Dementia

CHAPTER TEN

Revelations

It's gone, it's gone, it's gone! Hugin's mind had slipped into panic mode as he frantically searched his saddle bags, repeatedly checking pockets which had already been checked multiple times. "It's gone!"

Helluin glared over her shoulder, mildly annoyed at his antics as she tended to Legolas, who was now in a deep, comatose-like state of sleep. He was almost in suspended animation. She was about to ask Hugin what in Middle Earth he had lost, when Hrethel rolled his eyes.

"What's gone?" he snapped, not exactly in the greatest of moods. Their lives and the lives of this woman and her baby were on the line after all and in this game it was winner-takes-all. He didn't so much care about the Elves and he was honest enough to admit that he half way wished Legolas would die. Trouble causing, stupid Elf….

"My journal!" Hugin hissed, finally throwing the saddle-bag into a corner. As though to have the last word, he shot the discarded, spilled bag an exasperated, venomous glare. "And do you know what that means?" he finally snapped, skewering his brother with an equally unpleasant stare.

"That you were careless enough to lose it?"

Hugin's lips almost turned into a snarl. "No. It means Unferth has been getting into our stuff again! One of these days I am going to teach him a lesson about keeping his filthy paws to himself…"

"I am afraid that you would have to wait in a rather long line," Hrethel cut into the tirade, stopping it before it had a chance to truly take wing. "Why is this journal so important anyway??"

Hugin's face became shades paler. "It has everything in it!" Finding that his hands were shaking, he clenched them into angry fists. However, the action sent spirals of pain whirling up his arm. He didn't have much longer. His illness was reaching its zenith in his body.

"W-what?"

"My sickness, my wanting to leave…what part of the word "everything" confuses you?"

"Unfortunately nothing. This is…this is bad."

"One way to put it," Hugin ground out, sinking to the ground in despair as the harsh reality of the situation slowly caught up with his racing mind. They were doomed…and that was putting it rather nicely. Of course, he really didn't know what he was worried about. After all, he had bargained for trouble to begin with.

"What were you thinking? That your writings would one day be the philosophical discovery of the decade??" Hrethel seethed, grinding his teeth with frustration and a sick, sort of terror.

Hugin winced with the emotion behind his brother's words. "You never know, they could-"

"Or is it that you weren't thinking at all?" Hrethel hurled the words at Hugin, ignoring his brother's meek, as well as sarcastic, protest.

Their voices steadily grew, until Helluin was certain that they could wake the dead. So naturally, if they could wake the dead, it was enough to wake an only half-dead Elf. Legolas blinked, winced and shut his eyes. Wrinkles marred his brow as he fought back the merciless throbbing between his temples. There was some good to be said about being unconscious. "You two could wake the dead kings," he muttered groggily, before he realized that he had no idea who those two even were. Helluin was the only familiar face. "What in the name of Ulmo, is going on here?"

Hrethel glowered at the prince. A grumpy Elf was a grumpy Elf indeed. Though, his mental condition was understandable, maybe even pitiable….No, he changed his mind: just understandable. "Don't you Elves even thank your rescuers?"

"Rescuers?" Legolas inquired incredulously, raising a bruised brow. He didn't even bother to hide his dark expression.

Helluin sighed. Somehow, she had guessed that this would happen. She could say something right now, but honestly, she didn't want to get more involved than she absolutely had to.

"Yes, Elf," Hrethel snapped impatiently. "And it wasn't out of generosity." He wrinkled his nose disgustedly, planning insulting the groggy immortal.

Legolas sighed. He might have guessed there was a second motive. There always was. Generally people didn't do something for nothing, unfortunately. The world would probably work better if they did. "I didn't figure it was. You just don't strike me as the charitable breed."

Hrethel just shook his head. Damn Elves. "Don't you remember anything?"

Legolas frowned. He didn't. Not a thing. And what made that question burn in his mind was the knowledge that he knew he should be remembering. "What happened?" His voice was below the lowest octaves of a hushed whisper.

Hugin answered from the back of the cave, where he had taken up residence, more or less. "You were nearly dead when we found you…and you still need more patching, but if it weren't for us you would be dead. We could have let you die in the woods, you know."

Silence. The fire popped and Legolas stared as its starving flames gorged themselves on the wood and kindling. They could have left him there, but they didn't. But he just couldn't see them doing it purely out of the kindness of their hearts. Did Easterlings have kindness? He doubted it.

"So what is in this for you?"

"Forgiveness…a less harsh afterlife…?" Hugin affirmed; his mouth twisted slightly in annoyance as well as apprehension.

Putting the pieces together, Legolas glared. "So you think one good deed is enough to rid you of a life time of evil?"

Hrethel looked at his brother and Hugin shook his head. "Not at all. But I don't want to die knowing that all I did was bad. I want to have at least one good thing to answer for."

