Wildest Dreams
Chapter Ten
Word Count: 3,532
Rating/Disclaimer/Summary: Same as chapter 1, really
Author's Note: This was one of those chapters that ended up needing plenty of editing, starting out with one scene that ended up being the final scene when it was the first, and the second one had to be redone and split, and the one with Sérëdhiel wasn't what it started out to be, but I think I may let that subplot do what it will anyway, even if subplots always get me into trouble.

*shrugs* It's a chapter. That's a good thing, right?

Matters of Trust and Torment

"Can you get her calm, my lady?" Legolas asked, aware that their efforts at soothing the elleth had only agitated her more. She would not be settled, not after hearing them say that Ogol was alive. He did not know what they could do to ease her mind, not if her tormenter lived. She had been relieved to hear Ogol was dead, and they had taken that from her, brought back her fear and all her worst memories.

"We will do what we can," Galadriel said, putting her arms around the elleth and passing her to a group of elves wearing robes, who took her in hand and led her away. Legolas watched with a frown. He did not know that Gwilwilethel would have reacted in this manner if she had lied—but then she would have had to if she wanted to be believed. He did not know that it would have fooled Galadriel or Mithrandir. They both seemed to believe that she had spoken truthfully—as had Legolas the first time he met her.

He knew that he, though, was more trusting than most. He forgave things that others would not, and he still trusted after betrayals. He was, in some people's opinion, a fool. He did not know that he could trust his own instincts about Gwilwilethel.

"Do you believe she told Varyar the truth?"

Galadriel glanced toward the departing elves. "I have never known her to be untruthful in the past, though I know your friend was unwilling to accept her answer as truth."

Legolas nodded. He had heard that before, and he could understand that—Varyar had almost accused Legolas of lying when he had told him of the elleth he met, the one could not believe he had saved. "Did he tell you what she told him?"

"No, though I did see what he saw in the pool."

"Which was?"

"Do not tell them," Nostalion warned, sending a dark look toward the lady of the wood. "He would not want all of them to know, and they have not the right to gossip about Varyar."

She inclined her head, studying him as she did. "Would you say the same if you believed that what was seen might be of assistance to you in finding him or stabilizing his mind?"

"I do not trust any of you to know his mind, nor do I trust what you might tell me of it," Nostalion told her. "It is also not his mind that needs to be feared for, not now."

"You believe Gildin is in danger," Mithrandir said, frowning. "What is it you believe has befallen him?"

"We are not certain," Estel answered when it became clear that Nostalion would not. "Nostalion admits to having trouble sensing Firyavaryar now, and that interference could mean that Ogol is alive and has him again, but we do not know."

"Is this true?" Mithrandir asked Nostalion. "You cannot sense Firyavaryar?"

"No." Nostalion bit off the word as though it was a curse. Legolas knew that he did not like admitting to this weakness, and he would not doubt that others would not think that the assassin would lie about being able to sense Varyar at all.

"Damned elves. Lies and tricks—did you enjoy this chase you've lead us all on? Was it some sort of game that you and that friend of yours concocted to make fools of us all?" Gimli demanded. He pointed his axe at the assassin. "The truth now—did you lead us here for nothing?"

"Gimli," Estel began in warning. Legolas would have joined him—he did not think that this was any sort of trick or prank. Varyar had come to Lórien seeking answers, and he had not liked the ones he got—and now he might be in the hold of the enemy that had tormented him for centuries. Nostalion had not lead them falsely, and it was not about making fools of them. It was about Ogol. Again.

"Nostalion," Legolas intervened, turning to him. "Can you track what you do get from Varyar enough to find him again?"

The assassin hesitated. "I am not certain."

Estel frowned. "Have you lost him completely, then?"

"No," Nostalion said, frustrated. "I know he is still alive. I know some sense of the direction in which they are moving, but I cannot be as accurate as I have been before."

"It is enough for me," Legolas told him. "I will go with you and find Varyar."

"Do you believe this is necessary?" Mithrandir asked. He looked to Galadriel, consulting her without words, and whatever they were thinking was not shared with the others.

