened maybe they waited for me to jump down the dais and eat them alive.' Thranduil chuckled.
Looking sideways again he noticed no reaction from his son again.
Composing himself he returned again to the story.
'After we exchanged greetings they asked me about you. I don't know how they know you, but they told me, that it was very important to meet you, because they have a message to deliver. I told them, that you are on a patrol and it could last a few days or maybe weeks before you will return.
They said that is does not matter how long they have to wait, but if I give them my permission they wanted to wait. And that's what they are doing the last days. They wait, they don't want to tell me or anybody else, where they exactly came from nor want the talk about the message.
If you had not arrived like you did, I would have sent a messenger to bring you back.'
There was a long silence after Thranduil had finished this tale only interrupted by the crackle of the flames in the fireplace. Legolas sat in his chair, absently playing with the goblet, watching the flames consuming the wood.
'Ion nin? Did you hear what I told you?'
Turning to his father, Legolas took a sip from his wine, cocked his head slightly to the side and looked thoughtfully at his father.
'Yes, I heard you, but I can not understand. Maybe I'm too tired; maybe I'm only too stupid to understand. What would men who never had dealings with elves, want from me? They don't know me, they don't know you.'
'I do not understand either, my son, but we will find out, when you meet them in the evening. Why don't you take a bath, rest a little and join us at dinner?'
Rising to his feet, Legolas put the glass down on his father's desk and turned around to face to his father.
'All right ada, you made me curious, I will be there.'
~ End Flashback~
Returning back to his present Legolas sighed. That memory did not help much, but it was a start.
Looking around he searched for a piece of fabric, which would be useful as a bandage for his torn hands. Finding something that looked like it should have been used as a tablecloth he ripped of a few stripes and wrapped them carefully over both of his hands.
After finishing this task, he finally rose to his feet and started towards the door.
What he noticed there took away his breath for a moment.
The whole entrance was barricaded with all what could be moved in this room. The pile of barrels, boxes and even shelves nearly reached the ceiling of the cellar.
*Could it be?* He thought.
*It had to.*
He suddenly felt his stomach twisting at the pure thought of it.
*What had happened that he barricaded himself in one of the cellars and hid in a closet, cowering under a blanket, like a frightened child?*
He had no answer, and he started shaking.
TBC