Well, Legolas admitted, that wasn't an answer he had expected. If someone had held up a sign written in Sindarin, with bright red, underlined lettering, he still wouldn't have seen it coming. "You what?" He gasped, barely grasping the situation. "You're helping us purely because you want to?"

Hrethel looked like he was ready to disagree with that statement, but his younger brother cut him off before he had the chance. "More or less. Personally, I don't like Elves very much. However, the fact that you have immortal life spans means that you must be in some way favored by those on the other side. If I want to die with less regrets, then I shouldn't kill you. You don't understand what it is like to think of an afterlife. You're immortal after all."

If Legolas had not been already worried beyond reason for the safety of his friends, and his home he might have pitied those two. However, he couldn't stifle the anger that bubbled up in his chest when he thought of his friends' fates. It would have been nice if these two brothers would have come to enlightenment earlier. Still, their reasons were purely selfish. Legolas knew that if he died by accident that they really couldn't possibly care less.

The expression on Helluin's face as she say beside the Elf was evidence enough she just about shared his opinions. Her arms were unconsciously cradling her swollen stomach.

Whatever happened, Legolas would protect her with his life.

Tossing off the cloaks, revealing his drier, but still bloodied and torn clothes, the prince struggled to find his feet. He failed and Helluin grabbed his arm to steady him, heedless of the bruising he had obtained. Legolas grimaced, but said nothing.

Hugin and Hrethel eyed him with an identical, dubious look. "You aren't going to be going anywhere any time soon, Elf, so you might as well accept that. After all, hurting yourself more isn't exactly going to help the situation, is it?"

Disgruntled, Legolas glared up at them. "My friends need me. Now. Right. Now."

"Well," Hugin growled, shifting back to the darker part of the cave to avoid the pain of the firelight, "things aren't that easy. Yes, they need you now, but they simply can't have you now. Did you think that my brother and I were the only ones sent after you? Think again, Elf." He sat down close to the wall, pulling his knees up to his chin. Pain was slowly coursing its way throughout his system again, in virulent tendrils.

"Well who else is there?" Legolas snapped, bitterly, fighting down a feeling of defeat.

Hrethel shrugged, having yet to break his cold façade. "Well they aren't entirely after you. As a matter of fact, you and Helluin would be a nice bonus, but really, they only want us dead."

Legolas chewed his lower lip. Such wonderful news, his sarcastic, inner voice remarked. So if he stayed with these two, they could help him but he would be tracked indefinitely. However, if he left, they couldn't help him and he risked finding himself in serious trouble once he reached wherever it was that he had to go. Mulling over ever possible outcome, Legolas finally came to the conclusion that he was already in serious trouble anyway so it couldn't hurt to ditch these two as soon as possible. He could stow Helluin away some where else.

Feigning compliance with their advice, Legolas settled back down. Finally becoming aware of his surroundings, he shut his eyes and effectively, shut out the presence of the cave.

:0Ї0:

Unferth put his hand in the air, silently giving the signal for his men to halt and pitch camp. His dark eyes had a malicious, determined and yet excited sparkle to them as he hungrily eyed the small town edging the Long Lake: Dale, nestled beside the rebuilt parts of Esgaroth. However, the twisted lights that danced in his eyes still failed to give them dimension. His soul was a void. "You brats," he muttered under his breathing, conjuring up images of the gloating brothers in his head. "You have scoffed at me for the last time."

A solider watched the captain with a leery eye. Experience had taught him that when his captain became this way, the best thing to do was get out of dodge. But who was he to follow his own advice?

"Sir…ah, didn't our lord expressly forbid harming the ah…"brats"?"

For knowing his captain well, the soldier possessed a surprising amount of stupidity. Fortunately for the man, Unferth was oblivious to the comment.

Unferth's face twisted in a snarl, much in the way a ravenous dog would snarl at whatever unfortunate creature had stolen its bone. In the dimming light, everyone watching the man's face secretly swore by the gods that he was sporting a set of canine teeth. "I will kill you myself," he growled in a gurgled slur under his breath, eyes still transfixed on the glowing patches of town ahead.

:0Ї0:

Rothinzil lay limply on the cold floor of his cell, easily resembling a dead thing, staring at nothing. His fingers were slightly curled, digging lightly at the dirt on the floor. The shackles on his wrists and ankles were heavy, extremely heavy. In the end, he had finally succumbed to them and simply stopped moving. It hurt too much to move or think. As a matter of fact, he felt he could get used to the idea of being a mindless drone, a slave to someone else's will.

The space around him was empty now, but considerably less. He had been transitioned to a smaller, higher security cell.

The Elf blinked, one of the few signs that showed he was indeed, alive. His dull hazel eyes went dry before he blinked again and continued staring.