"Our theory is that the interference comes from whatever binding Ogol used to subdue Varyar in the past and would use now," Legolas answered for the assassin, who looked more ready to kill them all than he was to explain anything or remain much longer. "We cannot be certain of it, but we do know that Ogol would have needed something to control Varyar in even a small measure—he is a capable fighter, a trained warrior, and it does not seem right to any of us that Ogol could keep him prisoner easily."

"Unless the elf was working with him," Gimli said, and Legolas had to move in between him and Nostalion.

"If you knew anything at all, dwarf, you would know that would never happen," Nostalion said, dagger in hand. "You do not understand the torment Ogol has put that family through, and you do not understand Varyar's loyalty to his siblings. He would die before he let them see harm, and he would never give them into Ogol's hands. He is not working for that creature."

"Do you think it possible that your gwador would agree to the same kind of bargain as his parents did?" Galadriel asked, and Nostalion turned to face her, sheathing the blade.

"If that is the kind of lie that Varyar found here, it is far from surprising that he left," the assassin told her. "Why should you ask if he works with the darkness when it is you that does?"

"Nostalion—"

"No, Prince. You may trust these people, fool that you are, but even you must wonder—how could Ogol have taken Varyar from the protection of this sacred land without their aid?"

"You can ask, you know."

Sérëdhiel looked over from where the children were playing to Arwen, a slight smile on her face. The queen's statement should not amuse her, but it did. "Do you think if I felt the need to ask it would not be obvious? Or is it a question you want someone to ask you so that you can decide the truth?"

Arwen frowned, not having expected that response, which made Sérëdhiel more tempted to laugh.

"She means that if you regretted your decision to be mortal, you would show it, and that if you want someone to ask, you must have doubts," Alassë said, rubbing her back with a grimace. "All of the children of Erurainon and Calathiel have insight that is almost... painful, and worse, they are amused when we who lack it are surprised by it."

Arwen glanced at Sérëdhiel. "Is this true?"

"I suppose it is, though in part, Alassë is annoyed due to her condition and not because she finds Idhrenion overly perceptive. Most of the time, she complains that he is oblivious, and I do think he can be. His focus gets narrow, and he thinks only of what occupies him at that particular moment, noticing nothing else. It is difficult to reach him at such times, and more frustrating for her than anyone else, I would think."

"Is that because I hit him to get his attention?" Alassë asked with a false sweetness. "That is not frustration—that is practicality."

Sérëdhiel laughed, and Arwen frowned at them both. Their human was not that of normal elves, though as the wife of the edain king, Sérëdhiel would have thought her more accustomed to sentiments like the one her sister had just spoken. "True, Varyar has used such methods in the past with Idhrenion. I never needed it, but I am expected to be gentle."

Alassë snorted. "I think you could have rivaled the lady of Ithilien for great deeds in battle if you had wanted to. You have more training and ability to fight than you want to acknowledge."

"Is that because you trained with Legolas when you were children?"

"Yes, in part," Sérëdhiel answered. She folded her hands together. "Also in part because Firyavaryar wanted us to be able to defend ourselves if anything happened to him. He did not want us to have to fight, but he knew if we did, it would avail us nothing to retain our ignorance in hopes of also keeping our innocence."

Arwen nodded. "It is, I think, a lesson all of us have learned over the course of this war with Sauron. Our greatest heroes in it were Hobbits, and most people consider them nothing more than children. Yet they saved us all."

"I have no doubt that children can be the salvation of many," Sérëdhiel said, thinking not only of the way her niece charmed everyone or the desperate hopes her parents had placed in her brother but also of the way that a certain former assassin was with his own son.

"It is a shame that they feel as though they will be the end of us," Alassë muttered, groaning as she shifted position. "I am not even that large yet—why am I in such pain all the time?"

Sérëdhiel swallowed. Her best explanation for that was that Alassë did indeed carry two children, but it was not one she wanted to voice, not knowing her sister's fear of that occurrence. "Because Idhrenion and Thenidriel are not allowing you enough rest, perhaps."

Alassë snorted. "If I could not sleep with Idhrenion's snoring, I would have killed him long ago. It is... almost a comfort after all this time."

Arwen smiled slightly. "It is, I believe, more difficult to sleep without the familiar sounds next to us than it is to sleep with them, even if they are annoying at times. Aragorn has a tendency to grumble in his sleep when he is worried. I find myself laying awake nights to listen for it."