Images, unbidden, swept across his consciousness. He saw Helluin again and her laughing face, and blue eyes as she lightly cradled her stomach. He saw Legolas and Aragorn- Aragorn. The human had betrayed him.

He blinked again, only this time a silver tendril coursed down from the corner of his eye. A single tear.

Despite the fact that the ranger had stabbed him in the back and through the heart, the Elf still wanted to be friends with him. His heart wrenched, begging him to believe that Aragorn had another plan in mind. However, the Elf's tortured mind simply couldn't conceive how that was possible.

This was why thinking hurt and in seconds he erected a new barrier between himself and his overly active mind. Numb again, he allowed his consciousness to slip.

Unfortunately, the reprieve wasn't long and his strong Elven body pulled him back into the moment. Cursing his Elven abilities and wishing his human-half would take the guiding position, Rothinzil opened his eyes. "Legolas…" It was a half whimper, a plea for help from the first person he had ever trusted.

Legolas didn't answer and Roth's heart sank a little further into the mire of despair. Looking down one of his arms, his eyes sought the supple skin of his wrist. It was already raw and broken. Dried blood crusted around the clinging iron band. It wouldn't take much more effort to open the large vein snaking through his arm. Fear held him back as did something else –hope. Someone would come for him…

"Don't even think about it, you stupid creature," a voice erupted from the darkness above.

Roth flinched, surprised. He had not even heard the cell door open, which was saying something because after all, those doors couldn't have been oiled this past century.

The guard looked at the Elf in a way that plainly said he wanted to kick him. As a matter of fact, the ugly, burly man looked like the sort that kicked puppies and kittens for the shear enjoyment of it.

Go ahead, Rothinzil's morbid thoughts suggested. I don't see anyone here to stop you.

"I am supposed to check yer condition," the man growled, shoving a lantern uncomfortably close to Roth's face as he checked the Elf's pallor before proceeding to check his shackles.

Rothinzil turned his face away from the light and the heat. He winced as the heavy manacles were yanked and pulled. It was slightly funny: this human was pulling at them more than Roth ever had. Finally satisfied, the guard grunted and he light retreated from Roth's face, everything went dark again and the floor vibrated slightly with the exiting steps of the human.

:0Ї0:

Sador had never considered himself to be a drinking man. As a matter of fact, he had not seriously gotten drunk once in his life and was more or less a lightweight when it came to any form of consumption. But those were merely annoying details, he reminded himself before downing another warmed shot of whisky. He was drinking now. And the liquid entering his system might as well have been pure alcohol, though for him under five-percent would have probably brought the desired effects.

He had locked himself in his study under the assumption that he would be indulging the more scholarly portion of his brain. Ha! He had not even cracked a single book this night. But he was sitting at his desk, so that counted for something right?

He couldn't even remember exactly why he had chosen to come within an inch of drowning himself in alcohol. There had to have been a good reason. He knew that. The Lord of Lake-town did not just binge himself out on this sort of stuff for no reason. So what was it? Was it that his wife was ignoring him and most likely possessed? Maybe it was because his career and both Lake-town and Dale were about to go to Hell in a few more days. Or, maybe it was everything combined into one dark nightmare.

Holding to that train of thought, he burned his face in his hands and thought of hitting himself. However, he couldn't exactly do that because his hands were hard pressed to stifle a gurgling hiccup and therefore could not possibly abuse his own face.

He groaned inwardly. He was so very drunk. What was one supposed to do when they had a hangover? Ah well, that wouldn't be for a while. He would deal with that when the time came.

Aula hated him. She wouldn't even look at him anymore, let alone show anymore signs of affection. He was dead to her, unless of course, if he did something to displease her. Then she would get angry and well…violent in a way he wouldn't think a woman of her small stature capable of. For instance, he was sure that she knew he had freed Legolas. If she didn't know, she was an idiot, and that he knew she wasn't.

:0Ї0:

He was getting old, Hrethel contemplated darkly as he slowed his jog to a fast walk. His breath came in swift, exasperated puffs. Well, maybe he wasn't getting old –just fat. Hugin matched his pace to his brother's. If the younger twin had been aware of his sibling's contemplations, he could easily deny them all without lying. If anything, the brothers were lithe and spry.

As soon as Legolas had returned to the bliss of sleep –or unconsciousness, the brothers had left their "lair". Yes, they had taken to calling it a lair, against Helluin's wishes. Hugin smirked inwardly. In all honestly, they didn't have the upper hand in the this situation, but somehow one felt more powerful telling himself he had just slipped out of his lair, rather than a stuffy little grotto. He had tried to explain this to Helluin once, but she had snapped at him midway through, insisting that their ego's deserved a little bruising.

Eh, he couldn't really argue. "So," Hugin probed in a whisper. "Where do you think the cur is?"

"I haven't the slightest clue. What? Do you think I watch him when I am bored?" Hrethel rolled his eyes and leveled Hugin with a berating glower. "How in Middle Earth's name should I know?"

The cur, in question, was none other than Ulfang. While they had decided that they were through following orders, the assassins had also decided Ulfang was someone who would be greatly improved upon by the removal of a few vital organs –whether it was an order or not.

"I figured it was worth a shot to ask." What was supposed to be an apologetic mutter came across as being more of a miffed retort. Hugin shrugged and passed his brother almost reckless into the dark shadows of the trees. However, experience told Hrethel that his twin's steps were anything but reckless. Hugin was smarter than he acted a lot of time.

"So what is the plan for ousting that idiot?"

Hugin paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "I thought you had a plan."

Hrethel's eyes bugged and he gaped like a fish out of water. "I don't have a plan!! Why did you expect me to have the plan?" The situation they now found themselves in reminded him of a saying he had heard once: that the highway to hell was paved with good intentions. He just needed to modify that a bit to say: the highway to hell is paved with good intentions and little or no planning.

"Well logically because I don't have one, and because you never asked before now, so I assumed you knew-"

Hrethel just sighed darkly. "If you weren't my brother, my twin brother, I would kill you."

Hugin's eyes narrowed. "Fine then. Here's the plan. We wing it." He smiled triumphantly, as well as unconvincingly.

"Sounds clever enough." Hrethel didn't even make an effort to hide the sarcasm in his voice. As a matter of fact, he did his best to exaggerate it.

Hugin's tone matched his brother's. "Naturally. Would you expect less of me?"

The two started forward again, continuing their exchange of banter. Usually, they didn't speak this much, or in this manner, but things being as they were the brothers were almost forced to let some of their stress and fear out, or lose their composure. Besides, if they sounded stupid no one was around to hear them –or so they hoped. Chances also were that someone out this late at night didn't have good intentions –they knew that first hand.

"Do you have a plan B?" Hrethel ventured after a moment, as the lights of the town caught his gaze from between the brambles and braches.

Hugin argued that he wasn't responsible for Plan B as he had already assumed responsibility for Plan A. Therefore, it was someone else's turn. This argument continued until they had successfully made multiple plans, the last one being Plan AA. After going through the alphabet once, it was time to start doubling up the letters.

Hugin's hand subconsciously splayed out against the trunk of the tree, allowing him a brief reprieve as he braced himself against the dew soaked trunk. Moonlight cut through the trees with the power of a white-hot knife, searing him. His illness was going to claim him soon, it was trying to now.

Hrethel pretended not to notice, keeping his eyes fixated on the flickering lights ahead of them. He knew his brother was doing his best to be strong, and not become a burden. Unfortunately, he was destroying himself in the process.

Clenching his own hands to gain a hold on their own shaking, he shook his head. For a moment he thought the world was growing darker and then his vision failed him completely. Most people would have flailed in the dark, but Hrethel merely froze. It took a moment, but his heart soon started to hammer against his ribs. Sweat lined his hairline and trickled tantalizingly down his temples.

He was blind.

Remarkably, his vision returned, but it was minutes too late. Hugin was staring at him with something akin to fear straining across his face, obviously shaken. "Hrethel? Hrethel are you alright?"

"Yes, yes! I am fine!" Hrethel wearily dragged a tremulous hand across his eyes in a way that screamed: liar!

But Hugin already knew the truth. "Yes, and I'm a vampire." Sudden blindness: it had been one of the first symptoms of his illness, after he had been struggling with his health for almost a year. "You have it too. And don't lie, I know enough to tell."

Hrethel didn't say anything for a moment. His face became distant.

Hugin was about to clamp his hand on his brother's shoulder, just to let him know that he was there and ask how long he had been fighting the illness. Hrethel chose that moment to whirl around.

"Come, someone has a date with the gods, and it's out job to arrange the meeting."

TBC…

First of all, thank you for your patience and all those wonderful encouraging reviews you leave us!!! Please don't stop!!! We are truly sorry that this post has taken so long in the updating, but with school and everything, neither of us have had time, or will, to put our fingers to the keyboard or our brains at work. Also, I recently underwent an appendectomy. So I have had a lot of catching up to do. However, we promise this story will get finished and we are extremely sorry for all these long delays and unstable posting schedules. It isn't fair to you guys, we know. :(

Secondly, we know this chapter wasn't very long all things considered. You guys all deserve longer ones, but if we made it any longer then things would drag out and not work out as planned at all. (But they are already are dragging out ladies!!! Yes we know! Sorry!!!!) But hey, we gave you lots of angst in this chapter, didn't we? Lots of blood, and sorrow in one small dosage! We gave you condensed angst!!! Much stronger in flavor than the prolonged stuff at times…Okay, I am rambling.

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