"Does it annoy you, then, that he has gone off chasing my brother on a foolish errand?"

"Alassë," Sérëdhiel hissed. She knew that Idhrenion was worried, and that worry was upsetting his whole family, making Alassë's pregnancy more difficult, but she should not call this a foolish errand. If Ogol lived, it was all too likely that he had found Firyavaryar by now, and that was in part what her brother would have wanted—to have himself taken and save the others from that fate. She did not know that he would return this time, but she did not speak of those fears to anyone, not now.

"I do not believe their quest foolish," Arwen said. "It would be more foolish to ignore the possible threat. Every time we have done so in the past, it has been at great cost to everyone."

Sérëdhiel nodded. Alassë sighed. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then they opened, her features crinkling into a frown. "I do not know if this is a threat or not, but I do not remember the last time I saw Eruaistaniel."

"I do not believe I have spoken to her since I came," Arwen said, also frowning. "Is she still unwell?"

"No, she said she was improved yesterday," Sérëdhiel began, though her own words caused her some doubt. Like Alassë, she had not seen Eruaistaniel today, and since their gwathel was not one to wander far from their camp, it was strange if not outright sinister that she had not made an appearance.

"Sérëdhiel?"

"I am going to look for her," she told Alassë. "Watch Tirithon for me, please."

"How dare you accuse the fairest of all ladies of treachery?" Gimli demanded, waving his axe as close to Nostalion as he could with Legolas standing between them. "I'll have your head for this, assassin or no, and you'll feel the sting of my axe!"

"Gimli," Aragorn began, shaking his head. He did not like the Avari's accusation any more than his friend did, but he acknowledged that Nostalion did have some reason for concern. "We have just been discussing the possibility of Firyavaryar being taken by Ogol. If that is true, then we must know how he or his agents were able to get this close to Lórien without us knowing of it."

Gimli stared at him for a long moment, stuttering enough to get a bit of drool on his beard. "You're agreeing with that... that elf?"

Legolas grimaced. "We are not agreeing—I do not believe that either Mithrandir or Galadriel would work in collusion with Ogol—but I do think that Nostalion is right to be concerned about how Lórien could have been breached. We should have known there were orcs here."

"Could whatever is interfering with Nostalion's senses be the same as what caused these orcs to pass through your borders without your knowledge?" Aragorn asked, uncertain how Galadriel would react to all of these accusations and insults. "Is that possible?"

"Once it would have been said that little passed without my knowledge," Galadriel said. "I fear there is a great deal, though, that I do not know, that I have never known, and it may yet come to pass that what I did not know may cause all great harm."

Nostalion grunted. Mithrandir looked at him. "It is not our fault alone, though I fear our efforts to calm and aid young Gildin were unwelcome and unsuccessful. I could not reassure him, nor could Galadriel, and he left quite angrily. We both agreed that it was best to leave him alone until he was willing to hear us. That was, it now seems, a mistake, but we did not know it would be. As I have tried to tell all of you—Firyavaryar's path has been obscured for his entire life. It would not be unthinkable to say it was Ogol, and yet I have never known someone powerful enough to do that, not even Sauron could hide an entire life's path.".

"I do not think it Ogol alone that concealed the path," Galadriel said, holding up a hand to halt Nostalion's anger. "I do not say that accusing Firyavaryar. I do not believe he had any choice in what he isWhat I saw in the pool causes me to believe that Ogol's scheme requires something that Firyavaryar's parents would pass to their children. Yes, he sought and used Firyavaryar's parents for a specific purpose, but whatever it was is somehow tied up in Firyavaryar and still unknown to us."

Nostalion frowned. Legolas wondered how much Varyar had told him, if he could make connections that the others could not with this information he had been given. "Do you know what that purpose could have been?"

"No."

"Liar."

The assassin glared at the dwarf, raising his blade to add to his warning words. "You are small and fortunate that you are significant to others. If it were my decision alone, you would already be dead."

"Try it, laddie."

"Gimli, this is not the time," Aragorn said, placing his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "This alliance is temporary, but we can none of us afford to overlook the threat that Ogol would be if he did survive that fall. If Ogol is alive, we need to find him. To find him, we need to find Firyavaryar. It is that simple. We do not have to like Nostalion, but he remains our best hope of finding Firyavaryar and Ogol, even if we would have it be otherwise."

Nostalion gave Aragorn a dark look. "I would rather it were otherwise as well. You are none of you the companions I would choose, most of you poor fighters, and I do not trust you."

"I think you only trust Varyar," Legolas said. He drew in a breath and let it out. "We will all have to trust him now."

"It's not him that's leading us to Ogol."

"No," Legolas agreed. "It is Varyar who must withstand Ogol long enough to let us find him as well as do what he can to subvert Ogol's plans."

"You're assuming he would."

Nostalion cursed in the dark tongue, walking away from them. Gimli smiled smugly, but Legolas frowned. He shook his head, his frustration over being caught between friends obvious. Aragorn did not know that Legolas considered the assassin a friend, but he did know that Nostalion was necessary for finding Firyavaryar and Ogol.

"That was uncalled for," Legolas said. "You may not like him or trust him, and you do not have to, but do not ever question his devotion to family. That has never been in doubt. He would not work for Ogol, and you are insulting both him and Nostalion. He will do anything for Varyar. That is their bond as gwedeir. You should trust in those things if you do not trust anything else."

"Do we dare let him go on his own to cool his temper?" Aragorn asked. If Firyavaryar had been taken when he did that, they should not leave the assassin alone for long.

"A few minutes only," Mithrandir advised. "Then you must go after Gildin and Ogol."

"It would have hurt less if you were more cooperative."

Firyavaryar did not lift his head. "You know that I have no desire to cooperate with you. I never have. Never will."

Ogol crossed around, standing in front of him this time. Varyar watched the blood drip onto the ground, wondering where he had found another orc to slaughter to have fresh blood on the blade. He had thought he had killed them all before Ogol himself intervened with some kind of magic. Varyar did not know what the monster had used. He did not know enough about magic to be certain exactly what had happened to him, but he did not need to know more than that a familiar weight was back around his neck. That weight told him everything that was necessary for him to know now.

"Your skill is impressive, though," Ogol said, turning the blade over. "I enjoyed watching you fight. It pleases me to see that you carry weapons worthy of you at last."

"If I had known they would please you, I would have given them back to Thranduil."

"Oh, pet. You and your petty acts of defiance. When will you learn that they accomplish nothing?"

Firyavaryar grunted. He needed his petty acts to feel some measure of control, and he knew that he would not stop doing what he could to defy Ogol even if he was a prisoner and had the damned band around his neck again.

"What do you want?"

"What I have always wanted," Ogol said, kneeling down next to him. His hand came out of the robe and lifted Varyar's chin. "I have missed you."

"I did not miss you. I had rather hoped that you would remain dead. I had no particular desire to survive myself, but if I was going to live—you should have died."

"Dearest pet, do you not understand yet? You live and die at my discretion. It is my choice whether you survive or not. No one else's. Not even yours. You are and always have been mine."

Varyar pulled his head out of the wizard's hand. "You will never get what you want from me. You should know that."

"You amuse me," Ogol said, pulling on the chain and dragging him back. "You are what I want."

Firyavaryar shuddered. He reached up a hand and pushed against the robe, trying to get some leeway on the chain. "How did you manage to get that many orcs near Lórien without them noticing?"

"Dearest pet," Ogol cooed, combing through Varyar's hair. "Your mind is so quaint. You assume there were so many orcs because your pride cannot allow for it to be only a small number that caused your defeat. Your mind is quite confused, and you are easily misled. Their number was not half so fearsome as you believe. I should not disappoint you, but your skill, while impressive, was nevertheless used on a quantity that was hardly that."

"I hate you," Varyar muttered, turning away from the hood. He stopped. "Why bother concealing yourself? You know I know what you look like. I know you are not Mithrandir. You are not Saruman. Why hide?"

"You wish to see my true face?"

"I have seen it before. It is not as terrifying as you think it is. You are a monster, not in appearance, but in behavior and love of torture. Underneath that robe, you are just a wrinkled old man."

"Is that so? I suppose you need a reminder of just how violent a 'wrinkled old man' can be, then."